The first picture of all four of us.
At our gender ultrasound appointment, two days before my water broke, we discussed a tentative date to have a c-section with my doctor. She voiced that she recommend a c-section at 37 weeks for her twin moms and we agreed. So we went ahead and looked at a calendar, found my 37th week, and planned for that Monday, March 23rd. I thought, what a wonderful way to start a week.
I expect that had everything gone the way we'd planned (ha!), we'd be taking home two beautiful, health baby girls this week. Instead of typing this, I'd be listening to two newborn girls, using their perfectly healthy lungs, to scream and cry - alerting us that they are hungry or want to be held. But I'm not. I'm surrounded by late-night silence. A cruel reminder that things did not go the way I prayed they would.
That being said, given everything that has happened in the past five months, I'm incredibly grateful to be able to hold and love on a relatively healthy baby. It may only be twice a day, with limited amounts of time to keep her out of her isolette, but it's more than I could have asked for. It's more that what statistics say I should have. And soon enough, I will no longer be surrounded by late-night silence.
For that I am grateful.
It is a bittersweet week.
