3 1/2

“Your having twins?!?” my friend Sara chirped into the hospital phone. I had called her two days after I my daughter, Abigail had been delivered by c-section, at 25 weeks. I explained to Sara that I had developed preeclampsia and that Abigail had to be delivered, not only to save my life but hers. Months later, Sara had told me that the only reason she think that I was calling her so early in my pregnancy with “good news” was that I was expecting twins. Sara never imagined that I would be giving birth to my daughter, as neither did I 3 ½ months early.

3 ½ months early….just sit still and let it sink in. Sometimes, even after almost 3 years, it still does not quite hit me just how small and early my Abigail was. Abigail was born on February 2nd, weighing in at 1lb 1oz, 11 inches long. Her due-date was my husbands and my anniversary; May 18th….May 18th and she came on February 2nd. Amazing, is it not? I call it a miracle, and that is exactly what Abigail is. When she was first born, my husband took a picture of his wedding band going all the way up her arms and legs, and even then the ring was too big.

I often think back to what I missed out on those 3 ½ months of not being pregnant. Abigail was so small, even for her GA, that I was never able to feel her kick. I did not start wearing pregnancy clothes till I was 22 weeks along, when I had my first ultrasound, and found out that we were having a girl. Even then, I did not need to wear pregnancy clothes, but I wanted to feel “pregnant.” In many aspects, I have missed out on so many pregnancy rights, right, that in my mind every woman should have! It still brings so much pain not having the pleasure of going into labor, rushing to the hospital, pushing, screaming at my husband for more ice chips, but most importantly in my heart, bringing home a my first born days after she was born. How my arms ached to hold her every day and night. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs “do you realize how lucky you are?” at mothers as they sat in a hospital wheelchair, waiting to be picked up, with bright cheerful balloons, flowers, almost adoring them like they had won a race, and most painful, a healthy newborn in her arms, the crowning trophy. I never did get my finish line lime light, but that is OK, because my daughter did finally get to come home after 108 days in the NICU or just about 3 ½ months…