Sixteen weeks down. Eight more to viability.
Another ultrasound, another sigh of relief. Through the gift of social media, I’ve been able to get in contact with a few other mono-mono moms who all agree that this is a four-stage journey – viability at 24 weeks, delivery at 32, NICU graduation, and first birthday – and while we know we are only just beginning, appointments like yesterday’s rejuvenate us for the road ahead.
Quarters are tight and cords are twisted (an inevitability on which we’ve chosen not to dwell) but babies are moving and growing and sharing like the little six and seven ounce rock stars they are, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more proud than when I watch them on that black and white screen. I love that they’re oblivious to the naysayers, that all they know to do is what they were made to do – eat, grow, and radiate awesomeness. It’s all I can do not to jump up on that ultrasound table at every appointment and demand the world take notice of my tiny super humans – look! look at what they are doing, people! they are LIVING! – and I imagine it’s only a matter of time before some version of that emerges (stay tuned).
I guess my point is this: No matter what happens, I will forever be so ridiculously in awe of them. Their little footprints are already imprinted on my heart, which is magical and scary all at the same time. Each day is harder than the one before, but I take comfort in knowing that they’re together – that from the very first day they’ve been experiencing the power of human touch. They are stronger together, these two. We all are.
Again, thank you all for your kind words and prayers in the past few weeks. Every day we are humbled by your outpouring of love, and we are certain that every successful appointment is due in large part to your ongoing support.
Our peanuts are fighting. Please continue to join them.