Chapter 8 - Four Heartbeats Home
Packing up four babies to leave a hospital after 110 days is an operation of military precision.
Our minivan, which Andrew had bought second-hand during my second month in the hospital, was fitted with four rear-facing infant car seats installed in two tight rows.
The NICU nurses lined the hallways as we wheeled our four babies out in two double strollers.
Nurse Sarah had tears in her eyes as she gave Faith one last kiss on the forehead. "You show the world what you're made of, Feisty Faith," she whispered.
Dr. Foster met us at the double exit doors. She looked at me, then down at the four healthy, breathing babies nestled in their car seats.
"Nine days apart," Dr. Foster said softly, shaking her head in wonder. "A staggered delivery that defied the odds. You were so brave, Elena."
"We couldn't have done it without you," I said, hugging her tightly. "You saved them."
The drive home was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. For over three months, we had relied on medical monitors, alarms, and teams of doctors and nurses. Now, it was just Andrew, me, and four tiny human beings breathing quietly in the backseat.
When we pulled into the driveway of our suburban home, the front porch was decorated with bright banners put up by our neighbors: WELCOME HOME FAITH, OLIVER, SOPHIE & MIA!
We brought them inside and laid them together in a giant, custom crib Andrew had finished assembling in the master bedroom.
For the first time since they were separated inside my body, all four quadruplets lay side by side on the same mattress.
Oliver instinctively reached out his small hand and rested it across Sophie’s arm. Faith curled her head toward Mia, their foreheads touching gently.
The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic, soft sound of four pairs of lungs breathing harmoniously without mechanical aid.
Andrew wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder as we watched our children sleep.
"We did it, Elena," he whispered into my hair. "They're home."
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"They're home," I repeated, resting my hands over his.
The trauma of the 23-week labor, the flatlining monitors, the emergency delivery nine days later, and the harrowing months in the NICU faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of our living room and the miraculous reality before us.
