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You are here: Home / Archives for 93 Days

93 Days

10 Years Ago, Yesterday

September 23, 2016 by admin

Yesterday, 10 years ago, was the worst day of my life.

It was also Ava & Zoe’s 10th birthday which, granted, implores a more thorough explanation before the Facebook mamas schedule an event after “coffee Tuesdays” to have me lynched.

What exactly happened 10 years ago is something that I will endure forever, but that being said, even 10 years later, I continue to live with the consequences of that day.

I had a hard time yesterday; I tried to write about it, I tried to post online about it, and I tried to dig deep and find my patience for the special day.

I fell short of my self-imposed demand of pseudo-perfection.

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Life is hard. Parenting is harder. And when you mix in the challenges that some kids live with each day (of all kinds and extents), it not only affects them, but it can, and often does paralyze the entire family.

At least temporarily.  We find comfort in that “tomorrow is always another day” when we can try again.

The innate problem with that resolve, reluctantly, is that we don’t have an infinite bucket of tomorrows. We can’t just repeatedly chalk it up as a bad day. We have to find strategies and alternatives to help our kids be successful in the things that move all of us – the passions that make us who we are and give us purpose in life. Otherwise, what’s the point?

In particular, Zoe had a rough day yesterday. Her extreme frustration with the mundane and ordinary is hard to comprehend. As a “normally” adjusted adult, it baffles me and in return, my own frustration elevates and nothing constructive comes from our collective meltdown. That doesn’t mean either of our feelings are any less valid, but it does present a problem and requires a gargantuan level of patience for which I do not typically have reserves.

Some believe it’s often best to remove emotion from these situations and approach it more objectively. That often works in business and other aspects of my life but, on a personal level, it goes against the very fabric of my existence. I wear my heart on my shoulder; I make no excuses for it and am grateful for being able to access that part of my soul as I know it’s so very hard for many people.

Emotion, for me, is the *food of life*. It makes us human and to take that away defeats the purpose of connecting to one another, to our world, and most importantly, to ourselves on a higher, more intimate level.

I guess the point is that we cannot mask our emotions or feelings, however absurd others may think they are. Rather, we should own them, understand where they come from, and find ways to embrace and channel that passion into something purposeful and meaningful instead of letting them escalate, unbridled until they become the cog in our lives that keeps us from becoming, *awesome*.

We all need to find ways to to celebrate who we are  even if we don’t know who that is just yet.

For the past 10 years, somewhere in the back of my mind I’ve been trying to play the fit the square peg in a round hole game. I’m learning, albeit excruciatingly slowly, that I need to play a different game altogether.

The game I learned as a kid is not the same game they play. Together, we need to learn, and accept, a lot of things about each other:

  • that the rules are different
  • that there are no rules
  • that they don’t always know the “why”
  • that their feelings don’t have to make sense to me
  • that their feelings don’t have to make sense to them
  • that they want to be happy but sometimes don’t know how
  • that I am the center of their world and that is a gift, not a right
  • that they are never going to be who I thought they should be, or think, or feel
  • that they are their own imperfect versions of themselves
  • that they don’t have to do things my way
  • that they have choices
  • that they are smart, funny, beautiful
  • that ***what they have to say is important***
  • that I have time for them
  • that I will protect them
  • that I am *trying* to help
  • that I need to be more patient
  • that my primary job is to be their Dad and not their friend
  • that I’m not trying to make their lives more difficult but rather make it easier
  • that I don’t understand sometimes
  • that we don’t have to always agree
  • that you don’t always have to understand your feelings
  • that it’s ok to be frustrated
  • that it’s ok to be sad and not really know why
  • that it’s ok to want to be alone sometimes
  • that it’s ok to ask for help
  • that you don’t have to be good at everything
  • that you don’t need to learn how to ride a bike
  • that you are entitled to your own space – physically and emotionally
  • that what you feel is valid, good, and important
  • that Daddy makes mistakes too
  • that you can do anything you want in life
  • and that I’m imperfect and that’s ok too.

Yesterday, 10 years ago, was one of *the best days of my life. In an instant, you gave my life more purpose and meaning than I could have ever imagined. And each and every day since, you have pushed me to think and learn *differently*, love more, and become a better Dad and a better person.

Embrace who you are, own your emotions, and never, ever forget, that you are, and always will be the center of my world.

Happy Birthday.

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Filed Under: 93 Days, Dads, Daughters, Family, Life, NICU, Prematurity Tagged With: 93 Days

93 Days – Tests (Part 2)

November 17, 2009 by Kip Durney

Emotional Roller CoasterWhen the technician left the exam room to get the doctor, Val and I sat in silence for a moment.  There was a frozen image on the monitor of two children that didn’t look right to the tech, but to us, were the most amazing and beautiful things we had ever seen.

How could something so amazingly beautiful NOT be right?

I gulped.  Val gulped.  We held hands and took death breaths.  There was nothing to say.  I’m not sure I’ve ever been that afraid in my life – or at least up to that point.  I would soon discover what it was like to truly be afraid of something – I just didn’t understand yet.

The doctor came in and did her own exam.  “There seems to be an increased nuchal fold on the back of the neck of baby #1.”

And just like that, we were whisked down a hallway to “genetic counseling.”  It was there that they explained to us that such a diagnosis or detection can be an indication of Down Syndrome or worse. And let me tell you, some things are MUCH worse and they in no uncertain terms painted a picture of sheer horror.

It was so much to take in – all in the span of an hour:  twins, “something’s wrong”, nuchal something or other, Baby #1, Down Syndrome, “selective reduction.”  Did you catch that?  Selective reduction… there are no words.

We sat in that dimly lit office for a long while, alone (while they tried to figure out what the hell to tell us), and then we completely lost it.  The roller coaster crashed and exploded.  There was nothing else to do at that moment but cry.  And that we did.

When the doctors returned, they explained to us that “baby #1” was showing indications of an increased nuchal fold – outside the norm and that they would need to do an additional test to confirm.  We immediately had the test performed (the same day) and were told we would need to wait 2 weeks for the cultures to grow in order for them to know definitively what was wrong and what our options were.

Two weeks went by… as if it were 20.  We didn’t sleep.  We didn’t eat.  We held our breath for two weeks.

And then the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is Sarah from Brigham & Women’s Hospital Department of Maternal Fetal Medicine.  Is this Kip?”

“Yes, this is Kip.  Hi Sarah.”

“I just received the results of the test.”

I sat down.  My heart began to race and pound out of my chest.  My throat went dry.  After two weeks of waiting, we finally get the results and can move on with our lives.

I braced, “Ok, and they were?”

“Inconclusive.”

Shoot me in the freakin’ head.

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Filed Under: 93 Days, pregnancy, Tubalub, Twins Tagged With: 93 Days, fetal genetics, pregnancy, tubalub

93 Days – Part 1 | Pregnant!

October 16, 2009 by Kip Durney

It’s amazing to me that the girls are now three years old and attending pre-school.  And even more amazing/horrifying/exciting/exhausting to think that we also have a 7 month old son.  Time sure does fly and I’m reminded of the lyric, “how did I get here?”  I offer no explanation.

Like most things in life, the substance is in the journey – not the end result.  And it’s taken me some time to be able to really accept and process the journey that brought us to where we are today.  And it is that journey that I plan to share with you.

Many of you know some of the story, some of you know most of the story, and others none of the story.  But what I’ve found over the years is that nobody knows the WHOLE story – including even me.

So where do I begin?

When Val and I first got pregnant, the feeling was nothing less than jubilation and excitement.  It was planned and we were ready to take on the world.  The experience at the very beginning was text book and normal – home test, pre-natal vitamins, first doctor appointment to hear the heartbeat, etc…  Everything was normal until that one day – that one test – that one technician who said, ‘I see you are having twins.’

WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?  TWINS? Are you kidding me??!! HOLY SHIT!!!!!!

Nobody told us that and it was the most shocking moment of my life.  Good shocking.  But let me tell you, I almost fell over.  Val and I were so excited in that ultra-sound room that  we couldn’t stop smiling, giggling, and fumbling our hands.  The technician just smiled and was genuinely happy for us.  It was most assuredly one the most amazing moments of my life.  And that’s all it was – a brief moment in time.

Our amazing, life-altering moment came to a screeching halt with, “something doesn’t look right – let me get the doctor.”

And in an instance, that jubilation turned to the most horrifying moment of my life – all in the span of 3 minutes.  Little did we know that we were about to embark on the most excruciatingly painful journey of our lives.

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Filed Under: 93 Days Tagged With: 93 Days, pregnancy, prematurity, tubalub

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