Tuesday, November 11, 2008


Sunday evening, I drove by the hospital the twins were born/in the NICU. It's really quite far from my house, but I was out that way for something and it was in route. As I passed, I was wondering who was working in the NICU and about the families and babies in there right now and I was really surprised that I had such a physical reaction to it. I'm not sure I really know what an anxiety attack is, but I think probably along the lines of what I started to feel. I had to talk myself into deep breaths and to slow my pulse and calm the heck down. No one looking at me would have known I was upset or affected, but inside...oh my word. I've thought back on it a few times since or some other thought close and had a similiar reaction. I guess it is like post tramatic stress or something and the experience can just come back to bite you when you least expect it. Sometimes the NICU days seem so far away they are like a distant memory and sometimes the fear and stress all some back like a bad reality. I've never experienced such a physical reaction from a memory before that I was really caught off guard by it and can't say I like it.

Mostly things are going pretty well here. That thing that you like babies to do at night has been happening. I hate to say anything or acknowledge it so that I don't jinx things. Also, another sign of scars from the tough start is that instead of enjoying it I worry that it is caused by a sickness or failure to thrive or some problem that will land us back into the hospital with the fear of RSV or some other such situation with all the colds and coughs and such in the house of germs this last month. My intense scruteny seems to point to the fact that they are just much better at that thing that Max isn't and that I have even further reason to love and adore these babes of mine, but you know...I don't want to jinx it or anything.

Lest you think that just because the babes are doing something so well that I have seen a postive benefit, think again. Mr. Max has never, ever adjusted well to time changes and it has been yet another difficult transition with lots of night and early morning wakings. Last night, he ended up in my bed for almost all night so I'm hoping he finally got a good enough sleep that we are finally getting back on track. Of course, since he was in my bed, I slept like crap and woke up a gagillion times or something.

All that to say, I'm up pumping while all three children are still alive and asleep in their own beds without waking (or at least waking me) since they were put there. And, pumping sucks. I go through phases where I don't mind so much, but I'm not in one of those phases right now.

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