God's laughter
"If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans."
- Old Yiddish Proverb
This weekend was staggering and beautiful. Alexis and I were overwhelmed with love and support as we shared our daughters company with others. Wave after wave of prayers, hugs, tears and humanity. Old and new friends met with us, held our babies, and shared the weight of our circumstance. Greer was able to meet his sisters for the first time - and seemed to understand - by repeating "Quinn (Eleanor) sick!"
When the visiting time was over, our family retired for some dinner and a little distraction from the coming sadness. Our families sat across from each other and ate what felt like a last meal of sorts....knowing....but not really knowing what was to come. Afterwards, Alexis and I walked over to the chapel and prayed for the girls and wept. I noted a woman kneeling in a nearby alse.....and I saw her stand and leave. A moment later, she returned with a box of Kleneex and few kind words. Just one of the countless acts of compassion we have experienced on this road.
When we finally arrived in the NICU, the weight was heavy. We were late, but the resident harpist who came to perform for us had already begun playing for the girls. We cried as we took turns bathing their tiny bodies - careful to avoid pulling on their tubes and wires. We removed the pajamas that the NICU had provided and dressed them in their homegoing clothes. A pair of nurses came to help turn of their machines and finally...the remove their breathing tubes. When the tubes were out and they we free, it was like our babies had been returned to us. No more manmade luggage. They were beautiful.
We walked down a long hall to one of the patient suites where our family was waiting. The girls were cooing and gurgling as we sat in a pair of rocking chairs. We were soon joined by the harpist who continued to play - as we began to spend our time together as a family. Greer greeted his sisters again and worked the room....a tired and distracted boy. He touched them on the head and spoke their names. Before he left with Uncle Chris, he looked back and said "Bye, Quinn. Bye, Eleanor."
We sat there for hours. Talking, crying and celebrating our time together. I felt the sadness come and go. Every time I felt my heart cave in - I would hear Alexis say "I know." It has become our mantra.
After a while, it became apparent that the girls were doing ok without the respirator - and we started to make plans to go home with them. Our pastor, Susan agreed to drive us home - and stay the night with us. We held them close in the backseat of our van as we rolled up Highway 26 toward town. As we crossed the Ross Island Bridge to our eastside home, I told the girls about the different streets we were travelling on - and about our favorite places in town.
We arrived home around 1:30am - and sent Uncle Chris home as we prepared the girls for bed. To see them back together in their crib - twins together without all the tubes and wires - was a blessing. They snored softly and occasionally would let out a little cry. Despite the everything that had happened up to then - I felt a peace and joy that had eluded me up until then. They were home.
That night, we slept and slept....waking occasionally to check the girls. At 5am, I awoke to Greer wanting to join us in bed....which he did with a certain amount of toddler restlessness. We dozed until 7am - and were greated by the girls soft noises and sighs. Nothing had changed much. Both their heart rate and breathing were normal and there were no signs of distress.
Today was about relaxing and enjoying time with the twins. Both families came over and spent time holding and cuddling with the girls. Greer continued to discover his new sisters by holding them and giving kisses on their forehead. He also like taking off their hats - only to come back and attempt to put them back on. All in all - a good day.
In the meantime, the generosity of our friends has been overwhelmingly wonderful. We are brought delicious dinners, flowers, cards and the prayers of many.
We can't tell you how much it means....
- Old Yiddish Proverb
This weekend was staggering and beautiful. Alexis and I were overwhelmed with love and support as we shared our daughters company with others. Wave after wave of prayers, hugs, tears and humanity. Old and new friends met with us, held our babies, and shared the weight of our circumstance. Greer was able to meet his sisters for the first time - and seemed to understand - by repeating "Quinn (Eleanor) sick!"
When the visiting time was over, our family retired for some dinner and a little distraction from the coming sadness. Our families sat across from each other and ate what felt like a last meal of sorts....knowing....but not really knowing what was to come. Afterwards, Alexis and I walked over to the chapel and prayed for the girls and wept. I noted a woman kneeling in a nearby alse.....and I saw her stand and leave. A moment later, she returned with a box of Kleneex and few kind words. Just one of the countless acts of compassion we have experienced on this road.
When we finally arrived in the NICU, the weight was heavy. We were late, but the resident harpist who came to perform for us had already begun playing for the girls. We cried as we took turns bathing their tiny bodies - careful to avoid pulling on their tubes and wires. We removed the pajamas that the NICU had provided and dressed them in their homegoing clothes. A pair of nurses came to help turn of their machines and finally...the remove their breathing tubes. When the tubes were out and they we free, it was like our babies had been returned to us. No more manmade luggage. They were beautiful.
We walked down a long hall to one of the patient suites where our family was waiting. The girls were cooing and gurgling as we sat in a pair of rocking chairs. We were soon joined by the harpist who continued to play - as we began to spend our time together as a family. Greer greeted his sisters again and worked the room....a tired and distracted boy. He touched them on the head and spoke their names. Before he left with Uncle Chris, he looked back and said "Bye, Quinn. Bye, Eleanor."
We sat there for hours. Talking, crying and celebrating our time together. I felt the sadness come and go. Every time I felt my heart cave in - I would hear Alexis say "I know." It has become our mantra.
After a while, it became apparent that the girls were doing ok without the respirator - and we started to make plans to go home with them. Our pastor, Susan agreed to drive us home - and stay the night with us. We held them close in the backseat of our van as we rolled up Highway 26 toward town. As we crossed the Ross Island Bridge to our eastside home, I told the girls about the different streets we were travelling on - and about our favorite places in town.
We arrived home around 1:30am - and sent Uncle Chris home as we prepared the girls for bed. To see them back together in their crib - twins together without all the tubes and wires - was a blessing. They snored softly and occasionally would let out a little cry. Despite the everything that had happened up to then - I felt a peace and joy that had eluded me up until then. They were home.
That night, we slept and slept....waking occasionally to check the girls. At 5am, I awoke to Greer wanting to join us in bed....which he did with a certain amount of toddler restlessness. We dozed until 7am - and were greated by the girls soft noises and sighs. Nothing had changed much. Both their heart rate and breathing were normal and there were no signs of distress.
Today was about relaxing and enjoying time with the twins. Both families came over and spent time holding and cuddling with the girls. Greer continued to discover his new sisters by holding them and giving kisses on their forehead. He also like taking off their hats - only to come back and attempt to put them back on. All in all - a good day.
In the meantime, the generosity of our friends has been overwhelmingly wonderful. We are brought delicious dinners, flowers, cards and the prayers of many.
We can't tell you how much it means....
2 Comments:
Dear Compadres,
Celebrating your joy of having the family together at home. We are glad Greercito has a chance to spend time with his sisters and bless them with his love. We keep holding you all in our prayers.
We love you,
Your comadres
By
Anonymous, at 9:53 PM
Greg & Alexis,
My thoughts, prayers, and sometimes tears are with you two, and the twins, every day. This has affected me strongly, as it has all of Bridgeport, it seems. Those folks are really with you all the time. We even offer you up at the Missa Luba rehearsals.
I wish I could find words to express my thoughts for you. I can only say what others have, we can't imagine. But I love you. I saw the pics of the twins and I love them, too.
Sincerely,
Theo Burke
PS: My mother and I are sending you a little nuture gift via Harry & David.?@
By
Anonymous, at 6:45 PM
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