It's becoming somewhat routine to come back to my blog after a few weeks away and toss out the excuse that life has been SO CRAZY lately, and then promise to try and do better. Would it help if I brought you flowers? Or chocolates? What about baby photos? I guess it's finally starting to sink in that crazy is just the status quo now, and I can probably stop referring to it as such. Life = Crazy. Moving on.
In the past three weeks
My parents arrived for a visit
The girls turned 6 months old, started sitting unassisted, "eating" solid food (still a work in progress), went swimming for the first time, and were supermodels at their 6 month photo session
We spent a week on the French Riviera with my parents and my aunt
We had a lovely weekend in the beautiful city of Nuremberg
That's an awful lot of excitement, and life won't be slowing down much any time soon. My parents are on a cruise now, so we have a slightly quieter week, then they and my inlaws will arrive on the 26th. My inlaws will stay through June 9th, then my sister arrives for the summer on the 11th. We're planning trips to Prague, Berlin and Paris, and some of our bestest friends are coming to visit in July. I guess I should amend my previous conclusion to state that Life = Crazy = Awesome. Our week in France was absolute magic. We rented a villa in the little town of St. Aygulf, about an hour from Nice, which meant that we were close enough to take in all of the touristy sights and far enough away from the hustle and bustle that we were able to completely and entirely decompress with a stunning view of the Mediterranean from every window.
We spent a couple of days just lounging around the house in pajamas and out by the pool, and a few days touring Nice, Antibes and Monaco. I fell even more in love with France on this trip. I love their approach to life--they work just as hard as they have to and are serious about relaxation and enjoying the good things in life. My kind of place.
This is the way I have chosen to make peace with our experience with Amsterdam. For you see, I loved Amsterdam, and yet, our experience there was not rife with great success. The weather was absolutely frigid, although we did luck out and experienced sunshine most days, the Rijksmuseum was closed while they rearranged exhibits for their grand reopening ten days after our visit, the tulips had only just begun to sprout and were barely in bloom in the Keukenhof, and Charlotte and Annabelle had their major simultaneous meltdown of the trip while we were in the Anne Frank house--the place that I have wanted to visit for years and years and yet could not fully appreciate because OH THE WAILING AND EMBARRASSMENT. So, instead of thinking of that as our one failed shot at the Netherlands, I'm remembering all of the wonderful parts of our trip, and looking forward to knocking the rest of our must-dos off the list the next time we visit. And it's not even as though everything went wrong. In fact, our first experience in the city was when we discovered upon checking in that we had been upgraded to a swanky hotel room the likes of which our peasant eyes had never seen so that they could accommodate our request for two cribs in the room. Annabelle and Charlotte approved. We had a marvelous time taking in the lovely architecture and canals--and of course the Red Light District. We just did a quick walk through the area because we had to see it for ourselves, but we were there at about 2 pm on a weekday--hardly prime time for prostitution, I suppose. It was not exactly the 1st string team in the windows is what I'm saying. We did get some laughs as we walked past the girls, making half hearted attempts at enticing the looky loos, playing on their phones, and essentially epitomizing the phrase "over it". That said, we did witness a gentleman enter one of those find establishments, so mark that experience off on our Amsterdam Bingo card. While there was about a 15 minute screaming session in the Anne Frank House, it was still one of the top moments of our visit. As a child, I read The Diary of Anne Frank countless times, captivated by the story of this courageous girl who told a story of great optimism in one of history's darkest moments. I even credit Anne with being a big part of the reason I started blogging. I grew up imagining what it would be like to tell your story to the world, and while my story is in no way comparable to hers, she did inspire me to maintain a record of my life for posterity. It was incredibly moving to see the exact spot where she lived the life that she wrote about so beautifully, and even more incredible to see one of her diaries on display.
The other big hit for me was the food. In our little area of Germany, 85% of the restaurants are a sort of German/Italian hybrid, and all seem to have the same basic menu consisting of pizza, pasta, and schnitzel. I cannot tell you how sick I am of pizza, pasta and schnitzel. Amsterdam, being a major metropolitan city, had SO MUCH VARIETY. We ate Indonesian, Mexican, Greek and, of course, Dutch, in our few days there, and I would be happy to return just to sample more of the delicious cuisine. Then, there was the Keukenhof. Oh, the Keukenhof. The whole point of our trip to Amsterdam in the spring was to go see the tulips. Waaaah waaaaah. There were a few tulips just beginning to bloom outside, and they had made an effort to pretty up the place with potted tulips they'd brought out from the greenhouses, but overall, it was a pretty bleak scene. Not much is more depressing than a garden in what is still essentially winter. Plus, it was super windy, and we were all pretty much over being freezing cold by that point. We spent our last day in Haarlem, and it was a very cute little town, with a really lovely art museum featuring the work of the Dutch artist, Frans Hals. We stopped in at a little cafe in the Grote Markt, visited the massive organ (thats what... she said?) in the Grote Kerk, and capped things off with a spin through the museum.
We even learned a fun new word as we were repeatedly approached by people wanting to meet Charlotte and Annabelle--"twins" in Dutch is "tweelings". How perfect is that! So, while we were met with a few great disappointments during our journey north, I still managed to form a highly favorable impression of the Netherlands. The people were incredibly kind, Amsterdam was absolutely lovely, and the food was delicious--good food alone can go a long way toward redeeming most any situation.
This weekend was pretty spectacular. I didn't know until the middle of the week that it was going to be a 3-day weekend for Colby, and while he had the alert phone for work, we weren't able to stray too far, but we did sneak off for a quick little adventure across the French border! It just so happened, that last week I had lunch with a good friend who had mentioned visiting a very cool citadel in the curiously named, Bitche, France. I was running low on ideas for good day trips, so it was perfect timing for her to mention it. Friday, we packed up the girls and made the hour-long drive to Bitche. The citadel was considered to be inpregnable, and its most important moment of history was during the Franco-Prussian war, when France lost a great deal of territory near their shared border to the Germans. The presentation of this time during the citadel's exitence was extremely well done. When we bought our tickets, we were each given a set of headphones and directed to the first stop of the tour in a small theater, housed in what used to house the guards.
At each stop along the tour, a 3-7 minute piece of a movie is shown, which tells the story of how the citadel stood against the invading Prussian forces. It was an incredibly well-done film, and really engaged me in the story in a way that doesn't often happen for me at battle sites.
When we finished our tour, we stopped in the cafe to feed ourselves and the babies, then continued on to our next exciting stop--the Cora supermarket in Forbach, France. We'd been hearing about the Cora since we moved here--how they had a great fish selection, good cheap wines, and more, but we hadn't been yet mainly because I found it hard to get overly excited about a supermarket. OH HOW WRONG WAS I!!! Suffice it to say, I got really, really excited about this supermarket. We spent about an hour wandering the aisles, and came home with a trunk full of goodies from fish to cheese to macaroons to macarons and more. That night we came home and enjoyed a delicious salmon dinner, and last night we enjoyed lamb filet mignon with herbed butter and white asparagus--all paired with authentic French bread, bien sûr. It's about a 40-minute drive from our house to Cora, but I think we'll try to make time for the journey on a semi-regular basis!
The rest of the weekend was spent lazing about the house catching up on a couple seasons worth of Doctor Who, Skyping with some friends and family, and doing some long-put-off decorating in the nursery. We also made the executive decision that every weekend should be a three-day-weekend. Who's with us?
The only thing more annoying than procrastinating about writing a blog post for so long that your eventual "catch up" post reaches a word count only dreamed of by 19th century Russian authors, is writing said blog post, taking a break to get a baby up from a nap, and returning to your computer to find that your browser inexplicably shut down, taking your finely (finally?) crafted post with it.
So, bullet points it is. Recently...
...we closed on the sale of our Charleston house. It's a little bittersweet because we looooooved Charleston and that house, but having just had two infants, we outgrew it, so even if we are to return there someday, as I hope, it wouldn't be to that house. We'd been under contract since June, but since the buyers needed an FHA loan (ugh), there was a plethora of drama, pushing our closing date back multiple times. However, it is done, we ended up with a nice sum in our pockets, so I have minimal complaints.
...we came away from tax season with a smile on our faces--probably for the last time for a while since the Air Force won't be taking Colby away from me nearly as often in the coming year, we won't be spending more than 7.5% of our income on medical expenses (thanks IVF) and we won't be getting two little tax deductions before December 31st. We're taking the money from the sale of the house and our tax return and starting our savings for Charlotte and Annabelle, buying new bikes and an iPad, setting a sum aside for future house repairs in Washington, and the rest will go into our retirement funds. A very satisfying mix of frivolous and responsible.
...we spent a week in the Netherlands, freezing our tails off with some old friends in Amsterdam on a fruitless hunt for tulips. Despite the unseasonably cold weather, we had a really good time with our friends and loved Amsterdam. It's definitely on our list of places to return to someday. Longer post to come about our adventures in Holland. ...the weather in Deutschland went from ridiculously frigid to absolutely heavenly. I've been spending as much time as possible outside, enjoying the sun, although I'm realizing that the girls really don't know how to handle Vitamin D in sunshine form. It seems like those itty bitty baby sunglasses will actually turn out to be useful as well as stupid cute.
That pretty much hits the highlights of the past month. I also battled off a pretty nasty bout of pneumonia and went to the doctor about the back pain that has been plaguing me since pregnancy, but that's not nearly as fun to talk about. I will be having my first experience with a chiropractor though, which I am somewhat irrationally terrified about.
All in all, things have been really good, and I am once more renewing my dedication to blogging. Hahaha, I know. But the girls are starting the nap for longer stretches, so it's possible I'm not full of crap this time. I guess we'll just have to see!
Warning: This is a post about sleep training, specifically, a method often referred to as Cry It Out. I understand it's a controversial subject, and it's not everyone's choice, so no flames please. You do what works for you, I do what works for me!
Ten days ago, I was about to reach my breaking point. Colby had been gone for four days out of a sixteen day TDY (this is the TDY that just keeps getting longer and longer...), Charlotte and Annabelle were going through a horrendous sleep regression, they were comfort nursing almost around the clock, Annabelle was teething. I was burning out fast.
We had initially planned to use the Ferber method on the girls when they were six-months old. However, sitting on my couch, an exhausted, screaming baby in each arm, I made the executive decision to bump up my timeline. The way we'd been doing bedtime for four months was that Colby and I would each take a baby, and rock, bounce or nurse said baby to sleep (I'll let you guess who used which methods).
Both girls had gotten to the point where typically, after about 30 minutes of the selected soothing technique, she would fall asleep. However, frequently, after sleeping for 30 minutes, sometimes even an hour, they would wake back up and need to be soothed back to sleep. Compounding the situation, Annabelle was hopelessly addicted to her pacifier, and would scream hysterically if she woke up and it wasn't in her mouth. And pretty much every time she woke up, it wasn't in her mouth.
Flying solo as a parent, there didn't seem to be a good way to use our constant soothing technique to get both girls to sleep. If I was trying to rock Annabelle to sleep, Charlotte was upset, if I was trying to nurse Charlotte, Annabelle would lose her pacifier and melt down. It was taking up to an hour to get them both to sleep, and when you take into account the fact that they nap every 90 minutes for maaaaaybe 30 minutes, and were waking up every couple of hours at night, I was spending the majority of my day trying to get baby girls to sleep, and reaping very little reward.
So, that pretty well sets the stage for my spontaneous decision to FERBERIZE OH MY GOD RIGHT NOW.
I know there's a Ferber book out there that probably goes into a lot more detail, but I used this website because The first nap was horrible. The site said that for naps, if the baby continues to cry for more than 30 minutes, call it quits and try again later. Right at 29 minutes, as I was walking upstairs to retrieve my furious children, they both fell asleep. They only slept for a half hour, but it was a start. I spent most of that half hour fretting over how scarred they were going to be, how much they were going to hate me when they woke up. But when I got them out of their cribs, they were all smiles and giggles.
That night, we went through the ritual of diaper change, changing into pajamas, reading a story or two, then swaddling with one arm out. I gave them both a lot of love, and then placed them in their cribs with the white noise machine and left the room. This time, it took about 45 minutes--most of the protest from Annabelle because, "HEY LADY, DELIVER MY PACIFIER IMMEDIATELY!" But they fell asleep at 10 pm and stayed asleep until 3 am. The longest stretch we'd gotten in about two months.
I wasn't ready to use CIO to wean them off of their night feedings, and wanted to talk to their pediatrician to make sure it was okay to break them of the night feeding habit since they're on the smaller side. So, I only used Ferber for initially getting them to bed, and then fed them each time they woke. I did decide it was probably okay to drop one of the feedings, and chose the one that typically fell around 12-2 am. I fed them for shorter amounts of time each night, hoping that eventually they'd stop feeling the need to wake and eat at that time.
The first few days weren't the absolute worst, but there were a fair amount of tears involved from all parties. But by day four, I was able to put them down without protests about 75% of the time. After a week, they might cry for a couple of minutes, but would quickly soothe themselves to sleep. Once I knew they could handle one arm out and still sleep for some decent stretches, I unswaddled the other arm, still keeping the swaddle tight around their middle. Then, this weekend, they slept from 9 pm to 8 am and 10 pm to 8:30 pm. Last night they had one wakeup at 5 am, then slept again until 8. (They always go back down after their 7 or 8 am feeding and wake for the day between 10 and 11 am.)
And as if that's not enough of a success story, today their typically 30, maaaaaybe 45 minute naps, have been 90 minutes.
I am so incredibly sold on this Ferber business. I know it doesn't work for some people for a variety of reasons, but i think a huge part of it is consistency. It's okay to go in and soothe at the approved times, but the minute you give in and pick up your child to nurse or rock, they'll know that if they just cry long or hard enough, they'll get what they want (not NEED, important distinction) and it's a vicious cycle to break.
You do have to be okay with hearing your child cry, and that is very hard. I just had to keep telling myself that they had full stomachs, clean diapers, were getting reassurance that I hadn't abandoned them, and weren't sick or in pain. And now I feel like I've given them a really wonderful gift in that they are learning how to soothe themselves without my assistance. I wish that I could always scoop them up and cuddle their tears away, but with two babies, I just can't always be there instantly. It's hard for all of us to accept, but it's something we're learning to deal with.
It's incredible how just getting 8 hours of sleep in a night and not battling over naps all day has changed my experience of being a mom. Now, I look forward to them waking up so that we can share our days, instead of sighing in frustration every time I hear a peep from the monitor. I don't dread bedtime, and I'm able to cuddle for enjoyment, not necessity!
Certainly, a child's sleep is a fluid thing, and while I'm feeling on top of the world right now, there will be plenty of sleepless nights in our future. But I feel it's safe to say that for the goal I was trying to achieve, Ferberizing has been a huge success for us and I'd wholeheartedly recommend it to any other parents searching for a sleep solution.
One of the aspects of having twins that we weren't expecting is how very curious people are about them. I can totally understand it of course, I've been fascinated by twins since I was a little kid (I actually used to tell people that when I grew up, I was going to have twin girls. So.), in no small part due to The Bobbsey Twins and the Sweet Valley series. So, I honestly don't find all of the questions, comments and stares we get offensive or annoying, but Colby and I do joke that we've had to start building "gawking time" into our schedule when we go out.
There are a few questions that I get over and over again. So, I thought I'd spend a little time here on the old blog answering them.
Are they twins? Are they identical? Do twins run in your family? Are they natural?
This is pretty much the litany we get when a stranger approaches us. So, the most basic response: yes, they're twins, no they're not identical, no twins don't run in our families, yes they're natural, but not spontaneous. As regular readers know, we conceived Charlotte and Annabelle in our first round of IVF, so our pregnancy was achieved through artificial insemination. But I can assure you, our babies are all natural. No pesticides or fertilizers here! And while twins don't run in our families, there is another set of fraternal twins a couple of years older than the girls in my family. I can't wait for them to meet some day!
How do you tell them apart? Which one is which? As the girls have gotten older, and grown out of that squishy, generic newborn stage, we don't get asked quiiiite as often how we tell them apart, but there are still the odd remarks about getting them mixed up. The more frequent question now is just which one is Charlotte and which one is Annabelle. The easiest way to tell them apart is face shape and hair. I call it the Bert and Ernie Rule. In the picture above, Charlotte is on the left. Her head and face is rounder (Ernie), and she has longer/more hair. Annabelle has a longer, thinner face (Bert), and is proof that bald is beautiful. Of course there are a million other differences that I can see because I spend almost every waking minute with them (different eyes, skin tone, toes, body shape, mouths, ears, etc), but I think those are the most readily apparent differences.
Do you feed them at the same time?
When they were brand new, and feeding almost hourly, I always fed them simultaneously. I'd use the football hold on a Twin My Brest Friend pillow (stupidest name ever). It was perfect, because otherwise, I would never have done anything but feed babies non-stop. Starting when they were about two months old, I began feeding them one at a time in the more standard cradle hold. Feeding simultaneously went quicker, but it was fairly uncomfortable, and I didn't have that lovely feeling of cuddling my precious baby. I felt like a cow. I still feed them at the same time in the middle of the night though, as long as Colby is around to help, because I love my girls, but sleep is takes priority over cuddles at 3 am.
Are they on the same schedule?
I try to keep their schedules as close as possible. I always change both of their diapers at the same time (unless there's an emergency poop situation), feed at the same time (well, one after the other), and put them down for naps and bed at the same time. I think since we started from the very beginning with syncing up their schedules, now they just naturally fall into similar rhythms. There are certainly times where one is less tired than the other, or more hungry, so I have to adapt, but overall, yes, I would say they're on the same schedule. The few times when one sleeps longer than the other makes for nice one-on-one time for me and whichever girlie is awake.
Do they sleep in the same crib?
Nope. In their first couple of weeks of existence, we had them in the same crib. Then we discovered that Charlotte would sleep much better in the Rock n' Play, so we set that up right next to Annabelle's crib and that's where she's been for naps and night time ever since. In the past week, I've been working on transitioning her to a crib, and while I initially tried putting them together, they've gotten too big and mobile for it. Annabelle, in particular, tends to flop around like a fish on dry land, so, inevitably, as soon as Charlotte would drift off, Annabelle would kick her in the head or swat her face, and we'd have meltdown central. So, they share a room, but I guess we're just skipping the crib bonding time.
I also get a ton of questions about cloth diapering, but I'm working on a separate post specifically addressing my love for the fluffy bums! I know there are lots of other twin mamas out there, did I cover the basics? Any other burning twin questions? Feel free to ask, there's not much I like more than talking about my babies!
A dramatic reenactment by Charlotte and Annabelle. One day, Colby returned home from work. "Angela, I have bad news. I have to go on a trip to the States for 10 days." Angela was perturbed.
The next day, Colby returned home from work. "Angela, I have bad news. My trip is actually 15 days." Angela was horrified.
Colby left. And everything was TERRIBLE AWFUL for a couple of days.
Then a wonderful neighbor came over to watch the girls so that Angela could leave the house and go for a run. (Because she has never loved running so much as now--no one is screaming! Or attached to her boob!)
The babies had been waking up every 2-3 hours at night for weeks and weeks. Angela hit her breaking point. Dr. Ferber was released upon her world. The little ladies were less than impressed.
After three days of "training", Angela put the babies to sleep at 9:30. They cried for less than 10 minutes then slept until 6:30 when Angela had to wake them or become her own personal boob milk fountain. They immediately went back to sleep and woke up for the day at 11:30.
~End Scene~
That brings us up to now. We're still only about a third of a way through this TDY, but I feel like I've gotten into a bit of a groove, and I think this next week will go by pretty quickly. I've got a couple of quiet days today and tomorrow, but then I've got plans almost every day until Colby gets home. I'm incredibly jealous because he's getting to hang out with one of my very best friends while he's Stateside, but he let me buy a jogging stroller and he's bringing it home with him, so I can't be too mad.
The first couple of days of this were truly terrible. I really look forward to Colby coming home at the end of each day for the assist, and it was tough getting used to the fact that I was it--not for a few days, but for a couple of weeks. I am so incredibly thankful that we have a very different military lifestyle than we did in either Washington or South Carolina. I can't even begin to imagine coping with two newborns while Colby was gone almost constantly. Or dealing with a deployment. Ugh. It makes me all shuddery to think about.
With ten days left to go, I still have moments of anxiety about how we'll get through this, but the days keep on ticking by, and I know that soon this will be in our past. When Colby gets home, he'll return to work for a week, but then we're taking a week and heading to Amsterdam, so I have that big light at the end of the tunnel to look forward to, and one way or another, I know we'll survive. And, I mean, look at these faces. There are surely worse ways to spend fifteen days!
It's hard to believe that we're already at the end of February and the girls are almost four months old. The last month and a half or so has been so much fun. They know who we are, and give us the brightest, happiest smiles. Annabelle's eyes light up and her mouth opens wide into the most adorable expression of glee. Charlotte raises her eyebrows, crinkles her nose and gives you a sideways glance and a mischievious grin. They're rolling over, trying to sit up, playing with toys, giggling at the baby in the mirror, trying out their voices, chewing on their hands. They take naps in their own room, giving me a much needed few hours to myself throughout the day. It takes ten or fifteen minutes to get them to sleep at night instead of three hours. They interact with the world around them, and even seem to be beginning to notice each other as they'll suddenly stop what they're doing and stare intently at the baby across the way. In short, I am loving this mom gig.
But full, brutal, honest disclosure? I didn't always.
It's still hard to admit that to myself. To know how hard we had to try to get here, and how much I felt like we'd made a huge mistake for the first two months of the girls' lives--that I wasn't cut out for this.
It's strange, because you hear all about baby blues and post partum depression and how hard motherhood is, but it's something that you just cannot prepare yourself for or understand until you are in the trenches. And once you're in there--the bullets whizzing by your head, in the same pajamas for the third day straight, a screaming baby in your arms and one ramping up, exhausted, sick to death of feeding your child--it suddenly seems like everyone around you is experiencing this perfect, rosy version of motherhood.
I think the world of social media has to take a lot of the blame for that. Now that I'm coming out on the other side of the horrible "fourth trimester", I look back and realize that I projected--or tried to project--that same image. Everything is perfect. I couldn't ask for a happier life. Look at this beautiful Instagram-filtered photo of my ideal life. But don't look beyond it. Don't really see me.
It took me time to fall in love with my babies. That's another one I wasn't expecting. Not only is motherhood hard, but either there is something very wrong with me, or not everyone forms an immediate, loving bond with their child. I was caring for these tiny strangers who didn't care, or even know, one way or another about my existence. I had a very strong protective instinct toward them--so strong that I experienced my first anxiety attacks after their birth. So strong that I was physically incapable of "sleeping when the baby sleeps". But I didn't feel an instantaneous, enjoyable love.
Combined with that, was the horrible guilt that I didn't feel like holding them all the time, that I resented the fact that they were attached to me every two hours--sometimes more. I was almost angry about the fact that breastfeeding went so well because it meant that I never got a break, that I didn't have an excuse to just formula feed and not be solely responsible for their nourishment. I actually do enjoy nursing now, and am so glad that I stuck with it, but it has taken me almost four months to get to this point. It took me almost two months to learn to enjoy my children, and to love them in something other than just a primal way. To enjoy their company. To look forward to seeing their little faces when they wake up, and not dread the moment.
I still feel awful confessing these things, but I feel even more awful keeping it a secret. Maybe this is normal. Maybe other people have these feelings. I don't know. Looking back, I wish I had realized that I was experiencing a little more than just the baby blues. I realized it in retrospect, but by then I was starting to come out of it and didn't feel the need for professional help.
I'm so glad that I had a supportive family here to help out with holding babies, cooking dinner, not judging me and my pajamas. That I have a husband who could not possibly be more helpful. Who changes diapers, gets up with me at night, rocks screaming babies to sleep, cooks dinner, helps clean the house, doesn't judge me and my pajamas. That I have two beautiful baby girls who I have finally fallen completely in love with.
I'm still not at the point where I can say that I hope we have another baby some day, but I have gotten to the place where I can understand why people would want to do this again. When I was stashing away the outgrown newborn and 0-3 month clothes, I actually found myself wondering if I should save it for possible future use. So things have gotten better. We're all doing better. But I wanted to be honest about how I got to this point. Maybe someone else out there is feeling these same things. Maybe everyone else feels them. Maybe no one else does. But it was my experience.
Once upon a time, in a faraway land... I gave birth to a couple of babies. It really does seem like a surreal experience in retrospect. Although, honestly, it felt like a surreal experience at the time as well. I was expecting a painful, terrifying, potentially dangerous ordeal, and instead what I got was a few hours of being really hungry, some time to watch some Arrested Development, an excuse to eat an entire box of grape and cherry popsicles, a two hour nap and two perfectly healthy baby girls. But let's start at the very beginning. I hear it's a very good place to start.
After months of Braxton Hicks and weeks of true contractions, with one fruitless trip to Labor and Delivery in the middle of the night, it came to pass that no babies were born. I'd been warned from day one that I'd be lucky to make it to 36 weeks and could probably expect labor to start closer to 34 weeks, but I was still lumbering along, with my uterine clown car at 37 weeks. I think no one was more surprised than my doctor that not only did I make it to my induction date, but I was only 3 centimeters dilated when I came in.
We checked into Landstuhl Regional Medical Center around 9 am on Friday, November 2nd. I was still incredibly anxious that I was going to be sent straight home without babies because Charlotte had to be head down in order for us to proceed with induction, and after spending almost the entire pregnancy banging on the door to be let out, the last couple of ultrasounds had shown her transverse. The midwife rolled in an ultrasound machine, spent some time peering at my internal organs, and seemed genuinely disappointed to inform us that Charlotte appeared to have her shoulder presenting rather than her head. I was thinking of all the ways I could stage a sit-in and refuse to leave until they yanked some babies out of me, when she decided, no, she did not trust the machine, she was going on an exploratory expedition of her own. She pushed up her metaphorical sleeves, and proceeded to jam her arm up my uterus practically to my throat, feeling around for a baby head. Lo and behold, either the machine had lied or Charlotte repositioned herself just in the nick of time, but it was decided that all was well, I was going to have some babies! That was just the first example of how wonderful my experience with my medical team at LRMC was. It truly seemed like they were just as excited for these babies to arrive as I was, and they did everything they could to help me feel comfortable, safe, and taken care of. I could not have asked for a more fantastic group of nurses, midwives, and doctors. I was started on a low dose drip of pitocin at 10:00 am and things progressed veeeeerrrry slowly throughout the morning and afternoon. I had my first contraction at 10:30 and over the course of the next few hours, the pitocin was upped so that the contractions became more intense and I eventually started dilating more.
Given my circumstances, I went into labor knowing for a certainty that I would get an epidural. There was a very good chance, given that Annabelle was still transverse, that I would need an emergency c-section, and I absolutely did not want to go under general anesthesia if that were the case. But with my experience with contractions up to the point that I got the epidural at 5 centimeters, I do wonder if I could have handled a medication free labor. The contractions were painful, but I never felt crippled by the pain and was able to breathe through them fairly easily. Of course, the pain would have become more intense down the line, it's just something I think about from time to time. Maybe if I ever have to deliver just one baby, I'll give it a try. But I also had a fantastic experience with the epidural, so I don't know. Why put myself through it if I don't have to, you know? Anyhow, I got the epidural in the early evening, and contrary to what I expected, things sped up after that. It had taken me most of the day to go from 3 to 5 centimeters, and then another couple of hours to get to 6 centimeters, so I figured I'd take a nap since I evidently had plenty of time before the ladies arrived. I was rolled over on my side to help the epidural take better, and slept on and off for about two hours. The next thing I knew, my doctor was in the room to check me and announcing that it was go time. Because it was twins, I delivered in the OR so that they could move immediately to a c-section if necessary. It was quite a party in there, and that's when I started freaking out a little bit and my body started going into a mild form of shock. Colby had to suit up while they were prepping me for delivery, so for the first few minutes, I was by myself in a room full of almost all strangers. There was my doctor and a girl he was training, two baby teams, the anesthesiologist, a nurse from the NICU, my nurse, and possibly some others--I know there was a total of 14 or 15 people in the room all hustling and bustling as I laid there staring at a giant OR light, shivering like crazy, without any pants.
And that is why I will always love my anesthesiologist. He noticed that I was proceeding quickly into a silent freak out, and after covering my upper chest and arms in a deliciously warm inflatable blanket, he leaned over me and in his soothing anesthesiologist voice introduced himself, talked to me about everything he was doing and what everyone in the room was doing, and basically kept me from the edge of madness until Colby arrived.
Then my nurse came and took my hand and told me it was time to push. Now, this was one of the craziest experiences I've had, because I could feel absolutely nothing below the waist, yet I somehow had to get these babies out of me. So the nurse told me that she would tell me when a contraction was coming and I would need to push while she counted to eight. Fortunately, I remembered a little tidbit we had learned at our birthing class, that I would need to push as though I were trying to have a bowel movement. Gross, yes. But effective? Also yes.
I pushed for 15 minutes with Charlotte, and everyone in the room was my biggest cheerleader. They made me feel like I was the champion of delivering babies. At some point they put me on oxygen, but that was the only slight hiccup, and Charlotte Cecilia came screaming into the world at 12:17 am on November 3rd, 5 lbs 12.9 oz 18.9 inches long. They placed her on my stomach so that I could meet her, and Colby cut the cord, but then there was more work to be done.
The doctor asked my nurse if Annabelle was still breech, but by some miracle, that little baby had flipped herself around and raced for the exit as soon as her sister checked out. So, without further delay, another contraction came on and the nurse started the pushing count down. I don't know how it's possible to not be able to feel something, but also be completely exhausted by it. I am in awe of women who push for hours on end. I'd pushed for 15 minutes, had a break for a couple of minutes, and then minutes later, Annabelle Claire joined the party at 12:22 am, 5 lbs 15 oz 19.1 inches long.
After that, everything is such a blur. The doctor asked us if we wanted to see the placentas, and in adrenaline powered curiosity, I said yes. It was actually really fascinating, and I'm glad I got to look at the organ that kept my girls safe for 37 weeks and 1 day. I had a second degree tear, so once we were done with the science lesson, he stitched me up and I was transfered from the table back to the hospital bed for the ride back to the labor room. I imagine we probably got back to the room, where my mom was waiting anxiously, around 1 am, and I have no idea where the next four hours went. I know the girls got baths and we had our first breastfeeding session. Both girls latched on pretty well for first timers, and the only worrisome part was that Charlotte had a hard time warming up to the right temperature. They had me do skin to skin with her for a while, and finally she got the all clear and was bundled up next to her sister.
Then, I was under strict instructions to pee or I was going to get a catheter. They'd been pumping fluids into me for hours, and I'd been drinking water like crazy, so my bladder was incredibly full, but evidently one of the side effects of the epidural can be difficulty urinating independently once the catheter is removed. However, by then the epidural was wearing off, and the last thing I wanted was to be re-catheterized, so we turned on the water faucet and I tried very hard to think of waterfalls. When it finally happened, it was like that scene in Austin Powers--I didn't think it would ever stop! Finally, the epidural wore off enough that I was able to take a quick shower, then it was down to the mother and baby ward to try and get some sleep. What I still can't believe is that when I was wheeled down to my room for the next two days, Charlotte and Annabelle were able to come with us. It's absolutely amazing to me that our little peanuts didn't have to spend any time at all in the NICU. That had been almost a certainty--just like the fact that they were going to come no later than 36 weeks--but my little troopers blew us all away by being perfectly developed and healthy. We had a moment of concern when we were told later that morning that Annabelle had a slight heart murmur that they were monitoring, but by the time we checked out on Monday morning it had resolved itself. I am so proud of my little miracle babies and love them more and more with every day that passes.
(Fabulous birth photography done by my wonderfully talented friend, Jennifer Winfrey of Jennifer Winfrey Photography)
Historical Note: The Battle of Pacifier Point is commonly held to be the turning point in the long-running conflict between the rebels and their Motherland. Prior to the Motherland's crucial triumph in the fields of Pacifier Point, the rebels were frequently seen exhibiting the behavior pictured below. However, after their defeat, the rebels could be more easily subdued through the use of specifically engineered bits of rubber and plastic, as seen here: Although the Conflict is ongoing, the Battle of Pacifier Point reenergized the soldiers fighting on behalf of the Motherland, and their war cry can still be heard throughout the land: "I'M DOING THIS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD!"
On Saturday, January 26, 2013, Charlotte was successfully quieted and dissuaded from a full-on meltdown through the use of a pacifier. There are an awful lot of milestones that have occured over the past 12 weeks, most of which I'm pretty hazy on the specific dates, but I will never, ever forget this past Saturday.
Like most parents, initially we were mostly against the idea of a pacifier. Nipple confusion! Overbite! NIPPLE CONFUSION!! Then we met Charlotte and Annabelle. Perhaps these girls have a stronger and more insistent sucking instinct than most babies, or maybe Colby and I are weak, but by the time they were two days old, we were begging the nurses in the Mother & Baby ward for relief in the form of a baby plug. Both girls accepted the pacifier, and were fairly easily calmed with it for the first couple of weeks of life. By a little over a month old, Annabelle was a raging pacifier addict, but Charlotte would have nothing to do with them.
It's not that her sucking instinct had waned, it's just that she preferred to "self-soothe" on my boob. We tried three or four different styles (of pacifiers, not boobs), but she would have nothing to do with them, and her screaming rage knew no bounds. For the past three weeks, I have been completely unable to put her down for a nap for longer then 10 minutes. She would fall soundly asleep in my arms, snoring and sleep-smiling, but the second there was a gap between us large enough for a slight breeze to pass through, her eyelids would snap open, she'd glare at me reproachfully, screw up her face and let loose a howl of unspeakable fury.
So. That was fun. Then, this weekend I noticed that she was trying to stick the bill of her little duckie lovey into her mouth, and she seemed to want to suck on it. So, I grabbed Annabelle's spare pacifier, and stuck it in Charlotte's mouth. At first, she used her tongue to angrily thrust it from her person, but after a little persistence on my end, she started sucking. And then she fell asleep. In her Rock n'Play. ON HER OWN. And stayed asleep! It was nothing short of a miracle. Things have gotten a lot easier in the past couple of weeks. I've been feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the responsibility for caring for two babies on my own for the majority of the day, but things get infinitessimally easier day by day. It helps that both girls have started smiling at us intentionally and responsively now, rather than just smiley muscle spasms. It's awesome to go get them out of bed or give them a big smile, and see that toothless, gummy, open-mouthed grin in response. We've even gotten a couple of little laughs out of them.
I'm also trying to get back out into the world of functioning humans. Last week, I took the babies to a doctor's appointment on my own, and had a friend over for tea. This week, I'm flying solo to another couple of doctor's appointments (at what point will I stop feeling like I LIVE at the hospital??), and meeting a couple of friends for lunch and coffee. So, basically, I feel like Wonder Woman. Oh, and did I mention that both babies are asleep right now? At the same time? Photographic evidence--check it: Now, if only they could figure out their arms and stop spastically slapping themselves awake after 20 minutes, all would be perfect in our world.
