Chosen

Tonight I sat in my sons' room and I cried.

I cried because it's been a hard and lonely month. A hard and lonely season.

I cried because I am weary, exhausted, and yet somehow so strangely fulfilled at the same time.

I cried because I am so blessed in this humble life of being a wife and momma.

And I cried because this week I am sending my sweet little man into surgery and my worst fear is something bad happening to any one of my children.

I was overtaken by the scariness of a hospital through the eyes of a child: cold, sterile, noisy, strangers, pain, and new experiences. How do I even begin to explain to my 1-year-old what is about to happen to him? And yet I try. Because that's my job as his momma. I explain that the doctors will take him and give him medicine to go to sleep. That they will fix his owie. That when he wakes up he will hurt but it'll be okay. That it'll be better. That momma will be there. That I will always be there for him and that I love him with all my heart. But he looks at me and smiles and I know...I know he doesn't understand. How could he?

So tonight I sat in their room and I cried. And then I soaked up the sound of their gentle breathing. The sound of the white noise machine. Of little lips smacking together in their tender sleeping sounds. Of rustling bodies moving against sheets. And the sound of a ticking clock, symbolizing every precious moment I have been given with them. Because I was chosen to be their momma. Me. Undeserving, ever-failing, head-over-heart-in-love-with-them me.

When our doctor first told us we were expecting twins I simply paused, took a breath, and said, "Okay." And then I exhaled. And I waited...waited to see if something would happen to one of them. Waited to see if one little sac would stop growing, a heart beat would no longer be beating. But they grew. And they thrived. And to be honest with you my friends, I was petrified. You see, I knew what raising twins looked like. I knew it wasn't just doubling the workload. I knew it was so, so much more. I wasn't worried about the pregnancy- that was only 8-9 months. I was worried about how I would possibly raise twins...two young men...the same age...at the same time. How was I chosen for this? Surely I would fail.

But what I didn't know was that twins was exactly what I needed. Every day this journey brings me to my knees like nothing else I have ever faced. It is every bit as hard as I knew it would be, but it is also so much more of a blessing than I ever expected. The way my heart bursts with love. The way I watch them play and talk to one another. The way they take care of one another. And now the thought of one without the other is something my heart can't take.

You see, I used to think that the little moments- the hugs, kisses, and giggles- made the big moments- the constant education and effort- worth it. But I had it so backwards my friends. The big moments are the hugs, kisses, and giggles. And the little moments are the endless education and effort. And the big moments always make the little moments worth it. The little moments were the endless appointments, scans, and injections. The little moments were when the treatments didn't work, when I felt I had failed as a woman, when I cried every time someone else was pregnant and I still wasn't. The little moments were when everything went wrong- timed injections broke, I was so sick I almost had to be hospitalized, when my husband felt helpless watching me suffer, and when I was sicker than I ever knew was possible. The big moments were when those two sacs showed up on the ultrasound screen. When I first heard their heartbeats. When I went into the hospital for a check up and found out my babies would be arriving in a matter of three hours. When I first heard those cries and then finally held them for the first time over a day after their arrival. The big moments are in every accomplishment they have made since then and every accomplishment they have yet to make. And I was chosen for that. To stand by them. To help them. To teach them. There is no higher calling I could have ever been blessed with.

No this is never a road I would have chosen, but indeed it was chosen for me. And I am overwhelmed with gratitude that He saw something in me I never did, and never would have if not for these precious gifts. These miracle babies of mine.

So tonight I cry. I cry from fear and from blessing. And I pray that I continue to be able to be chosen to be their momma. That everything go well this Friday. And that my little man is soon tucked safely into my arms where I can snuggle him and kiss him endlessly. I pray for peace...truly I battle for it...and I simply say "thank you for choosing me."