Ryan Patrick and Conor James Witter were born two minutes apart on September 14th, 9 weeks early. Instead of weighing a healthy, 8 pounds, Ryan weighed 2lbs 6oz and Conor weighed in at 2lbs 4oz. Ryan was born first, at 3:32 am and Conor was born at 3:34am.

They were immediately rushed into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, Conor was having trouble breathing.

What should have been one of those great and exciting husband moments had turned into a frightening emergency. Joey was already dilated four centimeters, and the doctors sent her in for an emergency C- section. My mind was spinning into panic mode. I threw on scrubs and never left Joey's side as they wheeled her into a big operating room.

I'll never forget that moment. Joey looked at me with tears flowing down her cheeks and I whispered to her that everything was going to be all right and that we were going to stick through this together. I held her hand up to my face as I sat next to her.

"Here comes number one!" The doctor shouted. I looked over and saw them carry Ryan over to a table. Still, I sat by Joey; we still had one more to come. "Joey, sweetheart, one's out and they're going to take care of him, don't worry, everything will be fine," I whispered to her. "Here's number two!" I heard the doctor yell, but as they rushed Conor over to a table, my heart stopped as I heard what they said. "Not breathing!" "He's not breathing, I need a respiratory pump over here!" "Pacey, Pacey what's going on, w-what's the matter why isn't he breathing?" Joey asked me frantically.

Minutes passed before I heard a faint cry. They had to put a breathing tube in Conor and shortly after, he too was wheeled out of the room.

*** The hours after they were born were probably the most painful in my life. I sat alone in a cold room as heavy rain beat against the window. Joey was taken to another room to have tests run and to recover from the surgery.

My knees were shaking and most of the time I couldn't think straight. They were born 9 weeks early; they had become more statistics in premature births. Premature. That word would run through my mind for the next month.

Just then, Joey was brought into the room and I stood up as she looked at me. The nurse helped her into the bed and then left us alone.

Before we could say anything, a doctor came in to give us a shaky update on the condition of our sons. I couldn't help it, but my knees were shaking and I was never more scared than at that exact moment in my life.

He walked over to me, "Hello, Mr. Witter my name is Dr. Lasker." He pulled a chair over next to Joey's bed and told me to sit down. The pit in my stomach grew deeper when I heard him say that. "Okay, as it stands right now, we've diagnosed Conor with respiratory distress syndrome, which is a condition that causes the lungs' air sacs to collapse due to a lack of a substance called surfactant." "There are many ways to treat it and right now we've placed Conor on a ventilator." "We are not sure right now, but Ryan may have patent ductus arteriosus." "The ductus arteriosus is a blood vessel that connects the pulmonary artery, which carries blood to the lungs and the aorta so that blood flow bypasses the lungs. "This blood vessel normally closes shortly after birth and when it doesn't, it's known as patent ductus arteriosus." "Treatment for that may be as simple as medication or even surgery."

I sat there and listened as he spoke of the many diseases a premature baby could develop and what conditions Ryan and Conor had. All of the medical terms were going over my head, but I paid attention to the more serious conditions I learned that they had. He explained the NICU and the staff and equipment inside of it.

I understood everything and in my mind I was shaking my head and speculating why all this was happening to us. After all Joey and I had been through, this was too big a curve ball to grasp. A voice kept echoing inside of my head saying, this isn't right, how come this is happening to us.

I refused to face the reality of the situation and prayed that some miracle would stop it.

***

Joey and I were given permission to see them about five and a half hours after they were born. We slowly walked the halls of the hospital wing as a nurse guided in front of us. We didn't say anything to each other. Instead, I put my arm around her shoulder and she wrapped her arm around my waist and gently rested her head against me.

I felt apprehensive, a feeling that I wouldn't know them, and wouldn't feel, right. It was a feeling of belonging, and whatever happened, somehow I could get through it, we could get through it, together.

The NICU was a big-sized area and had many technical equipment. I took a deep breath and my heart started pounding. Joey rose off my shoulder and laced her hand through mine. Heart monitor-beeping noises quietly hummed in unison with each other, as I stood stiffly. The nurse stopped for a second to check in with the nurse in charge and she came over to speak with us.

"Hi," her voice was a hushed whisper, "my name is Beth Lawlor, you're Conor and Ryan's parents right?" "Yes." I nodded. "Okay, you can come with me, they're right over here." She said and led us further down the room.

Seeing them for the first time really at that moment, overwhelmed me. Ryan was laying to my left, and Conor was to my right. Both of them were lying in large warming tables. Joey released my hand and walked closer to Ryan.

I walked closer to Conor. His eyes were closed and, god, there were so many tubes covering his chest. I managed to force a small smile as I moved my hand over to his and his fingers barely formed around my pinky finger.

I leaned in closer to him, "Hey buddy, I'm your dad," it was the only thing I could think of to say, he was my son and I even then, I loved him with all my heart. "You're gonna get better soon, I promise." "Because you're in one of the best hospitals for babies in all of Massachusetts, yeah you-" Joey tapped me on the shoulder and I turned around. She had tears in her eyes, which she quickly wiped away and smiled at me. "Go and look at Ryan." I smiled back at her and whispered, "Okay."

The atmosphere took a lot of getting used to. Every loud beeping noise made me uneasy. We spent about an hour with them and the neonatal doctor answered all of our questions. He made it clear that they would have to still run tests on them to get accurate diagnoses on everything they may have.

***

Back in Joey's hospital room, I lay with her in the bed and didn't say anything for a long time. Joey broke the silence.

"Did you call anyone yet?" She whispered. "No." I hadn't even thought of that yet during this hard time.

***

That night was a long one, I couldn't sleep, and kept walking around aimlessly through the corridors. Worst of all, after running more tests on Ryan And Conor, Ryan was diagnosed with Bradycardia, a decrease in heart rate, and Apnea, which is most common in preemies.

I walked past the NICU around two in the morning. I couldn't bring myself to go in. I know that sounds hard to believe, but, God, they were so small, and any little movement or staggering breath terrified me.

I sauntered back to Joey's room, and sleep didn't come easy to me in the rocking chair next to the window, so I sat quietly rocking back and forth watching the day-old rain sting against the windowpane.

Then a thought came into my head, an awful thing to think about, but still I wondered how we would be able to pay the medical bills. We were tight on money beforehand and with only my income, it was going to be really hard to pay the bills.

***

The next morning I called my mother and explained to her everything that happened, which brought her close to tears. Little did I know then, that my mother would talk some sense into my father who would soon reach one of the biggest turning points in his life.