Sunday, August 08, 2010
Laying in bed in the darkness the phone ringing wakes me from my slumber. I stumble in the darkness, wondering who could possibly be calling at this hour. The words on the other side come quickly..."babies born...I've made a mistake...all consents have been signed...hurry." I quickly wake Nathan and we pack in a fury. We set out in the darkness, full of excitement. All the pain of the previous week melts away. With each state border we cross our anticipation grows. We make the 23 hour drive to my parent's place in Utah with no overnight stops. We sleep for a few hours, drop off the dog, gas up the car and we're off again. Eleven hours later we're at the hospital in California. We see our babies for the first time through the glass. The nurses realize who we are and let us back to hold them. Tears are shed, prayers are said. Later in the day they are released and we make our way back to our hotel. Their cries do nothing to deflate our swollen hearts. Sometime in the darkness of night, when both the babies are fed, changed and asleep we drift to sleep as well. This morning when I see the first morning light creep in the room I am confused. "Where am I?" as the room comes into focus I realize I am not in a hotel in California. I am in my bed. In my apartment. In Chicago. The tears sting as I realize we are alone in our apartment. There are no babies. There was no phone call, no 23 hour drive, no hospital. I feel my heart sink lower in my chest and I feel powerless against the oppressive darkness I know is coming.