Slow and Steady

We went to the March for Babies Family Team kickoff last night.  Unfortunately for the sweet girl that planned it, only two families showed up despite about fifteen families saying they were coming.  Maybe it's the Southern in me, but I still don't understand why people RSVP to say they'll be somewhere and then don't show up.

Just as well, as it basically meant we had the run of the place, and Thomas ate up all of his time in the indoor bouncy, slide, and playground.  He had a blast, and took to that 90 degree angle slide like it was his job.  I was so proud of him.  And a little freaked out, all wrapped in one.

So while BT and Thomas played away, I sat and talked with the other family and the MOD staffers there.  They talked about how impressed they were with our fundraising so far, and then asked why we were walking.  You see, they knew the team name, but that's about all they knew. 

I was prepared for that, so then, for the very first time, I calmly and delicately explained the life of our little girl to complete strangers, without a tear, without fear.  For the first time, I did not concern myself over how they would react.  I just took ownership of our story, and told it. 

I found myself uttering the many words that have become all too familiar:

'polyhdramnios'

'non-immune fetal hydrops'

'chest tubes'

'ventilator'

'mystery'

'exhausted'

'spontaneous intrauterine rupture of the thoracic duct'

'12 days....'

And it was all okay.  We just talked.  And the other family just nodded their heads in agreement that there's nothing to say, because it just sucks that bad.  And as their little girl played with Thomas, and I saw the look in their eyes, it all made sense when I learned they had lost their twin babies.  They got it, and it was nice to be with people that just could nod and understand. 

So we talked, and we played, and our kids had a blast. 

When we left, BT said, "thanks for making us go to this tonight."

"You're welcome," I said.

And I breathed a deep breath.

And we went home to our little perfect world, our home, and went to sleep.