Parents

My Parents: I am the 3rd out of 4th kid in my family.  The only girl.  You better believe that my mom was excited when she learned that we were pregnant...

We took about a year and a half to tell my parents about what we were going through with the fertility clinic and such.  As soon as we did they were supportive.  My mom followed my procedures, I sobbed on the phone to my mom when we miscarried, and then my parents visited the day of our egg retrieval so that my mom could teach Johnny how to do the PIO injections.  My mom followed my pregnancy with the twins like a hawk.  We talked every day and she grilled me about my protein intake and my sleep.  

On June 22nd my mom and dad accompanied us to the doctors for an ultrasound.  They were in the room to see the babies moving around, but they waited in the lobby while we were given the shocking news that the pregnancy was in danger and that I was on immediate bed rest.  I walked out of the room in a daze and collapsed next to them telling them what had happened.  Though they live aways away and both had to work the next AM (it was a late appointment) they followed us home to make sure that we had everything that we needed to keep me comfortable and in bed.  They went food shopping for us, grabbed us dinner, and tucked me into bed before leaving for home late that night.  The daily phone calls continued and the night I was finally admitted into the hospital my parents drove up to Boston to see me for my first night in the hospital (first night EVER).  I was stuck in triage way longer than planned and my parents patiently waited for 5 hours outside the hospital until I was in a room and they could visit.  

Throughout the month I was in the hospital, my parents who rarely drove in to the city (we're small-town folks :oP) visited twice a week every week to keep my spirits up.  They brought me dinner, my mom painted my toes, and they just hung around.  Still my mom continued to follow the pregnancy religiously.  

The morning I went into labor Johnny called them and my mom immediately started crying, but they drove those 60 miles to the hospital in record time and were there before the C-Section began.  (Though I didn't see them, but Johnny saw them out the window before he came to be with me.)  They waited in the main lobby for hours- they were there around 11am and they didn't get to come up and see me until 4 or 5pm.  They spent the day with me and the boys and they returned the next day with photos of the boys for us to hang in the room.  

The next day, Tuesday, they were at work already when Johnny made the call that they needed to come now.  Johnny didn't want to tell them over the phone that Connor had passed away, so he just left a message saying that I needed them.  They both rushed out of work and again sped to the hospital.  They didn't know where to find us so they went to my room and when they didn't see me there they rushed up to the NICU.  It was there that I collapsed into their arms and sobbed.  

After we said good bye to Connor and left him with the nurses, they came up to my room but then everyone left me and Johnny for a few minutes.  It turned into a long time and Johnny left to talk with them.  Awhile later my mom came back to visit me in the dark and she was such a comfort.  It meant a lot to me to know that, even though she was heartbroken about Connor, she was still worried about me.  I had a feeling at the time that other people were only sad about Connor (understandable), but it was important to know that my mom and dad knew that losing Connor would profoundly change me in ways others didn't seem to think about.

That night my parents and Johnny's parents stepped up to talk responsibility for Connor's funeral- in planning and paying.  Looking back I'm not sure it was the right decision for us to let them take the responsibility because it wasn't really fair but I will forever be grateful that they did.  They met with the funeral directors and made the big plans and paid for everything.  Johnny and I were able to personalize the arrangements as we saw fit, but we didn't have to sit down and make the plans.  I am so thankful for that and for them.  

The day of the funeral my parents were right there by my side.  Looking back I really think they were worried about how I would handle everything and how it would change me, but knowing I had their support meant the world.  I knew they were there, not only for the fact that they lost a grandson, but also for us- and that came first.  They put us ahead of themselves and what we needed came first.  

My parents bought me a necklace to honor the twins and it was just what I needed.  I've worn it every day since and I have felt not only the twins presence with the necklace, but also the love of my parents.  

Their support has been unwavering ever since and I have constantly felt their support in everything.  They visited Colby 2 times a week in the hospital.  One of the smallest things that happened in the hospital that meant so much came from my dad.  One day a nurse casually asked if Colby was his first grandchild.  My dad froze and choked up.  I saw the redness in his eyes and he quickly blurted "No, second".  It was left at that, but it meant so much because it helped me realize just how much my dad was touched by the loss of Connor.  

To this day I still have their support in every way imaginable-- my mom still calls every day and they still manage to find ways to remember Connor just when it matters most.  My mom still posts on the online Guest Book for Connor, we were given Connor ornaments for Christmas, I was given an angel necklace for my angel baby, Connor was honored in subtle ways at the shower, and they donated to the hospital in Connor's name for Christmas.  All this has meant the world to me because it is so important to me that Connor not be forgotten.  I know it's easy for some people to forget about him because we have Colby to fill some of the gaps, but I can't bear the thought that he be forgotten.  

And through everything my parents have managed to support us, be amazing grandparents to Colby, and remember their first grandson in subtle and touching ways.

Next up, my brother Matt.