...Happy Birthday from Mom.

Well, you made it! You're 16 today. Or you will be at 4:56 pm and 4:57 pm EST today. That's the time you were born on Thursday, January 26, 1995.

What a day that was. I remember it clearly. I had been in the hospital for a couple of weeks on complete bedrest due to preterm labor and a condition called HELLP Syndrome, which is a very serious, very dangerous (to mother and babies) complication of pregnancy which features dangerously high blood pressure, hemolysis (damaged red blood cells in the mother), elevated liver enzymes (damage to mother's liver), low platelets (mother's blood can't clot, which means she could blead to death), and serious serious fluid retention that made me gain 5lbs overnight sometimes. It's a really icky condition and you feel sicker than you've ever been in your life.

Every day the nurses got me up out of bed, weighed me, helped me bathe, and put me back in bed. I was having blood drawn every 4 hours to check all the levels that needed checking to make sure I wasn't getting too sick. We were trying to buy as much time as we could for you both to grow, because you weren't due until late March and it was only late January.

There was snow on the ground the day you were born. The doctor let me get up in a wheelchair to see it for 15 minutes. That was a big day. About mid-morning my doctor came in to see me and told me that it looked like today (January 26, 1995) was the day you would be born. At this point I was pretty fed up wth being pregnant, but I was seriously scared to death about you being born 8 weeks early. And I told him I'd changed my mind, I could wait for your due date. He told me that wasn't an option. That we had to get you both out pretty soon. The doctor told me it was time to find your Dad and get him to the hospital. I called your Dad and told him it was show time. It took him a while to finally get to the hospital--arriving around 3:30 or 4:00 pm.

We had a little girls name all picked out. She would be named for both our grandmothers. Funny thing was, we didn't know if we had a daughter. We only knew the gender of one of the babies...a boy. He had a middle name, but no first name. So, while we waited as the nurses prepared me for surgery, Dad and I went through the baby name book to finally find a name for our son. We never looked for another boy's name for "mystery baby", because we both felt sure the "mystery baby" was a girl. Thank goodness we were right!

So I leafed through the name book while your Dad paced and stressed out. He looked scared. Really scared. I thought he was going to puke or pass out. I've known your Dad almost 25 years, but I'd never seen him quite like this before. This was OMG scared!

My room was a gorgeous LDRP room...with hardwood floors and a jacuzzi in the bathroom (which only got to use one time, dadgummit). Your Dad was leaving bg black scuff marks on the floor with his dress shoes (he was still in his suit and tie from work). The nurses and I thought this was pretty funny. You could literally SEE the path he was busy wearing into the floor.

So I started tossing out first names to go with the middle name....Matthew...no, that would be two saints names, "too holy-rollerish". Andrew....again, two saints names--"too holy-rollerish". Ryan...no, "too girly" according to your Dad.

Finally, we settled on a name for our boy. Your Dad liked it. He said it was strong and would sound good on the loudspeaker at a football statium. It was, also, a saints name. Our boy would have two saints names, but I didn't clue your Dad in. We had a name. Pretty excsting! The nurse and I cracked up....and we kept the fact that it was two saints names to ourselves.

About this time, your Dad realized he'd forgotten our camera. We werr 30 minutes away from leaving for the OR. Dad decides to dash across the street to buy a camera at Wal*Mart! YES...your Dad actually went into a WAL*MART!!!! Voluntarily!

I left for the OR while Dad got a camera to capture your birth and first moments in life. I walked the long walk to the OR, feeling sort of like a condemned woman. Scared to death for my babies. Would you be able to breath? Would you be ok? Would you live? Would you be sick? What would happen to you? Yeah, this was scary stuff.

STOP. I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE....TAKE ME BACK TO MY ROOM AND LET MY BABIES GROW!! But there was no going back. Along the long walk to the OR, were friends who'd made it to the hospital in time to see me off. I got hugs and encouragement from a friend's Mom. She was there because she knew my own mother would not be there and she didn't think it was right that there would be no Grandma in the hallway waiting for news of your birth. This memory brings happy tears to my eyes as I recall it. No doubt, kids, we are loved!

I stopped to weigh myself on a scale just outside the operating room. Let me just say at this point, I weighed more than your Dad did when he played football in high school! Not good for someone who'd started the pregnancy at a slight 118lbs.

We went into the room outside the OR and I got a funny little cap for my head and shoes for my feet, and then they hoisted my very pregnant self onto the table and started my epidural. All done with that, they prepared to start the surgery and I started panicking--WHERE is your DAD?

Finally, I hear your Dad outside in the room getting his funny little cap and shoes for his feet! YAY!!! Camera in hand. He's got his green scrubs on (and I remember thinking "darn he looks handsome in those") and it was show time. C-sections look exactly the way they show them on TV. Only difference is for yours there were a LOT more people because there were two babies and you were two months early. There were three teams in that room, one for each baby, and one for me. Then there was Dad and also the anesthesiologist who took care of my epidural.

They put a oxygen mask on me, strapped my arms down on the table, put up the screen so I couldn't see what they were doing...and then it wasn't long before I heard "It's a Boy", "look over here Dad..." I heard you cry, but you sounded like a little kitten, not like a baby.

Your Dad looked and then he got queazy...looked like he was going to hit the deck. They asked him if he was OK and he was. They brought this little red boy baby past us...and I caught a quick glance....and I can still see this in my mind's eye. A red, wrinkly, covered with goo, boy baby with a scrunched up little face who didn't look real happy! I said "Oh honey, he's beautiful". To which your Dad replied: "He's not beautful, he's a mess". What a happy memory that is for me! I wonder if your Dad remembers it too?

A minute later we hear "It's a girl...don't look yet, Dad"....and then they whisked our girl to a special table to work on her. Our girl wasn't breathing, wasn't crying, and they didn't let us see her at first. I could hear conversations, but couldn't make them out...

Still no crying. No faint kitten call. WHATS WRONG WITH MY BABY, my mind screamed. The wait seemed like a couple of lifetimes all rolled into one. And then we heard it...the kitten call of our little baby girl!

Eventually they brought both babies over to meet me and Dad for just a second. Long enough for us to look at your tiny little faces, give you your first kiss from Mommy and Daddy and tell you how very much we loved you and how happy we were to finally meet you! And...then it was off to Intensive Care for you both. I all but ordered your Dad go with you both...for some reason, I was truly worried you'd be kidnapped or switched with another baby and I figured your Dad...being built like the football player he was, would be the perfect deterrant to that! :)

I was a little busy in the OR getting put back together by the docs, or I'd have come along too. But you can guess I wasn't in any shape for that.

Eventually I went to the recovery room, and then to my room. Epidural in place. But it made me feel like I was going to fall out of bed, because I was numb from the armpits down and sitting up was difficult. Even with both railings up, it scared me.

Your Dad watched you get your first bath, a diaper, a hat and you took your first tests. Dad came back to my room with two Polaroid pictures of you (Polaroids are instant photos that spit out of the camera--this was long before digital cameras).

Around 10 pm, went to NICU for the first of many times to come. As soon as I saw you, I fell apart and started crying. The reality and enormity of your condition quickly sunk in. The excitemet I had felt at your being born and finally meeting you gave way to sheer terror. Would my babies live?

I asked this question...and I got an evasive answer. "The first 72 hours are the most critical". "Its too early to tell". "We'll have to watch them closely for compligations". "Prepare for the worst, hope/pray for the best".

We weren't allowed to hold you. Both of you were too little and too sick to be held just yet. That would have to wait. We were allowed to touch you and talk to you and tell you how very much we love you. And I was glad for that chance.

We didn't stay long, because there was a LOT of work to be done to get you healthy and home to me and your Dad. Dad took me back to my room and we tried to get some rest, but sleep wasn't coming to me that night.

I can't imagine life without either of you. You're my precious babies. You are my life, my heart, my soul, my everything. YOU are the reason I have gotten up every day since you were born, and gotten on with the business of living.

January 26, 1995 was a BIG day in our lives. And it's been a BIG day in our lives ever since.

You will one day understand the depth and breadth of my love for you when you have your own children. I hope I will be able to share that day with you...the day you become parents for the first time and every time you are blessed wtih God's greatest gift...children. Unlike my Mother, it would take wild horses to keep me away from the birth of my grandchildren. Just wait and see! :))

HAPPY BIRTHDAY...I love you both more than you will ever know!

~~Mom