June 23, 2013: A day forever imprinted in my mind. How can one day embody both the pinnacle of joy and the depths of despair? It was the day my triplets entered the world, yet it was also the day my first child slipped away.
After enduring years of infertility, my husband and I were ecstatic to learn we were expecting triplets. However, the journey to their arrival was fraught with uncertainty, as I spent nearly two months on bed rest. My body fought valiantly, but ultimately, I went into labor more than 17 weeks early.
The sorrow from that day shakes me to my core, causing both my body to tremble and my heart to ache. I vividly recall lying in the hospital, hours dragging on as I pondered whether my precious babies would even survive. At 22 weeks, many medical professionals don’t consider a baby viable. Would my children take even a single breath? It was a surreal experience, knowing that the child I had yearned for might not make it. Although that day was clouded in emotion and confusion, the memory of my children’s birth is undeniably clear.
After enduring over 12 hours of labor, my contractions intensified. At 4:48 a.m. on that fateful Sunday, Ava was born. She let out a tiny squeak before being handed to the neonatologist. In a heartbeat, my worst fears were confirmed: her lungs were too weak to survive. My husband and I cradled our first daughter, a mixture of awe and sorrow washing over us. We marveled at her perfect features — a delicate button nose, tiny hands and feet, all 10 fingers and toes intact. Though her eyes were sealed shut, we knew they were beautiful just like her. We held our precious Ava as we held each other, tears flowing, when the doctors announced her time of death nearly two hours later.
In what can only be described as a miracle, my two remaining triplets held on for 17 hours, a crucial time in the womb that ultimately saved their lives. While doctors anticipated the same tragic outcome for both of them, the entire room was taken aback when both Liam and Mia were born with lungs strong enough to endure their first night.
In the weeks following their births, I would mentally rewind that day, revisiting each moment. Every Sunday, I would lay awake, reflecting on my labor and the precious minutes when my children came into this world. As the grief would swell, I would fixate on the clock, waiting for the exact moment Ava’s time was called. Those memories were briefly overshadowed nearly two months later on August 16, 2013, when we faced the heartbreaking loss of our son, Liam.
With a gentle touch, doctors removed his tubes and wires, placing him in my arms. Surrounded by family, I read him stories and comforted him as any mother would. We talked about his siblings and the world beyond the hospital walls, even discussing college football while our little boy gazed up at us with a faint smile. Four hours later, at 6:12 p.m., the doctors announced Liam’s passing.
Nearly three years have passed since my triplets were born, yet the memories remain vivid. Why would I choose to hold onto such painful recollections that threaten to break my heart? The answer is simple: those memories are all I have. For parents who have endured the unimaginable pain of losing a child, those heart-wrenching moments are treasures we cherish. We may have tangible keepsakes — footprints, tiny hats, and hospital bracelets — but it is the fleeting memories and photographs of our children that we must carry with us for a lifetime.
As time marches on, I worry that my memories may fade, and I pray that those clear moments will remain permanently etched in my mind. While the early days were steeped in sorrow, today my memories are tinged with joy. Through my tears, a smile emerges as I reflect on my beautiful angels. Watching my lone survivor, so vibrant and full of life, reminds me that a piece of her siblings lives on within her. I often revisit the day my triplets were born, and I am filled with pride knowing that all three of my babies existed, even if only for a brief moment.
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In conclusion, while the memories of loss can be painful, they are also a testament to the love and life that once was. Embracing these memories allows us to honor our children and keep their spirits alive in our hearts.