One Month

Tonight as I write this I cannot stop the tears from streaming down my face. How is it that one month has already passed? How can it be that my babies are already one month old? I can't stop myself from looking at pictures of when they were first here. Brand new. Skin so red and wrinkly they looked like little prunes. Cries so soft it was as if a bird were singing. Eyes still cloudy with the dust of angels from the heavens. And now, while still new, so much has changed. Every day they continue to grow, transform before my eyes. And that makes me so sad. So unbelievably sad.

I never pictured myself as maternal. After losing Harper, feelings of grief overwhelmed me. For what would never be. But now, I grieve for what was. These boys have wrapped me around their souls. I have become addicted to their little bodies in a way that I never imagined. I want to breathe them in and never exhale.

Their cries unnerve me. Bringing me to my knees. Desperate to fix whatever ails them. I would gladly walk through fire to give them life. I would lay my life down so that they could take their next breath.

This is a love unlike any love I've ever known. A love so fierce and so determined it leaves me parched. Thirsty for more. Desperate to be filled up once again with them. To touch them is to love them. To love them is to live.

The fact that an entire month has passed is absolutely shocking to me. Where did the time go? I don't want to close my eyes, to blink. For I fear that when I open them my babies will have become men.

Certainly as a parent, you want your children to grow, to prosper, to become capable adults. But right now, as I look down at the babies in my arms, full of abandon and innocence, I want nothing more than for this moment to last forever.

Two Different Babies

The above pictures perfectly depict the personalities of my boys. Lucky for Blake that he is so darn cute :)

Together Again :)

Blake Comes Home

After 20 days in the NICU, 14 days of antibiotics, one central line, one isolette, and too many tears to count, my baby came home. I could barely contain myself as I walked into the hospital. So many emotions running through me. From joy to fear. But mostly I felt a sense of completion. This was it. This was what we had worked for and toward. This was the culmination of months of bedrest, numerous medications, and continued prayers. This moment was the pinnacle of my life to this point and the beginning of my family. This was the beginning of the rest of my life. As we walked out of the NICU, all 4 of us, the nurses were cheering. And as the tears rolled freely and rapidly down my cheeks, I took a deep breath. And for the first time, in a really
long time, I could breathe.

Two Weeks!

I'm not sure where the time goes. I certainly can't believe that the boys are two weeks already. It takes my breath away. Already I can see that they have changed. I look back at pictures of those first few days, when their skin was wrinkly and pink. And my body still felt as if a limb had been amputated, with them on the outside. When I couldn't determine where I ended and they began. But now, after a mere 14 days, my body has forgotten it's previous role. I no longer have the phantom movements of them from within a now empty womb. I am able to get up and walk without the pain or pressure from their weight. I am able to lie on my side at night, curled tight into a ball, without the burden of a belly. And it is an odd feeling. I don't miss being pregnant, but I am somewhat disappointed at how quickly my body is forgetting their existence.

This past week has been very hard. Much harder emotionally than I had ever bargained for. I never imagined how torn I would feel. How difficult it would be to leave one so that I could be with the other. When I am at home, I long for Blake. And while I am with Blake I miss Beckett. It is a game of tug of war with my heart. And I feel as if the welfare of my children is at stake. It is exhausting. It is draining. It is enough to bring me to my knees in frustration. Wondering why everything has to be so damn hard. As I sit here typing, with Beckett on my chest, his eyes fluttering from the secrets the angels are whispering to him, I wonder what his brother is doing. Does Blake know that I miss him? Does he even know that I am his momma? Motherhood is not something that knocks lightly upon the door. It comes with an unforgiving force. Leaving you breathless, winded, dumbstruck. The mere fact that my boys are now two weeks old is alarming. I feel as if I blink that years will have passed. And that makes me sad.

A little update:

Becks had his first Dr. Appt today. He is weighing in at 5lbs. Just shy of his birth weight and is doing everything he needs to be doing.

Blake is still in his box. Growing bigger every day. He is taking about 90% of his feeds by mouth. His last dose of antibiotics was given today and so his PICC line was able to come out today. Currently he weighs 4lbs 10oz.

Beckett Goes Home

Yesterday was a hard day. Beckett came home. And certainly while I was excited that he was doing so well, I was devastated to leave his brother behind. I didn't get to the hospital until 3pm yesterday. I slept late. Almost comatose. Alright, I took a sleeping pill. I knew the day that awaited me and I wanted to drown it out. I wanted to sleep and wake up with both my boys. But that was a simply a dream. I knew Blake wasn't going anywhere. Certainly not home with me. When I got to the hospital, I was drawn immediately to Blake. I wanted to scoop him up and nestle him against me. I wanted to inhale his scent, memorize his big frog eyes. Kiss his lips and watch him smile as if touched by angels. But Beckett was crying. He needed to be fed, to be changed. He didn't know that his mother's heart was breaking in two. I wonder if this is simply a foreshadowing of the future. My grown sons leaving me behind as they chase their future and follow their dreams. Everyone reminds me to enjoy the moment, because it passes much too quickly. Even now, I can't believe that they are going to be two weeks old. Two weeks and my baby is still in a box. Behind the glass, trying to conserve his calories and fight his infection. And while his life continues to exist, in a glass bubble, his mother will leave him behind. Taking home his hearty older brother, and beginning a life, that is far from complete. We are a family of four, yet we are only three now. And the tears continue to roll down my cheeks.

I am elated to have Beckett home. Although last night was rough. Neither one of us slept. I heard every noise he made. And then when he stopped making noise, I poked him. Terrified that he had stopped breathing. He wouldn't wake to eat, and so sometime around 4am, I ran his feet under cold water. He responded with an ear piercing scream, but still refused to eat. So I simply sat on the couch, not sleeping, just watching him. Watching his chest move up and down. And then slowly, almost like a gift, we greeted the morning with a subtle sunrise.

Please continue to pray for Blake.

And to my friend, who gave me two little peas for my pod, keep the faith. Just know that every day that little seed, (of faith) continues to grow :)

From There to Here