Before we had kids, I never once in a million thoughts, would have guessed that having kids would leave me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. But it did. They say having children will change you, but they don't promise that it'll be for the better.

I'm going to have to break this up over a few posts. Not just because it would you take you hours to read it, but I can't focus on this topic long before my mind starts playing tricks on me. So please, bear with me if you care to. I'd like to attempt to tell my story.

Part 1 TWINS!

My husband, @chackett and I had always known that we wanted to have children. We also knew that due to a genetic disorder he has, that we would need the help of a Doctor to get pregnant. When we found out it was twins we were sooooo excited! We called all our family and they cried and told us congratulations. They knew how much we had wanted this.

I left my job so I could focus on the pregnancy and getting ready for TWO babies. I knew I wanted to stay home with them and my husband made enough money to support us. But we were still living in the dream. I had no idea what was waiting up ahead, but at 33 weeks it all fell apart.

My husband had just left our home in Colorado that morning to travel to Pennsylvania for work. We thought we still had AT LEAST another few weeks before we needed to worry about me going into labor. But that evening, as I stood up to walk to the bathroom (for the gazillionth time that day), my water broke.

I called my husband and he rushed to get back on a plane and get home. My mom was planning on being there for the birth, but she lived in Washington. She couldn't get a flight out until the next morning. I had our neighbor drive me to the hospital.

I'll spare you the gory details and just tell you that both my hubby and my mom made it in time for the birth. I'm not gonna lie, I was scared. I knew that 33 weeks gestation was not enough for them to be born totally healthy. There were going to be complications. I knew that. But I just prayed that they both would make it.

River Amelia was born at 11:51pm. Chris, (hubby) handed her to me. I got to kiss her forhead and whisper, "Hello Sweetie" to her, just as I had planned to. My heart melted and then my belly shifted. I vaguely remember telling the nurse, I think he's coming! My attention ripped away from my first born as I prepared to welcome my second.

Simon Apollo was born at 11:56pm. The room went silent.

"Where is he?" I asked.
No answer
"Is he ok?"
More silence

It felt like forever before someone announced his weight and in the next moment I heard the faintest cry.

They were both taken to the nicu while the doctors and nurses patched me up and prepared to wheel me back to my room to recover. Without my babies. I never even got to hold them. Were they even mine? My body convulsed and shook. I felt cold all over and panic set in. The nurses brought me some food and meds and eventually I think I slept.

But it was agony waiting to go see them. I needed to know they were ok. When we were able to go see them the next day, we couldn't hold them. Simon had severely under developed lungs and needed a ventilator to breathe for him. River was also struggling with the same thing, although not as severe. Both needed supplemental oxygen for the first 4 months of life.

5 weeks in the nicu. Once I was released from the hospital, I had to go home without my babies. That was gut wrenching. The longer they stayed in the nicu, the less I felt like they were actually mine. Doctors and nurses telling me when and how to hold and feed them. What I can and can't dress them in. I couldn't even bathe them by myself in there. I got up every day during those 5 weeks and drove to the nicu and sat with them all day and then drove home to an empty house. This was not at all what I had imagined parenthood to be.

Finally the day came that I could hold BOTH of my babies at the same time!

Slowly, things got better. Although, I was dead ass tired and still trying to figure out this mom thing, it was getting better!

We eventually figured out how to selfie together.

And at 4 months old, I finally got to see what their little faces looked like without tubes and wires sticking out.

Those first 4 months were brutal. They both ended up back in the nicu after catching a cold from the first nicu. I worried ALL THE TIME about those oxygen tanks and tubes. Forget trying to go anywhere with them, it wasn't going to happen. My anxiety ramped up to epic proportions. I tracked every feed, every diaper, every nap. I obsessed over taking the absolutely most perfect care of them that I could. I think most new moms feel that way at first. So I dismissed my feelings as normal and figured it would work itself out with time. At this point in my story, I look back and think I must have had post partum anxiety. I pushed it all down and did what I had to. As they grew, things got easier. Once they no longer needed oxygen, they were healthy as could be and life was as you'd expect it to be... For a while.

That's as far as I can dig today you guys. I've cried twice writing this already. I have no idea how long it will take me to be able to tell part 2. Maybe no one will even read this. (Except my wonderfully supportive hubby)

I'm hoping that by writing it down, I can start to let it go. I need to let it all go. But tell that to my brain. sigh