I needed to find oldest's "yearbook" from last year.
I knew where it was.
In the basement.
In THE BOX.
The box is filled with oldest's and youngest's stuff.
Baby clothes
Emails from when I was pregnant in the hospital
Emails updating friends on oldest's medical status
Art Projects
Birthday Cards
Zachary's baby blanket
I knew that reaching into the box would stir up many memories.
I was prepared.
Or so I thought.
I ran my fingers over Zachary's baby blanket that was provided to him by the NICU.
I smelled it; trying to breathe in a scent even though I knew there wouldn't be one.
I came across my oldest's first birthday book.
It was filled with letters from family, friends, dear husband and myself. There were notes from his old NICU nurses calling him a miracle.
(Which of course he is.)
Youngest's book; albeit less filled, also had letters. I commented about his independence and his desire to be the center of attention. Funny how nothing has changed in four years.
I sat on the couch, reading through each and every one of my emails that I wrote, and received, during my pregnancy with my twin boys. It brought me back to a time of fear and uncertainty. A time when I realized how strong my marriage was and how I learned about the kindness of strangers. It was then that reminded me not to sweat the small stuff, how the love of family and amazing friends is all that matters..oh, and a healthy child.
I remembered how I cleaned out my linen closet the day that oldest's trach got removed. Oxygen and tracheostomy supplies were dumped or mailed to people who needed them. I used to sit up for hours staring at my first born because I didnt have the luxury to do that for the six months after his birth.
The box is filled also with accomplishments like his first art project, cards he has made me, and his first Halloween pumpkin hat.
I neatly put away Zachary's blanket, on top of preemie clothes and a diaper that is so small I cant believe my son used to wear it. I tucked away the emails into a folder and smiled as I gazed over his paintings.
Later that day my boys sat at the dinner table and discussed their day.
"What did you do today at school?" Oldest asked youngest.
"Circle time. Recess. Free choice. Oh and we got to go to the gym"
"That's a long day" Oldest replies. Then sharing the activities of his day they sat and ate dinner together.
Best friends.
As summer approaches I am always remembering where I was in 2003.
In a hospital bed.
Holding on to hope.
I remember dear husband bringing me outside for 10 minute breaks, in a wheelchair, as I was confined to total bed rest.
I remember my mother having to stand outside the bathroom as I showered every third day; making sure I didn't pass out.
I remember being wheeled in a stretcher for weekly ultrasounds; checking on the level of amniotic fluid in my babies.
This summer is no different. The smells and weather bring me back...
but, as I sit and watch my two miracle children, the pain and the heartbreak are not as hard to deal with.
Each year it gets a little easier.
Until I bring out the box...
I knew where it was.
In the basement.
In THE BOX.
The box is filled with oldest's and youngest's stuff.
Baby clothes
Emails from when I was pregnant in the hospital
Emails updating friends on oldest's medical status
Art Projects
Birthday Cards
Zachary's baby blanket
I knew that reaching into the box would stir up many memories.
I was prepared.
Or so I thought.
I ran my fingers over Zachary's baby blanket that was provided to him by the NICU.
I smelled it; trying to breathe in a scent even though I knew there wouldn't be one.
I came across my oldest's first birthday book.
It was filled with letters from family, friends, dear husband and myself. There were notes from his old NICU nurses calling him a miracle.
(Which of course he is.)
Youngest's book; albeit less filled, also had letters. I commented about his independence and his desire to be the center of attention. Funny how nothing has changed in four years.
I sat on the couch, reading through each and every one of my emails that I wrote, and received, during my pregnancy with my twin boys. It brought me back to a time of fear and uncertainty. A time when I realized how strong my marriage was and how I learned about the kindness of strangers. It was then that reminded me not to sweat the small stuff, how the love of family and amazing friends is all that matters..oh, and a healthy child.
I remembered how I cleaned out my linen closet the day that oldest's trach got removed. Oxygen and tracheostomy supplies were dumped or mailed to people who needed them. I used to sit up for hours staring at my first born because I didnt have the luxury to do that for the six months after his birth.
The box is filled also with accomplishments like his first art project, cards he has made me, and his first Halloween pumpkin hat.
I neatly put away Zachary's blanket, on top of preemie clothes and a diaper that is so small I cant believe my son used to wear it. I tucked away the emails into a folder and smiled as I gazed over his paintings.
Later that day my boys sat at the dinner table and discussed their day.
"What did you do today at school?" Oldest asked youngest.
"Circle time. Recess. Free choice. Oh and we got to go to the gym"
"That's a long day" Oldest replies. Then sharing the activities of his day they sat and ate dinner together.
Best friends.
As summer approaches I am always remembering where I was in 2003.
In a hospital bed.
Holding on to hope.
I remember dear husband bringing me outside for 10 minute breaks, in a wheelchair, as I was confined to total bed rest.
I remember my mother having to stand outside the bathroom as I showered every third day; making sure I didn't pass out.
I remember being wheeled in a stretcher for weekly ultrasounds; checking on the level of amniotic fluid in my babies.
This summer is no different. The smells and weather bring me back...
but, as I sit and watch my two miracle children, the pain and the heartbreak are not as hard to deal with.
Each year it gets a little easier.
Until I bring out the box...
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