I am rarely brought back to the NICU as it seems like a lifetime ago. However, every now and again something will trigger my memories and I feel like I am living it all over again. You would think that it would be all of the stories I read about preemies, or surgeries; at least something with substance. Today, it was a box of clothes. Not the twins' clothes, Savannah's. I was sorting through all of her old clothes in anticipation of reusing them when I stumbled up the the 3t collection. I suddenly remembered certain outfits that Savannah wore into the NICU, my obsession with her being dressed beautifully and perfectly and the events that took place in the certain outfits while her sisters were still in the hospital.
What is more noticeable is the amount of clothes Savannah had in her third year of life. It was ridiculous. As materialistic as it sounds, I bought tons of very cute outfits so that I could dress Savannah in the best way I knew possible. She was unbelievably cute in her clothes and, yes, most people commented on them. What people didn't know was that I was over compensating for what I thought would never be for the twins. I never thought that I would be able to dress them in cute outfits and have people notice. I figured that people would be distracted by their disabilities, possibly a wheelchair or funny gait. I never thought they would be pretty (I previously belabored this point) and thought that my one chance to have the cute little girl that everyone dotes on was then and now. Savannah was my chance at cute, perfect and fulfilling. I know, it sounds harsh but you can't judge until you see what I saw in that NICU. I was convinced that I was going to be more of a nurse than a mother to the twins. I never assumed that they would know what love is or express happiness. Therefore, I showered Savannah with gifts and clothes. I was desperately trying to fill a tremendous void in my heart. Thankfully it has been filled but in much more meaningful ways.
