June 12th - the most emotional day of my year

My darling daughters, who turned three a full 6 weeks ago, were due to celebrate their birthday today. And each year since their birth, their due date has brought on an onslaught of tears and hugs and an overwhelming ache of relief.

Six weeks early. Who ever knows what prematurity is until you visit a baby in the NICU who is too fragile to even stroke, much less hold. Just remembering the intense fear of having to bury our babies, whose odds were less than shitty, my heart is pounding and it hurts to breathe.

I had a really tough time playing the mean mom role tonight. With DH working nights and me being a single mom each evening, bedtime is certainly not fun for any of us. The girls, Breanna especially, really pushes - often not staying in bed for good until 11 or later. (Thankfully Grant is the most wonderful little guy in the universe - he likes to cuddle for about 1 minute, give a kiss goodnight, and then nuzzle into his blanket and go to sleep.) With the twins, though, it's a constant, draining battle, both physically and emotionally. Like most nights, tonight I just wanted to rock these miracle babies without having to worry about the consequences of overtired kids tomorrow. Unlike most nights, however, I let my emotion dictate the decision to rock the girls to sleep late into the night.

As I smelled their soft, clean hair and stroked their smooth little hands, I couldn't hold back the tears of gratitude. Thank God for letting these children live. And live so well! They overcame every obstacle the doctors told us to expect and really, they are perfect little beings.

June 12 will never be the same.