Life with Twins

Archive for the ‘Fertility/Infertility’ Category

P. U. (potty update)

NOW: I haven’t updated on the potty situation in my house.  It is still ongoing.  It’s certainly a process.  It’s nice because I don’t feel the need to rush.  My deadline is pretty far in the future (DisneyWorld: July 2012) so I’m confident they will be potty trained by then.  And if not, oh well, luggage full of diapers here we come!

They have their days.  And so do we; we being the caregivers.

In September, when I went back to work after summer break, my dad decided he’d like to switch things up and come to my house to watch the kids during the day.  I had previously been dropping the kids at his house.  But, rightly so, he didn’t really want puddles of pee all over his carpet.

Then, about halfway through September, he told me he was quitting.  No more potty stuff.  They’re too young he said to me.  I told him, quite frankly, it’s a little late for that. 

Point 1: They know what to do.  They can get to the potty. 

Point 2: They have no problem doing their business on the potty. 

Point 3: They love their underwear.

Point 4: They’re smart enough to figure out that diapers are easier.  So putting them back in diapers is just going to make it that much harder in 2 months when we try to reteach them. 

Point 5: In 2 months there will not miraculously be no more accidents.

Point 6: In 2 more months, he’ll be teaching them, not me.

So, he agreed to keep trying.  He tried to quit again mid-October.  I reviewed points 1-6. 

I know it’s frustrating.  I am also frustrated at times, and I’m with them less.  All of the sudden they’ll be standing there, in the middle of the living room, peeing.  And telling you they’re peeing.  Then, while you’re helping one in the bathroom, the other is playing in the pee that you haven’t had time to clean up yet.  It’s a mess and a half.  Plus, we really are trying to keep them off of the furniture, but of course that’s the first place they want to go when they think you aren’t watching.

So we started reminding them more often.  It’s even more frustrating when you ask them if they have to go potty, they say no, and five seconds later there’s a stream of urine heading for the carpet. 

Then we started making sure they go every hour or so.  Like, you can’t play anymore until you at least TRY to go potty.  This sometimes involved bribery, pulling them or carrying them to the bathroom, letting them bring books or stuffed animals, or watching a grown-up go to the potty at the same time. 

Tiring, to say the least.

But it’s getting better.  The worst right now is the constant reminding and asking and then still making sure they physically get to the potty instead of just pretending they’re going to go and then running down the hall past the bathroom, laughing hysterically.  And if you’re not constantly reminding them, they forget and just pee on the rug.  I just don’t understand why they get the whole concept but just won’t do it on their own.  Even if they have an accident, I ask them where the pee pee should go and they tell me in the potty.  I even ask them if the spot where the accident is looks like the potty and they laugh and say no, the potty is in the bathroom.  And I say, then why didn’t you run to the potty?

I don’t get it.  They get the whole idea.  They like the idea.  They like wearing underwear.  They’re getting better at pulling down and putting on their underwear.  I don’t get why they need SO MUCH prompting to get to the potty.  I understand that even older children (or sometimes adults) need reminders to go, especially if they are in the middle of doing something fun.  But this is like every time. 

This week, Ariel has actually just started stopping what she’s doing, and running to the potty.  Hallejujah!  She’ll be playing, and all of the sudden either tell you “Go Away” because she wants to go to the potty herself, or “Come Too!” because she wants you to come watch/help.  Or, she’ll be mysteriously missing from the room and you hear the faint sounds of the potty music coming from the bathroom!

Very exciting stuff.  Will is better when she’s around.  Because she’ll get all kinds of attention for running to the potty by herself and then he wants to do it.  That’s fine with me!  However, if Ariel sleeps late or is in another room, or has “held it” longer than he can……accident. 

But, it’s a process.  I think they’re doing very well, especially for their age.  I certainly didn’t expect miracles this past summer.  (It would have been nice…..but unrealistic).  I know a great number of people don’t start potty-training until 2 1/2 or 3……and even then it can take 2 days, 2 weeks, or 6 months, or more.  So, technically it’s been about 5 months, and over the summer they were outside in bathing suits a lot where they didn’t have to worry so much about running to the potty.  Or, we’d be on an outing (to the zoo, a friend’s house, papa’s house) and I’d put them in diapers.  So those first 2 months weren’t exactly consistent.

We’ve even been taking them on short trips in underwear.  Every Saturday, after swim class, we go to Wegman’s for groceries.  At first Ariel refused to sit on the “big potty” even with the little ring attached, so she had to wear diapers.  And Will would insist on going to the big potty 3-4 times while we were there, but that’s better than having accidents in the shopping cart.  Then, Ariel suddenly decided it was safe on the big potty, so now she’s been going shopping in undies too.

Saturday night we went to dinner and had them in their underwear!  This was the first time Ariel actually announced her need to go to the potty and was immediately rushed there and rewarded!  No accidents at Applebee’s!

It is quite a milestone.  And I can’t wait until it’s over.

This is now.

THEN:  My heart broke, and yet was filled with so much love and hope.

It was breaking because I couldn’t hold, or even touch, my little miracles.  A kiss on the forehead and Ariel was whisked away.  I didn’t even get that with Will.  Then they were gone.  It was as if they never were there.  I got to see them each for less than a minute.

Tears were streaming down my cheeks in floods.  I was such a blur of emotion and the drugs certainly were not helping.  I felt weak and vulnerable and sad and happy and sorry for myself and thrilled that my babies were pretty healthy considering the circumstances.

As they sewed me up and helped me out I just kept inquiring about my babies.  I wanted details about their health.  The nurses assured me they were going to be fine.  But it wasn’t enough.  I just wanted to see them again.

I had heard and seen so many instances where, even with a C-Section, the baby was placed in the mother’s arms when it was born.  I wasn’t expecting that with my current situation, but I couldn’t help but feel that this was so unfair.  I felt so sorry for myself, and my longing to see them and touch them and hold them was so strong, clouding my feelings of relief and anxiety.

I felt robbed.  I had waited for them for so long and I just wanted them.  They were mine.  And they were gone. 

The dramatic (and drug-filled) part of me thought about how they were ripped from my abdomen and rushed away from me without time to even tell them how much I loved them and wanted them. 

And I was so angry.  My weak stupid body.  The twins would be cleaned up, moved to the NICU and limited people could visit them in about an hour.  But not me.  I had to rest.  I couldn’t be moved.  My own body was failing me again because I had to waste time recovering from surgery.  I wouldn’t be able to go down to see them for at least 24 hours.

But guess who could go see them?  That very night.  Who could go see MY babies?  Everyone else.  They hadn’t gone through over 2 years of fertility treatments, including needles they were terrified of and IUI’s that were extremely uncomfortable.  They hadn’t carried twins in their bodies for 7 months.  They hadn’t had to be on bedrest.  They hadn’t had to be pushed around in a wheelchair.  They hadn’t been stuck in the hospital for the last 4 days and then finally had to be put through emergency surgery 9 weeks before they were due.  But they got to go see MY babies.  And I couldn’t.

The next morning.  Guess who got to see my babies?  Not me.  My family, my extended family, a few friends.  All before me.  That afternoon?  Not me.  Everyone was coming up to see me after going to see MY babies and telling me how beautiful they were and how well they were doing and how soft their skin was and how they opened their eyes and how Ariel was already responding to the sound of Tim’s voice and saying “oh, just wait til you see them, you will be so happy.” 

 I had met my own children for less than a minute.  All these other people were getting to see them for hours at a time and listening to them and touching them and learning about them from the nurses that were taking care of them.  I had gotten to see them for less than a minute.  So, after waiting to conceieve them, waiting for them to be born, and waiting to find out how healthy they would be upon being born 9 weeks early…..I was waiting again. 

Tim was obviously splitting his time between me and our children.  He would come up to me at regular intervals to tell me how they were doing and what machines they were on, and what the nurses and doctors said.  Then someone else would show up to visit and back down he would go. 

Upon proof-reading this post, I just want to clarify that it shouldn’t be read as if I sound like a whiny b**ch.  🙂  Thanks.

That was then.

I know I’m getting out of sequence because I skipped right to the day after they were born.  I am still just filled with so much emotion when I remember the pain I felt knowing that I couldn’t go see them.  I’ll skip back a little next time I post.

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It’s Halloween! (almost)

NOW:  One of my annoying things from last week’s post was that I’m sick of waiting for Halloween to get here.  I’m so excited!  We visited the Great Pumpkin Farm like  forever ago.  We picked out pumpkins at a parking lot stand weeks ago.  I have been wearing orange and black for the past 5 days. 

The Elmo costumes are ready.  Although I haven’t been to Wal Mart and K Mart to look again for red pants.  So, black it is.  For now.

Finally.  Finally.  We got to celebrate Halloween.  Sort of.  “Mommy’s School” had a Halloween party tonight.  Goody bags, hayride, pumpkins, face painting, the works.  When I told the twins they said “YAY, SEE THE KIDS!!!!”  “AND PUMPKINS!!!”  I see where their priorities lie. 

I was missing them so much while I was at work.  I think it’s because I was so excited to see them and get them dressed up and go to Halloween.  🙂

Holidays were always a big deal in my house growing up.  We decorated and planned for weeks.  I am glad Tim embraces the same type of behavior now with our own kids.  We get excited not just for the kids, but for ourselves.  And now it doesn’t seem so weird because we can pretend “it’s for the kids.”  And having the kids makes it that much more special and exciting.  It’s nice because we have fun too.  It’s an escape from reality and the stress of work and chores.  I love that we both still have a child-like mentality within us at times like this.  It will help us stay happy and feeling young and encourages our kids to be excited and curious.

Anyway, not only were they excited because their costumes were laid out and I told them we were going to a party …..Mommy’s shirt and earrings had pumpkins!!!!  I love the fact that they still literally squeal with joy over the smallest things.  🙂

So after the raviolis are done cooking, and a quick wardrobe change….we were off!  For Halloween! 

We went on a little hayride, picked out pumpkins, got a tatoo on our hands, and ate rice krispie treats in the shape of pumpkins.  The twins also got their first taste of Kool-Aid.  🙂  Not THE kool-aid.  Just regular Cherry Kool-Aid.

Everyone exclaimed over their costumes, and I decided the black legs will be fine…..especially because for trick-or-treating it will be dark anyway!

All in all, we had a fun time.  And I’m slightly satisfied in my thirst for celebrating Halloween.  For now.  This is now.

THEN: I think August 30th was one of the longest days of my life.  Tim and I had spent so much time together in the hospital the last couple days we had run out of things to talk about.  We could have talked ourselves in circles about how awful we were both feeling, but what was the point?  Now that we knew the twins had to be delivered we just wanted it done.

We called my mom, dad, and sister first.  Of course they would come up to the hospital later.

Father-in-Law, Sister-in-Law and soon to be Brother-in-Law were next.  Dad and Sarah would come up later.  Ron had to work.  That was fine.  Mother-in-Law was at work.  I was worried about this because it’s really hard for her to get off, especially last minute, especially on a weekend.  But she would be there. 

It was so much of a relief that they would all come.  But it was also nerve-wracking.  I knew it would be more people telling me everything would be ok, and don’t worry, and they weren’t worried.  Even though they were and I didn’t want them to worry.  Part of me wished I could have just called them later and just said “oh by the way, twins were born, everything’s fine.”  But…..that wasn’t reality in any sense.  And besides, I didn’t know if everything would be fine.

But, so be it.  Ever try to watch TV, with limited channels, in the middle of a Sunday afternoon?  Terrible, to say the least.  so that wasn’t an option.  I couldn’t concentrate enough to read.  I guess Tim and I both kinda just wanted to be alone with our thoughts, but be with each other. 

Halfway through the day a nurse from the NICU came up to see us and explain what the NICU was all about.  Now, honestly, I had been preparing for the NICU route from Day 1.  I knew all along that it was a possibility for them to come early, or with low birthweights.  So at least this was not a total shock. 

The nurses explained several different scenarios and types of equipment that would be used.  A pair of nurses was assigned to each baby right in the delivery room so as soon as they were born they could be assessed and taken care of as necessary.  It made me feel marginally better. 

Right now, it was just the waiting.  And the not-knowing.  Were they healthy?  Would there be anything “wrong” with them?  How long would they end up staying there?  What machines would they be hooked to?  Would they be fighting for their lives? 

We didn’t know these answers.  But at 4:38 and 4:40 PM we would find out.

That was then.

Annoying Things

Now:  These are things that are really annoying me right now.  And always.

Number 1: I keep falling asleep on the couch at night.  This is bad for several reasons.  First of all, I miss the end of whatever program I’m watching, or, let’s face it, sometimes the whole show.  Second, I am losing my motivation to exercise because I know that I will fall asleep soon after and I don’t want to “waste” my whole evening exercising.  Third, it’s way too soon to fall asleep after eating my evening snack.

 Number 2: We got a really cool new camera this summer.  Why is that annoying?  Because I can’t bring my camera to work to upload pictures to my blog anymore because Tim won’t let me (which is understandable, but still annoying).  And because I’m feeling that the blog is a lot less interesting without the pictures.

Number 3: Why won’t Halloween just get here already?  I am like a child.  I am so excited to take the twins trick or treating for the first time.  I am agonizing over what the weather will be like that night even though it’s over a week away.  I am planning our route and prepping the kids to say “trick or treat” really loudly.  I am lamenting over the fact that I haven’t found red pants for them to wear under their Elmo costumes and realizing that Elmo(s) might have to have black legs instead of red.

Number 4: Conflicting emotions…..is it almost Halloween already?  Where did October go?  I feel like I’m constantly waiting for what’s next while simultaneously wondering why my days and weeks and months are going so fast.  Probably a common problem, I know.

Anyway.  I’m not having a particularly bad day or crabby mood.  Just thinking about thinking I guess.  🙂  This is now.

What’s annoying you right now? 

THEN:  I woke up early Sunday morning, August 30th.  I spoke to Tim briefly on the phone – long enough for him to tell me he took off again and would be at the hospital soon.  I tried to convince him it wasn’t necessary, but I was quite pleased that he would be coming back (obviously).  While I was waiting a nurse came in.  One of my favorite nurses so far.  And a nurse-in-training.  Also one of my favorite people there.  They said a high-risk doctor would be in sometime this morning to talk to me about my test results.  They both asked if there was anything else I needed.  I only wanted to know if they could estimate the time the doctor would be in because I was hoping Tim would be here when the doctor came.  They weren’t sure, but they seemed very sympathetic.  I tried to seem like it didn’t really matter but I’m sure they saw through me.

I called Tim back immediately.  How soon could he be here?  He was leaving right as I was calling, so about 20 minutes.  I figured that was plenty of time.

Then the doctor and my two nurses walked in.  Where was my husband?  I explained that he was on his way.  They exchanged glances, and I knew that the high-risk doctor had a very busy schedule and would probably not be able to carve out another time to meet with me later.  I told them it was ok.  No husband, no problem.  I was also still convinced that my worst-case-scenario was going to be hospital bedrest for a few weeks.  Or maybe best-case…..bedrest at home.

The doctor began his speech.  And I mean SPEECH.  He was easy to understand and follow…..but he took forever to say what the main point really was.  Basically I was very very sick.  My lack of knowledge about my gestational diabetes was very detrimental to my body.  I was at a high risk of having a stroke, seizures, or a heart attack….or a combination of the three.  Any of these three things could not only kill me, but possibly the children inside me.  Unless it was taken care of immediately. 

So, again, the dillusional optimist in me asked about hospital bedrest.  Through my sobs that were racking my body.  No.  Maybe if it was earlier in the pregnancy another 2 weeks would make a big difference.  But as of right now, giving it another few days was really pushing my luck. 

What did that mean?  Doctor’s recommendation was immediate delivery.  Today.  This afternoon they had an opening in the OR. 

I could not suppress my tears.  I wouldn’t even have tried to, except I was afraid that crying would damage my already fragile body even more.  I tried to calm myself down.  I had tried to keep myself calm for the last 4 days.  Trying to keep my blood pressure normal so that I could just go home and wait 9 more weeks until my babies could be born safetly.  The nurses held my hands and gently rubbed my back.  I was so grateful for them.  I thanked the doctor and the nurses over and over through my tears.  They offered to wait with me until Tim came, but I knew I could probably calm down better by myself for a minute.  I had stopped sobbing, just a few stray tears running down my cheeks, so they felt comfortable with leaving.

What would happen?  What would happen to my babies that were going to be snatched from my body in less than 12 hours even though it was 9 weeks earlier than they should have been born?  I felt helpless.  I felt like I had failed them because it was MY body that was sick, not theirs.  I kept telling them that.  Whispering to my almost-born children.  They needed to stay strong.  They were healthy, they would be fine, their mama would be fine.  The doctors were doing this because it was what was best.  All of our best chance for survival.  It sounds melodramatic typing it now.  But it was reality.

When Tim came in one of my nurses spotted him.  She stood in my doorway while I explained what had to happen.  I was crying again, but not uncontrollably.  I pride myself in being very logical.  I was definitely emotional – a rarity for me – but I knew, logically, that this was the best thing for everyone, and that nothing could be changed, so there was no point wishing for things that weren’t so or that couldn’t come true.  I shouldn’t waste my energy on worrying, although I obviously was worried.  I was using my energy to think positive thoughts for myself and to the children.

What would happen?  We were so scared.  We had to call our families.  We had to wait.  And wait.  And wait.  What would happen?  After everything we went through, why this now?  What would happen?  That was then

P.S.  Thanks for sticking with me, or popping over to visit my blog.  I am not gone…..and hopefully not forgotten!

It’s the Renaissance!

NOW: Ok, so this is kinda my No-Twin Tuesday.  But it is a little late.  Sorry.  I’ve just been so behind, and it’s hard to get everything done when my only free time is naptime.  There’s a lot I’ve wanted to do this summer around the house and I just kept putting it off and putting it off and now it’s August.  So the blog has gone by the wayside a little bit.  I started typing this yesterday, but my internet went down.  So there you have it.

Last Saturday, my dad and I went to the Sterling Renaissance Festival.  We go every year, and have been going every year together, just us, for a few years now.  In fact, that’s been his birthday present for a while now; tickets for the festival, and a gift certificate for either breakfast, gas, or dinner.  I love that this time is reserved every summer for just my dad and I.  No one else around us really loves it as much as we do, which works out just fine in my opinion.  Perhaps one day we will start bringing the kids – but then we’ll have to go twice, once with them and once without. 

If you’ve never been to a Renaissance Festival, I highly recommend going at least once.  It’s a pleasant escape from reality.  It’s so much fun watching the characters throughout the day as they interact with each other and the guests.  The shows are always great and the food is excellent! 

My dad and I almost always stick to the same shows.  We started this year with Johnny Fox (it’s a stage name…..his real name is John Fox).  He’s a sword swallower.  For Real.  It’s funny because we practically have the show memorized, but we still cringe or laugh when appropriate.  The mark of great entertainment.

We like to make sure to see all of our favorites, so the majority of our day is spent sitting and watching shows.  Some people choose to wander more, and catch more impromptu performances, but we’ve never done it that way.  We headed over to Dangerous Dan next.  We don’t see him every year because his show freaks me out a little.  He’s an acrobatic performer and balances on high tables, ladders, etc.  I don’t like heights, even when it’s other people.  And he acts as though he doesn’t know what he’s doing so that scares me even more.  I know it’s just part of the show, but I still get nervous that he will fall.  My dad got picked to help him out with a trick this year.  He’s standing on the right.

I always have a turkey leg for lunch, we split salt potatoes, and my dad had a chicken shish-ka-bob with rice.  Yum!  A lot of Renaissance Fair is about the eating.  And the beer!  But my dad doesn’t drink since he was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes, so I don’t get beer either.  It’s too bad because I really wanted one this year but no big deal.

We never miss Emery Fleet and his Rat Extravaganza.  This is my favorite show.  Again, the jokes are the same every time.  Every show.  Every year.  But we still laugh.  Every time.  I even bought my own pet rat to take home this year.  It was free with every $10 donation.

This year we tried someone new.  A hypnotist.  We left after 15 minutes of his show.  It was just boring.  We would have left sooner but we kept hoping something would happen.

We went to an early dinner so that we could catch Don Juan and Miguel’s Weird Show.  They have four different shows throughout the day but the last one is called the Weird Show.  It’s basically always the same every year, but they do some different jokes.  They whip things and sword fight, too.

We never ever ever miss the Final Pub Sing.  We even bought the CD a few years ago so that we could learn some of the songs and sing along because it seemed everyone else but us knew the words.  🙂

So it was just so relaxing and fun and nice.  What a great tradition.  This is now.

THEN:  I knew I had to stay in the hospital at least until Saturday afternoon because they wanted to monitor the proteins in my urine for 24 hours.  On Saturday morning, the texts started coming.  Tim had gone to the draft the night before and of course, had told all the guys what had happened and that I was in the hospital.  They, of course, went home and told their wives.  The wives, my friends, started texting me as soon as it was appropriate in the morning.  I’ve said it before.  I am so lucky to have such a great group of friends.  It made me feel so loved to get all of those well-wishes and concerns and thoughts and prayers.  Then, because so many people had found out what was going on from word-of-mouth at the draft, we figured we better let a few other people know, those who weren’t there.  Steve and Mariah were out of town, and we also let my friends Melanie and Deanna know what was going on. 

I still wasn’t really worried.  I figured I would just leave and be on bedrest starting that night.  No problem.  So even though I was touched at the outpouring of thoughts from our friends, I didn’t even feel that it was justified.  I was fine, I knew everything was going to be ok.

Tim’s sister called that afternoon also.  She’s always so helpful, and wanted to know if anything could be done around the house that I didn’t get to do because of being stuck in the hospital.  At first I brushed it off, but then I suggested the laundry.  She was going over there to let the dogs out and feed them anyway.  So she does a couple loads of laundry and then decides to take a shower while she’s there.  After her shower she goes back down to the basement and finds…..a flood of dirty water.  The stationary sink had backed up and between the washer pouring into it, and the shower going…..it had overflowed.  She didn’t know what to do!  She was mortified that she had tried to help and I was going to come home to this.  So she called her dad who suggested just calling us.  It had happened before, so I told her just to call Roto-Rooter.  She was so upset that she even had to call and bother us.  It actually was better this way.  She and her dad took care of everything.  If I had been home, I would have had to deal with it!  I told her that and she laughed and felt better.

What a mess this was.  By Saturday night, they still didn’t really have any answers for me.  Other than I was going to have to stay in the hospital at least one more night.  The proteins were still high, my blood pressure was fluctuating – high sometimes, almost normal other times.  The contractions that I couldn’t feel had basically stopped.  They also had given me two shots – steroids, so that if I ended up delivering, it would help the babies’ lungs be better developed.  I asked if there was anything bad that could come of getting this steroid if I didn’t end up delivering, and they said no.  I was absolutely convinced that it would not happen.  I felt fine, and they all seemed to think this was no big deal.  I suppose they deal with it all the time.  They moved me to a different floor, actually the maternity recovery area, because I was staying more than 1 night.

I sent Tim home again that night.  He was exhausted and I wanted him to stay with the dogs, check out the basement, and just sleep in his own bed.  Honestly, I thought I’d sleep better if I was by myself. 

And actually, he was supposed to work the next day.  He was going to try and call his boss in the morning to take the day off, but just in case he had to go in, I wanted him to be home to sleep that night.  It actually was more peaceful to be by myself.  Even though nurses kept coming in every hour and I was up by 6 am.  I still felt that I had slept better than the night before.  That was then.

Shower and Bar-be-Que and More Showers

NOW:  On Sunday, I went to my friend, Melanie’s, bridal shower.  She is one of my best friends; we’ve been friends since elementary school!  So I am her Matron of Honor.  Does anyone have a better term for that?  I don’t know – matron just sounds…..old.  I don’t want to be the Maid of Honor obviously, but there’s gotta be something better than MATRON.  Let me know.

Anyway, I got there pretty early to help her and her mom set up and get organized.  We had a fabulous lunch and then it was time for the presents!  I helped by writing down the gifts everyone gave.

That’s her, behind the big purple bag.  🙂  She was moving so quickly, she was like a blur in most of the pictures.  She’s like a little pixie or something.

See?  Blurry.  You get the idea.  I am so glad to be a part of her (finally) wedding!  She has been with Brad for almost 12 years – longer than I’ve been with Tim!  (And I’ve been married for 7 of those).  So it’s so  nice that it’s finally her turn, the day when everything is all about her!  Love ya Mel!

After the shower I rushed home to get changed – we were going to Steve and Mariah’s house for dinner.  Tim had fed the twins lunch a little early, so they’d nap earlier, so we could get there a little earlier so that the kids could all play.  We knew Steve had set up the kiddie pool, but it was pouring rain outside.  I brought their swimsuits just in case.

Good thing!  The rain cleared up and we all went outside.  It wasn’t exactly sunny, but it was warm and the kids (Ariel, Will, and Eliza) all enjoyed playing in the pool, on the slide, and just running around their massive yard.  It is amazing how much Eliza has grown in the short time that we haven’t seen her.  She talks!  She’s much more steady walking.  She’s still afraid of the grass though.  🙂  They were getting a little restless just before dinner so I decided to take them for a “walk” around the yard to pick flowers.  They picked some of Aunt Mariah’s lillies.  Oh well.  Just then, I felt drops.  Lots of them.  I thought maybe it was just the water being knocked off the trees.  But no.  We hurried and got the kids inside, as well as all of the food, plates, highchairs, everything.

Mariah, with a bum-foot, tried to keep all 3 kids in the living room while I started cutting up their food for dinner.  It was actually quite amusing because she’d no sooner gete all three of them to stay, and one, or more, would wander away again.  It was like a comedy routine.  Tim was bringing in all the stuff from outside, and Steve was finishing up cooking.  He was soaked by the time he got in with the last of the chicken.  We ended up just eating inside, but it was fun anyway.  It’s always nice to just go and relax with them.  The food was delicious and it was just great to get together and hang out.  I love that we have such wonderful friends.  We are just so lucky.  This is now.

THEN: I was admitted into the hospital.  I figured now I had to probably call my parents and tell them what was going on.  I was not looking forward to that.  I didn’t want them to worry, but I knew they would.  I wasn’t worried really, more annoyed.  They had found high levels of protein in my urine, and that, combined with the high blood pressure, was making them concerned about pre-eclampsia.  Which I’m sure I had heard of, but never really looked into.  Throughout my pregnancy, I tried to read a lot about it.  But I glossed over most of the bad stuff because I didn’t want to make myself paranoid.  Plus, being an optimist, I felt sure it wasn’t going to happen to me anyway.  I knew some signs to watch out for, but anything I had mentioned to my doctor had gotten a “you’re fine” response.  I didn’t worry much.

I called my family and they were worried and said they’d come down soon to see me.  In the meantime, Tim and I settled in, tried to find something on TV and discussed our plans for the evening.  He was supposed to go to a Fantasy Football draft.  I told him to just go.  Don’t worry, and don’t worry about coming back tonight.  Sleep at home, take care of the dogs, come back in the morning.  So that’s what he was going to do.  Before coming down, my mom asked what was going on and how long I would have to stay and if Tim was going to stay.  When she found out that he couldn’t stay the night (we didn’t tell her exactly why because we knew she’d think it was silly), she offered to stay. 

In the meantime, the nurses had put a urine catcher on the toilet in my bathroom.  This was because they needed to keep testing the proteins.  They also put an IV in my arm, and came and took my blood pressure every few hours.  Most of the nurses were really great.  Some were better than others.  One of them decided late Friday night that the needle in my arm was wrong.  I told her it was fine.  I didn’t want to be poked again.  She insisted.  It was so annoying.  She had to un-tape the whole thing, which hurt like hell, took the needle out, then had to wiggle around to find another vein, and then re-taped it.  I was so angry.  Was that absolutely necessary?  I didn’t really think so.

Even all through the night, they kept coming in to test my blood pressure and take my temperature.  They had also hooked up a monitor to my belly.  They were measuring my contractions.  Now, I wasn’t feeling those contractions AT ALL, which they assured me was a good thing.  They weren’t very strong.  But they wanted to monitor them anyway to make sure I didn’t end up going into pre-term labor.

Shortly after being in the room, they also did a sonogram, mostly to figure out the weights of the babies. 

I didn’t sleep much.  I was uncomfortable.  I was hot.  My mom was in the room.  Nurses kept coming in and out.  The monitors were beeping. 

I like things to be told to me straight.  So I asked; what was going to happen in 24 hours if mhy protein levels and blood pressure hadn’t gone down? 

Three possible scenarios:

1. – levels weren’t as high as initially tested and I’d be sent home on bedrest.

2. – levels were still high and I’d stay in the hospital for a couple of weeks on bedrest.

3. – levels were still high and I’d have to deliver.

The nurses had the opinion that it would probably be option 2.  I was only 31 weeks, so delivering now might not be the best action.  But going home was probably not an option. 

I just kept making myself try to stay super-calm whenever they took my blood pressure.  I figured; mind over matter, right?  That was then.

Ahhh…….Relaxing……

NOW:  Things were pretty much back to normal today.  Tim’s temperature was pretty much normal.  He went back to work.  Kids and I went outside for the whole morning. 

We swam, went on the swings, on the slide, and I even set up the Bounce House for them.  We also looked for bugs.  Crickets were the find of the day.  🙂 

And…..maybe the most back to normal event……after 3 years…….I finally have a shed again!!!!!!!

It is just glorious.  I got up early this morning and started moving stuff from the garage before the twins were even up.  Then I finished up during naptime.  Oh, it is just so nice to have the garage space back!  No more tripping over ourselves trying to get to the outside fridge, or the stroller or wagon.  It will be easier to have their toys in there for me to get out in the mornings.  Plus, my car will have a new home. 

Believe me, it’s positively empty compared to what it looked like before.  I’m not sure if my car can go in yet though.  We bought the twins a rather large gift for their upcoming birthday and it’s being stored in the garage right now.  And after it’s put together it will probably go back in the garage until their birthday.  So, with the stroller and wagon being to the side like that, I think the doors on the car might hit them.  They will eventually go back next to the fridge after the gift is out of the way, but until then my car might have to keep sleeping in the driveway.  That’s ok, only a few more weeks.  🙂  While on the topic of their birthday……I have already been prepping them to say they’re 2, when asked how old they are, and hold up 2 fingers.  Ariel holds up both index fingers.  That’s ok, that does equal 2 fingers.  This is now

THEN:  Ok, so Tim tells me to call the doctor about my heartburn.  I was surprised enough to actually listen.  Here’s my issue.  It’s not that I don’t like going to the doctor, really.  It just seems that any time I call with a complaint, one of two things happen:

1. – There is absolutely nothing wrong with me (OK doc, then why do I feel like S**T!!!???)

2. – It’s a virus and there’s nothing they can do.  (I get the logic behind this, but it still aggrevates me)

Figuring that the heartburn is obviously not a virus.  And figuring that if there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me, then that’s a good thing, I figure I’ll call the doctor.  Well, of course, my OB is not in the office today.  In fact, he’s gone on vacation for the weekend.  Ok, he’s entitled to a life too, I suppose.  It just figures.  The answering service connects me with a different practice, they work together with my doctor to help each other out on the weekends.  They tell me I should go to the hospital. 

Um….What?  I don’t know about that.  Is that really necessary?  Well……I could be in pre-term labor and it’s best to get checked out.  And…..by the way……we’re working out of Women’s and Children’s Hospital this weekend, not Mercy. 

That just threw me for a loop.  Tim and I don’t even know where Children’s Hospital is.  I was familiar with Mercy.  I knew where it was.  I had been going to see the high-risk doctor for my sonograms there.  They had all brand-new rooms on the maternity floor.  Did I really have to go to some other hospital.  Yes…..and……they are really really busy today so you might want to bring a book to read or something.  You’ll probably have to wait a while.

Now I’m aggrevated.  But I can’t be aggrevated with the person on the phone, so I decide to be aggrevated with Tim.  Why?  Because he’s the one who told me to call the doctor in the first place.  He’s very apologetic.  He doesn’t really want to give up his whole Friday either, and I’m not really mad at him, just annoyed in general.

We look up on Mapquest how to get to the hospital.  We bring books.  I even tell him to bring my Labor Bag just in case.  Who knows, right?  We get there and go straight to the labor/delivery area of the hospital.  I tell the secretary what they said to me on the phone.  We wait in the waiting room for about45 minutes, then get called back.  I have to give a urine sample.  Good thing I made Tim get me a milkshake for breakfast on the way.  I am told to put on a hospital gown also.  And then lay on this table where my legs hang off and I can’t move sideways or I will fall.  They test my vitals and then we wait and wait and wait.  My blood pressure was a little high.  And they are concerned about my swelling.  I tell them it’s always like that…..just wait until nighttime, it only gets worse.  The nurse leaves again.  This table is the most uncomfortable thing EVER.  She comes back to draw blood.  She leaves again.  I ask if I can get up.  No.  They want me to rest to see if my blood pressure will come down.  It is so uncomfortable I feel that it’s probably making my blood pressure go higher.  I can’t even stand it.  It’s awful.  Complaining does not help.  A doctor comes in to do an internal exam.  I’ve not had one yet, and it’s VERY uncomfortable.  Combined with the uncomfortableness of the table.  Nothing seems to be out-of-sorts or concerned though.  Except that I feel like I will die if I cannot get off of this table soon. 

When the nurse comes back in, they say they are admitting me.  Um, not what I expected.  I would just like to go home.  The heartburn is gone I tell her.  They found some concern with my urine sample, combined with my blood pressure, and the swelling.  They’d like to keep an eye on me.  I ask for how long.  Overnight.  Oh no no no no no.  I start crying.  Tim soothes me and the nurse gets a wheelchair to take me to my room.  I am still crying but at least I am off that awful terrible horrible table.  But now Tim and I are really aggrevated that I called.  But not really.  That was then.

Rainy Day

NOW: We haven’t had any rainy days this summer.  Finally, one hit.  What the F am I supposed to do when I can’t even go outside with these 2? 

We went out for a little while in the morning, before the rain hit.  But it was dark.  And thundering.  I figured we better come inside.

We were sitting at the kitchen table, eating a snack, and I was in panic mode.  What will we do all day?  My first thought is turn on the TV.  Ok, last resort.  I was feeling pretty desperate.  I don’t know why…..what did we do all winter?  And it’s not like we don’t have millions of toys (not an exaggeration – friends whose kids are in daycare say we have more toys than the daycare).

OK, so what would we do?  COLOR!  That will hold for a little while.  🙂

It wasn’t too long ago that Will was more interested in eating crayons than coloring with them.  Ariel had caught on a little faster that they taste disgusting.  Now, it’s much better because I don’t have to watch him like a hawk; making sure he doesn’t end up with green teeth again.  It’s hard for me to remember that this is an ok activity now. 

They colored for longer than I thought.  Whew!  They really ended up having a good time, and even asked again to color later!  My little babies are growing up so fast. 

However, later on, they were not so agreeable.  Well, Will was not so agreeable.  I don’t know what was going on with him but he was being a bit of a monster.  I am happy to report that I did not raise my voice once.  He just kept whining and moaning and making this super annoying groaning sound.  I had no idea what was wrong with him.  I kept asking him over and over and over.  He’d play for like 5 minutes, and all the sudden be sitting and moaning again.  My kids have a lot of language skills – if something was wrong he should be able to kinda tell me. 

Finally, around 4:00, I took him very gently by the shoulders so he would look right at me.  I went through every body part, asking if it hurt.  He kept saying no.  I asked if he was tired.  I asked if he was hungry – YES!  And he ran to his highchair.  Well for goodness sake kid all you had to do was TELL MOMMY!  It was so frustrating.  Probably the most frustrated I’ve been with either of them all summer.

I gave him some blueberries as a little snack because it was only about an hour and half until dinner.  I know that at this age, if they say they’re hungry they really are.  I figured at least I was giving him a healthy option and if it meant he ate a little less at dinner, oh well, it was fruit!  Ariel had some cantelope. 

When Tim came home he asked if I was going to try and get a job next summer.  Ha Ha.

After they were in bed, I got on the Wii Fit to weigh-in.  Gained 0.7 lbs.  This was in addition to the 2 lbs. I had supposedly gained this weekend.   

I went running. 

I ran. 

And it helped all of my frustration from the day just melt away.  I did my normal route in 28 minutes – usually it takes me at least 30.  I don’t know why I just discovered this whole running thing.  I wish I had figured out sooner how much I like it!  HA!

When I came back the boy was still crying in his crib.  Tim and I finished our strength training and yoga together and then I finally I went in to check on him.  He was instantaneously quiet when I walked in.  Hm, very suspicious.  Obviously there was nothing “wrong”.  He just wanted company.  Which I guess is ok every once in a while.  I calmed him down and then went to take a shower.  When I got out…..crying again.  I stayed a little longer this time, rubbing his back, waiting until he fell asleep.  I was glad I got to go for that run because it helped me keep my sanity for this.

Sometimes I feel so guilty when I’m frustrated.  Sometimes I feel so guilty when I’m favoring one over the other.  All day, Ariel was fine.  Happy, playing, cute.  And at times, I wished it was just her and I for a couple hours and that I didn’t have to deal with the other one.  I feel like I didnt even get to spend time with her because I was trying to figure out what in the hell was wrong with Will. 

Patience helps me get over my guilt I guess.  If I was snapping at them or showing my frustration, I would feel more guilty.  He wasn’t meaning to be frustrating and I just kept that perspective in mind all day.  I counted to 10 in my head.  A lot.  I used my patient-mommy voice.  Because if they know I’m frustrated, they get even more frustrated….which is even worse. 

I guess I’m just venting.  And bragging.  Because I kept my cool.  All Day Long.  And by the end of the day I don’t know how I did it.  And by the end of the day I was ready to get a part-time job not only for next summer, but maybe even the rest of this one.  🙂   This is now.

THEN:  Oh, the heartburn.  I didn’t have any all pregnancy.  I know it’s a symptom, so I wasn’t concerned.  At first.  It was a Thursday night.  I woke up with a pain in my chest.  Heartburn.  I tried sitting up a little in bed to ease the feeling.  It was not comfortable for my stomach.  I laid down again.  I sat up again.  I laid down again.  Finally, Tim woke up.  Kinda what I was aiming for, without having to actually wake him.  The feeling was becoming unbearable.  He got up and looked in the medicine cabinet to see if I could take anything.  I didn’t want to risk it.  Not yet.

So, he did what any normal person does in “this day in age”.  Looked on the internet.  Milk.  Crackers.  Sit up. 

I was so tired.  I just wanted to lay down in my bed.  I did not want to be drinking milk.  I did not want to be eating crackers.  I did not want to be sitting up.  I wanted to be sleeping. 

He went and got me some milk and crackers.

I ate and drank while sitting up in bed.  He laid back down.  What else was he supposed to do, right?  He fell asleep.  I tried laying down again.  Way worse.

I decided to go hang out in the rocking chair in one of the baby rooms.  It was the room we were going to put them both in at first when they came home.  I rocked and ate more crackers and thought about my little ones in my belly.  They were probably sleeping.  Just like my husband.  I kinda tried to rest my eyes.  I fell asleep a little bit, here and there, only a light sleep.  The pain was not really subsiding, even with milk and crackers and sitting up.  Oh well, it was just one night.  I could nap tomorrow. 

I tried not to worry about it.  Lots of people get heartburn while pregnant.  The internet said so. 

When Tim got up the next morning, early, I was still in the rocking chair.  Still awake.  The pain was still there.  What if something was wrong?  I hadn’t had heartburn this whole 7 months, why suddenly now?  We went downstairs and he asked if I wanted breakfast but I wasn’t hungry, I couldn’t eat.  It would hurt.  He suggested I call the doctor.  He never suggests I call the doctor.  I never call the doctor.  Doctors just tell you you’re fine and send you on your way and you feel stupid for even asking.  Just because I had heartburn all night and this morning was no reason to call the doctor.  He wasn’t even there yet, it was only 7 in the morning.  I was fine.  That was then.