I endured years of heartache, painful shots, expensive pills, procedures, and tests.
I cried, rejoiced, and shook with excitement and nervousness as I saw those two pink lines...twice.
I sobbed with fear as I thought I was losing one of them.
I carried them in my womb for 39 and 41 weeks.
I pushed them out of my body after 72 and 8 hours of labor.
I snuggled their squishy, gooey, naked bodies against my own when they first entered this world.
I stared at them and marveled at God's creation and goodness trying to savor each moment of the miracle that I was blessed to be a part of.
I watched my amazing and loving husband as he became a daddy and cut their cords.
I cried through the first few weeks of brestfeeding both of them as I felt pain and frustration.
I rejoiced as I realized that we finally got this!
I walk around smelling like sour milk with stains on my shirts.
I have purple battle scares on my belly that proves they once lived inside.
I am less tone and have wider hips from them growing in my tummy.
I haven't spent more than an hour on my own in 14 months.
I have spent and still spend many nights with little sleep as I wake to feed and comfort my babies.
I have stayed awake to stare at them, just to make sure they are breathing.
I stare at their beautiful blue eyes, and try to figure out what features they get from which one of us.
I drive all over creation to go to the best pediatrician, get the right foods, and the best supplements.
I do things that I swore I would never do when I had kids.
I smile and rejoice as my oldest learns to walk. I laugh as she dances to any music that she hears.
I giggle at the faces they both make. Especially my littlest, she's a sassy one.
I pray for them daily and wonder about who they will become in the coming years.
I pray for myself, that I will be the mother He wants me to be.
I thank God for the gifts they are because I know I do not deserve them.
