I Still Have All of my Grandparents

                When our old dog, Muffy, became old and sick, my parents made the tough decision to put her down. Muffy started to avoid us, it was hard for her to get around, go to the bathroom, etc. She was in pain and we knew it. When our second family dog, Dixie, became ill with cancer, it didn’t take long for her to get lethargic. We could tell she was in pain and it was becoming hard for her to breathe. My mom knew it was time to send her to a better place so she would be at peace. We love our animals so much that instead of watching them suffer, we have a way to gently put them to sleep forever. We are able to give them a quiet, easy, painless send off to doggy heaven. While it’s not easy to do, it’s certainly easier than watching that poor, helpless animal suffer.

                Why then, do we, as humans, not have the option to gently be sent to our final resting place? Why are we forced to watch our loved ones suffer?  When we KNOW it’s someone’s time to go, but his body just isn’t letting him, why is it wrong to want to end their suffering? Why isn’t there a way to just make a slow and painful transition a little easier? It’s not fair.

                I’ve never had someone close to me die. I’m 31 years old and I STILL have all of my grandparents here on Earth.  That was probably the last time I will be able to say that, though. I’ve had 31 years of love with my beautiful Grammy, but it just hasn’t been enough. Some people are just too amazing to leave this world. She’s one of those people. One of the worst parts of her impending death is watching and waiting for her to pass. None of us want her to go, but none of us want her to suffer anymore. She has been trapped in her body for about 7 years now suffering from dementia and all we want is for her to be able to laugh and smile again.

                We thought we were going to lose Grammy last week, but our sweet angel has held on for almost a week now. We think she just loves us so much she doesn’t want to leave! While these past few days have been some of the most painful of my life, there are beautiful moments blended in, as well. I’m not going to go into detail about the amazing and incredible moments our family has shared with Grammy this past week because they are moments meant just for us, but I will say that we will treasure them forever and we know that Grammy is loving every second of these beautiful moments. Our family might not do things traditionally, but we know how to have fun, how to laugh, and how to love. Grammy wouldn’t want us to be doing things any other way. The one moment that I will share is one that I will hold near to my heart forever and ever. As I held Grammy’s hand and cried, I asked her if she would watch over my babies. She popped her eyes open, stared at me and squeezed my hand. It was one of the most precious moments of my life and I knew that she would always be Cameron’s and Violet’s special angel.

                This is awful… painful… and horribly, horribly sad. Grammy doesn’t deserve this. Our family doesn’t deserve this. No good person deserves something like this. The world works in mysterious ways. I wish I understood why certain people get sick or why people have to suffer.  I just have to remember and believe that a sweet soul never dies. She will live on somewhere beautiful and perfect and peaceful.  She will live on in our hearts and memories until we are able to see her again in that perfect, peaceful place.

GO, CAM, GO!

Okay. I’m getting close. I’m getting close to not being able to do this anymore. Having Violet home is absolutely amazing. However, my poor little girl is SO incredibly constipated because of the Neosure. The only way we could get her to go is by using a little liquid glycerin suppository. Tonight, I have done everything I can to try to help her out and all I can do is watch her struggle. It’s so sad. Our pediatrician wants to make sure she gains weight at home before he switches to the lower calorie formula… right now we are using the recipe for 24 cals. Violet’s little body does not seem to like this very much. And then there’s the fact that Cameron’s still in the hospital and we aren’t sure when he’s coming home. If all goes well, it should be soon.

Dennis has been sick so he hasn’t been able to really enjoy Violet being home. It sucks because we waited for this time for so long and now he has to wear masks and gloves around her. We know it could be worse, though, and we are so blessed that she is home.

My sweet Cameron will undergo surgery, yet again, tomorrow. He is going to get his hernia repaired. I know it’s a very routine procedure, but that means nothing when it’s your baby. He’s doing very well with his breathing and his feeds. He had his feeding tube pulled yesterday! We are so proud of him! I’m so scared that all of his hard work is going to suffer a setback because of the surgery. I have faith in my strong little boy, though. He’s come so, so far from that 2 lb 10 oz baby. I know he’ll recover… I just hope it’s very fast.

2 days after his surgery he is going to have his carseat challenge. It’s almost time to come home for Cameron! We are so excited and so ready for our family to be complete. Most likely, Cameron will come home on oxygen. I really hate that. I want to take the tape off his chubby, little cheeks and just stare at him. I want him to be able to breathe free and clearly without any help. With that said, again, I know we are lucky. Our babies have overcome every obstacle they were supposed to. All the need to do is continue to work hard. I still feel so guilty that all I do is ask them to be strong and fight. They were and are so little and didn’t deserve any of this. I wish more than anything I could take their pain and their struggles. I would do anything to protect these babies and I so wish I could have. I’m not over delivering early. I don’t think I ever will be. I feel like I owe them the world for what they’ve gone through. I asked them every single day to get big and strong and to fight for their lives. They’ve done so amazingly. I know now that I will never doubt their abilities. If they could do what they’ve done the past few months, then I know they can do absolutely anything. I’m so, so proud to call them my babies… my miracles.

As for Cam’s surgery, I will keep everyone updated. Thank you for all of the care and concern. Violet sometimes sings “Go, Cam, Go!” to the tune of “Go, Cubs, Go!” to pump him up for things. Maybe you could all sing a little bit for Cam tonight and help get my baby through his surgery!!!

2012

Today is the last day of 2012. The day couldn’t have come fast enough for me. During lunch, just now, I asked Dennis how it was possible to have the worst year of your life when the absolute best thing of your life happened during that year? Doesn’t make sense, does it? That’s how it feels, though. I feel, without a doubt that this has been the most physically, mentally, and emotionally draining and painful year for me. And yet, the most amazing thing happened to me during this time and has made my life complete.

Between failed iuis and ivf cycles, painful progesterone, a major scare at 17 weeks pregnant, a surreal and nightmarish stay in the hospital, the birth of our 26 week old twins, and to now-- day 70 in the NICU, I’m not quite sure how we’ve survived through it all. But, we have. I’ve learned so much throughout this year and I’m not sure I can put it all into words. I’ve learned a great deal about myself, my husband, my family, my friends, my babies, strength, courage, love, compassion, pain, heartache, patience, fear, life, death, religion, oxygen, nurses, hospitals, human nature, selfishness, selflessness, odds, chances, routines, determination, the will to live, obstacles and miracles.

2012 will never be one of those “forgotten years” where you can’t really remember exactly what you did or who you were that year. Take for instance the year 2004. I remember bits and pieces from that year, but nothing major stands out. 2012 was the year that changed everything for me. I will never forget it. Part of me wants to forget it… block it out and never recall all of the pain and heartache. But if I forgot 2012, I wouldn’t remember what it was like to see Violet and Cameron when they were EMBRYOS. I wouldn’t remember what it was like to walk back into the bathroom after taking what I thought was a negative pregnancy test and seeing the faintest , little, pink line. I wouldn’t remember what it was like to tell my parents that they were going to have another grandchild… and then telling them that they were going to have TWO. I wouldn’t remember what it was like to see TWO little jumping beans on the ultrasound screen. I wouldn’t remember what it felt like to feel my babies moving inside of me… I would do it all again just to feel that one more time. I wouldn’t remember what it felt like when the ultrasound technician confirmed what I already knew—I was carrying my son and my daughter. I wouldn’t remember what it felt like to look at my babies for the first time… even though I was terrified, they were the most beautiful things in the world and I wanted nothing more than to take care of them forever. I wouldn’t remember what it felt like to touch them for the first time or what it was like to feel their skin against mine when I first got to kangaroo with each of them. I wouldn’t remember what it felt like to feel their tiny little hearts beating against my chest. I wouldn’t remember the first time I heard them make a noise and the first time I heard Cameron cry. I wouldn’t remember the first time Violet latched onto my finger. I wouldn’t remember the first time I knew that they were looking right at me. I wouldn’t remember how happy I was when my son came off of the ventilator. I wouldn’t remember what it felt like when Violet took a bottle. I wouldn’t remember what it was like to have them both close to us and each other. I wouldn’t remember what it was like to look at them both at the same time and think about how absolutely beautiful they were. I wouldn’t remember what it felt like to know my babies were going to be okay… and that we were all going to make it together. I’d do it all again… just for a second of any of those things. THOSE are the things that have made my life complete. THOSE are the things that will NEVER let me forget this year and what it has given me.

I’m happy to see it leave. I’m welcoming 2013 with open arms. This new year is a fresh start for our family. While we are still dealing with being in the NICU, we know we’re close to our destination. We know it won’t be long now until we have our sweet babies at home where they belong.

Dennis and I know that when we bring the twins home our lives are going to be thrown into disarray, yet again. We’re ready, though. We’re ready for the 3 am feedings, the crying, the hundreds of diapers, the laundry, not leaving the house and the major lack of sleep. We’re looking forward to it. All of that stuff, as non-fun and exciting as they sound, are things we’ve been longing for.  Knowing that each of those things will be met with baby smells, and bath times, and smiles and kisses and cuddles (times two!) only makes us look forward to everything a little more.

On this last day of 2012, I am beyond thankful.  I’m thankful we’ve all made it to see this new year… this new year of hope and laughter and happiness. Tonight at midnight we will be at the hospital ringing in the new year with our future--our babies. We'll be celebrating this new year that brings my babies home to me.  Today, we learned that our sweet princess, Violet, will be coming home on Thursday. We are so happy and excited to bring her home and close this chapter of her life.  Soon, Cameron will follow. Perfection will not be reached until he is home, as well, but we’re getting close… so close I can almost feel it. Get here, 2013… the Sheppards are more than ready. We can handle anything, trust me.