Things I've Learned Since Becoming a Parent

I never paid much attention to the "rules" and changes that come with the parenting experience until I was a parent myself, because who cares?  Now that I have kids and have some new responsibilities, I'm learning a lot.  Allow me to share with you some of what I've learned.

- A person who previously could not drink a cup of coffee without having heart palpitations can often handle two cups at a time once children come into the picture.

- Letting a child cry for any amount of time is abuse.  If you've allowed your baby to cry for any amount of time in her life and she appears happy and healthy, it's because she's faking.  She actually is hopeless and doesn't trust you.

- People want to know if your child sleeps through the night.  Because if she does, you've been abusing and starving her.  If she doesn't, it's because you're failing as a parent.

- You must ALWAYS listen to doctors.  They are always right.  Even if they all have conflicting advice.  It's ALL correct, because they have medical degrees.  They don't need to learn anything new once they have that degree, because medicine never changes.  Don't question them.*  If you don't also have a medical degree, you are only capable of getting health information from mommy blogs and memes.

*The exception to this is that you should NEVER listen to doctors who practice any type of alternative or integrative medicine.  They are quacks.  It doesn't matter if they can provide scientific evidence to back up their treatment methods.  It's psuedoscience.  No one needs vitamins, herbs will all kill you, and only the pharmaceutical companies have your best interest at heart.  (Don't worry about the fact that the US has the highest infant mortality rate among developed nations and that the third leading cause of death is medical error.  I'm sure it's just all those anti-science/anti-medicine people and their kids that are dying.)

- You must introduce new foods one at a time and only every few days so that you can identify possible allergens.  Medicines (including vaccines) are safe for everyone of every age and should be taken in cocktails and without question, because no one has ever had a reaction of any sort to anything made in a lab.  Except for when they did, but those people don't matter, and everyone else is fine, so do it anyway.  And really, the only reaction worth noting is death.  Lifelong issues like autoimmune diseases, severe food allergies, diabetes, GI issues, seizures, ADD, etc. are no big deal.  What we really have to worry about is chickenpox.  Remember how you and everyone you knew died or had lifelong problems from that?

- As soon as you think you have something figured out, it's time for a change.

- You MUST decide what kind of parent you are and wear that label proudly.  Attachment parent, helicopter parent, sleep training parent, free range parent....  Don't forget to post articles every day to let people know they're doing it wrong.

- Don't worry too much or too little.  It's very easy to control that.  Get it together.

- Disciplining children is wrong.  You don't want to break their spirits.  You want them to be happy, and society will make sure to treat them the same way as adults that you have as children, so they don't need any skills or to understand consequences.

- Sleep training is for lazy people.  Only lazy people would stay up all night for a week or more to soothe their baby in short intervals so that they can feel secure enough to start sleeping on their own.

- If you are able to sleep, shower, or eat, you're probably neglecting your child.  Good parents should have no time to themselves.

- A good way to keep diseases at bay is to vaccinate heavily, but take your sick baby around everyone you can.  Take them to the store, daycare, other people's houses, birthday parties.  Remember, no one gets sick from anything there isn't a vaccine for.

- You must be ready for a debate about every choice you make.  If someone did something one way and their kids "turned out fine," you must do it the same way so that yours will turn out fine as well.

- Many parents don't appreciate sarcasm and will become defensive upon reading this post.  In response, they will say one of the things above in a passive aggressive manner.

3 Months Already!

I had hoped to blog more about all the milestones and firsts with the babies, but I haven't had time.  I've actually been writing this in 5 minute intervals over the course of 4 days.  It's hard to believe they're already 3 months old.  I feel like we've shifted out of survival mode and into a more enjoyable "real life" mode.  I attribute some of this new, more enjoyable way of life to having a pretty strict schedule.  Yeah, we might miss out on going somewhere sometimes, but it's so worth it to have them both sleeping 11 hours at night and napping well during the day.  And best of all, they wake up happy and playful, and I am a much better mom when I'm rested.  It takes work and consistency, and they didn't love it the first day or two of each schedule adjustment, but it's so much better for all of us that we can all know what to expect as far as when they'll eat and sleep.  It's become kind of a joke between Matt and I that when William starts losing his mind at night, we know that it's 6:30.  Their little internal clocks are definitely set for their feeding and nap times.  Plus, if I am going to go somewhere, the last thing I want to do is spend the whole time trying to calm down two overtired, super cranky babies.  No thanks.

They've had pretty obvious personalities since before they were even born, but it's getting to be so interesting to see how those personalities develop.  William is so observant and mostly laid back (except when it's close to time to eat or when he's gassy).  He babbles a little, but it's very quiet and much less frequent than Pearl's.  He is always moving, though.  Through diaper changes, swaddling, nap time... he is always running an imaginary marathon.  I'll go to get him from his crib in the morning, and he'll be at the opposite end, turned 180 degrees.  He doesn't tire out nearly as quickly as Pearl does, but he also doesn't fight going to sleep like she does.  In the mornings, he is like a puppy - excitedly making little panting noises and wiggling all over the place when I come in to get him up.  He does this cry that sounds like "Maaaa maaaa!"  That makes Matt laugh and breaks my heart, since it is accompanied by the saddest pout you've ever seen.  He has gone from looking like a tiny, wrinkly, old man to a baby that people refer to as "chubby."   Some nicknames I've given him (in addition to him earning back "Chunk") are Mr. Wigglesworth and Silly Willy.

Mr. Wigglesworth on Easter

 Pearl is a funny little mystery.  She acts as though she isn't interested in doing something at all and then will just decide to do it one day as if she could do it all along.  She wouldn't even begin to crack a smile long after William was grinning at us on a regular basis, and then one day she just decided to start smiling and cooing.  She went from not making a peep straight to chatterbox status. Yesterday, after all this time of either just screaming or going to sleep during tummy time, she decided to roll over.  Twice. Within a minute of me putting her on her stomach.  She puts up a big fight most nights when it's bedtime, but she passes out about a minute or two into that fight.  She loves her sleep and doesn't like to miss any of her nap time. She has my crappy veins, sensitive skin, food allergies, and quick clotting blood.  Sorry, Pearl.  If she doesn't end up with my curly hair, she should be able to forgive me for the rest.  She's starting to learn how to manipulate her daddy, and I think he's ok with that.  She had her first ER visit for some scary GI stuff we've been dealing with, and she was a tough cookie.  They spent 30 minutes poking and prodding her until her little arms were cracked and bleeding from them tying and retying the tourniquet over and over, and she was still able to pull herself together and smile for the ultrasound tech after all that. I've been calling her Pearly Sue, Squirrel (because her hands are always up by her mouth), and Squirrely Pearly.

The sweetest little patient in the tiniest gown ever.

They've started interacting with each other in the last couple of weeks, though it is still rare for them to both engage with the other at the same time.  Usually, Pearl is trying to talk to William, and he's just playing and ignoring her.  Or he'll put his arm over her mouth and she'll suck on it.  And then she puts her fingers in his eyes. She also tries to hold his hand, but she's usually only successful in linking arms with him.

We get out a good bit now, although I still try to stay at home as much as possible, because I'm a hermit, and it's just easier than trying to tote the entire house with us to keep them happy at this weird age.  It can also be kind of hard to go places with them, because we get stopped a lot by people wanting to ask if they're twins.  I never thought it would happen so much, because I've never been tempted to stop strangers to talk to them about their kids, but I guess some people are just really interested.  In an hour and 15 minutes at the mall last month, I was stopped SEVEN times.  On the way back to our car today after a doctor's appointment, we were stopped 3 times.  One of them in the MIDDLE of the crosswalk by a woman with a million questions.  I mean, can we not stop on a busy street in front of a university in a big city?  Maybe I could answer your questions somewhere that doesn't put us at risk of being run over.  Then some lady just came up and said, "How old are they?  Do you breastfeed them?"  It's really strange having people ask so many questions, and sometimes I feel like I'm making a spectacle by just doing everyday things, but I guess it will become less weird as time goes on.

People have been asking me how motherhood is treating me, and it really is good.  It has it's moments where I miss sleeping past 6:30 or not having to strategically plan every outing, but I really have no complaints.  Now that the sleep deprivation is over, I think the hardest part of this parenting gig is knowing when to listen to my gut and not feeling guilty or letting my instincts get pushed aside because of what others do or say.  Whether it's the million "If your baby cries for even a minute, that's neglect" posts on Facebook or doctors trying to push me into things I don't feel are right for us, I have to continuously remind myself that I make these decisions based on what I feel is right for MY children.  I will never make decisions for them based on what others think or want me to do.  So far, my instincts have steered us right more than wrong, and I feel a little more confident with each "victory."

More Surprises - Their Birth Story

I was surprised to make it to my scheduled c section Dec 23, but somehow,  the day came and I still had babies in my uterus that didn't seem that interested in coming on their own at that point.  I hadn't even had a contraction yet. I barely slept the night before, but I'm sure most women feel that way when they know the exact date their babies will be born.  Here I am looking giant and sleepy that morning.

I had my birth plan with me that wasn't all that complicated or out of the ordinary.  I know there are those people who have this elaborate, intimate experience they expect or demands like their labors be catered and the babies to be born with the assistance of Jesus and a unicorn, but that wasn't the kind of thing I was asking for.  Basically, I wanted them to not make me wait a hundred years to see my babies - lower the drape to show them to me immediately and delay any tests that could be delayed until after skin to skin contact.  The doctor and main nurse both went over it with me and agreed these were doable.  Apparently, as with most birth plans, even if what you want is "standard", it must all go out the window if you put in writing as a birth plan.  So, I ended up not having a great c section experience as far as getting to see and hold my babies.  Matt got to hold them pretty immediately, though, and a nurse offered to take this picture.

Meeting Miss Pearl (with my arms strapped down despite what they said they'd do)

We were pretty surprised to find that the babies were smaller than we expected.  Pearl came out first at 5bs14oz and William second at 5lbs7oz.  Once again reminding me how wrong those weight estimates tend to be.  Luckily, neither of them needed NICU time.  I was so excited to finally get to see and hold them in recovery, but I had the shakes so badly that I was afraid to attempt holding them just yet.  Finally, I was able to hold each of them for a couple minutes before they came to do the fundal massage on me again.  That's when things got pretty bad.  Apparently, I have a lazy uterus.  No wonder I had no contractions.  I hemorrhaged, they whisked the babies out to the nursery, and the rest of the day was a blur of pain and wanting to see my babies and being warned that I may need a blood transfusion and there was a possibility that I'd need a hysterectomy.  So, in case you're wondering how to suck some of the magic out of what should be the best day of someone's life, that's how.   We didn't see the babies again until late that night, and I was so out of it, I don't remember much of that night.  Matt was awesome and stepped up to do all the changing, burping, feeding, and asking doctors questions.   

The next night, Christmas Eve, I was told I needed to go ahead and have the transfusion.  Over about 6 hours, I received two units of blood, and on Christmas morning, I finally could think straight and had the strength to really hold my babies.  It kind of seems like that's the day they were born.  It was really the best Christmas ever.  We were finally discharged on the 27th.  

It's been hard even though we've been lucky enough to have tons of help from our families (our moms especially), but we're so grateful to finally be home with our babies.  I could not love or appreciate my husband more than I do now.  He is such an incredible, attentive dad already, and he's taken such good care of me as well.  This was more than worth the wait.  

The Final Countdown

I'm 37 weeks today!  By some magic, my hips have not yet separated from my body, and my pubic bone hasn't broken, despite what it feels like the past week.  At my appointments last week, we found that the babies had dropped, and I was 60% effaced but not dilated, and that both were still head down.  Anyone who's had a baby knows that doesn't really mean anything, though, so I'm not sure why they even tell you.  Or why I'm sharing that. They had a non stress test, where I had no contractions, and Pearl repeatedly kicked off the monitor.  She's going to be fun.  They also had a biophysical profile to check stuff like amniotic fluid levels, practice breathing, movement, and stuff like that.  They both did great!  Though Pearl made it difficult to get a decent measurement, she was estimated at 6lbs and William at 5lbs11oz.  I'll be interested to see if Pearl really is bigger when we meet them.  If so, I'm impressed!  She started out 20% behind in size, and now she's running the show in there.  Waking up William when she throws her fits, getting in his space, trying to kick through my belly and make her way out.  She's wild.

Yesterday, I had my last appointment with the perinatologist, and we got a little surprise.  William decided to flip around, so now he's breech.  We figure he had enough of being head to head with his sister and both of them being smashed between my hip bones.  I'm impressed that he found the motivation to move so much with so little room.  I think it may explain some real discomfort I had over the weekend, though.  So, while lots of women would be upset by this breech business, I'm ok with that, since it reaffirms my gut feeling to go ahead with a c section.  Plus, I want him to be comfortable.  Now his butt is against his sister's head.  Typical.  The ultrasound tech was nice enough to point out his fat rolls, so I look forward to him living up to his nickname.

Since it was our last appointment there, the perinatologist came to say goodbye and wish me luck.  She commented on how glad she was that my pregnancy had been uncomplicated, and she joked that it was pretty boring.  I am so happy to be boring in this situation!  She asked me about the date for my scheduled c section, and when I told her it's the 23rd, she said we may want to talk to the OB about moving it up a couple of days so I could be home for Christmas.  I told her this was the Christmas gift we'd been waiting for so long that we really didn't care if we were home.  But she went on to say that the largest study done on outcomes of twins born at 37 vs 38 weeks gestation showed that those born at 37 weeks to mothers with no complications are healthier than those born at 38 weeks (due to how the placentas start to deteriorate earlier in twins).  I talked to the OB today, and she said the hospital is booked for c sections Monday and Tuesday, but we could do it tomorrow!  Um, well, that's pretty sudden!  After talking with Matt, we decided to wait.  The babies aren't showing any signs that they need to get out sooner than later, and one study of less than 300 people isn't necessarily the final say in what's "the best thing", so I'm just hoping that we made the right choice for them.  I'm sure I'll be asking myself why I waited over the next 6 days as I hobble around feeling like my body is going to give out and my feet are going to explode.

12/12/12

Today has been bittersweet.  I'm 36w2d, the babies appear healthy, and so far, I've avoided the complications that I worried a lot about from the beginning of this pregnancy.  Those are all incredible, beautiful, wonderful things.  But today, I've been incredibly anxious about going into labor, because on this day three years ago, I was in a totally different place in our journey, leaving the hospital with a hole in my heart.

Three years ago today, I experienced the deepest heartache I ever have.  I went for our 3rd ultrasound for our first baby at 8 weeks and found out that baby had died in the two days since my last appointment with the reproductive endocrinologist we'd been seeing up to that point. I wish I could say that finally having a healthy pregnancy and being so close to having two babies in my arms has undone the pain of that loss, but it will always be there on some level.  I will never forget any detail of that day.  It was traumatic, and it changed my life. Having these babies will probably only make me wonder even more about what that baby would have been like or how the dynamic of our family might have been different.  I don't believe that it "happened for a reason" other than that sometimes nature is flawed and cruel, so that platitude I so often hear doesn't bring me any comfort.  What does bring me comfort is that even though I won't know that baby (or our second) on earth, I will carry them in my heart right along with any living children we have.  They'll never know hurt or fear or loss, and they were so loved. Fortunately, time has brought me peace, and instead of living everyday in the dark place I was in for a while, I'm able to be grateful for the time I did have and for the answers that loss pushed me to seek.   I may cry every year on this day for the rest of my life, but I think that's ok.  On this day three years ago, I said goodbye to our first child, and there's no forgetting that.  Because of that experience, I also won't forget how lucky I am once I finally hold Pearl and William in my arms and get the chance to know all I can about them.

43 Weeks

Ok, so I'll actually be 35 weeks tomorrow, but at my appointment this week, my fundal height was measuring 43 weeks.  So, yeah...my body has hit that point where it's had it.  And we have up to another 3 weeks to go.  If the babies are still growing on track, I should have about 10 pounds of baby in there at this point, as well as a two placentas, two sacs of amniotic fluid, and about twice as much blood in my body as when it isn't pregnant (apparently, you get double the blood volume with twins). So, I'm starting to feel as though I've got one of my dogs strapped to my body, and I'm kind of whiny about it.  Only my flip flops will fit, and it's winter here.  My hands swell so much overnight that it messes with the nerves and joints in my hands, and I can't grip anything until the swelling goes down, which also makes it difficult to push myself up out of bed.  My back and hips feel like they are about to just detach themselves from my body and leave.  Doesn't matter if I'm sitting, standing, or lying down.  They aren't happy.  I'm also the biggest clutz, which doesn't work well when I can't bend over very far or squat very low to pick up all the things I drop.  Yesterday, I knocked all the bottles I'd just washed and sterilized off the counter and onto the floor I haven't mopped in a scary long time.  Today, I tried to open a bag of cranberries, and they exploded and went all over the kitchen.  Stuff like this happens pretty much daily now thanks to my brick hands.  Still, even with all these weird adjustments, this is easier than the emotional pain I was in before we got so lucky as to conceive these two wiggly babies, and I know there's an end and that there are two huge rewards when I get there.

In my last post, I shared our baby girl's name, and now we have agreed on a real name for Chunk.  His name will be William like some of the awesome men in our families, including my dad, Matt's brother, both our grandfathers, and two of our uncles.  It also means "strong willed warrior", which seems appropriate, since I think he was our "surprise" baby that showed up a little later but caught up quickly and has been a great little grower.  Anyway, neither of these kids have middle names yet.  We decided on William on our anniversary, and I thought I'd better not push it when we had finally agreed on one thing.  We'll get there.  

I finally have the nursery just about finished, so I'll finally share pictures.  It's no Pinterest nursery, but I'm satisfied with it, considering that it's a very small room, but will still be plenty functional.   I've got to put up a couple of shelves and get a hamper, but thats basically it.  A rug would look nice, but I'm not up to dealing with the dog hair that a rug will collect, so we'll skip it for now.  

What's Your Name, Little Girl?

I wish I could say that today is the day I'm finally going to be able to share names with you, but the truth is that we've only picked one.  I will share that one, but don't all my southern friends and family fire up the monogramming machines yet.  There's a chance her name just won't fit her once we see her despite how much I want it to.  Yes, I said "her."  Chunk doesn't have a name yet.  I'm trying.  I really am.  Take it up with Mr. I Hate All the Names That Aren't John.  Anyway, the name we've picked is Pearl.  Now I'm going to tell you where that came from.

When I was pregnant the first time (3 years ago this month), we had discussed Pearl as a girl's name, although we didn't have much time to get attached to it before that baby was gone.  About a month after we said goodbye to that baby, I was in full hermit mode crying and wishing we'd have known whether that baby was a boy or girl so that maybe it would bring me some closure.  At that moment, my sweet neighbor stopped by with some kind words and a gift from her and two other neighbor friends who knew about our struggle and our loss.  The gift was a beautiful necklace with three charms: an angel wing, the word "loved", and a pearl.  They didn't know we had talked about using that name.  That day brought me the first moment of peace and calm I really had since losing that baby.  I always associated that baby with the name Pearl, but I never felt comfortable "giving" her that name.  When we found out one of our twins is a girl, we didn't discuss using Pearl for her (although I pushed for Ruby since I like it, too, and it would be kind of like a little tribute in my mind), but after lots of disagreeing, I brought it back up for consideration.  I'd come across something about oysters, and I thought about how we get pearls.  They're created by friction, it takes a good bit of time, and they aren't that easy to obtain, but it's obviously worth the trouble.  I feel like that is fitting for this baby we've been working on for so long.  Maybe that first baby was just letting me know she was a "she".  Maybe that baby was sending us a sign of hope for us to eventually have our Pearl.  Maybe it was just a coincidence, but it brought me peace, and the name has since held meaning for me.  I really hope it fits her once she's here.

Other than picking one name out of four, there's not much to report.  I'm huge, my fingers hurt, heartburn apparently caught wind that I hadn't been hit yet and was swift to jump in and fix that, and I'm snoring and drooling in my sleep more than my dogs.  Super glamorous.  But who cares?   I've got just over a month left, and while I'm terrified, I can't wait to meet these crazy kids.  At today's growth scan, Pearl was not into it and repeatedly pushed back at the ultrasound wand and shook her head "no" as they tried to get a measurement.  They estimate that she weighs about 4lbs 4oz. Chunk was more laid back, although he probably didn't love having his space invaded by his sister's flailing arms.  They estimated that he's about 4lbs 7oz.  Not so chunky compared to her now, but the doctor was still happy with the growth for them both.  I wish I had nursery pictures to share, but I'm not quite there yet.  I mean, you got a name, though, so that's progress.

*Edited to add my cravings since I didn't mention those earlier,  and I think it's fun to go back and see them.

Cravings:  Sparkling red grape juice, grapefruit juice,  orange juice,  milk,  falafel wraps, pears.