The boys woke me up this morning with an outraged cry: "I looked out at the table and there are no decorations for my birthday!"
They know it's their "real" birthday today but it took some serious cajoling to get them to stop freaking out that today was not the day of their party. I guess that means they are truly growing up - they now understand the flow of the space-time continuum.
Four years ago today, I was in a hospital, desperately worried about the health and safety of my two unborn babies. It was seven weeks too early for them to come out, but my body had had enough. High blood pressure, crazy scary swelling, pre-eclampysia, and fifty pounds enough. My water broke after a week in the hospital of trying to hang on just a little longer, just one more day. I was scared but not alone. Hubby was there to hold my hand. He watched the whole surgery - apparently quite an amazing ordeal to see two human beings emerge from my body. Even when he told me he was able to see all my organs and all my "fat". Gee, thanks.
I am forever grateful for the care I and my babies received from the nurses and doctors. They did amazing work and never once made me feel like an idiot or a wimp. Not even when I was sobbing and trying to hold my body still as they put in the spinal block. The nurse told me I was doing a great job, which I knew was a blatant lie to make me feel better and I told her so. Then I was numb and being tugged around - and then my babies were there, crying, being cleaned and weighed and wrapped up like snug bugs. The sight of those two boys, right there, finally able to see their perfect features and smell their little perfect heads - I'll never forget it.
And it's nice to always have a trump card in any fight with your spouse: "Oh yeah? Well, just remember, I had your two children wrenched from my body!"