Well, at this very moment ( 10 am) I was in transition and yelling at Handy Man that this was going to be a repeat of the no good, awful, terrible experience I had the last time. As the remaining color drained from his face, they ushered him out and my new BF (God's Gift to Women and Handy Men) in, the anesthesiologist. When Handy Man returned, I was sitting up in bed, smiling, ready to get the show on the road. Outside, conditions were more deplorable than they are today in Southern Indiana. Everything was coated in ice, trees were falling, electric was out, but by noon, 11:55 and 11:58 to be exact, all was right with my world when they put a little pink bundle in my right arm and blue bundle in my left. Drummer boy, 6.14 and Rae-rae 7.1.
I remember just staring at them, incredulous that my body produced them, that they fit in there. It was a miracle.
1st Lt. was not yet two and when people would ask what mommy had, his reply was always, "scissors(sisters)."
The next question, "What did she name them?"
"Well, what did she name the other one."
With a tone that indicated his frustration with their stupidity, he replied, "Waychel."
To me, they are still a miracle, still as beautiful and precious. I'm still incredulous.
How did those little pastel bundles already get so old with bundles or bundles to be of their own? Just a miracle I guess.
Happy Birthday Drummer Boy and Rae-rae!