Letting Go All at Once 
By Karen O'Neil, Quadruplet Mom
Originally printed in May 2004

I've never been good at letting go.  My attic has boxes full of memories - cards
from special birthdays, photos, journals, hospital ID bracelets, Judy Blume books
that I saved to give to my own daughter(s) one day, yearbooks, letters from my parents,
textbooks from college, more photos, report cards, and my very first scrapbook full
of, well... stuff!  I simply don't want to part with many things that are part of
who I am.

Becoming a Mother gave new meaning to the words "letting go."  The first
time I had to let go of my children was the very moment they were born.  After the
doctor announced each babies' arrival, they were whisked off to the NICU.  Of course,
I knew there wouldn't be the typical cuddling and feeding time after delivery, but
knowing didn't make it any easier.  I missed them already.  Strangers, although 
medical professionals, were now caring for my children.  I was supposed to be enjoying
their first moments of life, but instead I was full of anxiety.

Later on that week, on the day of my discharge, was the next time I had to let go.
I remember leaving the hospital feeling completely empty inside.  Going home with
none of my babies was extremely difficult.  In my head, I knew they were in the 
best possible care, but in my heart, I wanted them to be with me.  When I had my
post-delivery checkup, the doctor found that my incision wasn't healing properly
and sent me home to "rest and pump."  The visiting nurses came twice a
day to care for the incision and a pilionital cyst that had been brewing since delivery.
This lasted for a few weeks.  During this time, I was only supposed to visit my 
children once a week when I would be at the hospital for my own appointment anyway.
I was devastated.  I threw myself into doing whatever I could to begin a relationship
with each child: I pumped endlessly, I made cards to hang in their incubators, my
husband put pictures of us and their grandparents on their incubators.  I wanted
them to be surrounded with as much love as possible, especially when I couldn't 
be there.

I remember the changes that happened during the first 15 months.  One day, all of
a sudden it seemed, there weren't 40 bottles in the fridge.  No more reflux.  Gone
were the bouncy seats, exersaucers, and rattles.  No more binkies, booties and sleepless
nights.  I was returning a borrowed piece of baby equipment one day when it hit 
me: another developmental stage had passed.  I wondered if we'd ever need any of
those baby items again.  The stages were passing too quickly.  I felt I didn't have
the energy to enjoy each baby at each stage.

A few months before my children turned 3, they started their eighth playgroup through
Early Intervention.  This particular group was called a "transition group,"
where the parent separates from the child.  The goal was to give the children practice
separating, with the idea that preschool would be the next step.  I quickly realized
that separation would be harder for me than for them.  After all, they had their
own little team!  I was like the coach on the sidelines as I closed the door to 
the classroom and peeked in at them through the two-way window, with some tears,
thank you very much!

Our next memorable transition will happen in the Fall.  For two mornings a week,
my children will be in preschool.  It's hard to imagine having six hours a week 
without my children.  It's harder to imagine coming home to an empty house.  I've
heard that by then, I'll be ready.  Somehow, I don't think so.  Family and friends
ask me what I'll do with the time and then, before I have a chance to answer, they
suggest getting a cup of coffee, or better yet a full breakfast.  Someone else said,
"go home and take a nap."  Enjoy the quiet, get a manicure, go shopping.
Their suggestions were endless, but I know exactly what I'm going to do.  I will
go home and begin making each of my children their own box full of memories.