...that's how long I was in the hospital, sleeping next to Katie on a chair that folded down into a bed, waiting for the day the doctor would tell us that our boys can finally come home.
Let me back up. For the first three days of our hospital stay, Declan and Ethan looked healthy and fine. Each time the doctor came in, we were told they are doing okay. However, by night 3, the nurses told us that they simply were not eating enough. This led to their loss of weight (most babies lose up to 10% of their birth weight before gaining it all back, but our boys lost more than that. Ethan was 6 lb. 4 oz. at birth but dropped to about 5 lb. 7 oz. Declan dropped from 6 lb. 2 oz. to about 5 lb. 8 oz.). It also came with some minor jaundice, heart murmurs for Ethan, and respiratory desaturations for Declan. Eventually they were taken from our room into the special care nursery (SCN) across the hall, placed into incubators, and after another night of poor eating were given an NG (Nasogastric) tube so that they could put food directly into their stomachs.
So we waited...and waited...and waited. After about a week in the hospital, we were going mad. It felt like we were prisoners, locked from the outside world in a small room with only our beds, a bathroom, and TV. Each day we were told it would only be a few more days, but the boys would show promise, and then suddenly decline. So we waited some more.
In the span of those 12 straight days/nights in the hospital, Katie came home only once for a brief nap. I came home a few times towards the end for sanity purposes. But finally, after 12 days, I decided I needed to go back to work (working from home) in order to save some vacation time for when the boys actually do come home. Day 13, 14, 15, and 16 went by quickly for me since I was home most of the day. However, Katie, being the strong mother and trooper that she is, continued to stay at the hospital--only leaving twice for Enosh's (my nephew's) first birthday party and Kristian's (my brother-in-law's) 19th birthday party.
Katie may remember it as the 16-17 days in the hospital (we’re assuming they can come home today or tomorrow). I will always remember it as the 12 days. And in the midst of those 12 days, I produced a ton of complaints, frustrations, sadness, and disappointments. The room is cramping me, the bed is hurting my back, there's no ESPN despite having all the other cable channels, hospital food is gross, the nurses keep telling us different things, why did we take the babies out so soon when Katie was still feeling fine in her pregnancy, why didn't anyone tell us they were not getting enough food, why haven’t certain friends visited us, why won’t the boys eat, people/nurses keep entering our room right when we’re about to fall asleep, are we not praying correctly, and of course…I JUST WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE!
However, it is so good to have a Creator and Savior who knows exactly how we feel and hears every cry. Although in the midst of the struggle, I simply forgot that God ALWAYS has our best in mind, He never gave up on me. Because the truth of the matter is that in the middle of the turmoil, all we often see is the bad. But in reality, this entire experience has been nothing but good! The room was the biggest room on the floor, we were able to stay in that room the entire time despite being discharged by day 4, hospital food was free for the first 4 days, the nurses gave us a lot of advice and taught us so much, they took of care of Katie and the boys endlessly without a complaint, at least we had TV (and a DVD and an iPod docking station and books to read), at least the chair folded into a bed, more complications could have arose if the babies were not taken out when they were, the feeding tube is working and helping, we have so much family and friends who love us, at LEAST two family members each day would show up (and others would frequently check-in via email or phone), friends gathered to provide us meals for three straight weeks, Katie and I got to rest during the nights while the nurses took care of the boys, and now the boys get to come home as strong and healthy as can be.
Funny, isn’t it, how we often don’t see the light until we’ve climbed out of the valley. I’m thankful that we have a God who cares about every little detail in our lives and who loves us so much that He has the BEST possible course set before us. I’m thankful for those 12 days and nights in the hospital because I learned so much about the boys. We learned their competitive natures (Declan, although smaller at birth, has now become heavier than Ethan; Ethan passed the carseat test before Declan), we learned how to give them baths, we got to see them laugh and smile so much (and each time it melted my heart), we learned how to check their temperatures and how to change diapers and how to swaddle. We got to soak up every minute with them, never taking a single minute for granted because after feeding time, we had to return to our room without them. We had enough time at the hospital to figure out how to get them on the same schedule as well as reduce our feeding times by half. I got to experience, for the first time, someone (Ethan) throwing up on me (it’s really not as bad as I thought). And, oh man, just getting to hold them and rock them to sleep has become my new favorite thing on earth.
Thank you, Lord, for the opportunity and experience you have blessed us with during those 12 days and more. Thank you for removing the devil’s lies and making us see it the way You do. Thank you for the major support from family, friends, and nurses alike. Thank you for the valleys and mountains, in which we will rejoice always.