Instead of Part II…Adieu (I’m practically Dr. Seuss, huh?)

I started to write Part II to the twins’ birth story, but it was turning into a long description of all the ways we had to fight the hospital to do what we thought was best for our babies. For instance, I fought to get a supplementary nursing system to help Grant learn to breast feed and get a few extra calories instead of just giving him a bottle of formula when his first blood sugar number was a little low.

It’s a simple little contraption that has now taught 2 out of 3 of my babies how to nurse. Yet both times the nurses and lactation consultants have dismissed it as ineffective.

It basically lets the baby get a little extra formula or breast milk with each suck, thus encouraging them to suck more vigorously.

I had a LONG list of other issues that we fought for this time but didn’t know enough about to ask for with O.

So I started writing….and writing…and writing…. but I couldn’t bring myself to publish it.

Here’s the thing. I don’t want to remember all of that. I want to remember everything that went oh so right.

Instead of remembering that my Mom somehow managed to put down the video camera and face it towards the wall JUST as the were pulling the babies out… TWICE… and that the drape was still in front of my face so I couldn’t see anything, I’ll remember getting these first glimpses of them through the nurses from across the room, and hearing that Marshall’s first act on earth after crying was to pee on his brother.

Instead of remembering how long it took them to get the babies to me in recovery, I’m going to remember when they first put their warm little bodies on my chest and Marshall wiggled his way up and latched himself on. (The boy is a barracuda. I may have had 2 lazy nursers, but Marshall is determined to make up for his brothers.)

Instead of remembering that we got stuck in the overflow rooms and barely had space for two bassinets, I’ll think of O meeting his little brothers for the first time in that room. Oh, he was so excited, but so nervous too!

I’ve already blocked from my mind the nut job who took their hospital pictures because her voice made me want to scratch her eyes out (“Oh my God, they are just SO PRECIOUS!!” –insert her sobs– Um, lady, I just met you. Get a grip.)

I’ll remember taking some snapshots of them instead.

Like this one that shows how much a two pound difference in a newborn really is:

Or this one, which I’ve titled after a proclamation of one of the nurses in the delivery room “Well, I guess we know who has been stealing the Wheaties!”

Instead of being irritated with how often they whisked the babies off to the nursery for every little thing, I’ll remember these moments, which need no description.

In the end, our family is complete. My blog about secondary infertility is no longer about infertility. IF will always be a part of me. I’ll always twitch when someone says they “finally got pregnant!” after 5 months of trying. There will be things I regret about how things should have been and scars that won’t heal, but I want to put it behind me. Time with these babies is precious and they grow so quickly, and I want to spend it soaking it in, not trying to think of some infertility connection to blog about.

So what began as a search for a sibling is now complete.

Siblings found.

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