Life Lesson for My Little Men #6

So it has taken me a while to write about the first 72 hours of my boys lives.  For a while I have struggled to recall details with little to no success.  Truthfully, I was completely overwhelmed with the entire experience and so details kind of went out the window.  Upon reflection, what I remember is the amazing caring people that we met during our stay at the hospital.  Like many professionals who spend their lives doing what appears to be the impossible, I am sure that they have done all of the things that were done for us countless times and so they have perfected it, however, to me, the response of the health care system and the people at Sunnybrook hospital was everything needed and more.  There we were, 7 weeks before we anticipated being at the hospital, wide eyed and completely in shock.  

In moments when you are overwhelmed it is often next to impossible to think clearly about what is going on around you.  You feel that you need answers but you have no idea what the questions even are.  The nurses, social workers, doctors, respiratory therapists, and others were wonderful in helping us through the first few days, giving us those answers, reassuring us that what we were feeling was normal, and helping to prepare us for the long journey ahead.  I know there are many ups and downs within our health care system here in Canada, but when it works like the NICU at Sunnybrook, you are truly left breathless by daily miracles that are performed.  During that first long weekend we felt ourselves trying desperately to find a routine, something that we could hang our hat on as being normal, good and steady.  While doing so was challenging it was not entirely impossible and the help of our family, friends and colleagues left us with hope that we could get through this.  

As that weekend passed, some things became easier to grasp.  They were getting great care, that was obvious.  We were finding time to eat and sleep and shower and such...mmm...normalcy...What was still very challenging though was leaving each night.  This is something that would slowly subside as we began to embrace our new found routine.  It would get harder again later as our boys began to grow and respond to us.  My thoughts on this are that for the first few days you hate to leave because you are so scared about what is to come and nearing the end you don't want to leave because it is clear things are getting better and you don't want to miss a thing.  It's a strange place to be that's for sure.  Getting back to some of my initial feelings, I think it is important that I express what I struggled with early on so that if anyone else finds themselves in a similar situation you can think back and find solace in the fact that you are not alone.  The hardest part for me and what ultimately drove me to tears was not being able to do anything.  

As a dad-to-be, you build yourself up as the ultimate protector of your family, a problem solver extraordinaire and willing to jump in front of anything to save the people you care about from pain or sorrow.  The reality of this situation is that you quickly realize that you are and cannot be any of those things.  It is painful to watch your little boys struggle for breath and only be able to hope that they catch on.  It is painful to see yet another IV stuck in their arm or to hear the scream as they search for a vein.  It is painful to watch things get better only to see them stumble and not have a hand in helping them back up.  And it is painful to sit, day after day, holding your wife's hand, reassuring each other it's going to be okay but knowing that you have no hand in that apart from waiting, hoping and loving.  Believe me, there were many long tear filled walks back to the car at night and many moments of going to get a coffee simply to escape.  

So a life lesson for my now at home little men who are almost double their size from 2 months ago is simply this:  there will be times when you will feel helpless, like you can't live up to your expectations or that you can't save a person that you love from the pain they are experiencing.  It is important at these times to be supportive, to do what you can and to patiently wait for better times, hope that they come quickly, and love that person/persons with all that you can.  You will hear the word miracle tossed around a lot in your life for things that are far from it (particularly around the sports world).  Try not to let this use of the word depreciate its value in your heart.  I know that from the day you were born that you were to be my little miracles and I can say looking back on those first few difficult days that a miracle is what I hoped for...and a miracle is what I received...for this your mother and I feel truly blessed.

Love Always, Dad

Life Lesson for My Little Men #5

So my last post was a bit of a cliff hanger, but I didn't know how to put that entire experience into one post and so I thank you for you patience.  On September 2nd, 2011 my wife went into labour at 31 weeks gestation.  We were transferred to Sunnybrook hospital and into a brand new birthing unit which was a blessing in disguise.  When I arrived at the hospital, shortly after my wife (ok, I am not sure how shortly after it was, I had done the fatherly thing and picked up the camera and some food for the evening) I walked into the preparations for an epidural.  We had talked about the possibility of this happening and as I have mentioned before, in all matters related to my wife's body I defer to her judgment.  I was introduced to our nurse for the evening and helped provide comfort through the process.  

Not long after (again, I caution those of you who have not experienced this that time is relative) we were waiting on a ultrasound to determine where are two little babies were.  When the resident arrived she completed the ultrasound and checked how far along my wife was and low and behold, she was at 10 cm and ready to go.  The whirlwind of activity that ensued was beyond any level of organization I have ever witnessed.  The next thing I knew I was in an operating room surrounded by 10 very well trained medical people holding onto my camera, my wife's purse and some other bag, that I am not even sure was ours...but let's be honest, I was lucky that I still had all my clothes on given how fast thing were moving.  During the rest of the actual birth I did my job.  As is the case in crisis situations I have dealt with in the past, I relied on my training (thank god for "realities of childbirth"...even if we would miss the last two classes).  Holding my wife's back as she pushed and struggled to deliver our two little bundles was an amazing experience.  It is quite possible that I wasn't being overly helpful, and surrounded by all of those doctors and nurses, I am quite confident that my role was relatively small, but at that time, I felt like I was so connected to what was going on.  All of the worries drifted away and all that mattered was that moment.  

No matter how much preparation goes into the anticipation of hearing the first little cry, you will never be ready for the flood of emotions.  Hearing that tiny little voice followed by the pronouncement "It's a boy!" made me feel more like a dad than all the months leading up to that point.  We saw our first son for all of ten seconds before he was whisked away to a prep room for the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.  We were able to see them on a cctv flat screen above our heads.  Things were going well, he was small but breathing and our focus returned to pushing out the second little one.  Again, time seemed to fly by and shortly after that the second little chirp and another announcement from the doctor "It's another boy!".  Again, the quick show and tell and off he went to the back room.  I stayed with my wife for a few moments and once I was given the all clear went to see my two boys as they were getting cleaned up for transfer to their new home. 

Both were small 2.5 and just under 3lbs.  Both were placed on CPAP, to control and support their breathing, and both were being carefully supported by a team of nurses. Pictures were taken, little hands were held, fingers and toes were counted...and then the happy mother was able to come and visit.  The look of pride in her eyes brought tears to mine.  We had done it...well she had done it.  They had made it...or had they...What I am getting at here is the weird emotional roller-coaster of that day.  Yes, there was a sense of relief...they were here and reasonably healthy...but at the same time we were worried.  Worried about what was to come for them, for us and for our families.  Similarly, I have never felt more unsure of the future and yet I was surprisingly okay with that.  They were well taken care of and all we could do was wait...which would be the story of the next 6 weeks...but that's another post.  We left to rest, the next time we would see our boys they would be downstairs in their little rooms hooked up to tens if not hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of equipment.  The following three hours was spent with follow ups from doctors and nurses all of who did their best to set our minds at ease.  

So my little men who are now at home safe and sound, I hope that when you read this you learn two things.  Firstly, and perhaps selfishly I hope you realize what a miracle you are and how much we love you.  I also hope you see how sometimes life seems to take you on a detour, and more often then not it seems to do so when you are traveling a hundred miles an hour.  During these times you will experience a range of emotions, which many times will be conflicting.  You will have a choice of tuning them out, numbing your senses and getting by.  Or you can open yourself up to your emotions, let them take over your being and experience life to its fullest.  I do not pretend to be solely in favour of the latter, at many times I have chosen to close myself off, to push down emotions and to focus on getting things done.  However, I would suggest that the more you dare yourself to feel and truly let life impact you, the more connected you will be to yourself and those around you.  So, while there will be times for either approach, but what is important is that you don't solely subscribe to one...even when it is difficult challenge yourself to live and feel every day.

Love, Dad

Life Lesson For My Little Men #1

When we first found out we were pregnant, and I say we because I am sharing my experience although I know that my wife did most of the work on that front, we experienced all emotions imaginable.  First of all, we were surprised.  We hadn't been trying to get pregnant but more so, we hadn't been trying not to get pregnant for a month or two and so when it happened so quickly, I think surprise was the most natural feeling.  Next came an overwhelming feeling of joy and excitement.  Things were about to change a great deal in our lives and the thought of caring for a new little one and watching them grow up brought tears to both of our eyes.  The third emotion, which again I think is totally natural, was worry and doubt.  Doubt in our abilities.  Doubt in our preparation.  Doubt in the finances (let's be honest, that was my department...as I am sure it is with many dads-to-be).  And thus, the roller coaster started...pretty much from the time the little stick indicated we were expecting.  Over the next few weeks, the levels of doubt subsided and joy and anticipation took over.  We picked up books, read websites and began preparing.  We went to our first ultrasound and got our first glimpse at the little kidney bean shaped beginnings of our child to be.  Then came the first appointment with the OBGYN.  I was at work when I received a frantic call from my wife and immediately thought the worst.  As I walked quickly from my office to ensure cell phone reception my office is in a windowless bunker) and to get a bit of privacy I anticipated the worst.  Through tears on the other end of the line she said, "It's not what your thinking, it's good news, I think."  At this point, I am clueless and waited for what felt like ages before a further explanation arrived.  "We are expecting twins."  For the next few minutes we reassured each other that this news was great, that it didn't really change anything and we were truly excited.  Over the next few days, doubt began to resurface as a secondary emotion.  At times, our strength and resolve would fade and we would need reassurance that things were going to be okay.  I am not entirely sure what truly helped us through the tougher times, beyond the obvious joy of being parents-to-be.  I would like to say it was my undeniable strength of character, however, I know that isn't true...and let's be honest, there are very few people in this world who can be rock solid all of the time (perhaps maybe Hugh Jackman, he seems like he is chiseled out of stone).  In the end, I feel that maybe it had more to do with the strength of our relationship with each other, family and friends that helped through the darker times.  Whenever one of us was struggling their was always somebody to help focus on the positive, the joy and the love in our lives past, present and future.  In the end, we both knew in our hearts that this was something that we were not only ready for, but that would be the greatest experience of our lives.  So, to couch this all in a life lesson for my little men I would say this.  Are there cloudy days??? Of course, but in the end without clouds would we appreciate the sun or a cold bevy on a hot day (if you're anything like your dad...this statement will make a lot of sense in about 18 years...and it better be 18 years;) ). Remember during those cloudy or difficult times that you don't have to go it alone. That there will always be others who can help you through tough times and to see the light in any situation. Your mother and I will be two of those people, but there will also be many others, please don't hesitate to seek out help. 

Keep smilin'

IC