The Burkett Bundle

In 1957, the year my mom was born, a movie came out called "I Was a Teenage Werewolf." I've never seen it, but was thinking yesterday that I could come out with a new movie - "I was a 30-year-old zombie."

This wouldn't be a scary movie, unless you happened to be able to read the main character's mind. I was living in fear, but not the cheesy horror movie kind of fear, this was the most real, petrifying fear I have ever known. Fear for my children.

On November 13, at 24 weeks, I was put on complete bed rest, but I didn't know how serious things were until I was hospitalized two days later. As I've promised before, eventually I will get around to posting the entire birth story, but it's a long story, so I'll just give a few little bits of information for now.

After being pumped with Magnesium Sulfate (the worst, and possibly best, drug in the world), for two days, the contractions started to slow, but as one nurse put it, I was "magged out". That night, we had a consult with the neonatologist and heard things that no parent ever wants to hear. Before I was scared, now I was almost too petrified to move.

I spent the next three weeks watching the monitor screen and praying that I could just hold them in. Then they sent me home and a whole new bunch of fears cropped up. In the hospital, I was miserable, but safe. If something happened I had doctors and nurses who knew what to do. At home, I was alone all day. What if my water broke? What if I started bleeding? Would I be able to get to the hospital soon enough?

Jason decorated the house for Christmas and I had a baby shower, but I felt like it was just my body that was there, and my heart, mind and soul were somewhere else completely.

After the babies were born, it was more of the same feeling. They were in the hospital, and I was confident in the medical staff, but I was still scared for them. I knew their survival rates were good at 29 weeks, but hated to see them in pain, and to think about the fact that they were so young at any point they could just forget to breathe.

When they came home, it was a very happy day, but also extremely frightening. Until then, it had taken a team of highly-trained professionals to do what, in a couple of days, I would be doing alone. Kyran was still on oxygen, they were both hooked up to pulse oximeters and apnea monitors and I had no help with nursing and feeding them. For the first week, I did everything in the room. I slept, ate and watched them breathe, but after a week, I began to get enough confidence to eat downstairs.

Until Kyran's incident. I don't know any greater fear in life than to have put breath back into your child's body. As I was administering CPR, I truly was not in control. God completely took over my body and saved my son's life. Because it happened while he was nursing, I almost stopped nursing them both. But I was, and am, too obsessed with nursing and helping them get extra antibodies, so I didn't let myself give up.

I again was too scared to leave the room and I decided they were never coming off of their monitors. They would wear them to college if I had my say. Time slowly helped to overcome the petrifiying fear, but I was still afraid to walk outside to check the mail or take the dog out to use the bathroom.

I sat downstairs when I made myself, and just listened for the alarm to sound. When they did, I sprinted up the stairs, and although the alarms usually stopped without having to stimulate the babies, I would sit up there again and just watch them.

I got no housework done. I returned no phone calls and very few e-mails. I never left the house. I was a bad friend, daughter, sister and wife, because I was so worried about being a mom and keeping my children alive.

When we got the ok to take them out in public, I was terrified again. I got scared when people, especially kids, got too close to them. I watched them every second and was in a daze. I just sort of floated through days and conversations. Although I was there, I still wasn't really there.

I remember everything about the babies, but very little about anything else in my life.

Then, on June 24, we got the call from Dr. Bartlett. The monitor downloads were perfect. No apnea, no heart rate drops. They could come off the monitors if we were comfortable with it. That helped a little, although I still check on them very often while they take their naps. I still wasn't ready to take them off at night yet.

It was so wonderful, though, to be able to just carry them through the house - upstairs, downstairs, outside, wherever - without having to unhook them or drag monitors around with me. I began to feel human again.

After another month with no alarms, we felt confident letting them sleep through the night without their monitors. Although the first two nights were a little rough on me, it's so much better now. The babies are sleeping better, and we aren't being woken up by false alarms and having to wake the babies up to fix things.

I go outside now and I see beautiful things. I enjoy the sunshine and spending time with friends and family. I no longer live in fear and no longer feel like a zombie, just going through the motions.

I know that I will always worry about my children. I will check on them while they sleep and worry about them when I can't be with them. But this is a new life. One where I can cook (a little) and clean and focus on not only my babies, but my friends, family and amazing husband.

Jason and I will celebrate three years of marriage tomorrow, and I will enjoy every second of it. I never dreamed that in less than three years, we would be a family of four, but that's why God is in charge and I'm not.

I love my husband. I love my children. I love my friends and family. I love being Talyse again, a child of God, and I love enjoying this wonderful world He has given us!