As I store up on the 100 grand mini bars and ring in Halloween
a part of me gets sad.
In 2003, my twin boys were supposed to be born on Halloween.
Things did not go as planned, as many of you know, and they made their early arrival in August instead.
Zachary never got to wear a pumpkin hat but but oldest wore his in the nicu, accompanied but a pumpkin onesie.
It has been 16 years since our NICU days but they may have well have been yesterday.
For 6 months we celebrated holidays in the hospital including Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah and ringing in 2004.
For 6 months we spent each day driving into Boston to spend hours with our baby and drove home to spend our nights worrying about him.
It was a cold day at the end of January when we were allowed to bring him home.
We had lined up nursing care (they only way we could get discharged with a child on a ventilator) but they could not start for a few days.
We refused to wait and were confident we would be fine.
We bundled up oldest, in a way too big outfit and cried as we walked out the door.
Here it was.
The day we had been waiting for.
The day we were finally on our own.
I had no idea how liberating, yet terrifying ,that would be.
I soon found out at 1AM when oldest's oxygen plummeted and started to turn blue.
We did everything we were told to do.
We bumped up his O2 tank, suction his tracheostomy and then changed the trach just in case it was plugged up.
Simultaneously I called 911.
By the time paramedics (along with fire and police) arrived
Oldest pinked up and was happy as a clam.
I, however, begged for drugs.
I was petrified and certain I was not equipped for this.
It was so much easier in the hospital (knowing full well the experts were by my side)
We rode in the ambulance to our local hospital to be checked out while DH followed in the car.
Shout out to the local hospital however they were definitely not equipped to handle a 6 month old baby on a vent.
Off we went to Children's in Boston where I begged his nurses to readmit him.
He was fine, they assured me.
As I cried and shook, they told me they would observe him for another night.
(All the while I'm sure saying "we told you not to take him home without nursing help")
We did get nursing help.
For 18 months.
Some sucked.
Some allowed me to get a full night sleep.
Some gave me respite to meet a friend for lunch or browse Target without worrying about my son turning blue again.
18 months we were a family of three
plus a nurse.
It was calming and nervewracking at the same time.
It was my entrance to motherhood and I knew no differently.
This Halloween Oldest will not be wearing a cute little pumpkin hat
but I will always look at this picture of him
with love (and fear)
with optimism (and fear)
with a full heart (and an empty one)
I often think what could have been of my Halloween babies
but am feeling pretty lucky I have oldest and youngest to keep my heart bursting with love.
a part of me gets sad.
In 2003, my twin boys were supposed to be born on Halloween.
Things did not go as planned, as many of you know, and they made their early arrival in August instead.
Zachary never got to wear a pumpkin hat but but oldest wore his in the nicu, accompanied but a pumpkin onesie.
It has been 16 years since our NICU days but they may have well have been yesterday.
For 6 months we celebrated holidays in the hospital including Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah and ringing in 2004.
For 6 months we spent each day driving into Boston to spend hours with our baby and drove home to spend our nights worrying about him.
It was a cold day at the end of January when we were allowed to bring him home.
We had lined up nursing care (they only way we could get discharged with a child on a ventilator) but they could not start for a few days.
We refused to wait and were confident we would be fine.
We bundled up oldest, in a way too big outfit and cried as we walked out the door.
Here it was.
The day we had been waiting for.
The day we were finally on our own.
I had no idea how liberating, yet terrifying ,that would be.
I soon found out at 1AM when oldest's oxygen plummeted and started to turn blue.
We did everything we were told to do.
We bumped up his O2 tank, suction his tracheostomy and then changed the trach just in case it was plugged up.
Simultaneously I called 911.
By the time paramedics (along with fire and police) arrived
Oldest pinked up and was happy as a clam.
I, however, begged for drugs.
I was petrified and certain I was not equipped for this.
It was so much easier in the hospital (knowing full well the experts were by my side)
We rode in the ambulance to our local hospital to be checked out while DH followed in the car.
Shout out to the local hospital however they were definitely not equipped to handle a 6 month old baby on a vent.
Off we went to Children's in Boston where I begged his nurses to readmit him.
He was fine, they assured me.
As I cried and shook, they told me they would observe him for another night.
(All the while I'm sure saying "we told you not to take him home without nursing help")
We did get nursing help.
For 18 months.
Some sucked.
Some allowed me to get a full night sleep.
Some gave me respite to meet a friend for lunch or browse Target without worrying about my son turning blue again.
18 months we were a family of three
plus a nurse.
It was calming and nervewracking at the same time.
It was my entrance to motherhood and I knew no differently.
This Halloween Oldest will not be wearing a cute little pumpkin hat
but I will always look at this picture of him
with love (and fear)
with optimism (and fear)
with a full heart (and an empty one)
I often think what could have been of my Halloween babies
but am feeling pretty lucky I have oldest and youngest to keep my heart bursting with love.
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