On August 3rd, my friend D. gave birth to healthy and beautiful twin boys. She carried them to 34 weeks, defying the odds with each passing day. Her pregnancy was high risk (extremely high risk), which is still putting it mildly. High risk for the babies, ‘course, and high risk for my friend. I can tell her now that I was terrified for her throughout. Spending weeks early on seeing her name on my caller ID and thinking “Oh no.” Then, relieved to hear her tired but still strong voice. She held on. They held on. The three of them a daily miracle. I’m so proud of her. Of the babies. Of her husband who, no doubt, felt the same struggles and worries I felt only about 9 million times more strongly and 10 million times more often. And of her beautiful 3-year-old daughter, who thought Mommy ate too many strawberries and got a big tummy. They’re a big ole’ family now. A party of five. Congratulations, D. You are, without a doubt, the strongest, kick-a** Mommy I know. I love you. Can’t wait to hold the little men.
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Also on August 3rd, my friend E. gave birth to a beautiful new baby. (I mentioned her pregnancy in an earlier post.) While E had, by most accounts, a very “normal” pregnancy, she was never all that comfortable with the idea of another (holy sh*t) person living inside her body. A masseuse, an athlete, an active Montana girl, E. has always (well…almost always. *wink*) taken care of and been in tune with her own body and its rhythms. And, for roughly nine months, there was a little pirate aboard the ship. A welcomed pirate. But, a pirate nonetheless. I’m sure she was happy about the slightly early eviction.
It wasn’t that long ago that E.’s father lost a hard-fought battle with cancer. The loss was, of course, terrible for her. Her father was a funny, kind and good man and, while the physical distance between them (Montana to Vermont) may have been great the emotional distance was not. I imagine that when E. learned she was pregnant, she felt her father’s absence ten-fold. And thought of him often throughout.
E. had a baby boy. And that beautiful little baby boy carries his grandfather’s middle name with pride.
A Circle of Life
Congratulations, E. I suppose, being a boy and all, it means we’ll just have to teach him all the words to the Billy Joel Glass Houses album rather than the show tunes from Annie? Right? xoxo, Lucy
Confessions of a Serial Swooper 