That Day

I'll never forget the moment that I found out I would soon become a mother of two babies under the age of two. The day, I don't remember, but the moment. I still see it in flashes: Two solid lines on the stick when there only should have been one; my husband's supportive smile and loving arms; the tears, for my seven month old daughter and what this would mean for her; the tears, for what this meant for me and my family and this unborn bean inside of my womb. I wasn't ready. It was a complete, unexpected shock.

Seven months earlier, I was on bed rest. I was still 3 weeks away from my due date with my first pregnancy, I had high blood pressure and my baby wasn't measuring as large as she should be. I had severe preeclampsia. The next day, my doctor called me at 10am and told me I would be induced at the hospital at noon, admitted immediately because of my extremely high blood pressure and amounts of protein in my urine. It was scary but exciting: I hadn't done my research and didn't understand the potential complications. I just wanted to meet my daughter and I wouldn't let myself believe that anything would or could go wrong. By 10pm that night, I was having painful contractions, but I was only 3cm dilated and was told that I wouldn't be anywhere near delivery until well into the next day. I tried to sleep, but it was far off. Two hours later, I felt something SNAP inside of my stomach. It felt like an elastic band of pain, and when it snapped I had never felt pain like that. I screamed for a nurse and she quickly found that I was ready to push. It all happened so fast. Shortly later, my 5lb 5oz tiny daughter was born. She was ready: although she was fighting for air and had to be whisked away, after a few minutes of help she was beautiful and perfect. My body, however, wasn't so ready.

The next day, everything appeared to be going smoothly. My daughter, Grace, was latching well and we had bonded over night. It was time for her first bath. Her daddy and I stood by and watched attentively, and then suddenly there was a pool of blood below me on the floor. It took me a minute to register that it was coming from me. I walked back to my room and quietly went to the bathroom, when I felt a waterfall of blood pour from my legs. I was hemorrhaging. At that point, everything happened SO fast. I remember nurses everywhere, they were so calm and made me feel like everything happening was completely normal and no reason to worry. I remember my husband lifting his feet on to a chair as blood splashed to the floor like a river does after a winter breakup. I remember feeling so weak, and the nurses saying that they couldn't wait for a doctor's approval to give me meds because I was running out of time. I remember being terrified.

Seven months later, and here I was. I was alive. The meds that the nurses gave me worked. I stayed in the hospital longer than most new moms, and my once 5lb 5oz baby girl was thriving. I hadn't thought about having another baby because here I was, a first time mom, with a seven month old. I hadn't even begun to process the fear I had felt in the hospital that February morning, because I was too busy enjoying my new daughter. But there it was, in the form of two lines on a pregnancy test: the reality that I would have to face those fears again in less than nine months time.

Now, 2 years later, I have an amazing toddler who literally thinks she is a princess. She teaches us about patience, she makes us laugh hysterically, and she is smarter than most 1st graders. More importantly, she loves her little brother like he was sent here for her. All of my worries that she would have trouble adjusting were for naught. All of my worries that I would have trouble adjusting were also for naught. My second pregnancy went off without a hitch, as did delivery. My son was born a healthy 8lbs 5oz, a happy and funny ball of love from day one. And we were all meant to be together. My husband and my children: my family. They have taught me that everything happens for a reason, the good and the bad and the scary.

You know, you might be a mommy if...you learn the hard lessons of life from two toddlers.