From Birth

I was born July 7, 1981... I was called a preemie because I was so small that I could be held in the palm of a hand, except I could not be out of my incubator or away from the many tubes.  My parents already had one daughter who was two and a half years old, and now they had twins.  Although we had grown together for the first part of our lives and were separated by merely sixty seconds entering the world, I was about to experience a vast separation in time and space when the hospital staff whisked me away from my family and flew me to Edmonton where the hospital had a better facility to help me.

I was so small and fragile that my mother wasn't able to see me before I was relocated.  My parents weren't able to come with me; they had to stay home with my two sisters in Grande Prairie (a five and a half hour drive from Edmonton).  They wanted to visit but my dad was a police officer who worked night shifts and my mom had two little girls to look after.  They were far away but were sending me angels in their thoughts each day.  I know it must have been a big challenge for my parents to trust that I was going to be okay and leave my care in someone else's hands.  Instead, they sent a family friend to come and hold my small body for moments of comfort.  A friend forever, she is also my older sister's godmother.  She wrote me this letter that I hold dear.

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Dear Shawna,

This is what I remember of my first visit with you.

Your dad called me in Edmonton I was in at my parent's home in my third year of university in the Faculty of Education to become a teacher. It was very early in the morning, well before 5 a.m.

Your dad said that you and your twin were born!  He was thrilled and terrified because you were so very small.  The University Hospital would provide you with the safest and best medical care possible.

He asked me to go and see you because he and your Mom and of course, your sisters were so far away.  Naturally, I agreed without a second thought.  I was so honored to be asked to visit such a precious delivery to this world.

You were in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.  I was not one for hospitals because I truly dislike BLOOD, PAIN, and GORE (SLIME).  I went to the hospital because your parents were so very important to me.  They are my second family.

In the hospital, the Head Nurse refused to allow me to see you.  I was devastated and convinced that I wouldn't leave the Hospital without seeing you.

I put up a HUGE stink, and finally after your parents phoned and granted authorization I was allowed into the Unit.

I had to buzz into the Unit.  Next, I was expected to scrub raw my hands, put on gloves and a yellow robe over my clothes. I looked very trendy, as it was summer.  When I first saw you, I was speechless.  I was twenty and a half and you were the first baby I had ever seen in my life.  You had tubes for feeding and such precious hands.

The nurse told me to pick you up.  I almost fell over.  I was terrified of dropping you, squishing you, hurting you.

So, the first visit I just sang to you.  This is important because I NEVER, EVER sing in public.  “Is this friendship or what?”   I noticed your incubator crib did not have anything PINK.  What an emergency!  I left the hospital to search for something to leave in your incubator that would be special.  I discovered a soft pink blanket and brought it to you.

On my next visit, I held you while sitting in a rocking chair.  I sang again, and gave you a full report of your family in Grande Prairie.  You fell asleep.  It was a beautiful sight. Every night, your parents would phone for a report.  Every day between classes, I would march into the hospital to visit.

There were a few other infants in the Unit.  Often, I would see the Moms cry.  It made me very sad to see so many people trying so hard to do what ever they could to comfort these people.

On one visit, a dad asked me how my little girl was doing.  I just looked at him and said, "Actually, very well. I'm the Aunt and I'm the only one who is here to hold her.  Aren't I the lucky one?"

I felt very young to be there with you.  My time with you stood still.

While you were growing, I was allowed to feed you with a dropper into a tube, only a little at a time.  It took forever.  I wondered when you'd eat REAL food.  You fit in the palm of my hand.  How amazing!
When you were finally allowed to leave the hospital, I was happy to know that you would be in the surroundings of your loving family.  At the same time, I was sad because for just a few days of your life, I had you all to myself.

Thank you! Love always!

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