Why is it that other people need to find a reason for my preemies? I'm not talking about my mother or my father. Not my husband. Not my best friend. Of course, people so close to the situation want to hash and rehash what happened, both times, in the hopes that maybe we'll finally figure out what went wrong...twice. I really love that my friends and family want to talk it out with me because their support helps bring closure to the two most traumatic events of my life.
I think I'll always wonder what went wrong. And I don't think I'll ever know the medical reasons. I look at my miracle babies. J would have died just a few decades ago because he relied on respiratory surfactants to help him breathe. And M and I both could have died from preeclampsia. So, yes all three of us are phenomenally lucky, and that is beginning to be enough of an answer for me. I had these crazy things happen, but look at the joy that has come from it.
I love that people ask questions. I love when people are curious about my preemies. But, I'm always amazed that they feel there must be some reason. Was there a family history? No. Were there warning signs? No. Was I over-weight, under-weight, too old, too young? No, no, no and no. The question that hurt the most was when I was still so vulnerable over my son's birth. He had only been home a month or two, and I was emotionally raw from the first NICU experience. A friend told me her doula wanted to know if I'd been taking my prenatal vitamins. I was too fragile to even get mad, but now the question irritates me. On one hand I want to scream, "Of course I was freaking taking my prenatal vitamins!" On the other hand, I'm amazed that anyone who is frequently present at births could fail to realize that much of the good and bad of labor is out of our hands. And when I think back to how rapidly my body spiraled out of control both times, I can't help but be a little snotty, "You really think a prenatal vitamin would have stopped that train wreck?!" Of course, that's in my head, but maybe I should have said it.
No, I didn't do anything to deserve those labors, just like I don't deserve the two precious babies who came from them. The only answer I have, the only one that gives me any satisfaction, is that this is how it's supposed to be. I am supposed to be the mother of preemies. I have tiny babies. And that's just the way it is.