An Open Letter to My Children
Doss & Jorja –
Our trip to the hospital this morning was a mixed bag of emotions.
Anytime a loved one has to have major surgery, you worry about the health, welfare, and safety of that person.
And a C-section, while fairly routine, is certainly major surgery.
The opposite side of that coin is the unadulterated excitement we felt at finally getting to meet the both of you face to face.
So it is without exaggeration when I say that your mother and I hardly slept a wink before heading out to the hospital at 5:30 this morning with Cappy
Your other grandmother, The General, arrived at the hospital as your mother was finishing off the paperwork.
After a short stop to prep your mother, we were off to the operating room.
Your mother had a brief panic attack after the epidural was administered, but your maternal grandmother and I, along with help from the anesthesiologist and Doc Tres, got her calmed down and back on track.
Jorja, you were standing straight up in the womb and came out first. And you were BIG. Six pounds nine ounces -- for a twin, that is rockstar size.
You had a shock of jet black hair like your mother, but your mother and grandmother swear you look like me. Small ears, button nose and my chin.
They carted you off to one corner of the room and began cleaning you up as your brother Doss tried to come out butt first, folded in half like a baby taco. Doc Tres had to reach in and straighten you out in order to pull you out.
Oh, Doss. You were so small, only four pounds and your umbilical cord was pencil thin. They took you to the other side of the room and began cleaning you off.
As they wiped you clean, I couldn’t help thinking how much you look like your Aunt TinTin.
You both pinked up quickly, but you, Jorja, were a strong yeller. Doss, you were a fighter. You couldn’t cry, but you tried. Hard.
Boy did you want to yell.
After I cut both of your cords, we whisked you both off to the nursery to get measurements and to draw blood.
Jorja, you were as healthy as a horse and went straight to recovery with
But you Doss, you scared us. Because of your size, you spent only a few minutes in the nursery and then they carted you off to the NICU.
I spent the first six hours at your side as they poked and prodded you – I held your tiny hand with my finger and place my other hand over your entire torso. Your glucose levels were dangerously low and your blood oxygen level was also precariously low.
They pumped you up with oxygen and glucose water while they drew samples of blood from your hands, arms, legs and feet.
I would love to say that you were out of woods, but I can’t. Right now, you’re still in the NICU and according to one of the Docs, it doesn’t look like you’ll be coming home with us on Friday.
On the bright side, everyone seems to think you’ll pull through just fine.
And your mother and I are hoping so with all of our hearts.
You are both the most precious things that have ever been and we love you both more than words can say.