Originally posted July 13th

(i thought this would be an appropriate start to this blog--a post from my main site)

tomorrow is my sons' 4th birthday!!
i'm so excited!
we're getting them new bikes and a sandbox and some other stuff.
i can't wait to see them riding BIG bikes...
they're growing up.
sniff.
and--woooooooo hoooooooo!
and another sniff...
it still amazes me how tiny they started out, how fragile.
7 weeks early.
4 pounds each.
on respirators and with feeding tubes...
i didn't even see oliver until the next day--
and i was only shown max for a fleeting moment.
when they pulled oliver out, i heard a distant voice say, "...not breathing..."
the drugs for dulling the pain of surgery kept me from panicking.
then i heard a tiny cry and a gore covered max was brought to my view.
then gone.
then i was taken to recovery where i shuddered with cold and couldn't form coherant thoughts.
i hate pain medication.
i tried to stop taking it the first day, but then i couldn't walk, so i had to start up again.
getting wheeled up to the newborn intensive care unit to see my pair of little red bugs.
and finally holding them...
so carefully, their dozen or so wires not making it easy.

going home without them, 3 days later.
driving to the hospital 3 times a day to nurse them.
or attempt to.
they didn't ever figure out how to eat.
premies don't have the hunger instict, they told me.
feeling lucky that my boys were so healthy.
finally taking them home...on the date my doctor had set for inducing me.
the day they should have been born.
3 1/2 weeks later.
please at the "cordless" versions of our tiny sons.
not having a frigging clue what to do with them when we got home.

and now?
you wouldn't know they were born a day early.
such rugged, smart little monsters.
they sure did sleep a lot back then.
aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh.........
(and i still don't have a frigging clue what to do with them!)