Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers

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Saturday, January 22, 2011

Maybe Then

The minute hands on the big white clock seem to drag by.  Outside the scurrying of nurses and metal carts and nervous parents pass in the hall.  The flourecent lights shine from underneath the door cracks almost mocking the dim atmosphere inside the room.   

Earlier, I had felt strange and finally agreed to a quick doctor checkup.  An hour later I was being admitted to the hospital with contractions that were 3 minutes apart, significant dilation, and two 31 week old babies who were not ready to meet the world.  Now, after IV's of medicine and steroid shots and other injections, the contractions were slowing, my mind was fogging, and the quiet had crept in while we waited.   As I lay in the hospital bed my thoughts turned to her. 

I could almost see her nestling under the crisp white sheets with me and saying sweetly "Oh, Mama!"  Maybe then we would have talked about the babies and how tiny they would be.  I would have told her stories of when she was in my belly and how much I loved her even then... as I do these two.   She would have kissed my belly twice- once for each sister- and given each a delicate hug through the skin with her little princess hands like she did every day.  Then she would have said, just like she always did, "You are sooo loved little babies!"  And she would have cooed that they were "precious" and "cute" and "sweet" just like the day she did when we went to my ultrasound together.  And maybe she would have told them that she wanted brothers and sisters more then anything in the whole world and that she had prayed for them every night since she was two.

Maybe then I would have smiled... and then maybe even laughed as I thought about her babysitting concerns.  Not too long ago she had come into the living room and said with utter seriousness, "I been finkin, Mama.  When you and Daddy go on a date and I babysit the babies, I fink I'm gonna need some help."    I had sealed the laughter behind my lips then and agreed that maybe we should get at least two teenagers to help.  She had seemed so relieved!

Maybe then she would have gone home to our house to stay with her grandparents while we wait for the verdict that only time can give.  Maybe the medicine is closing in on my thoughts.  I can almost see her there beside me, and I smile.  I really, truly smile... those special mommy daughter moments that I can almost have when it is really late and my imagination is working and the IV is pumping and the nurses are scurrying outside and the room is dimly lit inside.

And maybe then we...

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