So grateful

As I've met some new friends on some spiritual and emotional journeys this summer, some of the conversations eventually have led to the story of our miracle babies. Yes, I know all babies are miracles, but not all of them overcome less than 1% odds that they'll survive like my dear daughters have.

I've relived some of it, reflecting on the magnitude of the miracles for us. Why did it all happen? I hadn't questioned it until recently. My theory is that God knew I wouldn't be strong enough to cope with losing the twins. Or strong enough to handle major long-term health concerns with enough grace.

As I've seen so many loved ones face their own mortality in recent months, I've finally allowed myself to process the enormity of what we all went through. And I've finally grieved. "Grieve over what?" some might ask. Over not getting to enjoy a normal pregnancy, delivery, breastfeeding, nuzzling, cooing, "normal" family life. Over having to drive to the NICU every day to see them, day after day, week after week (wearing an eye patch, no less), not even holding one for the first couple weeks. Over having to handle a full year of colic times two - often all by myself. Over my own vanity when my face became disfigured and my girlish figure became squishy as a result of those precious little souls.

Just a couple weeks ago, I visited with a treasured colleague on a long car ride back from an out-of-town meeting. As we discussed social media and the role it can play in catechesis, I shared with him what a wonderful outlet this blog was for me. I told about how my readers are still across the globe and how much joy I receive from looking at the analytics of the site traffic. I explained why/how I first started the blog and how quickly things went from great to horrible to supter-de-dupter awful and scary within just a few short weeks of starting to journal. And how awesome the support was that I received from my dear readers. (Thank you, again.)

My colleague asked for permission to read the blog and to perhaps use it in a class he's teaching this summer on the East Coast somewhere about how social media isn't always so bad. Sometimes it works to create a community of church online when it's impossible to have that kind of support in person (such as being in a NICU with very restricted visitors). Just think about what CaringBridge has done to change communications.

I gave him my blessing to snoop away, then decided to go back to the beginning and read to today. I intended to start at the beginning post and check for typos and any need for editing. I stayed up until nearly 3 am reading it, bawling, praying, re-reading, not editing a thing. I hadn't realized until that early morning reading that even in my exhaustion I was a PR lady at heart. I didn't let on to my true agony. I shared hopeful, pleasant messages. I spared all the gore  - heck, I didn't even go into how near-death these babies were or how incredibly sick I was. Or how alone and completely terrified I felt that the babies would die on my watch. Or for how long I was in debilitating pain from my nerve damage. And how I didn't ask directly enough for the support that I really should have been begging for.

Talk about a huge summer of reflection. I have learned so much from myself and I am really grateful for having had the time to finally process it all. I've also learned a great lesson in perspective. I am going to be sure to thank God each day for just how incredible this journey has been and pray for peace and healing for all my friends and loved ones who haven't had the kind of recoveries we've been graced with.