tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75362362719171076492024-03-12T23:36:23.869-05:00It is what it is.Taking life day by day, bit by bit, and exactly for what it is.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.comBlogger484125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-11016421858176169412018-07-03T14:38:00.001-05:002018-07-03T14:38:13.308-05:00A Stranger Made Me Cry in My LunchLet me set the scene for you...I’m out to lunch with my parents and my two one-year-old daughters. You might already be saying, “Why would you be doing that? Stay home where it’s easy!” One of the many stupid things I said before I had kids was that they wouldn't keep us from going out. We'd keep up with as much of our social life as we could, we'd just bring the baby along! And then the universe heard me and said, "knock her down a peg, give her two."<br />
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So, we've adjusted. We go out between naps to places that welcome children when we have at least one additional set of hands and don't mind if the whole thing goes to hell and we have to skip it or leave early.<br />
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I plan a LOT before we leave. We have a well-stocked inventory of disposable placemats, paper bibs and portable snacks. We let every server know right off the bat we’ll tip well and clean up after ourselves. I end most meals out on my hands and knees collecting the majority of the full meal that inevitably ends up on the ground while Tom gives the girls baby wipe baths in an attempt to wipe off the macaroni and cheese film covering them from head to toe.<br />
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Back to this particular time. We’re eating lunch and the girls are a little extra feisty. Still relatively well behaved, but I am kept on my toes the entire lunch. You know, knife almost in the mouth, straw on the floor, near grab of my open and full cup of soda, squealing, screaming, shouting, slobbering. True, they could be much, MUCH worse, but I am desperately trying to keep up with them, feed them, engage with them and I am 100% feeling like a hot mess mom.<br />
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As I go to take a bite of my lunch, (the first bite of my lunch, despite both girls nearing the end of theirs), a woman starts walking towards us. I had seen her glancing over at our table a few times during her own lunch. I bristle, knowing she’s coming over to tell us we shouldn’t have them out in a restaurant or that we’ve ruined her lunch. <br />
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<strong>She leaned over to me and said, “You are a really good mom.”</strong> <br />
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I immediately started to tear up. She went on to say, “Truly, you’ve got two of them, your hands are full. You are so patient and kind with them, we need more of that in this world. You’re doing a great job.” By now, I’m full-blown sobbing, thanking her profusely. I thank her and tell her how much it means that she would come over and tell me that.<br />
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<b>But you guys, really, we need more of her in this world.</b><br />
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There is no rule book when it comes to parenting. It’s a <b>really</b> hard job with no description or annual review or bonus if you’ve done well. There is rarely an opportunity to know if you’re even doing something right. There’s a <b>lot</b> of chances to second guess ourselves. Perfectly curated Pinterest moms all over Instagram. Moms who clearly worked out, showered <strong>and</strong> put on makeup before they made this same trip to the grocery store that you did. Flat out momshaming happens everywhere.<br />
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So, in an effort to make more moms <del>cry </del>feel better about what a great job we’re <b>all </b>doing, tell someone. If you see a mom struggling, don’t just flash that “been there, done that” smile, <b>tell her she’s doing a great job. </b>When you see hot mess, think “she could use a boost!”<br />
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Here's a bonus tip, free of charge: if you see a mom with multiple children, instead of defaulting to "You've got your hands full!" try "Look at you juggling all of this out in public, good job!" No one needs to be told "You've got your hands full." It's the equivalent of saying, "You've got brown hair." If you can SEE how full my hands are, you can bet your ass I currently FEEL how full they are.<br />
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Guys, this is not easy. In fact, sometimes, this is really really hard. We could all stand to hear we’re doing a great job more often. And in case you didn't hear it yet today, <b>you are doing a great job, momma.</b>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-85966873929916054412018-01-16T10:19:00.001-06:002018-01-16T10:19:05.993-06:00Dear 8 Month Old Mabel<br />
Dear Mabel,<br />
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You are EIGHT months old today and Mabey Baby, you are a freaking ray of sunshine. Honestly, I didn't know babies could be as happy as you are. You emote with every bone in your body and feel things at 100%, every single time. You smile with your entire being and you'll flash that big, gummy grin at just about anyone who looks in your direction. </div>
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Like your sister, you are such a perfect combination of Daddy and I, it almost seems unbelievable. You look more like your mom but you are as easy going and laid back as your dad. You rarely get riled up, and when you do it's mostly because you want to be fed (ok, that might be more mom than dad). You're as content as can be just hanging out. Sit you down with a toy and you're as happy as you've ever been. You LOVE sitting in your exersaucer and bouncing the day away with a big, goofy grin plastered across your face. </div>
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You ADORE your sister. The way you look at her when she comes in your line of sight makes my heart swell three sizes. And when she doesn't seem interested, as the older sister she is, you'll grab and scream and try your hardest to get her attention. You are obsessed with Bella, the Puppy. You know the sound of her entering a room and you're immediately looking to see where she'll land. You love to pet her and talk to her and blow raspberries at her. The kitty is pretty great too, killer tail that's super fun to try to catch. You're working on understanding the "gentle" command, we have to remind you that it's not "gentle" petting if you walk away with pieces of the puppy or kitty in your hand. </div>
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It's hard to believe looking at you that you were ever that itty, bitty preemie baby. You're now almost 18 pounds, 26" and in the 80th percentile for head size. You love your bottles and are coming around to the real food. Not so sure about textures, but you're happy to swish around food for a while and just spit it out once you've gotten the taste from it.<br />
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We are so lucky to have you little one. When our attention is pulled in other directions (sometimes *cough* often your sister *cough* you're happy to just sit and talk to whatever toy we give you and welcome us back with a big ol' grin when we're back to you. You're not a huge fan of sleeping. Sometimes you'll wake up out of nowhere crying and refuse to fall back asleep. If I try sneaking into the room to see if you're okay you'll immediately laugh when I cross the threshold of the door. I can't help but smile as I scoop you up. You wrap your tiny little arms around my neck, mash your tear soaked face into the space between my head and shoulder and snuggle right in. I turn into a giant puddle of love as we rock back and forth for a little bit until you let out that little sigh of surrender and fall back asleep. If that's the worst to come from your lack of sleep, I'll take it. </div>
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You are truly the happiest baby that has ever existed. I'm so lucky that you're mine. </div>
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Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-38952375831378410732018-01-16T10:17:00.002-06:002018-01-16T10:17:43.059-06:00Dear 8 Month Old MarloweDear Marlowe,<br />
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Today you are eight months old. (Note: I meant to write this blog post on your 6 month birthday, but as with many things I'll just serve up the "Mom of Twins" excuse for being late.) Simultaneously, I cannot believe you're already 8 months old and also can't really clearly remember a time before you were here. So much time has passed since you placed out of your little space in my womb and busted out of the joint. Looking back now, knowing who you are, I am not the least bit surprised it was you who caused all that chaos and not only decided it was go time, but also figured out how to make it happen.<br />
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I know it sounds foolish to say, but you are truly part me, part your daddy. Sure, you may look just like him and sometimes you'll have a reaction or make a face and I SWEAR I'm looking directly at your dad. In personality, you are us. You are your momma's girl. You know EXACTLY what you want and how you want it. Your tiny body has a VERY loud voice and when you're not getting exactly what you want, how you want it, you use every decibel of that voice to let us know. Dangerously, for us, you also have your daddy's analytical side. You like to see how things work so you can figure out how to make them work in your favor or stop working if you don't like it. You assess every little detail of everything around you. You don't play with toys, you scrutinize them. You are a headstrong little lady with very particular opinions. Paired with the patience and intrigue to learn how things work, we are in for some massive tests from you, I can see it now!<br />
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Recently, you have figured out how the baby monitor works. (You guys, I know this sounds crazy, but she has.) I'm pretty sure you know the cord that's attached to it makes the camera move, so if you pull hard enough on the cord I can't see the camera and I'll come up and fix it. You ABSOLUTELY know that after I leave your room, I'm watching on that little box I carry with me, because you'll make eye contact DEAD into the camera lens and smile as you talk and talk and talk instead of sleep and sleep and sleep.<br />
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You LOVE food. I mean, no, looking at your itty bitty frame and picking up all 13 of your pounds composed of what can only be described as bird bones wouldn't make you think that, but you LOVE eating. Not so much bottles, those are for babies. You're in it for the good stuff. You want grown-up food and there isn't anything I've found you won't ravenously consume. You don't have teeth yet but that sure doesn't stop you. Salmon, steak, prime rib and ham have been no match for you. You will annihilate a strawberry if placed in your path. Whatever I have on my plate you want, you'll eat and you'll love. You scream, one of the few times you actually cry over something, if I don't get you bites fast enough and the minute its in your mouth the screaming stops and you'll "yummmmm" and smile about it.<br />
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One could say you're mastering the fine art of the Resting Bitch Face. People fawn over you because of how tiny yet strong you are and while they're smiling and praising your adorable little self, you rock the most judgmental face I've ever seen on a baby. Your eyebrows raise, the only moving part on your otherwise stoic face. It's stopped more than one stranger dead in their tracks. They don't know how to react to such a tiny package giving that much sass. I love every minute of it. Because, girl, when you smile, your whole face lights up. You only emote when it's deserved (again, your daddy's girl) and I love that about you. When I get a smile from Marlowe, I know it's because I did something to make you genuinely happy.<br />
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Your stats are growing right along with you. You're still very itty bitty (clocked in at 13 pounds finally just last week), but you're tall for your size. 26" of a wiry little frame. No rolls on this baby. You're constantly on the move, waving your arms, kicking your legs. Just yesterday you started waving, not on command (because no one makes Marlowe do something Marlowe doesn't want to do). You're getting much more comfortable with tummy time and I know crawling is right around the corner. You like to test out your voice and yell. You do a ton of chatting and love watching our mouths move as we talk to you, trying to imitate the same shape with your own tiny mouth. Still your favorite noise to make is a deep, low roar. My little monster.<br />
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You still wear your little "magic boots" though only at night now. You're such a little rockstar about wearing them. When we put them on at night the only thing that upsets you is if you're not allowed to inspect the left boot while we put on the right. And then inspect the bar when we put on the left. You've recently discovered you can bang the hell out of the boots and bar against your crib to get attention.<br />
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And, little one, though I know you might not mean it yet, you are definitely the leader between you and your sister. You have some bully tendencies (and usually laugh when you're carrying them out) so small but mighty has never been more true. You are a giant personality in a tiny little package. So smart, so thoughtful. And I am so lucky that you're mine.<br />
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<br />Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-34090835806931381452017-08-18T10:24:00.000-05:002017-08-18T10:24:02.490-05:00Fed is Best**just don't tell that to 50% of strangers, 25% of family and the great majority of Facebook mom groups.<br />
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Head's up, this entire post is about breastfeeding. Not like...the actual act (very little nipple talk to come) but the idea and experience I had with it.<br />
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When I was pregnant I always said I <b>hoped</b> to breastfeed. I had breast reduction surgery a while back so I knew my chances of being able to do so were definitely impacted. Then when we found out we were having two, I realized it might get a little trickier. This is not to say it can't be done, many mothers of multiples breastfeed exclusively and that is incredible. Nevertheless, I still intended on giving it a good try to see if I could. We also planned on bottle feeding (breast milk if possible) so that I wasn't the exclusive source when it came to feeding the girls.<br />
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I'll be honest, I wanted to make breastfeeding work partially for the connection that results from mom being the source of food for baby and actually doing the feeding. But also (largely) because of the connection I have to my bank account and it's ability to pay my bills. Formula is stupid expensive and with two mouths to feed, free food sounded pretty awesome.<br />
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When the girls came card after card stacked against my breastfeeding odds.<br />
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They were early. My body wasn't ready to produce milk quite yet. I had a c-section. Going into labor and delivering the baby tells your body it's go time to get that supply building! I wasn't able to hold the girls for about a week after I had them. Skin-to-skin contact also tells your body "these tiny things are depending on you for sustinence! Get to milking!" After 5 days I was able to hold one baby for one hour at a time (they're tiny bodies weren't able to handle that much stimulation for longer/more often than that).<br />
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I pumped my ass off those first few weeks. Every two hours I'd hook up and pump and plead with my body that this time was THE time my supply would kick in. I lugged my parts around with me everywhere I went. I bought a manual pump so I could hide in a bathroom during speeches at a wedding because heaven forbid I miss a pumping session and my already itty bitty supply would dip. I ate lactation cookies, made lactation energy bites, drank mother's milk tea, drank stout beer, snacked religiously on healthy things every 2 hours, tried power pumping, woke up every 3 hours in the middle of the night to pump and slammed water like my life depended on it. After 3 weeks I was getting 20-30ml on my best pumps. For perspective this is one ounce. Even at 2 weeks old, the girls were already drinking one ounce each per feeding (every 2-3 hours). Fortunately they were at the all-inclusive NICU resort and received donor breast milk for the first 2 weeks. I am so very thankful for women who have too much and donate. It took a huge pressure off of me in those first couple days as I was overwhelmed, recovering from surgery and seeing my girls in incubators.<br />
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I ordered different pump parts, tried different sizes, bought a different style hands free pump to try & make it more comfortable. Defeated and exhausted I asked if there was anything else I could be doing. The doctors informed me there's a prescription not intended at all for breastfeeding mothers (it's used to treat stomach/intestine issues) but a side effect from it includes an increased supply of milk! Sign me up, at this point I was willing to do just about anything. (Note: I was not willing to order prescription drugs by mail from Canada because the FDA in the US pulled the approval on it, as suggested by some of my Facebook mom group members.) Other potential side effects for this drug included an increased risk of depression. How cool? The drug that can help me feed my babies can ALSO give me the one thing I feared after having them - postpartum depression! Luckily, I did not experience any negative side effects. I did see a *slight* increase in supply but even on my best pump sessions I was getting 2 ounces per pump and at that point the girls were eating 2-3 ounces per feed. So we'd supplement with what I was able to get and they were put on formula. The reality of their Preemie status meant that even if I was able to pump enough for them to eat, they'd still be getting a little bit of formula to help increase their caloric intake and plump them up. And honestly, I still believed fed babies are the best babies, so however we needed to make that happen, I was all for it.<br />
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The girls played around with breastfeeding while they were still in the hospital. Under the care and consult of the sweetest and most helpful lactation consultants I gave it a try and the little geniuses knew exactly what to do. Both girls could latch beautifully at 33 weeks, which is earlier than expected for their development! We casually let them breastfeed during visits and while it would help the first pump after, it didn't do much to increase supply.<br />
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So, fast forward to when the girls came home and I went from 0 babies at home to 2 babies. Mixing bottles, feed Mabel, burp Mabel, feed Marlowe, burp Marlowe, wash bottles, pump, wash pump parts, look at clock and realize you have 20 minutes before it's time to do it all over again. (This was especially fun in the middle of the night when I could be sleeping but instead was getting milked by my pump and washing parts!) I lasted about a week. I met with the lactation consultants and again asked what I could be doing different. Unfortunately, I had tried it all.<br />
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I knew it wasn't working but I couldn't quite bring myself to throw in the towel so I met again with Rachelle, my angel from the lactation consultation group at the hospital. She assured me I had done everything I possibly could, but that my body just wasn't getting on board. I needed to hear that. I needed to have someone else tell me I did everything I could. After I met with her I decided I was done. I was exhausted and feeling like a failure and that wasn't good for me or my babies. I could spend more time with them instead of with my pump.<br />
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Looking back on it, I realize so much of my want to make it work (or maybe my anger/fear of it not working) was rooted in other people's beliefs. I didn't want to have to tell people I wasn't breastfeeding because that felt like admitting failure. My body couldn't do that natural thing that it automatically is supposed to do. Before they were born I had accepted it might not work and was totally ok with that. Once they were here I realized how often people (even somewhat strangers) will ask how you're feeding them. I just didn't want to say formula...(which is stupid because it's not like I was saying "oh, I'm not!")<br />
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Don't get me wrong, I am all for normalizing breastfeeding, I think it's an incredible gift a mother can give their child and we should never stop a mom from feeding her baby, no matter where she is. I also acknowledge how hard some moms have to work to give that gift. It's not always automatic. I also think it's important to realize, not everyone who isn't breastfeeding isn't doing that by choice. Fed babies are happy babies, however they are fed.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-26927593188879852642017-08-14T08:13:00.002-05:002017-08-14T08:13:30.569-05:00Me & the Gin BlossomsEven in my short time here in motherhood, I've learned and changed and gotten and given up so many things. One thing I think I've gotten even better at is just calling it like it is. There's no room for faking, no sense in pretending everything is perfect. No one is perfect, don't believe their Instagram.<br />
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One thing that surprised me in motherhood I don't love having to admit to, is the varying causes of jealousy I've felt. Heyyy Jealousy! I didn't imagine, while incubating these little monsters that this would be one of the many emotions I'd run through. This is my dream, this is what I've wanted my ENTIRE life. When people ask what my dream job is, I've said "mom" and meant it. So how can I finally have everything I've ever wanted and be jealous? Ahh, let me tell you the ways. </div>
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I am jealous of moms who got to be pregnant to full-term. </div>
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I was uncomfortable. I was ready to be done. Until I was done at 30 weeks and then I realized I wasn't really ready. I'm jealous of moms who got to have the full 40 weeks, whose babies were born and went home with them. The ones who didn't have to leave them in the NICU and "visit" her babies instead of living with them. Now that the girls are home, this has subsided. But I still have twinges of being robbed of the last months of pregnancy. Silver lining? I did not have to waddle around for another 2 months, I avoided the stupid hot hot heat spell we had in June and my feet went back to their original size. However this also means I was ROBBED of running around in a bikini with the BIGGEST belly ever and not giving a single fuck about it. Because that was totally part of my summer plan. </div>
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I am jealous of moms who have full-term babies. </div>
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This is similar but different. The girls are home with me now so we don't have the NICU jealosy, and while these two have been absolute bad ass rock stars, they still are preemies. They have an adjusted age. I've had babies on the outside for 3 months, home for 2 months, but developmentally they are just a few weeks old. I'm reminded of this when I see other babies their age already sleeping through the night, laughing, playing with toys. I know this is short lived and they're already catching up so quickly, but it's something we adjust to. Silver lining? I learned SO much while the girls were in the NICU. I am a better mom because of this education. </div>
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I am jealous of singleton moms. </div>
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I LOVE my twins and I cannot imagine what life is like having just one baby to snuggle. I get double of all the good stuff. We were meant to be a twin family, but I can't help myself from looking at a singleton mom going to Baby and Me yoga and feel a little like I'm missing out. When I put one baby down after a middle of the night feed and I'm staring into the eyes of a wide awake second baby, I'm jealous of the mom who gets to climb back in bed. Silver lining? We have a spare in case we mess one up real good! Kidding... kinda. I never have to be pregnant again if I don't want to, we got our 2 kids! No one has to share a baby, there's always one to snuggle. </div>
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I'm jealous of moms of perfectly healthy babies. </div>
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In the grand scheme of things, I know how incredibly lucky we are. For the most part we have thriving healthy ladies who are doing SO well considering their early arrival and Preemie status. But I won't lie, the club foot diagnosis for Marlowe was a tough pill to swallow. I was mad. I already was juggling two infants, they were early, we served our NICU time, why this on top of it?! Given that we're already over half way through our period of full-time treatment, I'm less mad. It's been a much easier journey that I expected. Silver lining? I have learned that a tiny 6 pound body can be so much stronger than that of a full grown adult. That, despite not having words, barely having functioning emotions and still developing a brain, she is so much braver than I could ever be. I'm proud in ways I ever could have imagined or experienced had we not had this challenge to work through. </div>
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Im jealous of non-moms. </div>
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Don't get me wrong, I'm so in love with my babies and being their mom. I was old when I had them and man I packed in a LOT of good fun in the years before their arrival. Probably too much, honestly. I was totally ready for having babies. But that doesn't stop me from occasionally seeing friends going out on a Saturday and wishing I could also just pick up and go. Get drunk without a paralyzingly fear of what a hangover with two babies would be like. Silver lining? We have a built in excuse if we don't want to attend something. We're learning how to still get out & go when we can so there's still fun to be had (during daylight hours with less drinks...still drinks, because parenthood, but less...) Note to non-parent friends of parents: KEEP INVITING THEM. True, they'll have to turn down the invite possibly more than they accept but ask them anyway. It makes them feel like they're still a part of their life pre-baby and you never know when they'll be able to make it work. And when they do? They'll be so appreciative you thought of them and that they haven't been banished to Parent Island with no connection to the outside world. </div>
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So there's my complaints. I acknowledge them. I let them be feelings that I deserve to have and then I let them wash away. Because even though this might not have been the exact life plan I had, it is so much better than I could have imagined or planned for. I am so lucky to be their mom. I'm so fortunate to be his wife. I'm exactly where I'm meant to be. </div>
Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-75737669120833841462017-08-08T20:55:00.000-05:002017-08-08T21:06:37.805-05:004th Trimester Lessons I'm not sure I ever did a post about the 3rd trimester - probably because mine was abruptly cut short with the early arrival of these little monsters. At any rate, we're past that now and I'd like to move right into the "4th Trimester" lessons. (BTW, moms reading this, the idea of the 4th Trimester was introduced to me by the author of the book "Happiest Baby on the Block" and it's a very interesting and logical concept about your baby's development and really helped me to have a lens through which I saw them. Highly recommend.)<br />
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Do not wash all those brand new clothes. </div>
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I know, I KNOW. Not only does this go against every top 10 list of ways to prepare for baby but it also violates every bone in my planning loving body. However, as a mom of new babies who came 10 weeks early and now develop at a Preemie pace, I can tell you that all of those adorable 3 month old summer dresses we bought, washed and hung lovingly in their closet are likely never going to be worn since our girls are just getting into newborn sized clothes (although to be fair, Mabel is doing her best to pack on ALL the pounds and may save some of those clothes). We were probably a bit extreme as we could not keep ourselves from buying ALL the clothes, but seriously. Keep the tags on, you will already be doing shitloads of laundry once baby comes and if they are no longer the right size or seasonally appropriate, you can return them and use that money for diapers/formula when you realize most days you don't leave the house, they'll go through no less than 3 outfits and plain Onesies are basically the 4th Trimester uniform. </div>
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Don't buy ALL the baby stuff yet. </div>
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You have no idea what your baby will like. You don't have to stock up on baby "furniture" (swings, bouncy seats, etc) until you know your baby prefers vibration or rocking or being still. Except the Rock 'n Play. You definitely want one of those. Do yourself favor and learn from my mistake, it is ABSOLUTELY worth the extra $15 to upgrade to the autorocking model. This concept is also true for bottles. Wait and see what they like. Maybe you'll be the lucky one whose baby prefers the super cheap bottles and you can save some money instead of stocking up on the Dr Brown Cadillacs of bottles only to find they won't use them. (Side note: we love Dr Brown bottles and it's what our girls use, but we didn't stock up until we knew that.) </div>
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Amazon is Your Friend </div>
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Once you know what you need, turn to your good friend Amazon and let that shit come to you. The first few weeks home with the girls there wasn't a single day that went by that we didn't get something from the Amazon fairy. Ordering extra bottle nipples at 3 am? The fairy will have them to you tomorrow. Get Prime and get it now. You'll be thankful you did.<br />
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Let a Mealtrain Save You<br />
We were fortunate enough to have a friend set up a meal train for us and it was a LIFESAVER. I'm entirely confident it's the only way we are things not from boxes/wrappers that first month home. Having a home cooked meal delivered to you will bring tears to your eyes. Let people care for you on this way. </div>
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Wardrobe for Tiny Human </div>
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See above. Skip 50% of those adorable outfits, get a shit load of cheap Onesies. Pajamas with snaps will soon find their forever home at the bottom of the drawer, long forgotten in favor of those with zippers. It will take approximately 1.5 days of your shaking fingers trying to line up those tiny little snaps as though you're breaking some sort of secret government code while your baby SCREAMS at you before you realize it's zippers over everything. Seriously, fuck those little snaps. Also, some jammies have inverted zippers that start at the foot which makes changing diapers even easier. Load up on those in every size possible. I've since ordered 3 additional packages. </div>
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Wardrobe for You</div>
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Nothing. I kid, but only kind of. Suddenly your maternity clothes are too big, your regular clothes are too small. The ones that fit, do so...differently. You mostly look in the mirror wondering who the hell this body belongs to. You'll worry about that for a while. Then, if you're like me, you'll get distracted ornmaybe it's just a little more comfortable with it and then one day you'll catch a glance in the mirror and recogize that reflection a little more. Your wardrobe will open back up and slowly you'll find more to wear. Until then? Yoga pants and nursing tanks/t-shirts baby. Preferably in lighter colors in which to hide puke stains. </div>
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Join mommy groups on Facebook but do so with CAUTION.</div>
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You have never met a group of judging vultures quite like the moms in Facebook groups. They all function under the guise of supportive helpers and some of them really are. But beware the other side. Those who believe they know the ONLY way there is to parent and will quickly inform you of how dumb/lazy/uninformed/incapable you truly are as a parent. These ladies can join the tiny baby snaps in the fuckyouverymuch category. Know this, you know your baby and your life and your limits and you are doing the best you can. No one is perfect and people far more dumb/lazy/uninformed/incapable than you have kept humans alive for many many years. </div>
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The best baby is a fed baby. </div>
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Feed your baby. Do it however it works for you and your family. Don't apologize, don't feel guilty if your plan changes. I intended to breast feed, my body did not. My supply never came in (another blog post for another time) and we went pretty much straight to formula after the donor breast milk in the NICU. Pumping was too hard to juggle when the girls came home so we went straight formula early on. I wanted to feed my babies, they are being fed. (Do I wish formula wasn't so damn expensive? Hell yes. But that's really my only complaint.)</div>
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The best mom is a happy mom. </div>
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Do not neglect you. Figure out what you need to stay sane those first few weeks. Get a pedicure. Go to yoga.. Meet a friend for brunch. Sneak away to Target. Whatever it is. Identify it and commit to it. You will need those little things to feel like you're still the same you, just with new tiny humans in tow. I wanted to keep painting my nails every Sunday. It sounds vain but I love painting my nails, it's a little bit of me time and it makes me feel every so slightly put together when the rest of me looks downright homeless. </div>
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Accepting Homeless Chic </div>
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I find myself constantly wondering what I used to spend those 25 other minutes on when I would get ready in my half hour morning routine. Now? In 5 minutes or less I have gotten dressed, put on make up (ok, mascara, I put on a little mascara), done my hair (okay, reassembled my topknot) and brushed my teeth. My girls are dressed in adorable outfits with matching bows and I look borderline homeless. Nothing like a screaming baby to put some pep in your morning step and lower the bar of acceptable to be seen in public expectations. Does this shirt have visible puke stains on it? Nope, were wearing it! Is that me or the baby that smells? Probably the baby, let's go! Note: despite this reduced morning routine, you'll always be late. Always. </div>
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Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-76357122567042519312017-05-29T09:58:00.002-05:002017-05-29T09:58:46.793-05:00Dear NICU Nurse Dear NICU Nurse,<br />
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Thank you seems almost offensive to offer as a token of our appreciation. "Thank You" seems insignificant in relation to all you have done and continue to do for our family. But, I suppose it's a start.<br />
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Thank you for caring for our tiny humans as they learn how to be, well, humans. For caring for them with the most tender touch, speaking to them in the same nurturing and loving tones we do and never hesitating to scoop them up when they just can't calm themselves. You don't just know their medical charts, you know them. You know Mabel likes to kick and stretch. You know Marlowe is the quiet feisty one. You remember which girl is our monkey and which is our elephant. You pick specific outfits for them. You lovingly call them princess or peanut.<br />
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Thank you for advocating for them. As much as we want to be there every minute of every day, you can't possibly know the peace and comfort we feel knowing that when we can't be there, they have you. To fight for them, their care and what's truly best for our girls. I am a better mom because I am able to leave and take care of myself knowing what amazing hands my little ladies are in. Thank you for making me a better, more cared for mom.<br />
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Thank you for teaching us how to be parents. When your babies come 10 weeks early, you don't feel ready. You immediately think of everything you haven't done, read about, prepared for. You patiently show us how to best care for our girls. You sit with us for diaper change after diaper change, cheering us on and lending a hand when we look overwhelmed. You sweetly tell us what a good job we're doing when we give them a bath. We know your job would be faster and easier if you just did it, but you take the time and patience to show us, encourage us and truly empower us to parent even in some of the lesst ideal conditions.<br />
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Thank you for taking care of our whole family, not just our babies. You have been so much more than just a nurse to our babies. You have been just shy of therapists for us as we ask questions that have little do with medical care. You give us emotional support when we just feel like it's all a little too much. You lend a sweet hand to the shoulder when mom's hormones take over and she's crying for no real reason at all. You encourage us to learn and understand. You help us make decisions together.<br />
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One of my favorite songs has the lyric "you're already home where you feel loved." Thank you for making what could be a very scary and overwhelming place a temporary home for babies who are already loved every minute of the day, even when we can't be there.<br />
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Thank you.<br />
<br />
Angie<br />
(Forever happily now known as Marlowe & Mabel's mom)<br />
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<br />Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-39999320958569468832017-05-26T07:24:00.002-05:002018-01-04T16:36:20.385-06:00The birth. You had to know it was coming...the birth story. I promise it's not too gross, for anyone not interested in having babies or soon to have a baby, this will not cause too much panic. Because, in all reality, I had a relatively easy birth (given that it happened 6-8 weeks before I wanted it to and there were 2 babies in there!).<br />
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Shortly after posting about how hard it was being 30 weeks pregnant (and how I was simultaneously still so happy to be pregnant) the girls decided they had had enough. Rather, Baby A (now known as Marlowe) had decided she was sick of her sister's shit, taking up all that room in there and never sitting still and she was breaking out of there! Noteworthy: this was also just 2 weeks after taking maternity photos, one week after my baby shower & days after meeting a pediatrician. Thanks, Marlowe for at least letting us get through those three big things!<br />
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That Monday had been particularly long at work. I had just started talking to my employer and doctor about what it was going to look like in the next few weeks. Mostly that I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep up with a 40+ hour work week in the office. My replacement at work started that day along with a new boss and I couldn't tell when I got home if I was really that beat or if it was just the effect of a lot going on at work. I decided while dinner cooked, I'd sit with my big ol' swollen feet up by putting my legs up against the wall. It was just about time for hunger to win over reducing the swelling so I rolled over and attempted to get my pregnant self upright. That's when it happened. Tom was sitting on the other end of the couch and as I stood up I locked eyes with him (and the sheer fear in his) and said "oh shit, I think I'm peeing my pants!"<br />
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Everything I had read told me that your water breaking is nothing like on tv and in the movies. It's not a big gush of water, usually more like a slow leak. Well, that's bullshit because I had a waterfall coming out of me and after a short window of time it was clear this was definitely not a little pee. I couldn't do anything. I literally stood there, in a locked gaze with the man who I was sure would never find me sexy again and just leaked all over the floor. Finally, I managed to say, "I think my fucking water just broke" before I waddled my way to the bathroom. (Don't worry, we'll clean up our language around here eventually...) He rushed around the house, getting me dry pants, our half-packed hospital bag, turning off the stove and oven as I called the on-call doctor. Off to Labor & Delivery we went!<br />
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When we checked into Triage, they explained they'd test the leak to see if it was in fact amniotic fluid & then we'd come up with a plan. They hooked me and the babies up to monitors and we just kind of hung tight for a while. They explained that if my water did break we would play the next 24 hours by ear. Goal #1 was to keep babies in safely for as long as possible. Typically, once the sac has broken they don't like to let it go too long as the risk of infection increases. However, given I was 30 weeks, there was also a lot of developing our little ladies had left to do and at that point, every hour more inside is valuable. The doctor took one look at me before swabbing the fluid and said "I'm going to put this under a microscope, because I have to, but your water definitely broke." Cue panic.<br />
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At this point, all we knew for sure is that until these babies came, I lived at the hospital. Whether that was for hours, days or weeks was up to them, but I would stay put under close monitoring until they came. For a Type A planner, this was really hard to wrap my head around. I could have babies that night or I could be living in a hospital room for the next month waiting for them. They admitted me, gave me a room and Tom and I pretty much just stared at each other with wide eyes before we attempted to go to sleep like this was all just totally regular and NBD.<br />
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Around 2:00 am I started to get a little bit of pain. It felt kind of like cramps but came in waves and would go away. The nurse informed me I was having contractions (oh, right, because my body thinks we're in labor!). They were about 10 minutes apart and I spent the next 2 hours just riding those cool waves while Tom slept on the couch. The nurse assured me there was still a chance the labor could stop on its own, so still no guarantee babies were coming. Just in case, they did give me a dose of steroids which would help babies lungs develop a little more quickly and I'd get a second round in the morning. By 4:00 am the contractions were every 5 minutes but still didn't feel that bad. I could breathe through them and they weren't bad enough for me to be cursing Tom out or screaming for drugs. (I mean, I breathed the word "fuuuuuuuuuuck" in & out through them, but it wasn't directed at anyone in particular. I believe that's the best technique to get through pain, consistent and mostly loud F Bombs. Your welcome, you can now skip that lamase class you were signed up for.) One thing that's a little different when your water has broke but they don't want babies yet is that they'll hold off checking if your dilated. By checking your cervix you risk introducing infection so they hold off as long as they can. So while I was contracting, we did not yet know if I was dilated at all.<br />
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Before all this hoopla, I had made an appointment for Tuesday morning for our growth scan with the perinatologist and a checkup with the dietician overseeing my gestational diabetes. Since I was already at the hospital, they decided they'd just wheel me over to their office and we'd keep the appointment. By the time I got to the appointment the contractions were a little closer together. I told the Dr I thought they were just under 5 minutes apart. He looked at the clock and the following conversation happened...<br />
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Dr: I think they're a little more like one minute apart. Do you feel any pressure?<br />
Me: I'm 7 months pregnant with twins, I don't remember a time I didn't feel pressure.<br />
Dr: does it feel like you have to have a bowel movement?<br />
Me *remembers telling the nurse on the walk over I needed to poop* oh...yes, I guess it does.<br />
Dr: I think we better call your OB.<br />
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My super chill and amazing OB walks in, says "I suppose we should just check your cervix." Puts her hand in and says "holy crap, I think I feel feet, you're 5 cm dilated and we're having some babies today" and began explaining to me what the c-section process was going to be like. Meanwhile, the neonatologist started walking Tom through what was going to happen to babies once they came out. Okay, NOW WE CUE PANIC.<br />
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That happened at 8:25. By 8:35 I was in an operating room, the anesthesiologist was prepping me for a spinal and Tom was in the hall dressing up in scrubs for the surgery. SHIT HAPPENED FAST. Suddenly the room filled with people. I had a team of about 5 or 6 to perform the c-section and each baby had a team of 4 ready for their arrival. There were nurses and neonatologists and respiratory specialists. What could have been chaotic and overwhelming was calm and well orchestrated. I could hear each team walking through their plan, who would do what, who would take which baby where. For someone who adores planning like I do, this was like a soothing dose of Valium running through my ears. My amazing OB grabbed my hand and told me it was all going to be okay. This is where I tell you something VERY important. If you do not LOVE your OB, go find you a new one RIGHT NOW. I don't care if you're 7 months pregnant and it's going tic take a little leg work FIND SOMEONE YOU LOVE. Because, while my birth story is a little unique, it is not totally rare. There are plenty of women who have emergency c-sections and if you can't hold your doctor's hand and TRULY believe it's all going to be ok, that shit would be so damn scary. I was calm and ready to meet our little girls. Despite knowing I was likely going to have a c-section my entire pregnancy, I didn't ever expect to feel that calm when it actually happened.<br />
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Tom joined me once the spinal had a chance to set in and the care team took their places. I thought they were still prepping my belly for surgery when, at 8:55, I heard someone yell "first baby is out!" followed by the first little cry from my baby girl Marlowe. I immediately burst into tears. She was out, she cried and she was ok. At 8:56, her sister Mabel was out and crying. The babies were taken just to my right and the nurses made sure to show them to me on the way to their care teams. I got to see & kiss each girl before they were taken to the NICU with daddy and I was closed up.<br />
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By 9:10 I was in the recovery room and Tom was back while the babies were examined. I had feeling back in my legs by 10:30 and they took me back to my room. By 1:30 I was up & walking my ass around. We traveled down to the NICU and got to really see our little ladies. It all happened so incredibly fast. I guess I can't speak to the other way babies make their way into this world, but damn I was impressed with how easy the c-section was. It was as close to "knock me out & take the babies out" as I could get.<br />
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All in all, what could, and probably should, have been a chaotic and scary experience actually went quite smoothly. The care team in labor, delivery and recovery were all INCREDIBLE. I could not believe how sweet and funny and attentive every nurse was. I'm so thankful I had a team who made the experience what it was. I even said I'd consider having another baby this went so well. (That was probably the drugs talking...)Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-15932720912711837092017-05-18T11:08:00.002-05:002017-05-18T22:58:06.822-05:00When do the babies come home? Ahhh, the million dollar question. The question we try (REALLY hard) not to ask. Cause their care team tries REALLY hard not to answer. It's not because they don't want to, but because it is entirely up to these two itty bitty humans and, well, itty bitty humans are incredibly unpredictable. It's everyone's first question to us when we update about the babies. And it's the question Tom and I will spend the next T-coming home date trying to guess the answer to.<br />
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If I had to pick the hardest part about having a baby in the NICU, it's definitely not knowing when I get to take these two out of here. We should note, we understand why they don't want to tell us. In our first week we thought they were going to be ready to be held a couple days before they really were and the change of plans devastated us. It was the biggest (and not even really a true) setback we've had and it hit hard. We appreciate that they won't give us a timeline because having one and then having it moved would be SO MUCH HARDER than not knowing. There are some major milestones we know they have to hit before they're sent home, those help us gauge how much closer we're getting but it doesn't tell us days or weeks, just steps closer. It's kind of like one of those big fundraising thermometers but without any labels. We know our ultimate goal, and we know the notch marks that get us there, but we don't know the numbers for the notches.<br />
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There are four big things that have to happen before they're ready to live in the real world.<br />
1) regulate their own body temperature<br />
2) be over 4 lbs<br />
3) be able to and remember to breathe all on their own<br />
4) be able to eat on their own<br />
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Here's the thing, our girls were GREAT sizes for NICU preemies. They came out ready to fight. So this helps them get to some milestones quicker than their smaller neighbors. They are already able to regulate their body temp and maintain a normal temp without the assistance of their incubators. They were born at just under and just over 4 lbs. Theyve lost some weight but are working on gaining so they're checking off numbers 1 & 2 already. There are some babies who have POUNDS to gain, so we're ahead of the game on that.<br />
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The other two milestones have less to do with size and more about development. Given that they were just shy of 31 weeks when they were born, they have some catching up to do. There's certain things babies learn in the last trimester of pregnancy that help them for life outside mom. They learn how to breathe and how to suck & swallow allowing them to eat when they get out.<br />
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The good news but also SUPER challenging part about our little ladies is that they are catching on like the tiny rockstars they are. They're tolerating food from their tubes really well and we're already practicing sucking on pacifiers. Next week we'll start introducing a bottle, and see how they do with that. Once they transition entirely to bottle feeds, they can go home.<br />
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They were taken off their ventilators yesterday and moved to high flow machines. Today they're already weening them off of those machines in an effort to get them on just air only. The non-medical explanation of all of that is this... they're breathing the same oxygen level as you & I are in a normal room (21%) but the machines are pressurizing the oxygen which reminds them to inhale & take a breath. By moving off the ventilator they're one step closer to remembering that all on their own. Eventually, they'll go to unpressurized and then just regular breathing.<br />
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The downside of these little bad ass babies we have who are crushing milestones and expectations is that every time they do that, we feel like we're SO close to getting to go home. Realistically, we still probably have a couple weeks. No one can predict how they'll do with feedings so we're at the mercy of the little monsters.<br />
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So that's the answer. We don't know. And we won't know until they are literally packing up these little nuggets and sending them off. Until then, we celebrate the shit out of every single milestone they smash and every positive update we get. Each one means we're a little closer to the family all being home.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-72885362922472758092017-05-15T09:49:00.000-05:002018-01-04T16:35:31.591-06:00New Normals <div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Since 6:00 last Monday when my water broke unexpectedly, we have been presented with a new normal almost daily. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Holy shit, we're having babies, we're going to try not to have babies, we're having them NOW, they're in the NICU, you're recovering at the hospital, you leave & they stay here. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">The good news is that my fear of having turkeys was real, they were big for their gestational age and they're nice & strong. They came out at good fighting weights! This is good for some of the tests they'll have to pass before they can come home like body temperature regulation and weight. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">However, they were still planning on having another 6-7 weeks of development time inside so there are some things they just dont know how to do yet. They're learning now how to breathe and most importantly to remember to breathe! The good news is they are very good breathers. They do get oxygen through their little nose tubes, but it's the same level oxygen you & I breathe. And, we know they're doing good at breathing because they both pull their tubes out ALL THE TIME. It's currently their favorite party trick. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">They get some of their food from a tube in their mouth that goes down into their bellies. We are working on fattening them up, so they also get some nutrients via IV. Also in their IV they get fat and coffee. (seriously, these two are living the life). The fats are to get us some chubby babies and the caffeine stimulates them & helps them with the whole "remember to breathe" thing. Their first milk serving was 4cc last week and they're already up to 15-17 cc today. I knew if they were really our girls learning to eat wasn't going to take long! </span></div>
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I've mentioned this pretty much everywhere else I possibly can, but the NICU nurses have been angels. Actual angels who have given us more gifts in the last 7 days than we can even count. Aside from keeping our babies alive and being the incredible hands they are in when we leave them each day, they have empowered us to be parents. There's a lot you can't really prepare for when you have a baby in the NICU. Knowing there was a good chance we'd be spending a little bit of time here because of having twins, I had done as much as I could to accept that before their arrival. But you can't really know what you'll feel. </div>
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We struggled while I was in recovery the first few days because we had babies but we didn't HAVE babies. They were right down the hall, we could see them whenever we wanted, but we didn't get them. We watched other couples bring their babies back to the room, heard their cries through the walls, but ours weren't with us. However, when you're still in the hospital you're also in this alternate reality. Nothing else exists but you and your babies. Your day and your plans revolve around your recovery and the babies. </div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Then when I got discharged we learned a new kind of struggle. Actually leaving. And the world. The rest of the world has been out here carrying on while we lived in hospital land. We readjusted to being at home, having pets to care for, remembering or our own when I ate, pumped, took meds, etc. And most importantly, figuring out when, in between resting and pumping, we could get back to the hospital to see our girls! </span></div>
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It's really at this point the angels strapped on their wings and showed us how incredible they are. The nurses here have truly allowed us to parent. When your baby is in a tiny incubator with a bunch of tubes coming out of everywhere you don't know how to jump in & help. Their tiny nervous systems are easily overwhelmed so you don't just get to scoop up a preemie and snuggle them. This is so hard as a new parent because all you want to do is help and you just don't even know where to begin. The nurses have helped us learn how to soothe, how to change the tiniest fucking diapers ever, to put nose tubes back in when they rip them right out, how to show them love and most of all how to help. We may not get to do it all yet, but we can take advantage of every little opportunity we get and that makes all the difference in the world! </div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Today, one week later, starts another new normal. Tom is going back to work so he can save his time off for when the girls come home. We got ready together this morning and he dropped me off at the NICU on his way to work. My new "job" is to be here, watch them grow, help them get food to eat, and rest and recover myself. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I feel like a broken record but the NICU at Waukesha Memorial is amazing. They have day boarding rooms for moms so I can have a place to rest, pump, get away for a little bit. The nurses, though they're really only responsible for keeping our tiny humans alive are so good about reminding me about how I also need to rest and care for myself. They make sure I'm cared for just as much as the girls. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I still can't drive until I'm off my pain meds, so for this week our plan is that I get ready for "work" with Tom, he comes up to say good morning to the girls, drops me off and heads to work. I basically camp out here with the girls. I help when I can, watch when I can't and learn all of the ins and outs of preemie babies learning how to live on the outside. </span></div>
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Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-89047911096213945012017-05-08T10:53:00.003-05:002017-05-08T10:53:54.135-05:00Third Trimester Observationsaka When Shit Gets Real Real.<br />
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There have been a number of "shit's getting real moments" over the last 30ish weeks. Finding out there was a baby, finding out there were TWO babies, learning we'd spend about $4,000 on diapers in the first year, watching my stomach expand week by week, feeling two little ninjas kick around inside...the list goes on.<br />
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However, for some reason the 30 week mark felt like shit got real real. As you may recall, I felt like the most exhausted piece of garbage ever during the first trimester. Then I started to feel pretty good for a while there, but I was always cautious about just how long I was going to feel that way. Last week we took maternity photos and I had my baby shower. I felt pretty great for both of them! (Cue all the self-high fives for feeling good at 29 weeks pregnant with twins!) Then, Monday morning came. I was 29 weeks and 5 days and it was like my body was all, "Phew, glad we're done with that shit. HERE COMES THE REALNESS."<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pD8A0RQrv-c/WRCUIC2oPpI/AAAAAAAAC8E/HFG7DchBprg1aweVhcKZuQLAGf1EEZSugCLcB/s1600/30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pD8A0RQrv-c/WRCUIC2oPpI/AAAAAAAAC8E/HFG7DchBprg1aweVhcKZuQLAGf1EEZSugCLcB/s320/30.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note: Last week they were acorn squashes. My other app says they're cantaloupes. Apparently fruits & vegetables aren't the most efficient or accurate way to describe the size of a baby. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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This has already been shared via the Facebook, but because of the size/weight of my duplex belly, I am measuring 37 weeks. This doesn't mean I'll have babies early, this just means that from now until the babies do come, my body shows symptoms of a woman pregnant with one baby about 7 weeks further than I actually am. So I'm essentially in the "home stretch" (which is what people say when they don't want to acknowledge you're in the hardest part of anything) for just a wee bit longer than most! Cool.<br />
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My ankles started swelling up BEFORE I GOT OUT OF BED in the morning. A couple weeks ago, if I wasn't good about putting my feet up throughout the day, by the end of it, they'd be a little large, my ankles didn't have as much definition as they did in the AM hours. Now, as Tom says, my feet "have no shape". They go directly from calves to toes and there is no definition between those parts. And I START my day like this. At night I take a bath with epsom salt, put my feet up against a wall and wear compression socks and I still wake up with giant Flintstones feet.<br />
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Somehow, the pregnant brain and hormones come back for one last go around before the end is near in this third trimester. I forget most things and the things I remember seem to make me cry. I'm a REAL GOOD TIME to be around, just ask my husband (who, by the way, follows me around the kitchen the way I imagine someone might follow a patient with dementia who insists on being independent in their home, checking that burners are turned off, knives are put back where they belong, etc.).<br />
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That cute maternity wardrobe I've built up over the last few months is starting to dwindle as this giant belly continues to grow only *some* of the shirts still make it over the hump and cover all the way to where they meet the "waistband" of my pants. (Related: NEVER. GOING. BACK. Fuck regular pants with buttons and zippers, I'm full panel stretch for life now.)<br />
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The babies continue to kick throughout the day, they have less room so it's not as much of the spinning & flipping, however they still kick and punch like the little MMA fighters they think they are. The crazy thing that's happening now is I can see it FROM THE OUTSIDE. Like tiny little alien life forms trying to escape from the front of my stomach, when they get riled I can see it. Also, they get the hiccups. Sometimes at the same time and my stomach feels like a popcorn machine for a few minutes.<br />
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People look FUCKING PANICKED when they see me walk in somewhere. Like at any given moment they're going to have to catch a baby. The only thing more entertaining is their face when I tell them I've still got a good 6 weeks to go! Tom says my favorite punch line these days is, "it's twins!" and I always save it til the end. I mean, if I can't mess with people, what's the point of all this?!<br />
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I won't even go into some of the more disgusting things that happen. Because I like having readers.<br />
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However, even with ALL OF THIS, I am still so damn grateful. We hit a big milestone by coming to the 30 week mark. A lot of the really scary preemie baby stuff that could happen if they come early is now less of a concern. We still want them to cook more (yes, I'll take all of the disgusting and uncomfortable stuff if it means they can stay in there and grow stronger!) but we are getting closer and closer to them being full grown healthy tiny humans!<br />
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And, if there were ever proof that pregnancy makes you absolutely batshit crazy, it's that in all of this, I already know I'm going to miss being pregnant. I'm not sure I'd want to do it again (maybe give it a go with only one?) but I will miss having these little ladies with me every day and knowing I'm giving them everything they need while protecting them from everything they don't. They're pretty cool and I'm the luckiest girl in the world to be their momma.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-69873913324684951092017-05-01T14:41:00.002-05:002017-05-01T14:41:32.111-05:00The Village ExpandsThe morning of our wedding, I wrote <a href="http://daytodaybitbybit.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-little-village.html?q=village">this post</a> about my little village of people that got me to that point. How thankful I was for the person they helped me become and for getting me to that important part of my life where I was able to marry my best friend. Well, I shouldn't be surprised that that same village has grown and strengthened and freaking SHOWED UP for these little baby girls.<br />
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When we tell people we're having twins, we get all sorts of reactions. Mostly shocked, some sympathetic, some excited and some overwhelmed. They'll say things like, "you'll have your hands full" or "aren't you extra blessed?" Yes, to all of it. All of those emotions are correct and we've had those and many more. I know a lot of people who have said they want to have twins. I wasn't ever one of those people, it just really wasn't on my radar. (Yes, my dad is a twin. Yes, I should have been more aware of the possibility.) So when we went in to see our ONE baby on the ultrasound screen and instead were told there were two. It was different. Not bad, yet it wasn't necessarily GREAT news right off the bat. It was an adjustment to say the least. Now that time has passed and we've adjusted our expectations and have been able to plan for two babies, we are thrilled and feel so fortunate to be the lucky ones to join that group of other twin parents. It's hard for me to imagine only having one now because this has been our normal. But, upon first finding out? A lot of scary things cross your mind... Most of the scary things start with the word "how"? How are we going to do this? How are we going to afford this? How many more things are we going to have to buy? How many clothes to they need? How will we handle TWO newborns at once??<br />
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And let me tell you something, before my control freak self could totally panic, this incredible village of ours stepped in. From advice, to lengthy emails with every question I could possibly have answered before I even asked it, to baby clothes and various equipment and more. We have been overwhelmingly fortunate to have so many people willing to help.<br />
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This past weekend we had our baby shower and y'all that damn village showed up again. You know you've got the good people in your corner when your parents both, individually, text you afterwards to tell you how impressed they were yet again by your friends and how lucky you are to have them. Friends from WAY back, college, former coworkers turned friends, friends who were strangers from the internet and family. It wasn't just a shower, it was a downpour of love for these two little ladies. They are already so loved and spoiled truly the luckiest babies in the whole world.<br />
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I've never been a parent and neither has Tom. We are both navigating brand new water here and truth be told, it can be overwhelming at terrifying (see: the number of times I cried over absolutely nothing this past weekend), but every time I start to think there's just no way we can handle all of this, I reminded we're never doing it alone. We've got the best group of people in the whole wide world behind us and just like they've done so many times before, when we get tired they help carry us. When we get stressed, they're there with help, whiskey, laughs, something sweet or deep friend. When we get overwhelmed they're there to remind us of how capable we are at handling even more than the current situation (or at least lie and tell us we are!).<br />
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We are the luckiest four people in the whole wide world.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-64541690715439030922017-04-23T20:54:00.000-05:002017-04-23T20:54:35.255-05:00Kickin' it. At 28 weeks it's suggested you start doing "kick counts" with your baby. Or as I like to call it, another thing for you to panic about in your already cluttered and cloudy pregnant brain. But, the idea is that at least once a day you're checking in to make sure babies are moving and all is good in the womb, so I'll happily oblige. (When I forget everything else in life, please remember my brain has space for approximately 3 things right now and this has kicked something else out.)<br />
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The sweet nurse who calls as part of our insurance's "healthy mom" program was all "next time you go for an ultrasound be sure to ask where the babies are located so you know where to feel for kicks. Maybe it's because there's two in there or maybe it's because I'm growing part Jackie Chan part Michael Phelps inside me, but guessing where the babies are has never been a problem. These two are positioned like two rocks at the very front of my belly. At almost any given time you can feel what is either a head or an ass of both babies. And if you can't, it's because they are swimming and kicking the hell outta their little playground.<br />
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Being the phone-dependent millennial I am, I found an app to help track kicks. Remembering who kicked and when I started counting was easier to do with an app. Yes, I realize I basically just said counting to ten, twice was tricky. Being pregnant is hard on a brain.<br />
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Since I've downloaded the app and kept track of kick counts, the longest it has taken for me to INDIVIDUALLY count both babies' kicks has been five minutes and fifty three seconds. It has not even taken 6 minutes to do what I'm supposed to allow two hours for. I guess most babies kick and then hang out and then kick again in a little bit? These two are coordinating some kind of Rockette kick line and the only breaks they take must be when they're getting into a new formation. Baby A likes to roll and kick and roll and kick. I assume Baby B has spent her gestational sentence learning Morse code and is attempting to communicate with me via her kicks and punches. She has officially taken over as the crazy one. I can watch my stomach move around like an alien inside when she's on the move. It freaks the hell out of Tom. I mean, it definitely doesn't seem "normal" but because it's happening inside my body I like to opt for "that's so cool" over "what the actual fuck is going on in there?!" Counting Baby B's kicks takes about one minute.<br />
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So while there's all sorts of extra stuff for me to worry about now in the pregnancy, high-risk, multiples, Baby A's potential club foot, gestational diabetes, they've fortunately decided kick counts won't be something I stress over. Thanks for the easy way on this one girls, nice to know you'll give momma the occasional break.<br />
<br />Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-16163512218572796142017-04-17T15:46:00.003-05:002017-04-17T15:46:55.520-05:00The GD Test ResultsIf there isn't humor in the fact that GD can stand for both gestational diabetes and god dammit, I don't know where there is humor.<br />
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A couple weeks ago I failed my one hour glucose screen. You can read about that <a href="http://daytodaybitbybit.blogspot.com/2017/03/babies-update-24-weeks.html">here</a>, where you'll also see I had already decided & accepted I'll probably be diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes. A number of factors were working against me here:<br />
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<ul>
<li>family members with diabetes? Yes, a few, on both sides of my family.</li>
<li>over 25 years old? By almost a decade, thankyouverymuch.</li>
<li>have had abnormal blood sugar tests before? Yes, not quite diabetic but labeled "insulin resistant".</li>
<li>carrying twins or multiples? there's that twin factor again. #doubleblessed</li>
</ul>
And as far as what's happening in my body, for those of you who've never had to be concerned with GD, here's the most simplistic way to describe it...pregnancy = lots of extra hormones. Hormones interfere with your body's ability to produce enough insulin to process the glucose in your body. The high glucose in your blood then goes to babies. Then babies have to make more insulin to process the extra glucose. That extra glucose is then stored as fat and causes increased birth weight in baby. For a number of reasons, we don't want that.<br />
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So, anyway, I wasn't *too* hopeful going into the 3-hour test that I'd pass with flying colors. Actually, I went into that test assume I was going to get sick and pass out so I didn't think there would be much color at all. <br />
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The good news is the test itself was not bad at all. I felt pretty shitty at the 1 hour scan and damn near passed out during the blood draw itself. If it wasn't for the pocket snacks I had stashed in my pocket to eat the SECOND the test was over, I was pretty sure Tom was going to find me face down in the lobby. So if we take the situation from the 1-hour test and add 8 hours of fasting, an even sugarier drink and THREE more blood draws? Would I even walk out alive?<br />
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The test was tolerable. I mostly panicked about fasting which ended up not being that terrible (I did count down to the last second I could consume food and shoved 2 pieces of peanut butter toast in my mouth in hopes of sustaining life through the next 8-10 hours). I then was worried about having that much blood drawn. That part was actually easy peasy, it's not a ton of blood they need and if I just don't pay attention, I can pretend it didn't happen. Even the sugarier drink wasn't terrible. Though I will give you this protip: the orange is much better than the fruit punch - if you get the option, go with orange.<br />
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Honestly, the worst part about the test itself was that I had to sit out in the lobby on uncomfortable chairs during the hours between the blood draws. My ass fell asleep and I never really found a comfortable position (despite making my own little recliner situation using my coat as cushion and pulling chairs around to hoist my swollen ankles up on).<br />
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They didn't even have to do the 3rd hour blood draw - which I celebrated at the time, not realizing it's because I failed the first 3 draws so badly that they ruled out the need for any further proof of GD in my bloodstream. Whatever, that's one less needle poke, I'll call it a win.<br />
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Long story short, I failed. So far what that means is that I'll be monitoring my blood sugar after meals to make sure I'm keeping it in check. As of right now I don't need medication and we'll try keeping things controlled with diet and exercise. (Ha! Exercise. Right now climbing the stairs to my office and rolling over at night leave me winded.) It also means even MORE appointments. I currently see my OB and a Perinatologist (risky baby doctor) so why not add someone else up in there? See also: why I'll have no PTO to help cover my unpaid maternity leave.<br />
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I see a Nutritionist who specializes in GD for a TWO HOUR appointment this week, follow up with her at a ONE AND A HALF HOUR appointment next week and then have an extra scan with the Perinatologist to make sure the babies are slowing down their turkey-like growth patterns. Note: these appointments are annoying, but necessary for healthy mom and baby and I'd go to daily appointments to end with my ideal birth plan - 2 healthy babies born from a healthy momma.<br />
<br />The good news is, typically once you give birth, the diabetes goes away. So this is likely temporary. The silver lining I'm focusing on is that it wouldn't hurt for us to get back to some healthier eating habits (read: not having dessert after every single meal) and will likely help jump start some post-baby weight loss if we can keep this up. In the mean time, prepare yourselves for a whole lot of bitching by me, possibly some helpful tips and definitely some humor from my husband - who has already deemed the blood sugar meter the "'betes machine".Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-25369031704808024052017-04-10T10:10:00.000-05:002017-04-10T10:10:12.639-05:00Beauties and the BirthTwo things happened this weekend worth noting, though very different from each other.<br />
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First, we went to see Beauty and the Beast. I'd been dropping hints for WEEKS about wanting to go and see it and Tom <strike>finally got sick of it</strike> decided to be a wonderful husband and surprise me with tickets for a showing on Saturday night! It was during the first full-blown musical number that the babies went NUTS. I realized this is the first movie we've been to since they can hear the outside world and it turns out we've got two little Disney princesses-in-training in there. Every time a song broke out, the girls would kick and flutter and move around in my belly. I spent the entire movie with a giant grin on my face, it honestly felt like I was watching it with them! At one point, it felt like my belly was vibrating because Baby B was kicking her little feet as quick as she could along to "Be Our Guest!" So, in the end, Tom tolerated the movie, I liked it so much and the girls LOVED it. I cannot wait to watch it 2,341 times with them once they're here and comprehend movies.<br />
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Second, on Sunday we attended a class called "Twin Tips and More" at the Hospital we'll be delivering at. The class itself was fine, thanks to all the Twin Mommas I've been hoarding since we found out there were two babies in there I already knew more than the tips the class offered. (Plus, it seriously lacked the humor of Sadie's "Chronicles of Twin-ia" emails.) But, at the end of class, the instructor warned us that there were a couple of birthing videos she'd play, one of a vaginal delivery and one of a c-section. She offered the door for anyone who wasn't interested in seeing them. I figured it couldn't hurt, but told Tom if he wanted to step out he could and I wouldn't mind at all. I mean, I'd really like him to be there for the birth of our children and I think ignorance=bliss is the best plan to get him there. We both stayed and it was slightly traumatizing in different ways for both of us.<br />
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First they played the c-section video. Note: this is kind of the fate I've accepted/leaned towards since finding out it was a multiples pregnancy. The chances lean that way as it all depends on which directly Baby A is facing when they're ready to come out. And, there is a very real chance that both Baby A & B can be head down and ready to go for a natural delivery, and in all that hoopla of delivering Baby A, Baby B turns or becomes at-risk and needs to be delivered IMMEDIATELY via emergency c-section. That's right, I could potentially be the lucky recipient of BOTH methods of delivery and have to sit on icicle diapers WHILE recovering from major abdominal surgery. (That alone makes me 100% ok with the c-section. I DO NOT WANT BOTH.) So, we watch the c-section video. Everyone in the room is clearly uncomfortable, the mommas-to-be are wide-eyed and the men are all a little squirmy. I am able to rationalize that I'll be semi-out of it thanks to an epidural and behind that beautiful screen protecting me from all the sick stuff (again, ignorance is bliss here, people). But, in the video they definitely show you want's on the other side of that screen. There was a lot of muffled, "holy shit" and "oh god no" from behind my husband's hand over his mouth. At one point he just closed his eyes, I assume in hopes of not passing out in the Childbirth Education room. I certainly wouldn't watch it again, but I was pretty ok with it.<br />
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Then they showed the vaginal delivery. All throughout the other videos I kept saying to Tom, "holy crap, look how freaking TINY those things are when they're born!! They're so itty bitty." Then they showed them coming out of a vagina and I thought, "HOLY SHIT THOSE ARE MONSTERS! Look how big they are!!!" (They were 6 pound babies...*cue panic*.) Tom wasn't LOVING this video either but he was nowhere near as traumatized as I was by this method of delivery (not surprising given his private zone gets to stay in tact during).<br />
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After the class wrapped up I had a few questions for the instructor. As I finished the following conversation took place...<br />
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Tom: I actually have one question.<br />
*record scratch* as I look incredulously at him, he never has questions and I can't begin to imagine what he's going to ask...<br />
Instructor: Sure, what's up?<br />
Tom: If I am brave enough to go in the room with her for the c-section...<br />
*other couple in the room breaks into laughter*<br />
Me: Hold up. Nope. Try again, no "if" here...<br />
Tom: Okay, let's say I'm in the room with her for the c-section..<br />
Me: Yes, let's because you WILL BE IN THE ROOM.<br />
Tom: ...and I throw up? Or pass out? Because I'm going to be honest, I almost puked right here watching that video. Can I leave? Or am I trapped in that room until it's over?<br />
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And this is when I learned my husband things his attendance is optional at the birth of our baby girls.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-35780239667504340122017-04-07T14:04:00.000-05:002017-04-07T14:04:40.538-05:00Two Little Turkeys. Since finding out I was having twins, I've been saying over and over that I don't want to have itty bitty premie babies that need tons of help when they're born, but I'd also prefer that I don't have to birth two turkeys. Well, as they've done for most of this pregnancy, the Little Ladies Emrey are proving they do what they want and THEY run this show now.<br />
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This week at my 26 week check-up, my belly measured at 31 weeks. Now all of these measurements are not adjusted if you're having multiples. Everything is still tracked and measured as though you only have one baby in there.<br />
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So, while I'm only 26w2d gestational age, my belly is measuring as that of a woman with a singleton pregnancy in her 31st week. I guess that's why everyone takes one look at my stomach and with wide eyes asks, "When are you due??" (Or, my personal favorite, "you're not going to go into labor in this meeting, are you??")<br />
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At our last growth scan, we learned Baby A is in the 58th percentile for growth and Baby B is in the 62nd. I asked my doctor to be real straight forward with me, don't sugar coat it, just tell me like it is, "are these babies huge?" She went on to explain, "Well, 50th percentile is average..." This much I knew. "But, that's average for one baby?" I asked. "Right, that's the thing..." she responded. She clearly saw the fear in my eyes that I am growing two turkeys. She said that based on where they're at now and growth projection charts, we're probably looking at having a couple of 7 pound babies if they keep growing and I go full term (37 weeks with twins). She kept reassuring me, "This is a good thing! We want healthy growing babies! It means you've build the perfect environment for them to grow big and strong! This is better than babies who aren't growing!"<br />
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I know all of this. And I'm thankful already that these little girls are growing strong and becoming more and more viable with each passing day. We will be so fortunate to make it through a multiples pregnancy without having to worry about underweight babies who need a ton of support in those first few days with us. But, as I told the Doctor, "I just don't want to be on the news as the woman who gave birth to 10 pound twins!"<br />
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So they will continue to grow, I'll continue to grow, and hopefully they'll show a little mercy on their dear mom and slow down a bit. I'm still not painfully uncomfortable, though I am clearly losing the battle against cankles. I purchased a couple of size 10 shoes this week to accommodate my ever-swollen feet (that's 2 sizes up from normal!) and I keep my feet up as often as I can. I know this window of me feeling great is short-lived, with each passing day I wake up a little less sure of how good I feel. Some days I feel like I could do this for a good long while and others I wonder how there's still two more months to go?! (Although, the latter usually happens when I've just walked up a flight of stairs...so thank God there's elevators.)Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-24757464941965672012017-04-03T11:07:00.003-05:002017-04-03T11:07:27.835-05:00Rounding ThirdGiven the multiples pregnancy we're rocking, we're technically coming up on the third trimester! (37 weeks is considered full term with twins, so we're in the middle of the 2nd & 3rd trimester this week).<br />
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The end of the second semester was pretty great. Once I kicked whatever bug it was that took me on my little hospital adventure, I felt good! No nausea, wasn't nearly as tired as I had felt in the first trimester and still impressively mobile considering my ever-growing bump! I was also becoming increasingly aware that this window of feeling great was narrowing by the week and that eventually I'd start to feel...well, really fucking pregnant. So I fit in a bunch of stuff I knew was on the "short-list" to get done before that point it. I took the nephew to Chicago for the day. We rode the train down to Union Station, spent the day at the Shedd Aquarium and had, what he referred to as a "mini-vacation". Tom and I went up to Cedarburg for a little mini babymoon and spent a beautiful Saturday wandering around the little shops and cafes (albeit, a much shorter wander than in trips past as my stamina isn't quite what it used to be!)<br />
<br />This window of feeling good has come with a handful of observations of my evolving body. Seriously, it feels like I wake up with a different body every morning. Something's bigger, something else is swollen, there's pain in a new place, it's always new!<br />
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90% of my shoe collection has been retired. I had purposely gotten a couple extra pairs of Toms which served me SO well thus far in my pregnancy. They're stretchy and grew as my feet did, comfortable enough to walk in and with the right pattern just maybe possible to pull off with the business casual wardrobe my office calls for. But, this past weekend I learned even the stretch of Toms is no match for swollen pregnancy feet and I'm now on the hunt for some very practical, couple sizes up flats that can help me get from now until flip flop season.<br />
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People no longer wonder if I'm pregnant and now exclusively look at my bump and say "Oh my goodness, when are you due??" And then their eyes get real wide and their mouth drops when I respond "not until mid-June!" I give them a second to respond and fumble over whatever kind of semi-appropriate recovery response they can come up with before I tell them, "I'm this big now because there's two in there!" Tom says this is my favorite mom joke (which he also notes pales in comparison to his collection of Dad jokes).<br />
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I don't sleep at night so much as take periodic naps during hours that are dark. I usually fall asleep fast & hard very early in the night. Then after a few hours I have to pee, so I get up to pee and then we begin the napping cycle. I've found that during pregnancy I have a much harder time falling back asleep. It's hard to get comfortable (DEAR GOD I can't wait to sleep on my stomach!), the hormones can cause an increase in anxiety which helps my mind race just enough to keep me awake - usually thinking of all sorts of things that don't matter a single bit at 1:00 a.m. So I'll look at my phone, read through some things until I feel my eyes get sleepy again and give another stretch of sleep a go. Then it's basically rest & repeat until the alarm goes off. The other thing I've noticed though, is that I'm less affected by this than I thought I'd be. Pre-pregnancy if I didn't get 8 hours, look out world a monster was on the loose. Now I'm much more capable of rolling with less sleep. I usually get my one serving of caffeine and make it through the day. This bodes well for the fact that I assume, come June, I won't be getting any sleep at all, ever, for like months. Just practicing!<br />
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When I first started to feel what I thought were baby movements I wanted them to happen ALL the time. I'd sit there concentrating on my belly willing those little ladies to give me a kick or two. Now, at 25 weeks I'm pretty sure they never stop. I mean, with 2 there's a good chance someone is always on the move and then at a certain point they just must wake each other up because there's a damn party going on in there. I'm actually now more aware of when there *isn't* movement as opposed to when there is. High times for party rocking include any time I seem to be looking to rest (sitting down, laying down, sleeping) and whenever it's feeding time at the zoo.<br />
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Finally, SHIT SEEMS TO BE GETTING VERY REAL. Cribs were delivered last week, I've now done multiple loads of itty bitty baby clothing and we're starting to get the nursery set up. We are under 100 days away from my "official" due date (which is about 3-4 weeks past when these ladies will likely make their appearance) and with each passing day it goes from feeling like a far off fantasy to a very alarming reality (in the best way possible). I hope they stay in there as long as they need but it is starting to sink in that we're getting closer and closer to a viable milestone where if needed, these babies could grace the world with their presence. So exciting, so terrifying, so very real.<br />
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<br />Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-16536861886406882952017-03-24T09:46:00.002-05:002017-03-24T09:46:57.708-05:00Babies Update - 24 weeksWe have officially entered the last week of the 2nd trimester this week. I mean, if we were doing the whole 40 week pregnancy thing, we'd be closing out trimester two. Given that I'm a duplex and not a single-tenant house right now, we're technically already in the third trimester? kind of? Anyway, we're 24 weeks.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As the girls' sweet Nona asked, "So what does two cantaloupes equal, a watermelon??" Sure feels like it. </td></tr>
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This week included a marathon of appointments featuring my one hour glucose screen, blood work, an ultrasound and a routine doctor appointment. </div>
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I have pretty much decided & accepted that I will be diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes with this pregnancy. Mostly because of I have never had a sweet tooth quite like the one I've had for the past 6 months and I just assume that means it'll be added to a list of things I can't have. Also, the risk is higher with multiples. So I didn't have high hopes of passing the one hour screen. For those who have never experienced the thrill of Glucocrush, let me fill you in. First, they suggest you eat a protein rich breakfast and then don't eat anything 2 hours before you begin the process just to ensure nothing messes with the test. (Fasting while pregnant, NOT COOL.) Then, you drink what looks and kind of tastes like Gatorade in a 5 minute window. IT IS PURE SUGAR. At first you're all, "huh, this doesn't really taste as bad as people say...this isn't awful!" And then about 15 minutes later YOU CAN SEE SOUND. I was wired. Tom was like, "Can you drive yourself like this?" and all I could think was, "I don't know, back when I used to slam Surge like it was going out of style (before it actually went out of style), I didn't have my license!" You wait an hour and then your blood is drawn and tested. I failed. I also almost passed out while having my blood drawn, but that's something I usually come close to doing even when I don't have pure sugar coursing through my veins. Also, the guy poked both arms because he thought he had a good vein but didn't in my right arm. So double the fun, really. Fortunately, I had both jacket pockets packed full of snacks so I could eat IMMEDIATELY following the blood draw. I was barely out of the door of the lab before I had 3-5 bites of Clif bar already in my mouth. (Note: of all the emotions pummeling through your system at any given moment during pregnancy, shame is rarely one of them.)<br />
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Then, we went over to our doctor's office for an growth check of the babies. In hindsight, trying to measure tiny fetuses after jacking them up with sugar was probably not the best scheduling idea we've had. These two ladies were all sorts of riled. As the tech was trying to measure Baby A's belly, Baby B was pressing her head RIGHT into the stomach. Later, Baby B was repeatedly kicking the membrane between the two babies like an angry landlord seeing months of late rent. Later, Baby B showed off by touching her toes DIRECTLY to her forehead. (Remember, Baby B used to be the quiet, chill one. We're really in for it with these two.) The poor girl trying to measure these two would switch from one baby to the other in hopes that they'd have moved or relaxed or stopped being little monsters in any way. No such luck, we walked out with ONE picture of Baby B. That's it, of 45 minutes worth of scanning we got one picture of one baby still enough to make out what was what.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To be fair, for the first few ultrasounds, Baby A was the photogenic one, always giving us perfect little profile pictures. This time, Baby B took the spotlight with her adorable little nose and showing all five fingers on her tiny little hand. This is also right before she lifted her toes to her forehead. Easy, B, no one likes a show-off. </td></tr>
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Finally, we had our appointment with our wonderful OB and her fantastic nurse. Both babies looked great. Strong, steady heartbeats (if not slightly high from the aerobic exercise they were fitting in following the Glucocrush rush). They are in the 58th and 62nd percentile as far as growth goes, so both measuring ever so slightly ahead, but still not showing signs of being 10 lb turkey babies (thank you, babies, you are free to move around the cabin as long as you keep that up!). They are definitely taking up more room than they used to. Those two are right up on each other. Which is good, given that they'll share a room for a while. Compared to my uterus, that bedroom is going to feel like a MANSION for a few years.<br />
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This weekend we're going to put the ol' marriage to the test and attempt IKEA while pregnant! We have to get our shit together and turn the "nursery" (aka a guest room full of baby shit) into an actual nursery and unfortunately, this trip to IKEA is what stands between that being an idea and a reality. I promised Tom he could get a little drunk at lunch before hand if he wants, feels fair.<br />
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Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-36835348632131729332017-03-14T09:24:00.000-05:002017-03-14T09:24:02.387-05:00ConcernsLast week, we followed up our little bump in the road with another slightly larger bump. On Friday we had a follow-up growth scan with our Perinatologist (a baby doctor who works in conjunction with our OB on higher risk pregnancies). We maybe accidentally (on purpose) got the little ladies all jacked up for our last scan (because we were absolutely NOT not finding out the sex of those babies that time) and they were so active that they had a hard time getting a couple of the measurements they were hoping for.<br />
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Without boring you of all the details (which included a scheduling mishap on my part which led to more tears than necessary because I'm pregnant and have double the hormones and no longer have any sense of control over my emotions), I went in for my scan on Friday morning. They were able to get me in after missing the Thursday appointment, but I had to go to a different hospital. The girls were again a little crazy (though I swear this time I didn't do it intentionally) but the sonographer seemed to get everything she needed. She informed me there wasn't a doctor on-site but she'd call the one in Waukesha to have him take a look at the scans. She came back in and said the doctor wanted to see us at the Waukesha hospital to talk. (Cue all the panic.) I asked if it was just to talk or if there were concerns and all she said was, "Both."<br />
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<i>Note to anyone anywhere who may possibly be interacting with a pregnant woman: Even if you're instructed to "not give details" telling a momma-to-be that a doctor has concerns and wants to see her without any additional information is BULLSHIT and you should never do it. </i><br />
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Surprisingly, I was relatively calm about the whole thing. I jumped in the car and headed to the other hospital to address these "concerns." We waited about an hour in the waiting room, we knew we were going to have to wait as they were just trying to sneak us in among other already scheduled appointments. I was still calm, considering I SOBBED over missing an appointment less than 24 hours ago. Again, absolutely zero control over my emotions, they do what they want at this point, but it is nice to know they are capable of control when it becomes most important.<br />
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We ended up sitting through another hour or so of additional scans. Mostly focusing on the heart and spine (again, cue any additional panic that didn't already rise to the top). Thankfully, that sonographer saw the panic on my face and just said the doctor was trying to rule out any major issues. Still unsure of what the issues we were ruling out were, I decided to just watch those little babies while she took every measurement known to man.<br />
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FINALLY, after about 3 hours from the initial "doctor has concerns" comment, we spoke with the doctor who was wonderful and calming and explained what the hell had happened that morning. Baby A's feet seemed to be turned in quite a bit on the initial scan. It looked to him like club foot. Given that club foot can sometimes be an indicator of more serious genetic or chromosomal issues, he wanted to take a bunch of additional measurements in order to rule out anything else. Which, thankfully, is what he was able to do.<br />
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Here's what we know: Baby A appears to have club foot. It's what the doctor described as an "isolated structural issue" meaning that it's not related to any other issues and nothing else is going on that's causing it. It could be just the way her foot is developing, it could be the way she's positioned in the womb, it could be a number of reasons why it's happening. We won't know how severe or how we'll treat it until she's born and they can really get a good look at it.<br />
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Here's what I heard: it's not her heart, it's not her spine, it's not any major chromosomal abnormality or genetic disorder. As the doctor put it "it's just club foot." It's something that's treatable and correctable and really should be fixed before she can even recall something happened. Of all the possible news we could have gotten that day, this is pretty minor.<br />
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In the mean time, we'll be meeting with a pediatric orthopedic specialist to talk about what it might mean, what different treatments could be and just sort of put together a plan so that we know what's coming instead of dealing with it when we've got 2 newborns on our hands, which this Type A control freak prefers.<br />
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So it's just another little step on our journey. The good news is that both babies are growing strong and look otherwise entirely healthy. Baby B officially broke the one pound mark and Baby A is not far behind at 15 ounces.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-48229367939382479132017-03-09T10:48:00.000-06:002017-03-09T10:48:06.805-06:00Get Yourself a Good OneI bring you a break in the otherwise entirely Pregnancy related posts to tell you a sweet little story about that husband of mine.<br />
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First, look, our relationship isn't perfect. I don't pretend to have one of those flawless lives on social media. We fight about who has to do the dishes, the dog poops on the ONE rug we have in our house, there are still leaves in our backyard from fall because our stubborness knows no bounds and won. But, all of that said, my life is so good. And he's a big huge part of why.<br />
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Last night, I snuggled up in the couch to catch this week's episode of This Is Us. Now to truly understand why this story is as sweet as it is, you need to know a few things. One, my husband doesn't watch TV. And not in the "Oh, I'm too good for television" kind of ways. Truthfully, I just don't think his attention span allows for episodes of TV. We've managed to catch a few shows that we both enjoy and he's willing to sit through. (Game of Thrones, half of the Man in the High Tower and shockingly almost all 16 seasons of Law & Order: SVU). If there's a show I'm dying to see, I don't beg too hard for him to join in because I know he'll never be able to binge through it the way I like to. He says my favorite hobby is Netflix and while I'd like to contest that point, he's probably kind of right. (And I only say "kind of right" because I also use Hulu.)<br />
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Anyway, This Is Us. It's my new Friday Night Lights & Parenthood. It's SO good, I feel like I KNOW the characters and much like the previously mentioned favorite shows, it elicits tears weekly. Tom cannot possibly understand why you'd CHOOSE to watch a show that makes you cry. He watched maybe 2 episodes with me since it came out and both times as the credits rolled he loudly proclaimed "and this is GOOD? You're sobbing and we're calling this a GOOD SHOW?!"<br />
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Back to last night. I snuggled up on the couch and kind of, maybe suggested I might want to watch this week's episode. Right away he said, "put it on! Go for it." He put in his headphones, cued up some YouTube video (those are more his speed) and grabbed my hand. You guys, he held my hand as I sobbed through the entire show. Every now and then he'd look over and see that things were getting extra dusty in the room and he'd give a little squeeze.<br />
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Here's the thing - you don't have to like all the same things in life. Your hobbies don't have to be exactly the same as your significant other's. You can have individual interests, But finding ways to keep your lives intertwined is really where the magic is. He sat with me on that couch while he watched what he wanted and I watched what I wanted (thank you multiple devices, a strong wifi signal and the Internet, we truly live in a magical time). He let me know he was there even if he had no idea what was going on in the show.<br />
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A while back I told him I didn't care that we didn't have a ton of overlapping hobbies because when I'm with him I feel safe and loved and respected and I'd take all of that a hundred times over liking all of the same music. He thought it was a negative comment but that's not how I see it at all. There are million people who like the same shows I do, but only one who'll hold my hand while I pregnantly sob through a show he'll never understand the appeal of. That's when you know you got yourself a good one.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-87658259311122592772017-03-08T11:45:00.001-06:002017-03-08T11:45:37.513-06:00Little Scare/Dry Run?Last week we had a little bump in the road (about the only SMALL bump around here these days). I woke up at 4 am with some pretty severe cramping. At first I thought it was just normal pregnancy stuff (which is anything but normal but when you feel different/weird sensations all day every day, you grow a little desensitized to strange things). But the pain got a little worse and I just wasn't ready to ignore it. I woke up my recently sleeping night owl of a husband and informed him I was calling the doctor.<br />
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Thankfully our clinic has a wonderful on-call doctor who can be reached 24/7 and isn't (too) upset when that 24 hours a day falls in the middle of the night. She listened to my symptoms, they didn't sound baby related so she suggested I take a tylenol, push a lot of fluids and see if I could go back to sleep for a little bit. If the symptoms persisted once I woke up, they might want to see me and just check things out.<br />
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So I followed instructions and tried to lay back down. NOPE. Pain got worse, moved to my low back and I started throwing up all that water I just drank. Fun, right? Now let me tell those of you never-been-pregnant people something...there are a LOT of things the doctors (and internet) warn you to watch out for but the most commonly heard thing is cramping. Not like muscle cramping but cramps that feel like your period cramps. (sorry men, I have nothing to relate this to for you.) This is exactly what those felt like. Then they started moving towards my lower back. And THEN, just to keep things really spicy and fun, they would get worse in waves and then get better.<br />
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Hmmm...what happens when you're pregnant where it feels like cramps, you can feel it in your lower back and it happens in waves? Oh, right FUCKING CONTRACTIONS. Cue all the panic in the world taking place between vomit trips to the bathroom. ARE WE HAVING FUN YET? Tom says he wasn't worried, he knew everything was going to be fine, but I've (stupidly) spent enough time on the Internet of Pregnant Things to know this just wasn't right.<br />
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We called the doctor back and she had us come into the hospital just to make sure it wasn't anything serious. I felt AWFUL. Tom had gotten approximately 35 minutes of sleep at this point. He was trying to get me clothes to wear while getting himself awake enough to get dressed and put in contacts. The animals were freaking out. At one point I asked him to get me yoga pants. He brought me pre-pregnancy workout pants (are you TRYING to make me cry more?!). Note: he was TRYING to be helpful, I was useless. I asked him to grab me a maternity t-shirt to which he responded "A fried ice cream shirt?" Panicked, tired, puking, in so much pain Angie responded the only way she knew how "WHY THE FUCK WOULD I BE ASKING FOR A FRIED ICE CREAM SHIRT?!" Previous to this moment, I understood why you pack a hospital bag BEFORE you're in labor, but this helped to truly comprehend & solidify that need. We'll be packing one this weekend, just in case.<br />
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Anyways, we got to the hospital, they checked me and babies out; monitored for contractions. I puked, they checked more things. Then they pushed a bunch of fluids and some anti-nausea meds (magical, magical fluid of the Gods) and within 5 minutes I was like a totally different person. (Not a bitch, as Tom pointed out. Rightfully pointed out.) They're thinking it was either a little stomach bug or dehydration, at any rate I felt AWFUL and never want to play that game again.<br />
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The good news is, Babies are fine, I showed no signs of contractions and I bounced back quick enough that we got to go home within a few hours. It wasn't fun, I hope we don't have to do it again, but all's well that ends well, right?Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-5832736738086294642017-03-01T14:14:00.000-06:002017-03-01T14:14:18.829-06:002nd Trimester ObservationsThroughout the first trimester, my light at the end of the (incredibly nauseous and overwhelmingly exhausted) tunnel was that someday I'd make it to the second trimester and I'd feel somewhat normal again. Or at least, more normal. Okay, I'd be less likely to vomit or pass out at any given moment.<br />
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And that's true! It almost felt like a light switch went off around 12 weeks where I no longer wondered if I was physically capable of making it through an 8 hour day! There weren't moments throughout the day where I felt like I had been reading in a car on a winding road for 8 hours. It felt magical! And honestly, it still does. MUCH prefer 2nd trimester to 1st.<br />
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However, the 2nd trimester isn't without it's "Huh, what's going on there?" moments. One that has caused significant head scratching lately is my brain.<br />
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I am no longer capable of turning off my brain, but only between the hours of midnight and 5 am. During the day? I'm borderline stupid. There are times where I seriously question if my brain is even on anymore (see: the time I left a burner on with no flame for hours in the house while we were gone. OOPS.) But! After I fall asleep for a lovely 2-3 hours nap around 9 p.m. I get to wake up to my mind RACING. Like, can't turn it off, will never stop thinking, considering all of the most urgent and necessary things I never thought of during the day! The most annoying part about this is that, despite every topic covered in my brain feeling like LIFE OR DEATH, I can't remember most of them come daylight. A few recent thought processes I was able to recall. And I swear to you, I am not making this up...this is *actually* how it goes down in my brain...<br />
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<li>I wonder if Tom put the smoke detector back on after we (I, it was me alone) set it off cooking this morning? How would we know if the house was on fire if he didn't? Man, if the downstairs was on fire, how would we get out of the house? OMG, WE NEED THOSE ROPE LADDERS THE FIREMEN TELL YOU ABOUT IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. Okay, so we'll need one rope ladder for each bedroom on the 2nd floor. And then when the kids come...wait. how will we climb down a rope ladder while holding a baby? Okay, okay, so obviously we'll need a baby carrier next to each rope ladder in each bedroom on the 2nd floor. That's easy enough. I'll wear one baby and Tom will wear the other and we'll climb down rope ladders if the first floor is on fire! SHIT. What about the animals. Okay, when we wake up, we'll inform Tom that he's responsible for wearing one baby, carrying Bella and using the other arm to climb down the rope ladder. I'll wear the other baby, carry Gracie and climb down the rope ladder from the other bedroom. Whew, glad we have a plan. (Note: come morning? I could NOT remember what kept me up for an hour. It took HOURS to remember what this thought process was.)</li>
<li>You know, tomorrow morning I'm calling AT&T and I'm getting our phone bill reduced. I mean it's just ludicrous how much we're paying. And how much data do we really even need? *Proceeds to think through every instance in the last 24 hours I've used data vs. wifi*</li>
<li>*wakes from a deep, deep sleep* OH GOD, I should layout the floor plan of the nursery RIGHT NOW. Will both of the cribs fit in the corner under the window? If we do that will they see each other? Can I also fit the changing table against that other wall. Okay, if I need to take my stuff out of that closet and put it in the hall closet, where will the hall closet stuff go? Oh, in the 3rd bedroom. So we'll have to move the 3rd bedroom closet stuff up to the attic. What happens if it's a boy and a girl and we eventually won't have them sharing a room? Where will the second one go? CAN WE BUILD AN ADDITION ON THIS HOUSE?! I better write this down. *Creates an ENTIRE "house to do" list from now until June. </li>
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My google searches between these hours are also fantastic including "What does a blood clot feel like?" and "Can I squish my babies if I roll over on my stomach?"<br />
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So my brain is a pretty fun/scary place to be these days!Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-16793719503627790212017-02-21T11:39:00.003-06:002017-02-21T11:39:56.868-06:002 Girls, 1 UterusNot even a little sorry for that title. It would have been a waste to go with anything else.<br />
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So, we had cooperative babies at our anatomy scan two weeks ago and found out that we are having two little girls!<br />
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I have many things to talk about now that we know the sexes of these two, but everyone's first question is, "oh man, TWO GIRLS! How's Tom?" Now, since I found out I was pregnant I have fallen in love a hundred times over again with that husband of mine. I knew when I met him he was going to be an incredible partner and an amazing dad. Now that it's actually happening? I could not have appropriately prepared my heart. (I assume I'll just die every day from my heart exploding into a bazillion pieces watching him actually interact with these two.) When I was sick every day, he'd call me at lunch just to ask how I was feeling. He's put up with emotions and a very whiny pregnant bitch at points in this pregnancy. He's been awesome to me. </div>
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However, it all pales in comparison to how awesome he is/is going to be as a girl dad. I could not have seen this coming. He had said early on, if the twins were both going to be the same sex, he'd prefer girls. I figured that was just something nice he said. Boy, was I wrong? This man was MEANT to be a girl dad. </div>
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On Valentine's Day I asked if we could just stop at Buy Buy Baby to look at girly things and his response was "YES! Please." This past weekend, he picked out the most adorable outfits (mostly with ruffles and bows) he could possibly find. He calls the little bloomers that come with "boobadoobas" and that is approximately 1,000 times more adorable than bloomers. He bought a bib set that said "Daddy's Dinner Date". He discovered tiny open toe sandals and cardigan dress sets and said "SHUT UP!" more times than I can count at all of the incredibly and overwhelmingly adorable girl clothes there are. He is all in on this two baby girl thing and he is blowing my mind with how adorable he is. </div>
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Then, last night, after all the ruffles and bows of the weekend...He (unprompted) stopped at Hobby Lobby so he could pick up a project he wanted to make for the girls. YOU GUYS, he is HAND CARVING tiny little wooden letter blocks with to spell out their names. He has watched YouTube videos and HE BOUGHT A FUCKING WHITTLING SET. And, if that wasn't enough to cause simultaneous heart/ovary explosions, he picked out a spray paint in "Ballet Slippers" pink to spray them with. </div>
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I'm no longer worried about actually bringing these two into the world when it comes to delivery, that will NEVER HOLD A CANDLE to the emotional slaying I will go through on a daily basis watching this man interact with his two perfect little daughters. (And now I have to stop because just thinking about it is enough to cause dehydration from tears.) </div>
Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-50912770522811591762017-02-17T10:32:00.001-06:002017-02-17T10:32:45.208-06:00Hospital Tour (+ naturally random thoughts)Ok, first of all, I didn't intend for this to turn into the "Angie's Pregnant & That's All She Can Talk About" blog, but I'm also a little #sorrynotsorry because it turns out, when you're playing incubator for 2 tiny humans that's pretty much ALL you think about. So, in turn, if you want blog posts, this is what they're likely going to be about.<br />
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Now that we've covered that...moving on.<br />
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We recently went on a tour of the Hospital we'll be delivering at. I know, I was only 17 weeks, but allow me to explain my neurosis. First, after switching Doctors early on, I wanted to make absolutely sure that I loved everything about this new doctor, including the place in which she'd bring these babies into the world. And I did not want to wait until the end to decide it was a wretched place completely unsuitable for my babies' entrance to life. Also, I'm neurotic and need to know ALL THE THINGS all the time as soon as I can possibly know them. So, to be entirely honest, I *waited* until 17 weeks...I registered for the tour back at like 10 weeks. So, THIS IS ME SHOWING RESTRAINT, OKAY!?! Also, you can imagine my jaw hitting the floor as the Nurse went around the room asking when our due dates were and one girl said, "February 16th" as in TEN FREAKING DAYS from the day of the tour. As in, COULD ACTUALLY HAVE THE BABY HERE WHILE WE'RE ON THIS TOUR. Pretty sure my lack of filter kicked in and I "whispered" under my voice, "HOLY SHIT." (I know I "whispered" instead of whispered because Tom's eyes darted over to me when I said it. (How many times do I have to explain I was born without a whisper voice?!)<br />
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Second, basically everything I read about twins boils down to one common thread. You have no control over anything, these two are going to come when and how they want. So, I've decided to outsmart these babies with my need for control. They've removed my ability to plan under a reasonable timeline? I'll see your spontaneity babies, and raise you one overly prepared mom in her 2nd trimester. (See also: I WILL REMAIN IN CONTROL FOR AS LONG AS I POSSIBLY CAN.)<br />
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Anyway, we toured the hospital. We'll be delivering at Waukesha Memorial Hospital. It's 7 minutes from our house and where our wonderful new doctor delivers her baby patients. All of my concerns were eased...<br />
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<b>The rooms are all private.</b> I wasn't really interested in sharing my privates at any point, so this was a big plus for me.<br />
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<b>There's one room for Labor, Delivery, Recovery and Postpartum</b>. Which is a pretty good set-up, the doctors/nurses/staff all rotate with any equipment they need and you stay in one place. That is, as the Nurse pointed out, unless you're delivering more than one baby in which case you do Labor, Recovery and Postpartum in that room and Delivery in an operating room because Baby B is a wildcard and they want to be prepared for anything.<br />
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<i>Let's pause here for a moment. See above where I mention total loss of control thanks to 2 babies? Here we are again with that theme. It's trending at this point. </i><br />
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<b>There's whirlpool tubs in each of the rooms</b> which the Nurse STRONGLY pushed all moms to take advantage of. I reminded Tom the tub was for me, not him. If we're being honest, there's still a small chance I think I'll find him in there at some point.<br />
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<b>The NICU is on the same floor as the Birthing Center.</b> We're hoping the babies come out somewhere between itty bitty preemies and giant turkeys and don't need the NICU for anything. However, if they should need some extra love after their arrival, I wanted that place to be close to where I was, so Tom, our family, etc. weren't running all over between me and babies.<br />
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<b>That NICU is a Level III center. </b>They can handle a whole slew of potential issues that come along with sick or preemie babies. We learned the smallest baby to grace that NICU was born at 23 weeks and weighed 1 lb 4 oz...and she lived. As I pointed out to Tom "We've eaten steaks nearly twice that size." That is a very small baby and while these kids have promised (or at least they've been asked to) cook longer than 23 weeks, it's comforting to know they're capable of dealing with the worst case scenarios.<br />
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As we walked out I was reminded of how different my sweet husband and I are (and why we likely work so well together.<br />
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Me: Well, do you feel good? Feel like we could have the babies here?<br />
Tom: Yeah...I mean, I didn't really realize that was a question. It's a hospital, I figured it would be acceptable.<br />
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Touche, Thomas, Touche.<br />
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<br />Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7536236271917107649.post-24514774610474661322017-02-08T11:14:00.000-06:002017-02-08T11:14:17.544-06:00And the sexes of the babies are...still TBD. WOMP WOMP. At 16 weeks we had a scheduled ultrasound to checkout my cervix to get a baseline comparison for later when I'm super pregnant and we're making sure the babies cook in there for as long as possible. But, what we were REALLY looking for was what kind of babies we've got in there! (And to make sure they weren't puppies, like my brother is hoping for.)<br />
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Naturally, because I'm crazy and like to fuel the crazy, I took to the internet in my Twin Mommies group to see when other people were finding out the sex of their babies. And, much like checking the internet for answers about medical conditions, I got an incredibly wide variety of non-conclusive answers. How helpful! But, the point was, people were finding out as early as 14 weeks! We'd DEFINITELY know at this 16w ultrasound!<br />
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We were totally prepared to find out the sex of these little monsters in there! Actually, we were incredibly nervous to finally be finding out. We're both really hoping for boy/girl (and have pretty much refused to accept any other combination in our heads despite reaffirming OFTEN "We're just happy to have two healthy babies!").<br />
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The ultrasound tech was phenomenal. She tried like HELL to find any sort of glimmer of a hint as to what they were. Tom, nervously assured her whatever she told us was not "contractually binding" as she reminded us, unless she was positive, she wasn't going to tell us. Fast forward 15 minutes and still nothing and Tom promises "I won't start painting the house based on what you tell me, seriously, even a guess!" Thankfully, she has dealt with more pregnant women then he has and knows not to tell unless you're sure. Side note: he's seen how difficult it is for me to accept a different restaurant for dinner than the one I've mentally prepared for, he should have been FAR MORE FEARFUL than her of me finding out one sex and then learning it's another. But, one of the things we share strongest is our severe lack of patience and the want to know outweighed any potential fallout.<br />
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So, what we know now is that we've got 2 uncooperative babies in there. Baby B actually spent the ENTIRE ultrasound with its little legs pressed tightly together as if to say "Take that Mom & Dad, I'll tell you when I'm good and ready!" As mentioned before, this is VERY Baby B of him/her. Nice to know they've already developed our stubborn genes.<br />
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**I will throw in this caveat because I think it's important...As with all pregnancy and child-rearing decisions what you do for you & your family is the right decision. I think people who wait to find out the sex are batshit crazy because I could NEVER hold out on information I could easily have if I wanted, but that's my own Type A control freak personality taking hold. As for us, we always figured we'd want to find out but after discovering two babies, we decided we've had enough surprise for one pregnancy, we'll take all the additional information we can get our grubby little mitts on!Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07715640633773402397noreply@blogger.com0