Love…to some it’s just a word often thrown around like a well worn blanket. To others it’s a feeling, sometimes sweet, sometimes bittersweet. Yet, to some, like Robert and Yvette Rowe, it’s a call to action. It’s something you do, show, and prove every single day. Before hearing their very moving story though, ask yourself this…what would you do for love?

Would you undergo two rather painful and costly surgeries to reverse a vasectomy you had years ago?

Despite your fear of needles, would you let your husband, a fire investigator with big strong hands but absolutely no medical training, give you daily fertility shots, in your stomach no less?

At the ripe old age of 52, already a father to two beautiful grown daughters, would you agree to do it all over again? The three a.m. feedings, the diaper changes, the whole nine yards?

Would you, a former Miss El Monte beauty queen, turn your body over to not one, but two little ones?

Robert and Yvette answered yes to of these questions, sending them on a tear-filled—and prayer-filled—journey.

Theirs is a love story pure and simple, between husband and wife, as well as parent and child. At first glance it might be easy to write off the Rowes as just another May/December romance to snicker at on the sly. Yet, despite the age difference (nineteen years to be exact), this is a match made in heaven. They not only finish each other’s sentences, they look at one another before starting them. The bond between them runs deep, and indeed, has been tested.

Lots of marriages crumble under the weight of life’s unexpected and unpleasant surprises... theirs was strengthened by it. In August of 2004, the Rowes announced they were expecting twins and on March 17, 2005, Dylan and Madison were born. Their birth was almost eight weeks too soon. Due to a sudden onset of preeclampsia (a dangerous condition whereby the blood vessels constrict causing high blood pressure which can adversely affect the blood flow to a mother’s internal organs), Yvette underwent an emergency C-section at Miller Children’s Hospital in Long Beach.

Dylan came into the world weighing three pounds, seven ounces; Madison, only two pounds, thirteen ounces. “Madison was so tiny, I was afraid to hold her at first,” Yvette offers up. In case you are of a curious nature, the average birth weight of a newborn is seven pounds, eight ounces. Though the twins came into the world small and fragile, they faced large, ominous problems. Madison’s skull wasn’t fully formed. “You could actually see the seam of the sections of her brain,” Yvette explains. “It was heartbreaking. I kept her in hats as often as I could.”

Dylan was extremely bloated, as he was retaining water. “Between all the tubes, catheters, and ventilators, I couldn’t bring myself to take pictures of Dylan in the hospital,” Yvette recounts. “It was all so traumatic I didn’t want to remember it.” To make matters worse, it was soon discovered that Dylan was born with Patent Ductus Arteriosus (PDA). Simply put, Dylan had a small hole in his heart. For the next fifty-seven days the Rowe twins would teeter between life and death. “It was a constant rollercoaster ride,” Yvette admits. “I was an emotional wreck.”

While both Robert and Yvette credit their Christian faith for getting them through the tough times, they also praise the NICU nursing staff at Miller Children’s Hospital. “One night, I woke from a bad dream, thinking something bad had happened to Madison,” Robert confesses. “I raced to the hospital and Debbie let me hold her.”

Debbie is one of the many dedicated nurses that helped safeguard the twins, when the Rowe’s love was not enough. “Everyone’s always focused on the mother and the babies,” Robert says introspectively. “Often times dads get left out.” Sensing this, Debbie did more than let Robert hold the ailing Madison – she placed his wedding ring around her tiny wrist and took a keepsake picture. Around the edge of the photo she wrote, “To my daddy…the first man I ever loved. Someday I’ll find my prince, but you will always be my King.”

It was a touching gesture and one that still brings tears to both parent’s eyes when recounted. “What you do is important. What you do that you don’t have to do is special,” Robert proclaims. “Nurse Debbie didn’t have to take the time to make that photo, but I will always be grateful that she did.”

That moment was not only special... it was galvanizing. From that point on, the Rowes — parents and babies, never looked back. Dylan’s heart healed and he was soon able to come home. “It was bittersweet. I really wanted, needed, to have both of my babies home,” Yvette remembers. A week later, one day before Mother’s Day, she got her wish. “Talk about the perfect gift” she says.

Though the twins were home, they were not completely out of the woods. Babies born prematurely often have lifelong medical conditions to contend with, such as learning disabilities, hearing and vision impairment, and mild-to-severe forms of cerebral palsy.

With that in mind, every doctor’s visit or pediatrician developmental check-up came with a hold-your-breath moment. Were Dylan and Madison progressing normally? Were they meeting the monthly milestones of full term babies? Very often the answer was no, but some time around their third birthday, the twins were given a clean bill of health. “We were so concerned about Madison’s head,” Robert says, “and now look at it. It’s perfect. She’s perfect.” Spoken like a proud father.

Visit the Rowe household today and you will find two happy and healthy kids. Madison likes to put on her princess dress and play the harmonica. Dylan likes to draw and play with toy cars.

Though the Rowe’s story has a happy ending, that is not the case for every family with a preemie. Each week in the state of California alone, 1,042 babies enter the world too soon and too small. Statistics such as these, coupled with their desire to share their uplifting, hopeful story has prompted Yvette and Robert to volunteer with the March of Dimes NICU Family Support Program. The main goal of the program is to ease the emotional distress, confusion and helplessness families feel when their babies are born with severe medical complications.

Though speaking on panels to nurses and families can be draining, the Rowes see it as an honor and privilege. With a giant smile on her face, Yvette adds, “We just love telling the world about our little miracles.”