Happy Valentine's Day to me!

The DH and I do not celebrate Valentine's Day on Valentine's Day. My husband is of the ilk that complains bitterly about it being a "Hallmark" institution and he will not be forced into having to be romantic. (Which is kind of funny because he proposed on Valentine's Day 12 years ago with an elaborate play that we were involved in that he wrote and directed and had all of our friends involved in, but that it another story for another time.) Before you start feeling sorry for me or angry at my hubby, we do celebrate Valentine's Day on another day - usually a surprise from one of us to the other. It's a good system that we are both happy with. It's less about what is EXPECTED of us and more about US.
That being said, this morning I checked and received an email from my hubby with this in the body of it-

"I guess the silver lining in this means that there are people in far worse of circumstances than we are and therefore, we didn't need what they were offering.
But I sent this in anyways... for you."

The attachment read as follows:

Dear Matt and Eric,

I am writing to you to nominate my wife for your infamous dozen dozen.

I know that this week especially the subject of multiple babies is in the news a lot, what with single moms giving birth to septuplets, no... octuplets and geriatric gestations resulting in twins... so here is one more story to add to the list...

One year ago this week I left work around 11am to meet my wife for our first ultrasound with our second pregnancy. Our two year old safely stored at a friend's house we had a rare hour or two together, alone. I thought that perhaps we would nip into the radiologist's clinic and then run out for a quick lunch before I returned to work. As the first ultrasound of our first child was a life altering event for me, I was determined to be by my wife's side as we met for the first time our second child. We were already nineteen weeks along, but that didn't concern us... everything was textbook perfect.

She went into the room ahead of me to be prepped and prodded for the procedure, while I stayed back and tried my hardest to decide between a one year old copy of McLean's Magazine... or something published by Martha Stewart. I decided on McLean's, for good reasons, and settled into an ergonomically unsatisfying chair for what I anticipated to be a long wait.

About fifteen minutes later the radiologist, Janice, came into the waiting room to fetch with me. I followed her down the hall and into a darkened room where my wife, wrapped in a blanket was lying on an uncomfortable medical table. Much to my surprise, she yelled at me as I walked into the room.

"M, there are two in there!"

The first thought that entered my mind was "You are supposed to tell someone to sit down when you deliver news like that."

Luckily for me there was a stool right in front of me. I collapsed onto it and then whispered "You have got to be kidding."

Of course, right there on the screen in front of me, in living color, were two heads, four arms and two torsos. There was no denying it. We were having twins.

The next five minutes involved whispered and stunned comments between us about the important things---college tuition, entering the mini-van driving phase of life, and how in the world would we fit five people into our modest sized home?

The next few months involved putting our house on the market, and then taking it off the market only to renovate our house... all the while my wife got as BIG as a house. We ended up selling one vehicle and buying the dreaded mini-van. During this time she went for more ultrasounds than I can remember, had doctor's appointments every other day and we wrestled with this growing fear that our beloved son would somehow be swallowed up and forgotten in the chaos to come.

Then one Thursday, in the middle of May, around 11am I received a phone call at work.

"M, I just went to the doctor, and he says my blood pressure is unbelievably high, and you are too meet me at the hospital immediately."

I did what any caring husband would do in a situation like this.

I panicked.

The next few days were chaos. Pregnancy induced high blood pressure had set in. The babies were fine, but my wife's condition was serious. At first we tried living with her at home, with a nurse visiting once or twice per day, but her newly prescribed medication just wasn't working. She would pass out on me, get dizzy and need to sit down, etc. On top of this we still had a long list of things that needed to happen before the babies arrived, our non-tax deductible renovations were not even complete, life was stressful enough for her without this. It seemed like things were going from bad to worse. Finally, the nurse told us to go to the hospital, staying at home wasn't working.

R was admitted on Sunday night, after spending most of the day in the hospital. She had been given a concoction of medicine to lower her blood pressure but it just wasn't working. Her pressure would be so low that she could hardly stand up, then an hour later, her blood pressure would be critically high.

Finally, on Tuesday things started to normalize. I was told that I could take my wife home, and as long as she took it easy and the medicine worked we could wait out the next five weeks with little problems. I was relieved, I packed her bags, snuck some Jello out of the hospital refrigerator, called worried family members, rubbed her feet and fed her Ginger Ale. We could go home, We could be a family again. Everyone was going to be just fine.

The nurse eventually came in and said that the discharge was official. I could go get the car. Then she said something I will never forget "Let me just check your blood pressure one more time."

I stood there with her bag in my hand, and fumbled for my keys. I pulled my phone out to call someone else to tell them the good news when all of a sudden chaos once again reared its ugly little head.

The nurse looked at the readout on the blood pressure machine, blinked, then violently shoved the machine across the room. She whipped out her watch and stethoscope and manually read my wife's blood pressure.

"I'll be right back" she said before running out of the room and coming back with another nurse. "I need a second opinion, take her blood pressure." she ordered.

Once done she looked at us and said "I am not a doctor, but I know how this works. Your pressure is higher now than it has been all week. Your life is now in danger and there is only one way to get it down. These babies are coming out tonight."

She looked at me and said "Your wife will meet you on the fifth floor. Bring her things up there. Hurry."

With that they whisked her off and left me "holding the bag." I looked around the empty room, and the bags in my hand and said to no one in particular "But... I thought we were allowed to go home."

A few minutes later I, feeling like a fish out of water, toddled onto the Labour and Delivery floor, dragging her belongings behind me. I was, as usual, confused and wondering why I couldn't just leave. I was informed where my wife was and when I entered the room the sign on the door read High Risk Pregnancy Critical Care Labour and Delivery.

My male brain slowly took in this information and I thought "I guess this is serious. Real serious."

To make a long story short, I was once again swept into a surreal story where I, the masculine heroic male was reduced to a helpless bystander with the fate of my loved ones on the line. The good news is, a few hours later both of my daughters arrived in the world healthy and whole.

The next morning I awoke, sleeping on a chair in the same labor room we had the girls in and began to wonder why I was still in the same room. I also began to wonder why the same nurse had been at my wife's side all night long. Then I found out the rest of the story, the part the medical staff had kindly kept from me, the heroic male with a queasy stomach. The labor had been fine, but severe hemorrhaging had resulted, R had lost a lot of blood. She had also reacted badly to the medicines pumped into her system. She had been severely sick all night.

I can remember thinking 'Will this ever end?'

That feeling stayed with me for the next few weeks. It took almost another week before Mommy's blood pressure normalized and she was discharged from the hospital, and another week and a half before my dollies could come home to meet their big brother and we could be a family again.

The last eight months have been surreal. Midnight feedings with not one but two screaming girls. Diapers, diapers and diapers. Not to mention the joys and strains of the celebrity twin parent status.

Celebrity twin status means that complete and utter strangers will approach us in public and ask things like:

"Oooohhh how cute, are they twins?"

To which I reply, "No, actually they are not. That one was born in the same hospital on the same day as ours, but to a different set of parents. But we fell in love with her so we stole her when we left."

And then there is my favorite question.

"They don't look much alike. Are they identical?"

I often answer, "As a matter of fact they are. However, during the pregnancy, Mommy did a lot of drugs. That one there is the Crack baby, so she looks different."

Then there is the whole aspect of life management which my wife deserves untold applause and accolades. Bravely she attempts things that used to be simple, like trying to survive a trip to Sobey's with all kids in tow, inspire a needy and often unheroic husband, plus mother and care for an energetic three year old and, just because life wasn't crazy enough, start a home based business.

My wife, R, is ultimately my hero. She has had a year we don't want to repeat but one we will cherish and never forget. I am the proudest father of three children in the world, and the often proud, but say it too little, husband of a woman who deserves far more than roses.

Thank you for reading this and for considering her as a recipient for your wonderful gift. If you drop by I can guarantee that, Matt and Eric, you will at the very least get a smile out of it as you meet the wife and kids, and as fathers you may even find it heart warming. And hey, if children no longer interest you, I am living proof that a man can survive the dreaded right of passage called a Vasectomy... but that's a whole other story!

Sincerely,

MJE

It made me cry. And it's the nicest Valentine's Day gift I have gotten on February 14th since I got my engagement ring! Thank you so much M. I LOVE YOU!!
Too bad all I got you was some chocolate kisses...