The Grey Area

I watch – rather – listen to Grey’s Anatomy. We no longer have regular TV, as I decided to cut the cable from our monthly expenses. Why pay $35 for something we weren’t using, and only had half of what we were supposed to have anyway?

Digressing into MTS hate isn’t why I was here this morning. Why I can’t sleep yet again.

The last two episodes have been really painful to watch. Karev’s intern, Morgan, had to give birth prematurely to her son. Very prematurely. Tommy (name revealed in the last episode) weighs just over 14 ounces. The fake baby they use, if anyone is interested, is very realistic.

I know. And that’s why it hurts. In 1992, I was pregnant with twins. On June 8th at almost 22 weeks, my water broke and Brittany & Lori were born.

Seeing that baby, fake or not, brings it all back. Knowing that 20 years ago there was pretty much nothing they could do to save even one of the girls, and now babies their size actually survive and some have normal lives… so many what ifs.

Tommy’s little body in that isolette is so familiar, yet not… it reminds me so much of what I wanted to see back then; not my little girls swaddled and cold, but under the lamps, warm and growing. Breathing. Living.

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