While the twins were still in the special care nursery our church had their baby dedication Sunday. Our worship pastor’s wife found Hannah crying in the nursery like a crazy person (her words, not mine). She was really struggling because our boys had arrived, but we couldn’t bring them to something as special to us as a church dedication service. That season in our life was tumultuous to say the least. We were pulled in so many different directions and stretched to our absolute limits. There was turmoil at my job because it wasn’t at all what I felt called to do, but we couldn’t survive on wishes and dreams. There was turmoil at the church because of typical church politics and because church is full of broken selfish sinners just like me, so naturally when you get a group of them together the results are, well, exactly what you’d expect.
When the day finally arrived that both boys had met all their qualifications for going home Hannah and I packed up our little Saturn and headed to the hospital with smiles on our faces for the first time in a long time. They read us through all the legal discharge mumbo-jumbo and spent several hours explaining all the basics of caring for an infant. We kept trying to tell them that we had done this before, but when you look like you’re still a teenager people tend to jump to conclusions. We set the boys up in their little car seats with all the extra padding and protective gear necessary, but even with the smaller size head holders Joel wasn’t big enough to fit in the seat correctly. We spent another hour or so trying to work it out with the hospital staff. The issue was that his head could fall forward or off to the side (not literally off, but you get the idea) and it could inhibit his breathing. Fortunately the lady doing the inspection was smart enough to realize that young parents of preemie babies turn around to check that the kids are still breathing every 3.2 seconds, so she finally gave us our sign off and we were headed home.
We knew that our battle was far from over, but there was a real sense of victory for us that day. It was refreshing to drive Andrew and Joel home, take them in to our house and sit down as a family together for the first time. Caleb was able to meet them and hold them for the first time (with supervision of course). I got to sit down in a chair and have all three of my little boys in my lap at once. Any reservations I had about being a parent vanished completely in that moment.
The biggest battle that we faced during that time was a battle within. We felt such pressure to prove our ability as parents. Many people doubted us because we were so young and a lot of them weren’t the least bit hesitant to tell us all of their concerns. We tried so hard to project confidence and competence as parents, but in truth we were really trying as hard to convince ourselves as we were trying to convince everyone else. We both knew that we had no idea how to raise a child. I think that all parents endure something similar, but like everyone else in the world it seemed like an experience unique to us and our situation. The hospital enrolled us in a program where a home care nurse visited us once a week to monitor the boys (and monitor us as parents I’m sure). She would come by and weigh them, take their temperature and all the normal check-up kind of stuff. She would also bring a very interesting mix of presents for us each week. She and Hannah would go out to the trunk of her car and dig through for whatever she felt we might be in need of; blankets, toys, diapers, clothes, food items that were stored right along side the gloves she used in the following stories...
These next two stories are some of the really weird ones that have defined our lives and oddly they both involve poop. During one of her visits we expressed concerned that Andrew hadn’t had a bowel movement in several days. She felt around and said that he was distended. Then she pulled on a glove, did the cliché snap around the wrist, tore off his diaper, and jammed a finger right up you know where. I watched the whole ordeal absolutely speechless as Andrew’s eyes got as big as quarters and he screamed bloody murder. Her efforts were in vain, so she said, “Awe, I’m sure he’ll poop in the next day or so.” On another visit (I wasn’t around for this one) she arrived wearing white scrubs. Can you see where this is going? Hannah said you could hear her stomach rumbling from across the room and she asked if she could use our restroom. Our guest bathroom in that house was a tiny little thing under the stairs with paper thin walls, so like a scene out of a movie Hannah got to hear all her goings-on in there. After a while she came out, turned around, bent over, and unknowingly displayed her newly dyed scrubs. Then she sat down on our couch. We bought a new couch within the month.
The boys had a pretty rough first year, but I’ll save most of those stories for tomorrow. You can look forward to RSV, double hernia operations, and laser treatments on a scrotum. Are you as excited as I am?
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