Last year, at 4:30 am, I rushed into the bathroom and grabbed a beach towel. I did a happy dance, and woke up Tom. ("Tom? Tom? My water just broke." *incoherent mumbling* "Are you $%@^ing kidding me?")
Operation twin-relay was set into motion. Phone calls were made, slumber was interrupted. I called The Birthing Inn, and told them we were on our way. I had Tom drop me off at the main entrance of the hospital, as I was too excited and in a hurry to be bothered with the paperwork and rigamarole at the ER. So I waddled to the elevators and up to the 4th floor in my size 10 (yes 10) flip flops with my towel between my knees. I told the nurse at the desk who I was, and she said, "You came up here by yourself?!" They put me in a L&D room, Tom brought my bags and then we waited. Doctors were paged, and I was rolled into the ER around 7:00am. At 7:43 and 7:44am I heard the angry, healthy cries of my baby girls, and the nurses played the "lullaby" chime twice. It is sounded throughout the whole hospital when a baby is born.
It seemed like forever before I actually got to hold them; so tiny and perfect, just like their older brother. I can't believe that it has been a year. It has the been the longest year of my life, the shortest, the most challenging and difficult, and the most rewarding. I am a mother of twin toddlers now.
1 comment:
The morphine does it to you... ;) I don't remember it when I had Brodie, so maybe it's new?
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