How Much Can One Family Take?

Our adventure just never ends...

Last week, on the day that we brought Abby to the Emergency Room, I got some wonderful news. In an effort to "right size" the organization, the hospital I worked for released 80 non-patient care employees, and lucky me -- I was one of them.

I kind of saw this coming. I knew that there were financial difficulties and knew that the HR Department was hit hard since recruitment was slowed down to almost nothing. I was out of work for three months, and in that time the department learned they could operate without me. I saw the writing on the wall -- I anticipated the call. It just would have been nice for them to wait to deliver it when I wasn't in the middle of a crisis.

I worked for that hospital for nine years -- I gave my heart and soul to my job. I worked late nights, gave up time with my husband to make sure projects were done on time. I never hesitated when more work was given to me. I was given a lot of opportunities there that I may not have been given elsewhere -- I recognize that. I learned a lot there, but I really thought I was a valued employee. I feel a bit betrayed by the fact that the hospital literally kicked me when I was down.

Being on bed rest for 13 weeks takes a toll on a person -- physically and emotionally. Not only did my husband and I have to endure years of hardship to finally become pregnant, but now my body didn't respond well to being pregnant and I had to endure 13 hard weeks of being bed ridden -- stuck in the same room, with little to no contact with the outside world. That alone would have been enough to drive someone batty. But no -- it doesn't stop there.

From bed rest we go to premature delivery -- our girls made an early arrival at 33 weeks. A good gestation but still early. Luckily they were able to escape having any major health problems, but we still had to endure 3 weeks of having them in the NICU. Being released from the hospital and not being able to bring your babies home is hard to take. I cried the whole way home from the hospital. Luckily for my emotional well-being -- I would be back. Not so lucky for my physical well-being, as I had to have a second surgery to repair a hole in my bladder less than a week after my c-section.

So now we go from a premature delivery to being readmitted to the hospital for a ruptured bladder. The story is now getting ridiculous -- who in the world would believe a story like this? Who could have this much bad luck? Oh wait -- it gets better.

We get the great news -- Abby is going to come home! We are so excited! It is heartbreaking to leave Emily behind, but we know she will be home soon. We happily take our one bundle of joy home and get her settled in. But wait -- we wake up at 4:30 am to feed her only to realize that she doesn't feel warm! Despite our attempts to raise her temperature -- she ends up back in the hospital. Another set back -- I feel okay about her readmission, I'm just happy we caught it in time before she endured any serious consequences of having a low temperature.

And now here we are. Three weeks since the girls have arrived and here I sit -- unemployed and slightly depressed. I feel as if nothing in my life can go right. I worry non-stop about what is lurking around the corner. I worry that the next shoe to fall will be something horrible happening to one or both of the girls. Everyone has tried to convince me to see the silver lining about losing my job... "now you don't have to rush back to work -- you can take your time and be with the girls." "Maybe you can stay home and not work." and my all-time favorite -- "Everything happens for a reason." I would like to know what reason caused me to endure all of these bad things at one time (of course I do see the birth of our girls as a very good and very positive thing -- please don't get me wrong). But I do wonder how God would allow so much bad to happen in the middle of something so good? This is supposed to be one of the most wonderful times of our lives -- a time that we look back on and get warm-fuzzies. I honestly want to forget the last 16 weeks as much as possible (again, with the exception of the day the girls were born -- that is and will remain the most awesome and wonderful day of my life).

I also worry about my mental well-being. I feel as if I am a strong person who can endure a lot. But I realize that I have endured more in the last 16 weeks than most people will endure in a lifetime (okay -- maybe a bit exaggerated, but a whole crap load of stuff has just been dumped on me). I don't want my story to be on the news someday -- "Crazed, unemployed mother of twin girls jumps off a bridge -- tonight at 6:00." I realize that the hurt of losing my job will eventually dissipate and the joy of having our girls in my life will become the focal point -- but I still get really depressed when I allow myself to think about the fact that I will no longer work at the hospital. That I was not even allowed any closure with the people who I worked so closely with for the last 9 years. It really breaks my heart when I think that I had a really good job, and now that our family has doubled in size, we are going to struggle a little financially until I can find work again. It's a lot of pressure to have on me when I need to be focusing my attention on the girls.

Please pray that no more events come up and that the most exciting thing I get to report on this blog from here on out are the wonderful milestones that Abby and Emily are achieving. I want to only share good news -- I am so done with all of the bad. Please God -- let us move on. Let us be the happy family that we worked so hard to be.