My heroes

It would be easy for me to sit here and write about my mother, or my husband's mother. Both of whom have been through a lot in their lives and have seemingly overcome it. I could write to you about my sister, who had a child at 17 and is trying (maybe not her best) to raise him. I'm afraid, though, that I couldn't expand much on that. I admire them all, but they are not truly my heroes. My heroes I knew for only three months. The most pivotal three months of my life.
On October 11, 2010 I gave birth to my twin daughters 14 weeks prematurely. They were perfect, they were healthy (they even cried!). They were just very tiny, weighing in at less than 2 lbs. each. To give you an idea how early they were, they grew their birthmarks outside of my body. Well, at least one did. Because on October 25th, 2010 I my daughter Coraline to Necrotizing Enterocolitis, a condition where part of the bowel dies. In Coraline's case it progressed so far so quickly that a hole was created and spewed poison into her beautiful little body.
The only way I got through this time is because I still had my other daughter, Adora, to focus on. I'm not exaggerating when I say that if it weren't for her, I would have gone along with Coraline.
Adora was in a hospital 2 hours away from home, the closest with a NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit). She was there for over 3 months, past even her due date. And because of the responsibilities I had at home, I could not always be there with her. So, needless to say my heroes are the nurses that cared for my daughter when I could not. Not all the nurses there deserve my respect, some of them I felt were lazy and/or didn't care. Others I felt were incompetent or even mean.
However, throughout our stay, there were three ladies who I believe helped my family through the hardest things we have ever faced. One, our social worker, had lost her daughter's twin in much the same way we had lost ours. By sharing her experience and grief, she helped me to adjust to my own. Her own daughter passed in that same NICU, and she continues to work there. I have no idea how she does this, because that is such a painful place. But she is strong, and she is put together. I'm not sure she knows how much I respect and admire her.
One nurse, who has been working in the NICU for over 20 years, I grew close to. She loved me, and she loved my daughter. I always felt a sense of calm if she was there when I could not be. She took care of Adora better than I could at the time. She knew what I would want, if I were able to be there. She knew what was "normal" to expect from Adora. So she could advocate to the doctors, and make things happen that I'm not sure all nurses could.
My final hero is another nurse, also with several decades of experience. She loved my daughter beyond measure. She followed her from birth to when she left. My husband and I jokingly said that if we ever passed we would leave Adora to her. Actually, I'm not at all sure I was joking. She, not I gave Adora her first bath. She was the first to dress her, to comb her unruly hair. I may be envious of all these firsts, but she deserves them.
You see, the reason I admire these ladies so much is because as many "happy cases" they see, where the babies they have seen grow outside their mothers wombs when they should not be go home and flourish, they see almost as many "sad" cases. Such as the one with Coraline. For all of you who have not stepped into a NICU, believe me when I say it is not a happy place. It is where the sickest and the tiniest babies go. It is where desolate parents, and desperate parents go. The things that my husband and I saw there will haunt us forever.
These wonderful, strong, beautiful ladies have seen this everyday for decades. Yet they continue to go back. I can not fathom this, because the whole time Adora was there we vowed we would not ever go back once she was home. Maybe a sense of duty, a sense of honor. For these ladies, it isn't just a job. They handle such horrible circumstances daily with pure grace and fortitude. Without them, I'm not exactly sure where my small family would be.
So that is why I have not one hero, but four. Yes, four. Because Adora will always be my hero, for unknowingly surviving when she might not have. She is my backbone, my will to live. Behind her are three very strong, loving women, and this is my thank you to all of them.