How could I not when I look at their faces?
And when Colby's talking up a storm
Or the girls are rolling around on the floor
Or smiling up at me
I often think I'm the luckiest person in the world.
When I have these thoughts, I often feel guilty. How can I feel like I'm the happiest or the luckiest when I can only parent and hug 3/4 of my children?
So, I might be happy. Colby, Sydney, and Zoe are amazing and cute and funny. They make the world go round.
Or I might be lucky. Colby is defying all the odds of a 27 week old baby who spent 2 weeks on a ventilator.
I often forget that the girls were even premature, or that their lives were in the balance at 27 weeks.
But the luckiest person? Obviously we'd be luckier if we had brought two babies home from the NICU 2 years ago.
Luckier still if they had been born full term, or it bedrest had never happened, or... well, the list goes on and on.
It seems it's all a matter of perspective I guess.
I'm not saying that I can't be happy or feel lucky, because life is pretty amazing most of the time, but I constantly have a nagging thought in the back of my head:
Thinking I would be one of the few to make it to 40 weeks with twins. Because I never considered anything else.
Never did I dream I'd be having two of the less-than-1% of babies born before 28 weeks. Never did I dream I'd be saying goodbye to my first son at only 2 days old. Never did I think I would be here.
But we're changed and a bit broken.
And happiness continues to be possible. But I'm afraid that I'll only forever be struggling to be as happy as I once was.
But it won't happen, because part of my heart is missing and broken.
Gone when those monitors stopped beeping.