The World According to Angela

7 years ago right now, I was getting my first real view of my firstborns.  From the wee morning hour when they were born, I only had a quick glimpse of them before they whisked them away.  I had a Polaroid of each of them that kept my attention for many hours (of which I am still grateful to the nurses who were thoughtful enough to do that - thank you again), but I needed to see my babies in person.  The delay was my slow recovery from the combo spinal/epidural of my emergency c-section.  When I was finally able to sit in a wheelchair and touch them for the first time, my first thought was very simple: they were perfect.  It's very difficult to carry triplets and after all of the scares of premature birth, there they were....33 weeks and 2 days, all 3lbs5oz, 3lbs8oz and 4lbs6oz worth of them.  It was finally real.  The long, long road it took to reach that point was over.  Everything was going to be ok.

My second thought was amazement that all of that 'baby' was inside of me.  No wonder I felt so miserable.  They were beautiful, perfect, and our children.  I was instantly smitten.  There was never any time required for me to bond.  My heart was immediately taken to an alternate place where it can simultaneously burst with love, happiness, hurt, worry and fear...just to name a few.  I thought I understood emotion up until 7 years ago, but those 2 minutes that it took to pull 3 babies out of my womb redefined my emotions forever.

At their younger birthdays, it was more a reflection of how easier some things became.  It's not hard to remember the difference between leaving the house with three breastmilk-drinking babies versus three somewhat self-sufficient kids.  I used to always reply to the questions of how we are doing with "some things get easier, some get harder."  Every year I understand the implications of that statement with more magnitude.  The new catchphrase seems to be this: "small kids, small problems.  Bigger kids, bigger problems."

Now they are 7.  It's literally shocking that 7 years have gone by already.  They are now really their own little people dealing with their own problems.  They have to fend off peer pressure, competition and all the fun and yuck that comes with growing up.  I hope and pray that we make the right decisions to give them the best opportunity to thrive in this world; one where we are just like every other previous generation and think the world is going to hell.  I want to equip them all with the personality traits that will help them succeed in life.  And after 7 years, one thing is very clear: being a parent is harder than you'd ever believe.  It comes with more joy and heartbreak than I ever thought I could feel (but yes, it is still always worth it).

7 years under the belt, and I've learned a lot.  A lot about myself, my husband, my family, the world.  Life is one big continuous journey - the more you learn, the more you realize how much you don't know.  Parenthood fits right in there with one big exclamation mark.

Happy 7th Birthday, my sweethearts.  I hope the first 7 years of your life have been good ones.  I know you have made my last 7 years worth every minute.  For as long as I live, I will never forget or underappreciate the miracle that 7 years ago brought to my life.