I Pushed & They Shoved (A Sequel)

* Content Warning * This post contains descriptions of child birth. Read at your own risk.

Rewind to August 18th, 2012. It was so hot out, record making hot. I was around thirty weeks pregnant and, unknown to me at the time, only six weeks away from giving birth to my twin bouncing baby boys; the little life changing, heart breaking, dream makers. I was mentally preparing for the birth experience and contemplating the possibility of natural childbirth, if the little bundles of joy cooperated. I was feeling very confident and strong. I made up my mind that day to have a conversation with my doctor and respectfully decline his recommended scheduled c-section. I would not evict the little buggers, no matter my level of discomfort. I knew they needed to grow inside of me however long their tiny bodies wished. I wanted to show up at the hospital in labor with all of my options open but also knew that I would have to be ready for surprises. Surprises, there were.

Me, pregnant with twins, at 31 weeks...Now imagine me at 36 weeks!

Did I mention I was huge? The last six weeks of my twin pregnancy were a bit rough. I was not bathing while home alone anymore, for fear of falling or being unable to lift myself out of the tub. It became very hard to wash myself properly and I had to take extra care getting under my belly and all the other hard to reach places and new creases so that I would not stink; remember it was the hottest summer in who knows how long. I could not lift my daughter in and out of the bath tub anymore. I would have to ask my husband or one of the boys to come in and lift her out when I was done. My maternity clothes barely fit me by then and I asked permission to wear slippers to work for the remainder of my employment due to severe ankle, feet and toe swelling. They allowed it. I took all stairs one at a time while holding on to the rails as tightly as possible, peeking past my giant belly with each step to check my aim. I was only sleeping for an hour or so at a time. I could only sleep on my sides and I would wake up to awful sharp pains in whichever hip I was laying on and would have to flip myself over to the other hip, back and forth, all night long. If you would ever like to experience this, strap a fifty pound weight tightly to your abdomen and then flip yourself over to the opposite hip every hour during your sleep. Then, strategically replace all of your pillows: one between your legs, one behind your back to prevent rolling and wedge one under the side of your belly so the skin does not stretch and hurt whilst trying to fall back asleep. Repeat this nightly for a few months. Always be mindful of your bed partner and try not to wake them up. Then get up and go to work in the morning. Fun!

I was very nervous of preterm labor. I had a couple scares that sent me to the hospital in the middle of the night there towards the end. I am not ashamed of this. I would rather be sent home knowing that everything was fine instead of sitting around at home guessing and possibly even harming the babies. If you get a crack in the amniotic sac and leak fluid, you are at risk of infection. This can harm the babies if bacteria becomes introduced into their environment. The babies were most likely putting too much pressure on my bladder and causing me to slowly and involuntarily wet myself. When you can't tell the difference, you have to go in and find out. I wasn't sleeping anyway, right? Field trip!

This brings us to September 27th, 2012. It was a Thursday morning. I had a super busy day scheduled at work and my last day was to be Friday. When I left for my 36 week appointment, I spoke to my boss because I was feeling a little ill and very uncomfortable. We agreed that I should take the rest of the day off in order to get some rest after my appointment; she would cover my work and I would be back the next morning for my last day. I was grateful. My health was great and the babies were doing wonderfully. I was never asked by my doctor to reduce my work hours. This was both a good thing and a bad thing. I did not want to be put on bed rest or reduced hours because we needed the money. I could have personally reduced my hours at any time I felt I should but unless it was recommended and signed off by my doctor, short term disability would not pick up the slack in any missed pay. So, I worked as much as I could and stepped out early here and there to get a nap or put my gigantic feet up. My boss was wonderful like that, so understanding.

My appointment went well. My Mom came along with me for extra support towards the end. My husband had an open invitation to all of my appointments, but we decided together that it was better for him to work, make money and save any paid time off for when the babies came and I needed him more. It is always good to have that second set of ears when things are overwhelming, though. My Mom is cool like that. I decided to ask the doctor to sweep my membrane that day. http://www.womenshealth.ie/pregnancy/sweeping-the-membranes/ I had it done when I was pregnant with my daughter and researched the pros and cons in preparation for this appointment. Sometimes it works to bring on labor and sometimes it does not. I felt that if the babies and my body were ready, it would bring on labor but also knew that it very well could not work and no harm would be done to any of us. This is the only procedure I would allow them to do. The week leading up to this appointment had been so physically trying, I cried so much that week. My body was near it's limit of what it could take. The sweeping worked.

By dinner time that evening, real contractions began. We sent our daughter to sleep over at her Oma's house (German for Grandma) in preparation for a possible late night trip to the hospital. It was the right decision. At around 3:00 in the morning of September 28th, I woke up my husband and told him it was time to go in. I snuck up to my older sons' room and gave them the option to come along. They decided to keep sleeping and I told them to stay home from school, we would keep them posted and someone would come pick them up and bring them to the hospital when it was time to meet their new baby brothers. One call to my Mom and we were on our way. I got hooked up, ice chipped and as comfortable as possible. Then the waiting began.

I decided, at the advice of the hospital staff, to accept an epidural. Baby A was head down and ready to go but Baby B was still lying transverse (horizontal) up under my ribs. I would have to deliver in the operating room in case of an emergency c-section. Were I to decline the epidural and a c-section was needed, there would be a significant amount of pain involved and having it already in place was the wisest choice. It ended up being a VERY good choice.

The urge to push came on quick and strong. The staff moved fast and got me to the operating room swiftly, husband and Mom in tow. The operating room was white, bright and uninviting. I can't even begin to tell you how many people were in that room. They were everywhere, busy as bees, organized chaos. I could barely move from pain and pure size. Do this, do that, they all kept saying. Getting up on the operating table was most difficult, I felt like a beached whale. I was in so much pain. Commotion all around me. Close my eyes and try to focus on breathing. Poked, prodded, pushed and pulled. Please let this go fast. Please let them be OK. Please let me live to see them. My mind was in a tail spin. Focus damn it!

I had two doctors on me; one to catch and one to run the ultrasound. I pushed...and pushed...and pushed...Baby A was here! That wasn't so bad, my Eddie Love. But don't get distracted, I still had one more to go. The next 7 minutes were absolute hell. I am suddenly being attacked. Hands all over me, frantic, repeatedly pushing on my belly with all of their might to try and get Baby B down. It's not working. It hurts. I feel a bit violated. I scan the room: Eddie is doing OK, I can barely see him through his circle of nurses but I can hear him crying. Mom and Allen are still there, trying their best to stay out of the way of the crowd. They seem OK. I did not realize, at the time, that they were wearing their poker faces, just for me. The doctor's are scared and loud. The catcher is about to throw in the towel and cut me wide open. The other doctor is not about to give up and pushes her aside. Suddenly, I can barely stand it. He is determined and I am in excruciating pain, even through the epidural. I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as I can. I don't want to see this. I grab both sides of the table and hold on like I have never held on to anything before. My hands cramp up and I squeeze even harder, as though a tornado is trying to rip a child from my death grip. If I felt violated a few minutes prior, it was nothing compared to this. The doctor was elbow deep inside of me, reaching for my baby, trying to save him. It felt like forever...and ever...oh my God, I wanted them out!

I must tell you, while I am sitting here writing and remembering, my body has been covered in goosebumps and chills, tears have welled up in my eyes. I was so scared and the feelings still crush me. I'll continue.

The doctor finally has a grip on Baby B's little foot and the pulling resumes ten fold. He does not slide out easily, he is breech and gets wedged, they are rushing to get him free. When he comes out into the bright and sterile world, he is not well. He is not breathing. His feet are black and blue as if he has been in a fight. His arm might even be broken. He has to be resuscitated. I do not get to see him for hours and hours. I had no idea this was going on. I had to deliver another placenta and get cleaned up and stitched. I could barely bring myself to keep my eyes open. I had just been severely assaulted and could barely stay awake, but they made me. It was almost over.

Baby B made it. He had to stay in the special nursery for at least 4 hours to be monitored due to very low blood sugar levels, but he pulled through and nothing was broken, just really banged up. Baby A did pretty well at first and was in my room with me in no time. About 3 1/2 hours later, Baby A was rushed off to the special nursery too because his blood sugar began to drop rapidly. It is not like me to let my babies go off without me, I had never let the previous three out of my sight while we were in the hospital, but this time it was out of my hands and I knew it. I had to let go. I had to sit back and allow this to play out without argument. I had to keep faith that we would all be OK. I was all alone in my room. I did not have my babies with me. I was so scared and so sad. I still hadn't met Baby B. Family started to show up. Put on my happy face and play nice. Smile.

The room is now full. There are at least ten of our closest family members in there and no babies. They had all just missed Baby A by twenty minutes or so. We chat, we laugh, we wait. My husband is nearest the door when it begins to open. I perk up because I can see the wheels of a bassinet under the privacy curtain. Baby A must be back, good, they will get to meet him. My husband picks up the baby with an ear to ear smile, so sweetly and begins to show him around. Like a shock straight to my heart I hear him say that it is Baby B and I am instantly bawling, streaming tears down my face, my arms outstretched as far as I can because I can't get up and out of the bed. I blubber, "It's Baby B! Oh my God, I haven't got to meet him yet!!" I am reaching, crying, feeling like I am drowning in a rush of emotions! Please, my dear husband, turn around and give him to me, please! I can not stand this much longer and am about to explode from wanting and needing and loving my baby! A few people see my desperate face and hear my heartfelt pleas and step forward hesitantly to help get Allen's attention. This all takes place in a matter of seconds but to me it was an eternity. He turns full circle and realizes what is going on and hands Baby B to me as quickly as possible. Ah...instant sigh of relief. Sweet, sweet Baby B is in my arms and I am complete. I am still bawling but smiling about it now. I look up at the room full of people and say, "I am sorry, please feel free to step closer, I just hadn't got to meet him yet." They did not know this and I had made a scene. I was allowed. But he was mine to hold, for now. I saw a few tears in other's eyes. We had word that Baby A was doing great and would be back soon. All was well. We made it. Our family of seven.

April 2013 - 6 months old

Baby A:  6 lbs. 13 ozs., born 11:53 AM
Baby B:  6 lbs. 9 ozs., born 12:00 PM

That is nearly 13 1/2 lbs. of baby at 36 1/2 weeks. No wonder I felt so awful. Thank goodness I let them sweep!

* This post is the sequel to 'When Push Comes to Shove'

Waiting Patiently

Thank you all for waiting so patiently for me to get back into the swing of things. I have also been waiting patiently, as that is all I can do at this point. I am now 28 weeks into my pregnancy with fraternal twin bouncing baby boys. The proverbial dust has settled since our shocking and life altering discovery of their existence in my practiced womb. Our three children are on board and excited for new siblings to arrive. The entire family that surrounds us have been so supportive and it feels like we have our own personal cheering section. We are ready...as ready as we can expect to be at his point.

I have the basic necessities. Diapers, clothes, blankets, etc. I am not stressing to have all the superfluous items at this point. I am in no condition to be stressed out. I have been down this familiar road before and now know what I will need immediately and what kind of things that can just wait. For example, I have two cribs, two swings, two activity bouncers and another high chair available to me but I have decided not to worry myself with getting these things home and set up yet. I realize that the babies will be quite small and that my play pen and breasts will suffice until I am ready. When the babies come home, I realize I am going to have nothing but time to set up my nest. I have no reason to hurry this process. This will be my last dance with newborns of my own body and I am going to relax and absorb the whole experience. I am going to enjoy it.

Changes are lurking around every corner for us. We have a lot on our plate and are staying focused on some goals. We already handled the car-is-too-small-for-a-family-of-seven problem. I traded in my Aztek for a Yukon and we are extremely happy with this decision so far. I was determined not to drive a mini van. I know that there are many of them out there and to each their own but I am just so not "that girl". I am still a wanna-be rock star at heart and a mini van would cramp my style. Ha!

Our house is quite old and in the current market we know that we could not sell it as fast as we need to or for nearly as much as we would want to. We are in the middle of a refinance instead with the hopes of keeping and renting our home so we can move on to a bigger and better one. Three bedrooms won't cut it for long with five kids. We have always been interested in owning rental property and this may be our first chance. Unfortunately, we are on quite a time crunch and I am waiting patiently for the results of the refinance. My last day at work is at the end of September, as long as the babies stay put. In order for this whole plan to work out we need both our incomes to qualify for a second mortgage. If it doesn't work out we will, of course, remain in our current abode, it will just be a tight fit. Plenty of families live with as little or less and we will be fine if it comes to that. For our plan to work we  just need to find a house, make an offer, get it accepted and then close on the new house within the next nine weeks or so. What? It could happen, right? I am staying positive and on track. It is all I can do.

I recently gave my notice at my job. I will not be returning to work after my maternity leave. I have given up my career for an indefinite length of time to stay home with the children. Lucky for us, my husband graduated last December and found a great job just minutes from our home. We could not be happier with his choice of employer and it could not have come at a better time for us as a family. Without the cost of daycare any longer, we will survive. We do not live extravagantly and are very practical people. We have lots of love and each other. We are aware that it will be hard at times but it will all turn out okay and we will only grow closer from the experience. This will be our next chapter.

Summer is fast coming to a close and we have a child beginning High School this September. We just finished with our sons' baseball seasons a few weeks ago and Fall baseball is beginning in less than three weeks. August will be full of preparations for school, buying supplies, going through the kids clothes, orientations, summer camp and more. It has been the hottest summer in recorded world history and I get to be pregnant for it. Something for the babies to hear about and enjoy, at my expense. Completely worth it, though. In a month we will be back into the routine of homework, baseball practice and games, band events, other extracurricular activities the kids throw at me, volunteering for the school as I can and then, you know, giving birth and all that. Nothing I can't handle. As long as I can stay off bed rest.

The Clouds Begin to Part

After my doctor's appointment yesterday morning I am feeling a whole lot better, mentally that is. The heavy gray clouds that have been floating above my head like Eeyore's for the last thirteen weeks are finally dissipating. Some people very dear to me have been worried about me and I am sorry for that. Others seem to think that I was/am not happy that I am pregnant. This is truly not the case. I am very happy to be pregnant one last time. My husband and I planned to do this together one last time. I have just been extremely afraid and on edge lately. I tried not to let it show but apparently I sucked at my attempt. Oops.

When I was pregnant with my three previous children I was happy the whole time. Of course there was the feeling sick times and the feeling tired times, but all around I was quite happy. Last fall I became pregnant and was so very happy. My last baby was on it's way. I found out on a Thursday morning in November and was, as usual, instantly in love. It is almost indescribable how quickly I fall in love. Two days later, on a Saturday night, I miscarried. I had only known about the baby for two short days but it hurt me deep down to lose it just the same. I try to keep my experience in perspective. I know that my measly two days are nothing compared to the experiences other mothers have had to endure. I did not realize how much it had hurt me until February when I became pregnant again, with my amazing, yet shocking, twins. Not only am I at a little higher risk of complications due to being blessed with twins but I now had this little dark cloud in my mind about the very realistic possibility of it all coming to an abrupt end.

Since February I have felt scared to become to attached to them. I have been hesitant to think to far into the future with them for fear of losing them. It was not quite as fun to think of names yet. I was made to wait six weeks between appointments this last time because I am doing just fine medically. Six weeks was far too long for my constant worrying brain. From weeks ten through weeks sixteen of the pregnancy we were still in a big danger zone. Miscarriage is more likely in the first trimester and Vanishing Twin Syndrome is not that uncommon up to around week twelve, something I came to find out after much research on my part. By week sixteen it is very normal not to really feel the babies move much yet. All of these facts were sitting right smack dab in the middle of my head. It has truly been a long six weeks for me. And I was already tired, to boot.

Yesterday morning, my husband and I went to my sixteen week appointment. Since I am having twins, my wonderful Doctor likes to do an ultrasound to check the babies heartbeats in order to tell them apart easier, which means I get to see them every time I go in. Yesterday, the moment I saw the first beautiful thing on the screen, it gave a little wiggle and brought a tear to my eye. Very quickly, the Doctor moved onto the next sweet little being and I saw that one wiggle too. A huge weight was immediately lifted from my weary shoulders. They are still in there and they are just fine. They are alive and kicking, literally. I will begin to feel their tiny ninja moves very soon. They are truly breath taking and they are all mine. Sigh of relief. Ahh.

Last night I was able to sit down and really write down a list of possible baby names, which is always super fun for me. I feel like I slept a little more sound. I am feeling so much more relaxed and am jonesing to garage sale like a crazy person, tee hee. I know that things can still go wrong because I am realistic. It is possible I could have pre-term labor, complications of all different kinds and even get stuck on bed rest while trying to raise three great kids at the same time. I just feel a whole lot better about the whole situation and am thinking positive thoughts. I feel happy and content. I am still tired, which is to be expected, and my appetite is finally starting to appear full throttle. I know it is going to be a long, hot and busy summer...but I am actually looking forward to it.

Two Sick & Two Tired

No, I did not drop off the face of the planet. No, I did not give up on my blog. I did, however, recently have my world rocked and needed some time to process and recuperate. What's the big deal, you ask? I am pregnant. This is good news. Great news, in fact. My husband and I decided to leave it up to fate and see if one more child was in the cards for us. Come to find out that fate actually wanted us to have two more babies. Yup. You heard me right, it is twins! I was in complete shock. At moments, here and there, I actually still am.

Looking back I feel quite naive that the possibility of having twins never once crossed my mind. There are no twins on either side of our families, as far back as we know. But when you think about straight odds, I should have thought of it. I am thirty four. I have five brothers and between the six of us we already have ten kids. It was bound to happen to one of us eventually. Fate picked me.

I am a planner. I have become more organized. I am proud of how far I have come over the last ten years. There are no late bill payments, no late papers. I have our medical, personal, educational, financial and social affairs in order. I planned for one more baby. I was whole-heartedly ready for one last baby. Fate does not seem to care for my plans. Fate must think I had things a little too figured out.

Things have changed. I need a bigger car and a bigger house. These are things I already wanted but was in no hurry to acquire them. There is a possibility I will need to quit my job and be a stay-at-home-Mom for a while. This would be a blessing. A way to bond with my children that was never an option in my life before. The mentally difficult part of this for me is that I just spent the last four years of my life working my hardest towards a specific career goal. My efforts were beginning to pay off and changes were slowly in the works. Having one more baby would not have changed this path for me. Two more babies truly does.

I have had six weeks to process all of this information. I have been a wreck on so many different levels. This pregnancy has already been so different from my previous ones. I am extremely nautious and more tired than I have felt in my whole life. Hibernation sounds quite wonderful right now.  My emotions are completely out of control. There have been episodes of depression and self-loathing. There is no libido to speak of. Some women feel more beautiful and excitable when the are pregnant. I have heard tales of glowing skin and hair and nails that grow in perfection. Not me. I actually feel extra hideous, gross, bloated and lame. I break out, which I almost never have a problem with when I am not pregnant. I am too hot, uncomfortable and irritable. I can't believe my husband was willing to do this with me again. I am truly grateful for my husband. He is a saint to sit by my side while I struggle with my body and my brain. My poor neglected husband. I am so lucky to have him.

And I now know that I am lucky to be having twins. I love babies. They are precious and smell like purity. I am very good with kids. Being a mother is my favorite. I have an amazing partner-in-crime and we have plenty of love to go around. I would be lying if I said I wasn't still a little bit scared. I am realistic. We are not out of the woods yet. October is still a ways away, but I have high hopes and I am excited. I have a large and supportive family. We will be okay. Even without my perfect plans.