February 10, 2006

Happy Birthday, Vanessa! You had one month of still being 29 while I was already 30, but it's all over now! Face it sister...we're old.

Well, it's been a week since the Mo/Mo diagnosis and I thought I should at least post something to let everyone know that I am still functioning.

I won't lie; it's been a hard week. Friday the 3rd was awful as I spent the whole day worrying about my two little girls. Todd took the day off and picked up Devin and I left work around 10:30, so at least I got some extra family time with my favorite boys.

Saturday was hard, too, as I didn't have work to keep my mind off of things and I had lots of time to think, think, think. Sunday was awful -- I knew it would be. Mass is always emotional for me for the zillion reasons I love being Catholic, but, of course, since God works in such a way that He's always talking to you, always giving you what you need when you need it, this Mass was especially hard because the first reading was from Job, talking all about his trials and tests and how his faith in the Lord never ceased.

It didn't take long for me to start crying. And once it started, it hardly stopped. By the time Communion rolled around (the high point of the Mass for just about every Catholic out there), I was a basket case. I was in such outward disrepair that a very nice man two rows behind me sent Kleenex up to me. What an angel.

It didn't help, either, that I had a large community of men and women who wanted to stop and hug me on their way back from the altar, giving me signs of blessings and whispers of prayers. I was overwhelmed by the love that I received, but it also just made me break down that much more.

As the week wore on, things got a little better. This week was our yearly church mission, where a visiting, Redemptorist priest (our pastor is a Redemptorist, so go figure) comes to speak each night for four nights on a number of different topics -- forgiveness, healing, faith, etc. Well, needless to say, each night spoke to me in a different way and by the time I got home, I was emotionally drained.

Now don't get me wrong -- all of these cathartic moments have led to a somewhat more stable Erin. I am seeing things more clearly now and am starting to get a hold of just what it is I need to do.

The truth is, between now and early May, there just isn't much that can be done. It's just a wait-and-see game. All we can do is pray that the girls don't twist and turn so much that they cause their already entwined umbilical cords to compress and cut off circulation to one another.

Of course, once we hit 26 weeks, then the hard part begins. If we make it that far, we have to make the decision as to when I am admitted into the hospital for 24/7 monitoring.

I grapple with this a lot. 26 weeks is just around the time that a baby can survive outside the mother. But it's not without its complications. A 26-weeker has a 60% chance of survival and a 30% chance of major life-long illnesses. So...the question of the week is, "Does just because a baby can be born at 26 weeks, mean he or she should be born at 26 weeks?"

I think my answer is, "No." I just don't think I can risk subjecting my children to lives of pain and suffering just because I said, "Well...I think they should be born.

Of course, there are inherent risks here. What if I wait until 30 weeks and they die at 29 weeks. Will I ever forgive myself? Can I live with my decision, if it results in death for both of the girls?

It's not an easy predicament to be in. But here is the good news: Statistically speaking, none of you will ever have this happen or ever know anyone else that this will happen to. Apparently, it's a one in 15.5 million chance of conceiving Mo/Mo twins.

As Sylvia put it, "Way to over-achieve, Erin!"

Your love, emails, prayers and support have been something that is just hard explain. I've never felt more guided, more touched or more blessed. It's true that when God closes a door, He opens a window. This window is a huge one for me, where I am being allowed to see the most beautiful of the blessings the Lord has to offer and these blessings are all coming in the form of friends and family. I just couldn't have a better life, despite the possibility of a huge loss.

Thank you to all of you. You are loved by the Pruetz family just as you are loving us. May He keep you and everyone you know in the palm of His hand the way He is holding us.

Peace.