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“I w-want to see Alina’s sisters,” I finally said.
Thirty minutes later, I was wheeled into the NICU, where my daughters were staying. They were in two different incubators, with tubes and wires attached to their little bodies.
“They are tiny.” My voice cracked as I placed a hand on the outside of the incubator. “They are okay, right? Healthy? Safe? Are there any complications?”
“Both babies are actually doing pretty good for being preemies,” the doctor announced with a kind smile. “Their respiratory systems aren’t fully developed yet, so they need help breathing. And they don’t have the ability to coordinate reflexes like sucking and swallowing, so they are going to be receiving most of the nutrition and fluids through an IV or feeding tube. Though, you should be able to breastfeed them in a few weeks. Maybe even earlier if they are progressing well. Of course, they need to gain a few more pounds before they can go home.”
He pointed to the incubator on my left. “Baby Number One weighs only three pounds and three ounces.” And then he pointed at the incubator I was closest to. “Baby Number Two weighs three pounds and five ounces.”
They were so tiny; so fragile looking in those incubators with diapers that looked too big for their small bodies.
“Can we hold them?” Killian asked, as he stared down at our daughters in both wonderment and fear.
“Absolutely,” the doctor chirped. “We highly recommend the kangaroo care, which is skin-to-skin. And since both mother and father are here, you can hold both babies.”
The nurses carefully took our daughters out from their respective incubators and brought one to me and the other to Killian. They helped me lowered my hospital gown and then placed my baby between my bare breasts, with her tubes and all.
She let out a tiniest cry and I gently brushed a finger over her cheek. “It’s okay, little one. You’re okay,” I crooned to her. She was warm and alive, the complete opposite of Alina. As much as I was thankful for that, it still hurt.
My gaze flickered to Killian, who was sitting in a chair, holding our other daughter to his bare chest. She looked so tiny and vulnerable against his wide chest. But I knew without a doubt, that was where our daughter was the safest. It was almost like we were somehow connected; he looked up at the same time and our eyes locked. “She’s so perfect,” he mouthed.
I nodded tearfully. He cradled her tenderly, stroking a finger up and down her back in a soothing manner.
A tear slid down my scarred cheek as I caressed my baby’s fuzzy head. “You’re Gracelynn,” I told her. “You’re our blessing and named after the purest soul I knew.”
“And you’re Lydia,” Killian whispered, loud enough for me to hear. He was looking down at our daughter, completely awestruck by her tiny self. “Our beautiful, noble one.”
After a second, my husband’s eyes met mine and my heart stuttered.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you,” I breathed.
***
A week later
Once Cameron was sound asleep, I pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and I got off the bed. My stomach growled as I walked into the kitchen to find myself something to eat.
Killian would be coming home soon and then we’d go back to visit Gracelynn and Lydia. While I recovered in the hospital, I was able to spend most of my time in the NICU with my daughters. But when they were only six days old, I was officially deemed fully recovered and healthy, therefore I was discharged from the hospital. There was nothing more I wanted than to stay with them, but I couldn’t.
Cameron needed me. And his sisters had to stay in the NICU for almost two months before they were strong enough to come home.
Leaving our new babies at the hospital and coming home without her was a heartbreaking experience. I remembered crying all night long the first two days we got back home. I sobbed over the lost of Alina. And I cried over the fact that I couldn’t be with my babies twenty-four-seven.
Two weeks have passed and I still felt so… helpless. Pumping was what kept my sanity somewhat intact. It was the one thing that I could do as their mother, that was contributing to their growth and development.
I was chewing on a cold turkey sandwich as I scrolled through my messages. After I was discharged from the hospital, I deleted all my social media apps and I stopped going online. I didn’t want to know what they were saying about me anymore. I stopped caring because they would always find a reason to hate me. I had more important things to worry about now.
I was scrolling through my game apps when I accidently clicked on the news and before I swiped it away, a headline caught my attention.
