Life with Twins

Posts tagged ‘pregnancy’

Just a “then”

Because my last post was just a “now”.

THEN:  This is a love story about the bathroom.  And, I’m convinced there’s no such thing as TMI on a blog……

After having a C-section, you’re in lot of pain.  And they give you a lot of painkillers.  With strict instructions to let the nurses know and remind them when you need more, before the REAL pain gets you.  It’s easier to prevent pain than make it go away.

And their best piece of advice (seriously) is to get up and start moving/walking as soon as you can. 

And the next piece of advice is be really scared about how much pain you will feel when you go to the bathroom.  Especially the first bowel movement.  Which may or may not occur before you leave the hospital.

Well.  Even peeing was a process for the first two days (after the cathedar was removed).  It was a project to get myself  TO the bathroom…..which was literally two feet from my bed.  It was a project to pull up my hospital gown and pull down my “fake” underwear (which I was wearing because there was so much bleeding).  It was painful to “go”.  And it was impossible to wipe.  Or change my pad because I had bled through it.

So, guess who got to help?  My husband.  Thank goodness I’m not really a shy person to begin with because I would have been mortified with this process.   It was somewhat embarrassing to ask your husband to wipe you because you literally could not bend down.  Especially with all the blood.  (did the mention the bleeding that occurs?)

Never.  In a million years.  Will I EVER be able to thank him/repay him enough.  Maybe someday when he’s like senile and 120 years old and I’m wiping his ass.  Maybe then. 

I think that was one of the times that I was most in love with him.  Sounds ridiculous, but I cannot imagine asking someone else or letting someone else help me the way he did.  Did he really want to do it?  I’m sure not.  But he did.  Because he loves me.  And I was never more sure of his love than those two days.

Especially when the bowel movement occured before I left the hospital.

Still……..better than labor.  Not that I would know, but I’ve always been more terrified of labor.  Or labor going wrong and then ending up with a C-Section anyway.  So, I’ll take the blood, pain, and Tim having to help me in the bathroom like a child.  🙂

That was then.

Med-sin too!

 NOW:  I came home from work on Wednesday the 16th to my MIL telling me that Will has been complaining that his left ear hurts.  When she left, my “real boy” (a nickname that he created) was attached to my hip, did not want to be put down, would not stop crying, and had a mild fever; 102.3.  Hm. 

Never having experienced an ear infection with either of them (yes, I’m lucky), I decided to just give him some Motrin and continue on with our evening plans – Christmas photo shoot.  Although several times I almost called Tim and told him not to bother meeting us.  I held my baby as I got everything ready to go and tried to get him motivated.  Usually he’s a big ham – the kid absolutely loves having his picture taken.  The twins have several play cameras and he is often heard around the house saying “cheeeeeeese” and just taking a picture of himself or random objects.

Anyway, he kept telling me he didn’t want to go for pictures.  Hm.  Oh well, the show must go on.  I figured if they were absolutely horrible because he was crying I just wouldn’t buy any and we’d go back a different day.  But I had a coupon Dammit!  And I was not going to give up on that just because he was having a meltdown in my arms. 

I got him in the car and his tears turned off.  Motrin, reporting for duty.

All the way there, they delighted in pointing out all of the Big “Tucks”, especially the Cement “Tucks”.  Ahh, much better.  The photos came out great!  I will try to take a picture of the pictures and post them.  I took him to see the Dr. the next morning and he did have a mild ear infection and was given Amoxicillan.

The story behind the story;  when FIL baby-sat Thursday the 17th, and again when SIL baby-sat the 19th……they were both concerned because Ariel keeps saying her ear hurts and insists that she needs “Med-sin” too!  I keep explaining to her that we only get medicine when we’re sick.  So apparently she decided that claiming that her ears hurts is a sure-fire way to get some of the sweet stuff.  She’s tried it with me a couple of times too…..I try to explain about the Boy Who Cried Wolf.  I guess I should be grateful that they will willingly take medicine when necessary.  Right?  This is now.

Question:  Do your kids like to take medicine?  Or do you have to hold them down and pry their mouths open?

THEN: Magnesium Sulfate.  Used in treatment with women who have preeclampsia.  Maybe other things.  I don’t know.  And I don’t care.  I just hope I never have to have it again. 

I was on this horrible stuff because the doctors and nurses were afraid that I would have a seizure due to my severe preeclampsia.  Especially during the C-Section.  So it was one of the many IV’s sticking into my body as I was delivering, and then post-op for a little while. 

I was definitely shaking.  I even asked if I was ok.  I could not control my body after the twins were delivered.  It was like the worst case of the chills ever, and not caused by cold.  It was normal considering the demands that had been placed on my body over the last few hours.  Totally normal even for a healthy C-Section patient.  But still scary.

My husband stayed with me, and my families were able to come into my room a little while later.  Of course, the first thing they wanted to know were the names.  🙂  They waited for about an hour until they could go down to the NICU to see the twins for themselves.  Then they came back up to me.  It was late.  I don’t know how late.  I was pretty drugged up and tired.  Probably not as late as it felt to me, but definitely dark outside.  They needed to go eat dinner and go home.  I was glad.  I was exhausted.

And of course, Tim needed to eat too and his family had offered to take him to dinner and then bring him back to the hospital.  I couldn’t eat yet and I certainly didn’t want the smells of food in my room.  He asked my permission and of course I said yes.  Seemed like a good idea at the time.  I would just sleep.

What a mistake.  I should never have let him leave.  The drugs, and I’m convinced it was mostly the mag. sul. were making me hallucinate.  No lie.  I would kind of drift off into sleep and then be awoken, thinking someone or something was coming into my room.  At first I was thinking it was Tim, but then realized he had only been gone a short time.  Then it became crazy nurses with needles and dangerous instruments, and even monsters.

My doctor came in at one point.  Which was scary because all the time I kept thinking people/things were coming in and then someone really did come in.  He had been away on a weekend vacation, but had come back a little early to check on me.  He said he had tried to get there in time for the C-Section but it just wasn’t possible.  Had I been in my right mind I might have asked him why he didn’t inform me about the gestational diabetes/preeclampsia, but my tired mind and body wouldn’t let me get worked up about it.

After what felt like an eternity my husband finally really did walk in the door.  And scared the shit out of me because I thought it really was a crazy nurse or monster this time.  I started crying because he was finally there to protect me.  He had gone for a quick bite to eat, but then to visit the twins again.  What a good daddy.  But he was sorry he was gone for so long….I had told him I would just be sleeping.  I wasn’t mad….it’s not like I had originally expected psychotic nurses and monsters.  He slept in a chair by my side that night.  I was never more grateful for his presence.  But, if possible, I would be more grateful the next few days.  That was then.

Being Thankful

NOW:  I’m sitting here trying to think of what I’m thankful for.  In a creative way.  I’m thankful for so much, but it’s all kind of cliche and boring.  Family, friends, health, job.  That about sums it up.  But, expressing what you’re thankful for seems the thing to do these days, so here goes nothing……

I am thankful first and foremost for my husband, Tim.  He is my everything.  Sometimes I get so caught up in living life I forget to think about how I got here in the first place, but it’s mostly to do with him.  I am thankful for his sense of humor, his love, his daddy-skills, his cooking skills (Thankful mostly because then I don’t have to cook!), and for making me want to be a better person…..but still putting up with the parts I’ll never change.  He is my best friend and my soulmate. 

I am thankful for my twins.  It’s hard to believe there was a time in my life when I thought I didn’t want kids.  Now, sometimes I believe I was put on this earth to be their mommy.  It’s a full-time job….and it’s definitely WORK, but it’s also the best job in the world.  Even if I forget that sometimes….like when Will’s walls, crib bars, sheets, and stuffed animals are all painted with poop when I go to get him in the morning.  But when I think back….especially when I’m doing a “THEN” post…..well, it just helps me remember how much I need them.

My friends….they are just always there for me, or just there to be with me, or just there to talk to me.  I am so lucky to have each and every one of them.  Even when they are so drunk they spill gluten-free beer all over my husband’s white Sabres jersey.  Oh yeah, I’m also thankful for Stain Stick.

I think in this economy, most people are thankful for their jobs.  I am. 

My family.  And Tim’s family.  They are just so great and helpful.

But I am more thankful that I love my job.  I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.  I would hate to be stuck in a job just because I had to make money, and I know that’s how a lot of people’s lives are.  I am blessed to be working in a good school, with good people, a good principal, and pretty good kids. 

Can I take a minute to be thankful for ridiculous things?  I am thankful for the yummy risotto my hubby made for dinner last night.  I can still taste it, and that’s a good thing.  I am thankful for my new salad spinner.  My old one broke after a good 8 year run, and I don’t think I could have lived without one.  If you don’t have one, you need one.  It’s the only thing I like to do in the kitchen!  I am thankful that International Delights already started selling their Pumpkin creamer so that I can stop spending $4.50 for pumpkin lattes.  And thankful for the coupon in the paper last week so that I could get an extra bottle.

There are lots of other little things I’m thankful for too; Disneyworld, Disney characters, and Disney movies, books, TV, baby wipes, my hair straightener, pizza, crayons, play-doh, my Fraggle Rock snuggie.  The list could go on and on. 

I guess I just am thankful for a lot.  And I know, even when I’m feeling not-so-thankful, I can use one of the many things in my life that make me happy to remind myself how lucky I truly am.  This is now.

THEN:

I am thankful to the nurses and doctors who took care of me and my children when I couldn’t.

I am thankful to my breast pump. 

I am thankful to my support group, made up of family and friends who love me.

I am thankful that I got heartburn that ended me up in the hospital, because without it, the outcome might have been a lot worse.

I am thankful that my children were relatively healthy and that, with the help of modern medicine and science, they could become stronger and healthier.

I am thankful for my husband taking extra time off of work while I was in the hospital, while the twins were in the hospital, and once the twins came home.  I don’t know what I’d do without him.

That was then.

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.

Twinisms of the Week

NOW:

Monday: We went trick-or-treating for the first time!  After every house, Will announced “next house Mama!”.  They did pretty good saying trick or treat and remembering to say thank you.  Their favorites were the houses that held out the bowl and let them pick.  Will also made sure to wave good bye to everyone as we walked off their porch.  After going up and down one street (a pretty long street), Ariel plopped herself down on the grass in front of a house.  Daddy asked if she was all done.  She responded, “yes, carry me”.  So, we finished up the last house on the street, piled them both in the wagon and made our way home.  Nice night.  🙂

Tuesday: I needed to pick up the massive amounts of dog poop that were accumulating in our backyard, in addition to the leaves that were covering the piles.  I took the twins out with me.  After carefully cleaning up every last pile of poop, I started racking.  When the pile was big enough Ariel layed herself down and closed her eyes.  She asked me to cover her up, so I raked more leaves on top of her.  She laid there for a good 30 minutes, occasionally sitting up to see what William was doing.  When she finally stood up, Will went over to her and asked, “Rosie, Ariel?  Play Rosie?”  He wanted her to play ring-around-the-rosie with him and fall in the leaves.  Two cute things about this conversation: First – Him asking her to play, how cute is that?  Second – he has this adorable way of raising his voice at the end of a question so that you know it’s a question. 

Wednesday: Ariel was “being bad” during the day because she kept climbing on the couch whenever Papa left the room for 2 seconds.  Papa continuously yelled at her to get down.  Finally, Will set up her comfy chair facing the corner and took her by the hand and brought her over to sit down.  “Time Out Ariel”, he determined.  And. She. Sat. There.  Huh.  Once I got home I decided to put away all of the Halloween decorations.  I left out anything that could be “autumn” but put away the skeletons, etc.  The twins helped.  They are so useful!  I left the tote in the kitchen, and went around the house with them, collecting decorations.  As long as it was soft or unbreakable I handed it to them and they ran it to the box.  Then later on, Ariel was coloring and Will helped me dust (YES YES YES!!!!), and then we put out a few Thanksgiving decorations I have.  Will was continuously asking the rest of us, “you like turkey gobble gobble?  You like turkey?”

Thursday:  Diaper boxes are all the rage at our house.  They go in and out of style, as with any toy, but lately they are the “it” toy.  Toy, yes.  Cardboard diaper boxes.  Oh the things you can do with them and a little bit of imagination.  A train, a house, a tower (or towers), a door, a blockade, a dog cage (or baby cage hee hee), a car, a tunnel, a bridge.  You can even make windows to peek through.  Or little mini-houses for the “guys” (stuffed animals of all sorts).  Oh, and the twins like to play with them too.  😉

Friday: Getting ready to go meet Daddy at the car place so he can drop off his car for an oil change.  Then we’re bringing Chinese food home (the twins are ecstatic, I get a kick out of the fact that they like Chinese food).  Then we’re all putting our jerseys on and going over to a friend’s house to watch the Sabres game.  We have some Halloween presents to exchange too!  The twins will get to play with Matt and Eliza – always a great time! 

Have a great weekend!  Any fun plans?????   This is now.

THEN:  They finally brought Tim into the operating room, so that was a little of my stress gone.  Now I just had to concentrate on the fact that I could not feel the lower half of my body.  I know that was what was supposed to happen, but for someone who has never even had novacaine before it was a little unnerving.  Tim frequently assured me that my hips and legs were still attached to the upper half of my body.  I just had to trust him since a curtain was covering me and I really had no way of knowing for sure.

The worst part of the numbness was when I had to be moved from my current hospital bed to a much narrower one….without the use of my legs.  There were two nurses who were lifting me using the sheet underneath me.  This was terrifying.  I honestly thought they were going to drop me.  I weighed a million pounds because of the pregnancy already, plus my legs were dead weight.  So I felt like I must have weighed literally a ton.  I didn’t want them to move me.  But I had no choice.  I held onto the edge of the new, skinnier bed until my knuckles turned white.  But, of course, everything was fine.  Except that my heart was going to jump out of my chest.  And I could no longer feel my fingers on top of everything else.

Tim stayed by my head and held my hand from that point on.  I had drugs in me, attached to me, and a curtain covering me.  He was my only grip on reality.  So even though I wasn’t in any pain, I held his hand just as tight as if I was in labor.  I kept begging the nurse on my other side to tell me what was going on.  She patiently obliged.  Giving me (a basic) play-by-play of what was going on with my body as I couldn’t feel or see it. 

They had told me they would start with Ariel because she was Baby A.  I teased Tim that he wasn’t having a boy first.  So when I felt the first big tug, I knew it was her.

One of the things they had warned me about was that it was highly likely that the babies might not cry because of their under-developed lungs.  It didn’t necessarily mean that anything was seriously wrong, just that they might need to be put on a respirator or CPap machine right away.

I burst into tears when I heard my daughter screaming.  Not only because she was born but because she was breathing.  Even my nurse remarked that her lungs must be especially healthy for a preemie.  They brought her over to me after she was cleaned up.  I knew I wouldn’t be allowed to hold her, but they pressed her forehead to my lips so I could welcome her into my life.  She was bundled up and had a little pink hat on.  She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen……or heard.

Will was born 2 minutes later.  He entered the world a little more quietly, but was crying a little bit.  Still music to my ears.  They cleaned him up and pushed him past me in an incubator.  He needed a to be on a respirator.  I couldn’t touch him at all, just look and smile and whisper to him how much I loved him.

They were whisked away to the NICU.  I wouldn’t see them again for over 24 hours.  That was then.

Ya Da Da DAAAAA!

NOW: What is Mommy thinking about today?  Ya da da DAAAAA!

Runny Noses.  You know, runny noses. 

The kind that are super annoying to the person with the runny nose and also annoying to the person taking care of the runny nose. 

The kind that makes your upper lip and nose raw because you have to keep wiping with a tissue.  (FYI: Will kinda can blow his nose, but Ariel just blows out her mouth when instructed)

The kind that cause you to break protocal and actually put something on the end table…..which is a big no-no in my house because everything on the end table winds up on the floor.  And when it’s a box of tissues, it’s not like just the box ends up on the floor.  It’s like a winter wonderland in the living room when I come back from the bathroom.

Not only that, but guess how many children in my house have runny noses?  The obvious answer is two.  But you would be wrong.  Three.  Three Children.  Because every Mommy knows that when their husband is sick……they’ve suddenly birthed another child and become a single mom all in the same instant.  At least that’s how it is in my house.

I’ve realized as i’m writing that this post is going to be more about my husband than the kids.  🙂

Because when the kids (the twins, I mean), have runny noses:

They want to cuddle (only a problem when they’re pushing each other off of mommy’s lap).

They don’t eat as much (only a problem because they drink more…..causing more pee-pee accidents).

They are eternally grateful that Mommy is taking care of them (not a problem at all).  Like the other night…..I put Vicks rub on Will’s chest and told him it would make his nose feel better.  In a little, pathetic, grateful voice he said, “Thank you Mommy.”  I can still hear his words in my head.  Everyone say, AWWWW.

Now……when Tim is sick there’s a whole other ball game going on. 

He wants to cuddle (by himself, on the couch, watching tv and not doing much of anything else).

He wants either soup (acceptable, although annoying when I already have something else planned for dinner)

                                    Or pizza.  And he uses his near-death illness to try and wrangle it out of me even though we are supposed to be watching what we eat and only ordering out/going out once a week.  And we’ve already gone out twice this week as it is.  And we will be going out Saturday and having pizza Sunday.  And we’re supposed to be saving money.  But somehow his pathetic-ness always wins me over.  (Probably because I wouldn’t really mind pizza either and I have no self-control, but that’s besides the point).

He is pretty grateful…..although doesn’t do much to return the favor if HEAVEN FORBID…….I get sick and need a break.  Unless I really am on death’s door.  Which hasn’t happened yet.

Although, I have to say…..a couple weeks ago when I was achy….he did bring me home a pumpkin latte.  And came home early so I didn’t have to deal with twins and making dinner alone.  But he did talk me into ordering pizza.

This is now.

THEN:  The time has come.  Although time seemed to have slowed down indefinitely for the past 8 hours, somehow it was 4:00 and time for us to get ready for the C-section.

And I mean US.  Everyone was on-hand.  I had drugs already pumping through my system (Magnesium Sulfate, more on that later) to help control my impending seizures.  Nurses were standing by.  My families were ushered out of the room, but waited in a nearby hallway.

I was transfered in my hospital bed.  As I went past my mom…..she told me to tell her the names of the twins.  I knew why.  She was scared.  So scared that I might not be able to tell her later.  Or that maybe we wouldn’t have to have names anymore.  But I refused (I’m so mean).  I refused because my eternally optimistic self was not going to give in to her worries.  Even at this time.  I had told her she wouldn’t know the names until they were born.  So when she asked as I was wheeled past her, I told her they weren’t born yet and she would have to wait a little longer.  She smiled at my stubborness.  That was good, at least she didn’t try to strangle the names out of me or something.

I had prepped Tim to bring the Baby Book.  I wanted footprints.  They told me it might not be possible, depending on the condition of the babies.  But they would try their best.

They whisked Tim away to get his suit of armor on.  Actually it was scrubs and booties.  That made me nervous.  I had heard a horror story (what pregnant woman hasn’t) about a woman having a C-Section and they forgot to get her husband until it was almost too late.  And it was at this very hospital.  So I was freaking out.  A lot.  I think it had something to do with the drugs too.  They were making me a little crazy. 

So I asked the nurses about a thousand times not to forget about Tim.  Anytime they were fiddling around or moving me around or setting things up, I would ask them again if Tim could come in yet or if anyone had gone to get Tim.  I was neurotic.  I couldn’t do this without him.  That was then.

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.