Ok, I know y'all know what I'm talking about-those random "getting to know you" surveys you get in the e-mail, or those silly quizzes you take on facebook when you're bored- they always ask you the same question-including, "What is your favorite number?" I have always been perplexed and even semi-annoyed by this question, and since I have no lucky or favorite number (how even do you get one of those?), I put whatever number pops into my head.
It seems, to me, that now, instead of having a favorite number, I despise them all. Numbers define. How many kids do you have? They rule. You must wait 6 months before you try to get pregnant. They threaten. You must get to 23 weeks in this pregnancy or your kids will die without a chance. They remind. May 16th would have been your baby shower, August 7th was your due date, April 13th is their birth day. They shock. You owe $7,934 for the 8 hours that Sophie spent in the NICU (Aiden's apparently gets covered by insurance, but we get a bill for Sophie? Hmmmm...another lovely phone call to the lovely people at the insurance company-but yes, I am so thankful we have it, trust me...). They label. You are pregnant with two babies? Are you infertile?
Numbers seem to have taken over in my life. Whereas before I never even thought about them, now they follow me. I see 2 robins and I think of my babies. I see two cribs in the nursery which I'm not supposed to look in. We saved enough money for two babies worth of daycare. We bought a van that would fit 2 carseats. We got presents in twos-two onesies, two monkeys, two booties, two hats, two pairs of socks.
Chances are the next time we get pregnant there won't be two babies. And let's face it, part of me wishes that there would be. Because somehow, then, the dreams that I had for the future as in instant four of us would still be possible. You lose one baby, you have one more. It's dangerous to think about getting pregnant to replace the baby you lost, but let's face it-cold and dirty-it's what we do.
Numbers define me now. They have changed me forever. I lost my water at 21 weeks. 23 is viability. They will rule us now.
Contrary to the title of this blog, I am a mother. I gave birth to boy/girl fraternal twins who died shortly thereafter due to exreme prematurity and infection after a premature rupture of membranes. I am blogging my way through this journey that I wish I didn't have to take.