Dearest Delaney & Alexander,
As we approach your first birthday in the coming weeks, it doesn’t seem possible
that you could already be almost a year old. Of course, you will not have been
home with Daddy and me for a whole year at the time of your birthday. You spent
the first 76 days of your life in the hospital, and I spent the first 76 nights
of your life without you.
Leaving you there each night, so small and helpless, so
fragile, in someone else’s care, was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to
do. I prayed for you all of the time, before going to bed, on the way to see
you at the hospital, while holding your tiny bodies against my bare chest, each
night I left your side. I prayed that I could be vulnerable instead of you, to
take away the pain you felt during every injection, every procedure -- and
every minute alone in a warm plastic box.
I know that you will forget, that you’ve probably already
forgotten about those early days, but I never will, and there are a few things
that you must always remember about them.
1. You are strong.
I have watched you fight for breath. This is not a
dramatized way of saying that you went through a lot. What I mean is that I
watched your chest cave in as you struggled to fill your tiny lungs with
oxygen. I watched you put your whole body into drawing in air, so much so that
it exhausted you and sometimes you needed a machine to help you breathe. But
you never quit. You continued to fight for your breaths, over and over, until
your body learned its own life-sustaining rhythm.
There may come a time in your life when you feel weak or
inadequate. Please remember what you were able to accomplish entirely of your
own will and your own determination. You are strong.
2. You were
ready.
In the days, weeks, and months after you were born, I kept beating
myself up with “if onlys” that could have kept you growing inside of me for
just a bit longer. If only there hadn’t been a mix up at the pharmacy with my
medicine, if only I had stayed off of my feet a little more, if only I had gone
straight to the hospital the moment I felt a contraction. But you had your
timeline set and most likely you had to come out right then. Those first
weeks were difficult. I watched as you had multiple blood transfusions, IV
lines placed in your arms, legs, feet, hands and scalp, daily blood draws, a
spinal tap, multiple exams, and other procedures. With every procedure and
needle prick I wished you could have remained safe and snug in utero with your
twin until closer to your due date. We went through agony together to get to where
we are today, but here we are, and you are perfect. You are strong and healthy
and exactly where you are supposed to be. Only God can know what would have
happened if you were not born on November 23, 2013.
There may come a time in your life when you feel like you
are not ready for what is being asked of you. You may feel scared, overwhelmed
or otherwise ill prepared. Please know that your instincts about timing have
always been correct. You are ready.
3. You are
privileged.
You missed an entire trimester of pregnancy. There are many reasons for
which I am grateful that you are alive today. The
Ophthalmologist who performed your eye exams in the hospital told me of his
yearly travels to Guatemala to treat underprivileged youth. When I asked him
about the premature children there, he paused before telling me that in
Guatemala, preemies like you do not survive. It reminded me, in my moment of naiveté, how lucky we all are that you are still with us. You are all right because you were
born in a country with the resources and the technology to sustain your fragile
bodies. You are all right because we have excellent heath insurance coverage.
You are all right because of the education of the skilled doctors, nurses, and
specialists who took care of you. You are all right because of the generosity
of a network of professional colleagues who donated their hard earned days of
leave to me so that I could be by your side every step of the way while you
grew and healed.
There may come a time in your life when you encounter those who do not
share your many advantages in life. Never feel guilty about those advantages,
but always feel grateful for them. You are privileged.
4. You are never
alone.
It must be a beautiful experience to come into being alongside another
person. Along with your own heartbeat, your twin’s was one of the first sounds
you heard. Your twin was the first person you reached out to touch, the first
person to reach out to touch you. You fought your way into this world together.
I don’t know what it is like to have a twin; I never will. But I do know that
you were in sync despite being separated for the first weeks of your life. In
separate rooms you would get hiccups at the same time. Your hearts beat at the
same rate and you often matched each other breath for breath. The moment you
moved from two separate rooms in the NICU to sharing a room, you were aware of
your twin’s presence. I watched as you, Delaney, looked toward Alex’s isolette;
knowing that your brother was finally close by, you seemed more at rest.
Holding the two of you together on my chest, you studied one another with such
great wonder and tranquility. I saw you both reach out to one another and
smile. I know that whatever it means to be a twin, it
means that even as you fight through the most difficult days of your lives,
someone fights beside you.
There may come a time in your life when you feel adrift or unsure of
where to turn for help. Turn to each other. You are never alone.
5. You are loved.
Because you were so fragile in those first 76 days of life,
we restricted visitors in the NICU to immediate family. I came to see you every
day but three, when I was too sick and could have caused you more harm by
infecting you. Being away from you for those three days tore me apart. Daddy
came to see you after work and all day on the weekends. All of your grandparents
came multiple times a week, and probably would have liked to see you even more,
but wanted to give us our space with you, as every moment together was so
precious, especially since we couldn’t be with you over night. Friends,
families, and complete strangers offered prayers for you.
There may come a time in your life when you feel that you
are not enough. Please know that you have been wrapped in love from the moment
you first drew breath. You were loved before you said anything, before you did
anything, before you knew anything, before you were anything.
For the lonely days, for the difficult days, my darling
Alexander and Delaney: You are loved.
Disclaimer: Some of these lines were lifted from another mother, whose letter to her preemies inspired me to write one of my own. I just couldn't have said those lines any better.
