*****I want to start off this blog by saying that this was written back when the boys were still hospitalized. I had every intention of finishing it. And actually, today was going to re-start it, but I didn't want to lose what I had already done. I didn't want to erase these emotions and thoughts. So, I am publishing it un-finished. Because I need these words out there and out of my head. I have a feeling there may be a part II to this, but for now here it is. Now, I can go forward with other blogs that are half finished or floating in my head.
If you are a Spongebob fan then you may recognize my title. And I realize that Spongebob has taken a hit in the media recently, but unless you've watched him then don't knock him!:) He actually has a great attitude about life and work and being happy. But, this phrase has popped in my head numerous times over these last few months...since being hospitalized and having the babies. I have said this many times, but I have to say it again-I have been humbled and overwhelmed by the love, support and caring that we received in our moments of crises. From our closest friends and families to random strangers.
I remember a moment when I was hospitalized but still pregnant. I think it was the second day I was there. I was on bedrest, being given Magnesium to stop the contractions and help the boys' neurological development, and I was completely exhausted. Looking back on it all, I think my body had hit it's breaking point. Joe was sitting next to me, I could barely keep my eyes open to look at him. I kept insisting that he go home, he didn't have to sit there and stare at me while I slept and that was all i was going to do. That was all I had done since being admitted to the hospital. I felt horrible-my head was throbbing, I was burning up and couldn't eat. He finally relented and agreed that he would go home and try to get some stuff done and then get some sleep. I asked him if before he left he could bring me stuff to brush my teeth. As I tried to sit up in bed, I couldn't. I could not muster up the strength to sit up. Even with my strong husband trying to help me I couldn't do it. I couldn't support myself sitting up. So, we used the bed to sit me up, kind of, so I could brush my teeth. Joe finished helping me and then actually went home for the night. And I laid there. All alone, in a room only lit up by the continuous baby monitor lights and cried. How had I gotten to the point where I couldn't sit up? How had I gotten so sick? I was terrified. What if this was just a sign of things to come? I pride myself on being active and busy. What if that part of me was gone? And I thought "wow, I am never going to take THAT for granted"....just the ability to sit up. Such a simple activity, a task we complete without even considering it, it's so ingrained in how our bodies function. And moments like that have kept happening.
How could I not be grateful? I gave birth to my beautiful boys at 29 weeks pregnant. And they are here. I get to visit them every day, to hold them and love them. We have been surrounded by a whole gangle of people who are doing nothing but loving us and supporting us. Our family-Joe's mom, my parents and siblings, aunts and uncles, cousins, grandma and grandpa-such a great group of people who have remained steadfast in their support of us. What a huge proverbial rock we have to lean on. And lean we have had to. This has been an experience that requires us to ask for help, something that we both hate to do. Then there is everyone at the hospital. Our temporary home away from home. People there do an incredible job everyday. Not only taking care of our boys, but also us.
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