A year at home

One year ago yesterday, Ted and I brought home our 2-week-old quadruplets. Up until then, I hadn't really felt like a parent. During my pregnancy, in fact, I could barely wrap my brain around the fact that there were four human beings inside of me—after all, I knew very little about their personalities (only what their random kicks and stretches could tell me), and I didn't even have a good idea of what they looked like (despite the dozens of ultrasounds I saw!). Even after the babies were born, neonatal nurses took care of them around the clock, so visiting the NICU felt more like going to see a friend's baby than my own.

Bringing home the babies brought home the realities of being a mother. From one day to the next, I entered a season in which nearly every waking moment (and many half-asleep ones) would be devoted to caring for, worrying about, and growing to love each of these four little people. Over the next year, I would put everything else on hold and get to know each child's cry and each child's laugh as only a mother can. And on every one of those 365 days, I would learn something new about the babies, about Ted, about myself, about life.

I still have a lot to learn, and I know that the years ahead hold challenges and joys that I cannot even imagine right now, during the babyhood of my motherhood. But I do know one thing for sure: When I tell my babies that I love them, I mean it more than anything else I've ever said.

I've come a long way, babies, and so have you!

Isaac on Homecoming Day and exactly 1 year later

Lucia on Homecoming Day and exactly 1 year later

Jude on Homecoming Day and exactly 1 year later

Dahlia on Homecoming Day and exactly 1 year later