life with twins - six months in.

Somehow (seemingly overnight) I'm now the mom of six month old twins.

No longer newborns, the baby stage is slipping by me faster and faster. Will and Nora are both sleeping through the night (that started around 3 months, bless their souls!), eating rice cereal (when I can find the time, honestly you guys, it's not often.), putting their own binkies back in their own mouths, smiling, laughing, babbling, rolling all over the room, teething, paying attention to books, idolizing their big sister, beaming at Mom and Dad, and embarking upon "stranger danger".

I want to throw all the cliches at you. "It's gone by too fast! In the blink of an eye! I turned around and half a year had passed!" And it's true. But it's not. It has been fast, but it's also been slow. Life with twins is strange that way. A month flies by like lighting, but a day can be excruciatingly slow. I've learned so much about myself in the past six months, and I've been pushed to my physical, emotional and mental limits. It has been a big experience in my life, one that I know I'll look back on fondly but also with a deep sense of "how the hell did I survive??" because at times, it has been really rough. Truth be told, I could use a full-time mother's helper, or nanny. I could use a cleaning lady (oh my gosh, I need a cleaning lady). My husband works long days and I run up and down the stairs in my house no less than 200 times a day and my kids NEVER all nap at the same time (never, ever, we aren't getting back together, IT DOESN'T HAPPEN.) My kids are all really little and really needy and they all poop their pants and sleep in cribs and are down right exhausting.

But even still, it's a JOY.

I can honestly say that everything about having twins has been better than I expected. Everything has been happier, been brighter and sunnier and I have found myself to be more capable than I ever thought I would be. I really don't mean to toot my own horn here AT ALL, I just want to offer up my perspective. Having multiples is really hard and you will find no shortage of people who'll tell you just how hard multiples can be, so I just want to throw my own little voice into the mix and chime in to say "it wasn't as bad as I imagined it would be!". Because so far, it's really not as bad as I imagined it would be (but that said, I imagined that it would be REALLY bad. Like, I was barely even excited and mostly just terrified). I know that most of this is due to the fact that I love babies. I've always liked babies, but having babies (and especially have two babies simultaneously) has made me realize that babies are my sweet spot. Babies are my jam. So, give me TWO adorable, smiley, squishy, cuddly, drooly babies, and most days I'll really love it.

My life didn't end, the way I thought it would. Today I took all 3 kids to Tracy Aviary and things were fine, and Greg and I take our kids out to dinner and it's fine, and really, the last six months have been so good in so many ways. I have also been so blessed to be surrounded by so many loving people who've made all the difference during this time. My Mom has been an angel and spent so much of her time during these past 6 months helping me and babysitting for me and cheering me up and cheering me on. We've received countless dinners from friends, ward members and neighbors. Greg's mom has a heart of gold and wants to visit and babysit anytime she gets the chance. I have the sweetest sisters-in-law on planet earth who've helped with the twins and with Evie and been such a source of comfort and support for me. I don't have the words to thank everyone adequately. I have been so humbled and touched by the service we've received and I wouldn't be as happy or sane or okay as I am today without each of you. It means the world. So, thank you.

We are 6 months in, and we have 6 months to go. I know that these next 6 months will be just as challenging as the past 6, albeit in different ways. And I know they will be just as happy and exciting as well. I am up for the challenge. I am lucky to be their mom. I am so lucky to be a Mom, period. It is the biggest blessing I've ever known. It is hard and exhausting and wonderful and I hope it won't pass me by too quickly.

A picture's worth a thousand words, so here are a thousand of pictures to say all of this better than I can.

THEN:

AND NOW:

 

And there you have it. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

PS. This random assortment of pictures are essentially from the first 2 weeks of Will & Nora's life and the most recent 2 weeks. And I really narrowed it down. The other day I was saying to Greg that I worry I don't take enough pictures. Let's all have a good laugh.

will & nora: month five.

(I wrote these quick, somewhat pathetic, updates back on April 15th, when Nora & Will were 5 months old. I planned to elaborate, but time got away from me, as usual. I'm posting it anyways, just for my own records. Feel free to skip this one, folks.)

william:

• Loves his binky, cries for it in the night & needs Mama to come put it back in for him
• Sweetest little kitten cry that is adorable to hear
• Doesn't care to roll around as much, content where he is.
  
• My non-napper most days, he never sleeps as well as his sister (that's okay, buddy!)
• So easy-going when he's awake
• Loves to play with toys, can spin the spinners on his mobile and grab any toy and get it into his mouth
• Really focused
• Will stare at me and wait for me to make eye contact and then give me a great smile
• Timid
• Gets easy frightened by noises, easily startled, easily heartbroken (take a toy away that he wanted and he will immediately sob)
• Mamas boy
• Loves to stand up, strong little legs
• Wants to stand up while being burped
• Always falls asleep on walks, insta stroller sleeper.
• Screams when he is excited or when he is overly tired
• Kicks his legs and gets bright eyed when he sees someone he loves
• A tender little soul, with a huge heart and a calm, peaceful little spirit. Makes my heart burst with empathy. Seems to be full of goodness and patience and so much love.

We love you so much, Mr. William!

nora:

• Good sleeper, good eater, my best eater so far.
• Great napper, loves her sleep! Would happily sleep in every morning if she weren't a twin
• Loves her blankie and binkie
• Sweetest smile that literally overtakes her face, does the best full-body smile
• Squinty eyes, just like her mom
• Looks so much like Evie at that age
• Chubby chubby cheeks, chubby little thighs, might be my chubbiest baby
• Loves to roll over, wants to explore her surroundings
• Likes tummy time, has completely corrected her torticollis
• Loves her mobile
• Gets so happy to see mama in the morning, giggles and squeals
• Sweet as pie but can go from happy to mad in 2 seconds flat
• Loves to watch William, thinks he is really interesting and great.
• Has a really stressful, mad cry that stresses her dad out
• Never falls asleep on a walk, loves to look around, very alert and involved
• So so ticklish, even just raising her arms above her head is a ticklish thing to Nora.
• Laughs when mom laughs or when mom holds her tight- does a little squeal of excitement
• Loves to cuddle, will fall asleep in my arms with her blankie and binky
• Wakes up happy, loves to stretch her little arms up and give a big smile
• Full of joy and enthusiasm and excitement. Thinks life is funny and wonderful and wants to find laughter in every little thing. Such a joy to be around.

We love you, Hattie Boo!

 

 

nora's story. part one.

 

I've had this nagging feeling lately.

You need to write about Nora.

I've mostly just ignored the promptings. I don't really want to write about Nora. I don't want to re-live most of it and I know everyone, including us, has moved on.

But still, the nagging continues.
I guess even our worst memories and darkest times deserve to be documented.

***

I don't remember the date that it happened. I don't remember what day of the week it was, although I could look. It was cold outside, it was December. I was tired and sore and the babies were brand new. My Mom was at my house helping me, Greg was home, Andy came over.

One of us changed her diaper. Me? Greg? Mom?
We found blood.
Bright and startling and everywhere.

I called the pediatrician.
It's likely a milk allergy, they said.
Bring her in tomorrow if it continues. Don't worry.
My heart was racing, even as the nurse spoke, that I will never forget.

A few hours later there was another diaper change, this time the amount of blood terrified us. Surely something was wrong, surely we needed to do something. Within minutes we had her bundled and the diaper bag packed and we were pulling milk out of the freezer to bring, just in case.

It was late by now, almost 9pm, so we took her to the evening clinic down the street.
Despite the blood and the worry, Nora was sweet and content and perfect. She was dressed in soft, light blue footy pajamas with a tiny pink bow glued to her head. I moved to the farthest end of the waiting room, away from all the other patients to protect my tiny baby. I held her and rocked her and fed her a warm bottle until her heart was content. Still, it makes my eyes well up with tears to even write that sentence. I fed her a warm bottle. 

It would be 13 days before she would have another.

Finally, they called us back to see the doctor. Nora was weighed and measured and examined. She was thriving at home with us, she was gaining weight and sleeping and growing and her cheeks were flushed pink, full and round.

I could have never imagined how quickly things would spiral from that moment on. Even in my darkest thoughts, where I mapped out worst case scenarios and imagined all that could go wrong, I never saw any of it coming.

We were told that she looked healthy and well. We were told there was a small, miniscule, tiny chance it could be something very serious called NEC. We were told babies born at almost 37 weeks (Nora was born at 36 weeks 4 days) almost never get NEC. We were told it would be baffling and shocking if she had it. We were told to take her to Primary Childrens Hospital for an X-ray just to rule it out. We were told not to worry.

The minute the doctor left the room my heart sank into my toes and my eyes errupted with tears. Nora had already spent 7 days in the NICU. William, 10. I was exhausted from the experience of the NICU. I was exhausted of the Nurses and Doctors and IV's and feeding tubes. The heart rate monitors and blood pressure cuffs and the helplessness of watching someone else care for your own baby. When we had left the NICU that last time with William I had promised myself and my babies and God that we would never come back. Some people leave the NICU with lifelong friends in the nurses and beautiful, life-affirming experiences behind them and gratitude in their hearts. Although I was grateful, although I had tried to make the best of my experience there, mostly I just never, ever wanted to return.

They can't take her from me again, I sobbed into Greg's shoulder as we sat in the bright, bright room. I can't handle it, I insisted. Dread and fear and overwhelming heartache filled every crevice of my body, mind and heart. I was so, so afraid.

We drove to Primary Children's Hospital and Nora was immediately x-rayed. The nurses asked us lighthearted questions and remarked on how cute Nora was as they positioned her on the table. How sweet and precious and tiny. I tried to keep my spirits up and be positive. Greg held my hand and took a picture of our tiny baby on the x-ray table. A milestone, he said. He promised me nothing was wrong. He promised this would all just be a strange memory.

We were moved to a room in the ER to await the results. By now, Nora was starting to get hungry again, it was close to midnight. Each time a nurse came in to check on us I insisted that I needed to feed my hungry baby. She cried and opened her little lips against my chest, searching for the milk she knew I had inside me. You cannot feed her, no matter what, they told me, and after a while I was furious with every doctor and nurse who told me no. I bounced her and rocked her and sang to her and we both cried. Eventually, we both sobbed. She continued opening her mouth to find my breast, opening it as far and as wide as it would go, confused and devastated to find nothing waiting for her. She was so tiny, so brand new. She knew nothing in the world yet except hunger. She knew nothing except that I was the person who fed her. I was the one who smelled like milk. My whole body ached to feed her. Physically and emotionally and entirely, I was filled with pain. The milk rushed to the surface in response to her cries. My body yearned for a baby to feed. My baby yearned for me to relieve her of the devastating hunger. I could give her nothing.

We waited for what felt like days, but was, in realty, hours. I sobbed. Nora sobbed. To this day, it was one of the most excruciatingly painful things I have ever done. Time passed and Nora eventually fell asleep, exhausted and defeated and starving, but done trying.

We recieved the news on the phone first. The doctor who had seen as at the clinic had followed up with the hospital and decided to call us in that room to soften the blow. Greg answered the phone and I felt like I might throw up. I knew, from the look on his face, that the worst had happened. The chances were so small, the likelihood so miniscule, and yet, here we were.

Nora had NEC.

If I was upset before, I was absolutely destroyed now. It was hard to stand or to breathe. I understood almost nothing of what I was told. Doctors and nurses filtered in and out of our room, explaining things to us again and again. Explaining NEC, explaining the treatment plan, using big words and complicated medical jargon while I held my tiny baby and cried. I heard little of what was said to me, and what I did understand made me want to curl up in a ball and disappear. Nora was staying at the hospital for a few weeks, best case scenario. She was very ill. It was very serious. There was risk of bowel perforation and serious infection. It could be fatal. She might need an operation. She could lose part of her bowels. She would not be allowed to eat for 10 days, at least. They needed to draw her blood, they needed to put in an IV, she would be transferred to the Primary Children's NICU and kept in isolation. I was livid. I was confused. I was devastated.

I knew nothing except that my baby was starving and I had the milk to feed her.

We moved to the NICU and Nora was undressed and laid in the incubator. I felt sick at the sight of them hooking her back up to the monitors we had left behind only a week earlier. She had a crib at home. She had clean pajamas in her drawer, and a lamp next to her changing pad and she had a brother and a sister and warm blankets in the cupboard. She ate 3 ounces every 3 hours. She liked to be swaddled, she liked to be held. I had changed every diaper and made every drop of milk. She had a home and a family and she was ours, we had named her Nora Hattie. How could this be happening?? How could they be taking my baby who was, just hours earlier, sleeping peacefully in my arms??

I wanted to take my baby out of that incubator and RUN.

The next few hours are a complete blur to me. I remember nothing that was said, and little of what was done. I left the room when they drew her blood, I signed a form allowing them to put a pic line in. I sat in the corner and cried while a team of doctors and nutritionists talked to Greg. I stared at my baby and tried to will all of it away.

Eventually Greg dragged me away from her bedside and out of the hospital. He put me in the car and drove me home. I don't think I spoke or cried, even. I remember my forehead against the ice cold car window. I remember clutching the diaper bag, her soft blue pajamas and the blanket I had brought for her hours earlier. It all seemed to stupid now. I had worried about bringing milk to thaw in case our time in the waiting room dragged on. I had sat in the farthest corner to protect my tiny baby from illness. And now, none of it mattered. She was in the hospital. She was alone. She was starving and couldn't be fed. She was crying. She was in pain. And I was in a car headed home. I had left her behind to suffer. And I was her Mother.

I remember walking into the house and down the stairs. I remember seeing my Mom waiting for me. She had been crying, a lot. I remember dropping the diaper bag and falling into her arms, falling to the floor. I remember sobbing and wailing and screaming. I remember begging my Mom to make it all go away. I remember telling her over and over again that Nora was starving, but they wouldn't let me feed her. Again and again, that's all I could think or feel. She was starving, Mom. Starving.

Someone (my Dad? Greg?) picked me up off the ground and carried me into my bed. My Mom took of my shoes and my coat and stroked my forehead as I sobbed. I heard muffled voices outside the bedroom door. I heard William cry softly over the baby monitor.

Eventually everything went dark.

evie turned two.

A few pictures from Evie's little birthday party at the beginning of the year. She was such a happy little birthday ham this year and loved the attention. We sure do love you, Evie Jane! I hope you had a magical birthday.

 

congrads.

HE. IS. DONE!

Our entire family of five is so thrilled and overjoyed and relieved that Greg is finally finished with his MBA from Duke University! The past almost two years of school have been a whirlwind as Greg has traveled all over the world and studied like a maniac into the night after work each day.

Meanwhile I was busy being a single Mom, and then being a single and pregnant Mom, and finally, a single Mom pregnant with twins. I mean, he definitely had a lot on his plate, but I felt like I deserved a diploma or something, too ;)

In all seriousness, Greg is one of the hardest workers I've ever known. His ability to balance a demanding job, growing family, and one of the top MBA programs in the country truly amazed me. He is determined and disciplined and so smart. He accomplished everything he set out to do, and we couldn't be more proud of how well he did it all. I remember a few years ago when we were trying to decide if and where he would get an MBA--and how the hell we would survive the experience if he did decide to go--I never could have imagined how the time would fly and how much our family would be blessed throughout the experience. Evie grew from a baby to a toddler, we added 2 new family members, and somehow, despite all the stress, we managed to come out stronger and happier than before.

Congratulations, Greggor! Your family loves you too much!

(A few pictures from his graduation party)

PS. Places visited:

SHANGHAI, CHINA
LONDON, ENGLAND
DUBAI, UAE
NEW DELHI, INDIA
ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA
DURHAM, NORTH CAROLINA