Cold Burned Dinners

It doesn't take long to realize what life is going to be like when you have three babies well under the age of 26 months. I read somewhere that you rarely see a mom of twins who is fat. I can imagine why -- there's no time to be fat at the moment. Fat is a luxury. Between playing with a two year old, washing bottles, pumping, doing laundry, folding laundry, fortifying breast milk and preparing bottles in advance so you don't have a screaming baby or two on your hands... Oh, and then feeding said babies, burping said babies, bathing said babies, dressing 3 babies and changing 20 diapers... Wait, make that 28 diapers (can't forget that toddler diaper joy)... Per day... There is barely time to eat, let alone sit. This is a lot, even when there are two adults participating in daily chores all night and all day.

Claire grinning away during our "room in"

Colin being sleep pensive.

Colin's crooked sleepy smile

Last night in their "boxes" at the hospital

Claire usually grins while using her favorite finger. I'm trying not to take it personally.

Being tiny (Colin) - leaving hospital at 5 lbs 11 oz

Being equally tiny (Claire) - leaving hospital at 5 lbs 3 oz

Funny how a stroller like this can draw a lot of "AWWWWS"

I'm not going to lie, I am utterly exhausted. Has it only been 5 days since we came home from the hospital?

Oh, and in the rare times you are sitting, you should be cuddling with one baby or another... And one of those babies  (um, big brother) is a little more demanding about cuddle time than the other two at the moment. In fact, don't ask me how I had time to write this post... I must have cloned myself somehow. Or stumbled upon a wormhole.

Adam is having a vacation week to be home with mom and dad and to bond with baby brother and sister. He fell in love with them immediately, and when I'm holding Colin or Claire on the couch he sometimes comes up to me with his arms out, like I should hand over his baby so he can hold them. He loves their "little feet." Each morning he wakes up looking for the babies, wanting to help change diapers and hold bottles while they eat. He even offered Colin a bite of his chicken quesadilla and thought twice before stealing Claire's paci (he still did it, but he thought twice, which is impressive enough considering his pacifier love affair). 

Watching Dad change Claire's diaper.

This is not to say that it has been completely smooth sailing, just that whatever angst, anxiety or anger he may have is not directed at Claire and Colin. If Adam acts out its when he's tired (nearing nap or bedtime), and it's in the form of becoming an alter ego who I have dubbed Spaz Butt.

DVD case with the paper label removed, bent backwards, and placed over his face. We certainly are gifted. And hilarious.

 

Why it's fun to go through Mom's closet. When going through Dad's closet he comes out with a bat.

When Shannon or I are washing bottles or both more preoccupied than Adam can handle, he goes crazy touching things he shouldn't (intentionally - and I don't mean Dad's iPad - I mean the scissor drawer or other such dangerous items), grabbing, pushing, yelling and running through the house... Regardless, as each day passes Adam shows more signs of having to adjust. And partly I think this might be because he's bored in the house all day. On Day 5, we hit a new low in that being told "no" was a special form of attention that he appreciated (as if he's still not the ruler of the house), and hearing "no" resulted in smiling and doing it faster... or harder, or stronger or with more gusto. When I'm nursing a baby, Adam all of a sudden says he wants to cuddle (regardless of how little he needed me to look at him just 2 seconds prior), or he pulls his infamous "hug?" trick, which is especially useful when he wants picked up, held, or extra attention. When he wants to be held and we tell him "not now," or "just a minute," or "you're fine," and his complaints don't change your mind, he changes his tactic and grins his most charming grin, opens his arms wide, and says sweetly: "HUG?" When you fall for it, he latches on like a monkey and climbs you.

I usually fall for it.

(As a side note, Adam's charming techniques are becoming scarily more professional with each day. When my parents brought over dinner on Sunday, Adam tried to talk Mamie and Grandpa into taking him for a ride in their car. Mamie was holding him and he put his hands on her cheeks, made her look him directly in the eyes, and he put his face right up next to hers and repeated "ride, ride, ride, ride, ride?" She was able to fight his hypnosis attempt. When it didn't work, he looked at Grandpa and asked for a hug. His efforts were unsuccessful, but I have to say they were pretty impressive. So... Consider yourself warned. Just saying.)

As a special treat, I'm taking Adam to Lisa and Mike's on Friday morning to go swimming. I'm calling it Adam's Special Big Brother Day. He deserves it because I know this is a major change for him, but so far he's handling it like a champ.

As for the babies, they are doing well at home, but it is an extremely different experience from when Adam was tiny, and not just because there are two of them. For one, I am in some weird alternate understanding of their age. They will be 3 weeks old on Friday. We have only had them home for 5 days. Today they have just reached what would have been 37 weeks gestation, so... they are zero days old? The sleep deprivation doesn't help with my understanding of this so I try not to hurt myself with such complicated thoughts.

They tire easily so we have to be alert and ready for when they need to eat. We were sent home with instructions to continue feeding them every three hours, which requires waking an extremely sleepy Colin or jumping up and rushing to satisfy an impatient and hungry Claire. They still are not perfect at sucking, swallowing and breathing all at the sane time, so when they choke they kind of give up and you have to coax them into finishing a bottle. Pumping and bottle feeding is much more time consuming than nursing, not only for the obvious reason of the extra chore, but also the number of bottles to be washed 3 times daily. (8-9 feedings a day per baby equals 18 bottles.) Oh, and because I want to eventually be able to nurse them, they need practice, so throw that in there too. But they are getting hungrier by the minute. It's also hard to guess how much they want to eat. Sometimes they will suck down an ounce and 3/4 and want more... So the next time you make a two ounce bottle and they fall asleep halfway through it, uninterested. They came home drinking about an ounce and a half at each meal. They are both eating 2 and a half ounces today - and you haven't lived until you try to get sleep or any form of rest when you have two newborns who are cluster feeding.


Claire has this weird thing where when she's extra gassy (she burps well, but a lot of times doesn't burp all of the air up), the milk refluxes and comes back up her nose. It's terrifying, because I'm not quite sure she can breathe well and I end up with the nasal aspirator sucking out congestion and milk. Colin frequently does not burp, but is talented enough to be able to burp while lying down. Talk about an easy baby. If he cries, you know he has a reason.

Half the feedings are spent trying to figure out whether to give them more and cross your fingers they don't throw up on you from being too full, the other half is spent trying to make them finish the bottle so they aren't hungry again an hour and a half later. With Adam, we just fed him and he just ate... And ate, and ate. And I'm fairly certain that Colin is ready to eat every 4 hours and take more milk at each feeding. I'd hate to go against the doctor's instructions (we see their pediatrician tomorrow anyway), but my instinct tells me we're forcing Colin outside of his natural rhythms to stay on schedule with Claire, so I'm about to go with instinct instead. Or even just let him sleep 4 hours at a time at night.

We set up our bedroom like a mini daycare. Two bassinets (the babies nap together during the day but we put them in separate bassinets at night), a mini fridge for bottles and expressed milk for late pumpings, a crockpot full of water so we don't need to go to the kitchen to heat up a bottle, and of course a fresh supply of diapers, burp cloths, extra clothes, and receiving blankets. The mini fridge was an investment so that when we are out of the newborn/infant stages it can be moved to the man cave and hold beer, water, juice boxes and Popsicles).

"Helping" Dad with the new fridge.

Shannon is an expert swaddler, and I still suck at it. He also has better luck with burping than I do, which is not that big of a deal unless it's the middle of the night and my baby wants to sleep instead of burp while his baby is changed, fed, burped, swaddled, and back asleep again. Show off.

It's probably not the smartest but because they are so young and can't really be put on the same schedule (we try, but they have such different needs at the moment), we each are assigned a baby for the night. One bassinet is on his side and one on mine. Lately I get Colin and he gets Claire... Claire gets hungry faster (less sleep), but sucks down her bottle quickly and burps quickly (usually). Colin is a little slower to take his bottle but gives you a little more time between feedings. It's pretty even.

Napping.

Alright, one picture.

Okay, that's enough paparazzi.

Claire is quite the bed hog. She scoots closer to Colin, he inches further away. When I take Colin away for a few minutes, Claire complains about it.

Her hand is still on Colin to make sure he doesn't go anywhere.

This is one of the more entertaining conversations between Shannon and I today (that didn't involve when a baby last ate, last poo'd or how Adam was really pushing his luck today):


Me: You know what will make you feel better?
Shannon: Ha. What?
Me: A kiss.
Shannon: You think so?
Me: Okay, well maybe it would make me feel better...
(Shannon kisses me)
Me: Did it work?
Shannon: Eh. It didn't hurt. A scotch would work better though.

I was recently reminded of the obvious skill that babies have to know when you are finally able to sit down and eat... Because it never fails, that's when they cry. But I experienced a whole new reality on day 3 when all three babies were crying at once. Adam because he didn't want to go to bed, Claire because of gas pains and Colin because he was hungry from not finishing his last bottle completely. Shannon took on both screaming infants while I tried to convince Adam that going to bed wasn't going to kill him. I had finally decided before the tears started that I had to eat dinner at some point before breakfast time, so I threw some frozen fries and frozen fish sticks in the oven (which I know sounds fully gourmet in the first place). It burned, but I managed to save it before it was completely inedible. Then I went to save Shannon.

By the time all the tears had stopped and I sat down to eat, my dinner was not only burned, but cold.  It was gross, but I could put it in my mouth and swallow it at least. I have a feeling I'm in for some more cold, burned dinners on the couch at 10:30 pm... But the rewards in the long run will far out weigh that minor inconvenience. I am reminded of that when I have a snuggly  baby on my shoulder or when I get to play with Adam and cuddle with him. Eating a less than gourmet dinner won't kill me.

Now, if I could just get some more sleep.

13 Days Later

Tomorrow Colin and Claire are 2 weeks old. And fortunately, the doctors and nurses expect them to be released Saturday! If there are no set backs, that will mean about 15 days total in NICU. They have thrived and improved by leaps and bounds over the last few days. On Monday they were both eating 4 of their 8 meals per day. On Tuesday they bumped it to 5 of 8, on Wednesday they moved it to 6 of 8, and on Thursday after the nurse shift change, the day nurse found Claire had pulled out her feeding tube (Again. No amount of tape can hold that girl back). Claire was grasping it over her head in triumph and looking at the nurse like, "here, take this - I don't need it anymore." So they moved her and Colin to 8 of 8 meals a day.

13 days old

They have both gone through major growth spurts this week. On Monday I caved and bought Colin two pairs of preemie pajamas. On Tuesday I put them on him and they fit perfectly. On Wednesday they were too small. He now weighs just over his birth weight of 5lbs 7 oz, and Claire now weighs 2.5 ounces more than her birth weight and is 5lbs 2.5oz. On Thursday Colin nursed for 20 minutes and then took a bottle and drank about 5 more ml. Claire nursed for 10 minutes, sucked down a 25 ml bottle, then begged for more and drank another 15 ml. She looked like she could have eaten more after that too. The girl was hungry.

Before we leave the NICU they both need to eat every meal from the bottle or by nursing from here on out. We need to bring in their car seats so they can do the car seat test (they sit in the car seat while attached to all the monitors and see if they do well sitting at that angle for 90 minutes). We also had to watch a quick CPR video.

They are allowing me the option to "room in" with the babies for a few hours - on my own, no monitors, no nurses. They consider it a sort of dry run in case I have questions. I'd get hospital room service, a bed and TV... But they said I have been there at the hospital so much for feedings, burping, bathing, swaddling, cuddling... that it's totally optional and I'd do fine either way. I am tempted but I'm also wondering if it's necessary when there are a million other things still not yet done to prepare for them to come home.

We need to trade cars with my parents... My little Saturn won't hold three car seats so I'm "upgrading" to a minivan. While I really have no problem driving a minivan, I'm kinda sad we can't use my car anymore. I like my car. But I'm relieved that my parents are generously donating a van that can adequately transport three children under the age of 26 months.

We also need to clean... But that's a never ending chore that pretty much goes without saying.

But that's just what WE need to do... The babies still have a release checklist of their own. Colin needs to be circumcised. Both babies were given (and passed) their hearing tests. They will get their Hep B vaccinations. Claire is on antibiotics for her fetal hydronephrosis  (and will be for about a month), and needs to have a follow up appointment with the urologist in 2-3 weeks. And sadly, for the real kicker, the doctor mentioned to me that Colin's left hip seemed a little "loose," and asked if anyone had talked to me about that yet. I sighed and told him no, but that I knew exactly what that meant since my now 2-year-old had hip dysplasia and was in the Pavlik harness for 4 months after birth. My first reaction, for lack of a better word, was "well, crap." Its a real bummer, and I hope he's not in store for the Pavlik. But if he is, we have dealt with it before, we know its temporary, and we are aware of the success rates. For a refresher on what that was like for Adam, you can go to this blog post from almost two years ago: On Our Way Out of the Pavlik. (I still get about 10 hits on this post a week from parents out there searching for information, stories, and success rates about the Pavlik and hip dysplasia).

While we don't know for sure yet what the diagnosis will be, because of our history both Colin and Claire will need hip ultrasounds after they are released.

Ironically, they didn't see any real signs of hip dysplasia on Claire. I find this strange because while hip dysplasia is very common, it is especially common in girls, especially girls who were breech. So my little breech girl looks good, but my head-down boy has some loose hips. I'm also not sure of the odds of having two boys with the same hip problem. I haven't found any research that suggests hip dysplasia is hereditary, but considering our track record, I would be shocked if it wasn't.

Both are being sent home on multivitamins WITHOUT iron, which they made a big deal about since most preemies need iron. However, both Colin and Claire have incredible iron levels. (That must be why I was consistently anemic regardless of how many iron pills I took - they stole it all. And I'm willing to bet their potassium levels are fantastic as well, since I couldn't keep any for myself).

They are also going to have calorie supplements to the breast milk to make it 22 calories instead of 20. That means I get to nurse 2-3 times per day and the rest of the time they'll get bottles of fortified breast milk. So the pumping continues...

I'm excited to get them home and know them better. In just the days I've been at the hospital it is extremely clear that our ninja, Claire, is extremely coordinated. Her feeding tube doesn't stand a chance. She can hold her pacifier in with her hand already, and didn't need anyone to show her that trick. She is "talkative" and alert and very observant. She smiles CONSTANTLY in her sleep and sometimes when awake. When you wake her up, you better be doing it to feed her, and when she is awake her hands are on the move - grabbing, moving, exploring.

Claire with her paci

The paci stays in... notice the feeding tube was yet again pulled out.

Claire's bath

Colin is our champ and he is also alert and observant. He is quiet and laid back, and so far is patient enough to allow Claire to eat first... Maybe so he can take his time later. He is steady and consistent, and a great cuddler. He's also a champ at nursing, which is easily his favorite thing. He doesn't complain, but then again neither does Claire, and I frequently muse about how much he is like Shannon. He really cracked me up the first time he got to cuddle with Claire and mom. She slept away without flinching... He looked at her like she was crazy. Or invading his space. Or very confused. Or seeing her face for the first time (as opposed to her butt or feet, which I'm sure he got an excellent view of in the womb). Either way, he made me laugh.

What the?! What are you doing here??

All right, I guess this is okay.

Sister nudges closer and closer...

13 days later, I put on my pre pregnancy jeans. They fit even better now than before I got pregnant. It's the little victories.

So next up for our family is the most terrifyingly exciting steps in a long line of terrifyingly exciting things that have happened to us in the last year. I'm sure to come will be lots of stories of how Adam adjusts to new babies at home and how they adjust to life with their family full time.

NICU Battle Wounds

To read about our twin birth story (born at 34 weeks gestation), click here.

When we had Adam, it was like someone broke off a chunk of my heart, gave it legs, a killer smile, some hypnotizing blue eyes and sent it walking around outside of my body. Now there are three chunks of my heart existing outside of me. Three little people whose every breath is necessary for me to survive. And they just go roaming about in a world of car accidents, diseases, illnesses, freak accidents, knives, guns, and crazy people. It's enough to break a person.

Claire and Colin spent 5 days in the NICU, needing assistance with breathing, eating, and body temperature. They are now on day 5 in the "Baby Steps" unit of the NICU, where they are gaining weight and learning to be more consistent with their ability to eat.

Colin, 7 days old

Claire, 8 days old

This means that they must be able to eat every meal from the bottle or by nursing, 8 meals a day. Claire is currently having 3 "nipple feeds" a day (3 of 8), while Colin is at 4 feedings a day (4 of 8). They eat every 3 hours, and each meal consists of 45 ccs of breast milk, fortified with a couple extra calories.  When I called the NICU to check on them at 4 am this morning, the nurse told me that Claire was doing very well with the nipple and probably could do more than what she's doing now, but that Colin wanted to sleep through his last two feedings and that even though he took most of his bottle the last time, he spit quite a bit of it up at the end. I spent two hours flipping between rejoicing in Claire's small victory and being terrified by Colin's extreme sleepiness... Is he sick? Maybe just a growth spurt? The Internet certainly doesn't help in those situations either...

I try to nurse them at least once a day, and they usually do well. Claire understands the concept a little more consistently than Colin does, but at times seems to want the bottle instead. Colin, on the other hand, seems to prefer to nurse over any other method, and in the rare times he has gotten formula instead of breast milk, he immediately looks disgusted. Funnily enough, when Colin does well at nursing, Claire struggles. When Colin struggles, Claire does well. The times when they aren't nursed or bottle fed, they are fed with the gavage (the feeding tubes). I am beginning to be very familiar with NICU lingo, a skill of which I never thought I'd be able to claim.

I gave Colin a bath on Friday, but when I tried to start on Claire, she was her temperature wasn't high enough. I couldn't do it Saturday and Sunday either for the same reason, and so this morning they bathed her. She needed it, and I'm split between being sad I couldnt do it myself, or happy that it's done and relieved of the duty, which causes me a lot of stress because I'm afraid I don't move fast enough and they'll get cold or I'll somehow do it "wrong." I just need more practice... Adam was almost 9 lbs when we brought him home, so bathing, feeding, and dressing him as an entirely different experience.

Because Adam had digestive problems even as a full term baby, I have gone back to that diet to help Colin and Claire's digestion. No milk, cheese, or any dairy. No tomatoes (which you think would be easy, but that means no pizza, spaghetti, or the best ingredient in a sandwich). No beans, no broccoli, or anything that produces gas. My calorie intake should be 2500 calories daily, but it's tough to get more creative than turkey sandwiches, fried chicken or chicken nuggets. It's also a challenge to find the time or desire to eat. Both babies are digesting a million times better since I made those changes, and while it's hard to tell whether it's because they have just matured or whether it's related to my diet, I won't give up on it because I'm not around them to see their reactions after eating and able to identify patterns between what I eat and how they respond. Better safe than sorry.

My body is still covered in bruises, scars, and wounds from being poked, injected, cut open and sewn back together. I am comforted, oddly, by these outward signs of recent pain because they match how I feel on the inside.

I wake up each day and fight a persistent nagging in my chest that tells me I have somehow failed the twins. I should still be pregnant, and while I was miserable and tired, bored from bed rest and counting down the days when I would be able to walk comfortably again, I was more comforted by the fact that as long as they were there, they were safe. And now they are not there, and they are struggling away from me. It is not like a postpartum depression - it is more like the feeling you get when you failed a test you really studied hard to pass, or when you work hard at a relationship and it falls apart anyway.

Logically I know I did everything within my power to protect them from the consequences of preterm labor and delivery. I went to every doctor appointment. I made decisions for myself early in the pregnancy when my doctor wouldn't by trusting my instincts. I went on bed rest and stopped working when I should have and not a day later. I read books, took my vitamins, drank as much water as I could, almost completely cut out caffeine, and basically handed over all other responsibilities of cleaning, diaper changing, cooking, and toddler raising to my already exhausted husband. Realistically, I know I did what I was supposed to, and yet still we are in this situation. I am an intelligent person, but I am irrationally angry at my body for not staying pregnant for another 3-4 weeks. I suppose that is the danger of setting goals where you are only partially in control of the outcome.

Now, my guilt is attempting to attack me from the inside out. When I am home pumping breast milk every 2.5-3 hours because its the only thing that makes me feel like a productive, contributing mother, or sleeping so I can recover from the surgery, or playing with Adam finally after a long few months of bed rest, I feel guilty that I am not at the hospital with the twins. When I'm sitting in NICU, holding one baby, I feel guilty because I'm not holding the other. When I get in some good quality time with both babies, I start worrying that Adam needs more love and attention than I have been giving him. I have not slept for longer than 2 and a half hours at a time in the last ten days because I wake up even during the night to pump, as if the babies were here with me to eat at all hours of the night. If I hit the snooze on my alarm to get in an extra 30 minutes, I stupidly feel guilty for that too.

And now I just hope that by some miracle, the twins are discharged on the same day. I have no idea how I would be able to physically or emotionally  be able to face leaving a two year old and a newborn at home while I spend quality time with another newborn at the hospital. Or how I could possibly face being at home cuddling with one baby while the other is still in NICU. History and practicality indicates that facing it and dealing with it will only require me to push through, summoning whatever strength I have, creating new strength as I go, and stealing some of that strength from supportive family and friends, but the mere thought of it hurts in a way that is difficult to even consider.

Even Shannon, who is cool and calm in all situations, is feeling the drain of the stress of the NICU. While I'm pumping, recovering, hugging all my babies and occasionally beating myself up for no good reason, he's still caring for Adam, cleaning when he can, working, driving me to and from the NICU, and making sure I eat and take care of myself when I forget. He told me yesterday that he didn't realize how draining it would be. It is temporary and we will survive it like champs, just like we always do, but it is amazing the stress level a person can feel from having their child(ren) in NICU. We are even one of the fortunate families who won't have to spend months there with tiny little babies with many serious health problems because they were born at 23 - 27 weeks, or even 27-33 weeks. All in all, Colin and Claire are healthy. They just need a little more time and a little more practice at the basics.

We've been leaning on my parents quite a bit to care for Adam while we are there or to give us a break, and they have been extremely helpful. It's also comforting that when Adam is at school he is spending time with Ms. Lauren, who I know adores him and he feels the same.

On Father's Day Shannon held Colin and Claire together for the first time. Now that's a great Father's Day gift.

Later that day, Adam got to meet them. In the waiting room he was climbing the walls, struggling, kicking and whining a little. When we got to see the babies he calmed down, was quiet, and talked in a low, friendly voice.  In fact, he was intrigued by all the babies and said he wanted all of them. He learned the name Claire very quickly but had to really think about the name Colin.

Adam meeting Claire

Adam meeting Colin

For the first time, if only for 5 minutes, all of the pieces of my heart were in one place again.

The New Additions and How They Got Here

Who's a big brother? Me!

A week ago today, our little boy and little girl came into this world. This was the last picture taken of me pregnant, at 34 weeks.

Thursday, June 7 was a typical day. Typical meaning that I was in bed all day. I felt great, as long as I was lying down, and that for me had been the normal over the last few months. Despite foolishly fighting a persistent urge to pack a hospital bag (I had convinced myself that if I didn't pack a bag until I was ready for them to come, then they simply couldn't come yet), I felt perfect. I had even started telling people that I really felt like I would make it to July, especially since my doctor's appointment on the 6th revealed no dilation, no contractions, and no... I mean NO indication that I was anywhere near a pre-term labor.

But I apparently got too cocky. About 6:30 on Thursday evening, Adam and Shannon had gotten home from school and work, and I made my way to the couch to talk to them for a few minutes. 10 minutes later, I was having cramping in my back and went to lie down. By 7:00, I was in the bathtub, realizing that I was having a few contractions. By 8:00, I was monitoring contractions at 3-5 minutes apart, so at 8:30 I took a Terbutaline. It didn't change anything. At 10, with contractions about 4-5 minutes apart and getting stronger, I was concerned and called my parents. My mom came over to take care of Adam. While she was on her way, Shannon took a nap. I took a shower. We were at the hospital by 11:30, determined that in just 5 hours I had dilated from 0 to 3-4 cm, and they began the process of trying to stop the contractions.

4 shots of Terbutaline later (one every hour), and one IV of Nubain (pain killer that typically stops or slows down contractions), I was dilated to 5 cm and still feeling contractions, although it had slowed them down. Friday morning the on call physician in my doctor's practice (my doctor was out of town for the weekend) came to tell me that they had a last resort, but if that didn't stop the contractions and if I was still dilating further by noon, it would be time to go ahead and do the c-section. Either way, she said, even if the contractions did stop, I was 80% effaced and already 5 cm dilated, so I was going to be in the hospital for the remainder of my pregnancy, however long that was. We also talked about how waiting too long might mean we pass the point of an epidural, and that delivering one baby naturally while another via c-section if there were issues would be a dangerous situation we needed to avoid. The last thing I wanted to do was have a natural birth AND a c-section, and I agreed.

So they gave me another shot, which basically did nothing, except make me realize how exhausted and stressed I was. I had come to terms with the fact that the babies were coming whether I was ready or not, despite the number of nice nurses who came in and said they thought the contractions would stop. Yet another doctor in the practice came to introduce herself and determine that I was 6 cm dilated, and told me it was time to go into surgery. She asked if I was okay with that, and I smiled weakly and said I didn't think I really had a choice. She went to prepare for surgery, and I bravely waited for the anesthesiologist to come and give me the epidural.

The epidural doesn't hurt, but for whatever reason the initial introduction of the medication to my system in large doses causes my blood pressure to drop quickly, makes me shake uncontrollable and vomit. It happened when they prepared me for the c-section with Adam, and I had already told me to hand me the bed pan about 10 minutes before I started to throw up. And cry. But that was the worst part of the whole surgery (not counting the recovery period starting the next day, which was painful, stressful, and full of fun surprises like an unknown allergy to morphine... but I digress).

After 18 hours of labor and a 30 minute c-section, Colin Daniel was born at 1:38pm, weighing 5 lbs and 7 oz, 18 inches long, and looked at the crowd of doctors wide eyed and curious before he ever uttered a sound. He cried, they showed him to me, and then whisked him away to do his apgar scores and evaluate him. He had quite a bit of fluid in his lungs and it took them a while to get him breathing at a level they were comfortable with. His 5 minute apgar scores were an 8, which isn't too bad. He had been pretty far down in the birth canal since he was Baby A and head down, ready to come into the world.

Claire Elizabeth was born one minute later, at 1:39 pm, weighing 5lbs even, and 18 1/4 inches long. She cried a little quicker than her brother and they showed her to me, then took her off for her evaluations. She did better initially in the operating room than Colin did. Shannon looked pretty concerned about how frantically they were working on him, but I could do nothing but lay there, staring at the ceiling while they finished working on me, and try to come with terms with the idea that I had just given birth to 2 babies... at only 34 weeks and 2 days pregnant. Many weeks before my "goal" date.

They brought Colin over for me to hold briefly, and I looked at his adorable little cheeks and smiled, since it was a little like deja vu. Colin is the spitting image of Adam, just a little smaller. He looked directly at me with these wise and calm eyes that reminded me so much of his dad. Then they brought over Claire, this tiny, petite little girl, and the first thought that came to my mind was, "my God, she's gorgeous." There is no way to prepare someone for the rush of emotions that accompany falling in love with two little people so quickly.

They took the babies away and wheeled me to recovery. Shannon joined me for a few moments but I sent him off to NICU, which became his third home for the 4 days that we were in the hospital (his second home was my hospital room). I got to see them again for a little bit when they wheeled my bed in before taking me to my room, but for the rest of the day I still had in the epidural, the next day they took out the epidural at noon, and started giving me percocet for the pain. The percocet didn't work, even after two doses, and after 6 hours I was in extreme pain, so they gave me a shot of morphine. My nasal cavity swelled up nearly immediately, and it didn't help that I was crying from the pain and at a pain level of 10. I called in a nurse to ask if someone could take care of me, and she told me that my pains were from gas (they were not) and that it was a shift change so someone would be in in about 3 minutes. I took that to mean 10 minutes. An hour later she came back, and of course I was worse. She asked why I didn't call I nurse, and I just glared at her.

When I swallowed I could barely breathe out of my mouth, and I was panicking. Her supervising nurse came in and asked what was going on, and at this point I was panicking and trying to explain that something was very wrong. They acted like I was overreacting and told me it would be best if I tried to get out of bed, despite the fact that on a scale of 1 to 10, my pain level was easily a 13. I also couldn't breathe. They told me to calm down - that the reason I couldn't breathe was because I was crying, and that there was going to be "some" pain with a c-section. I snapped at both of them and said that I had done this before and that this was not new to me. Shannon chimed in, and when I got to a sitting position, they asked if I felt better. Of course I told them no. She told me I could lay back down, and I told her I wasn't moving. I sat perfectly still and stared at the floor until she left, and then laid back down again.

The nurse on the night shift, Margo, meanwhile, had come in when the whole thing started, took one look at me, and left immediately to call the doctor to tell her I was having a bad reaction to the morphine. She came back with a shot of antihistamine (my nose cleared up immediately), and a better pain killer to make me more comfortable. She told me that my upper lip was swollen, my eyes were swollen, and that I was starting to get a rash on my face. 3 hours later, she helped me get out of bed and into the shower, and I did it "easily." But I had worn myself out and was in no shape to see the babies at all on day 2. I cried some again just for that.

For the next 4 days Shannon slept a little, took care of me while I cringed in pain even through all the drugs they gave me that didn't work, and spent countless hours in the NICU getting all the information about the babies, dropping off breastmilk, changing diapers, taking temperatures, and talking to both babies. By day 3 he fell victim to a cold he had been fighting off, and went to the NICU with a mask and wouldn't accept offers to hold them because he was terrified of what he would pass along to them.

Shannon changing Claire's diaper

On day 3 I was feeling good "enough" to be wheeled down to NICU to see the babies, although throughout my entire stay at the hospital I fought desperately to find a pain killer that would help me that I wasn't allergic to. Finally we discovered that Demerol was able to cut in and do the trick. So we paired that with Norco and Ultram.

Holding Colin

Holding Claire

Holding Both Colin and Claire

My cousin Mandie, who works as an NICU nurse in Lawrence, Kansas, drove 8 hours on Sunday to come spend the next few days with me and Shannon. She brought preemie clothes and KU baby stuff for the babies, along with way more than she needed to, and joined me on my trips to the NICU when I was feeling more mobile to visit with the babies and help me remember what questions I had . . . and asked all the questions I needed answers to but never thought to ask. She asked the nurses to let me hold both Colin and Claire at the same time, and helped me not be so scared of all the beeps and tubes. My experience this week would have been a million times harder to face had she not come to support me and there is no way I could ever appropriately thank her for that.

Before the c-section I had asked if they were going to give me steroids to help the babies' lungs before birth, and they said that since I was at 34 weeks, some doctors do recommend that but some don't. I can understand how that is a tough call, because while Claire might have benefited from some steroids, Colin probably didn't need it. Even though Colin needed the most attention to his breathing right after birth, he was faster to come off the CPAP and even quicker to not need the oxygen tubes. This is unusual, because usually little boys don't do as well as fast as little girls. But Colin improved quickly. Shannon laughed because he heard one nurse in the NICU comment on how well, "little white boy" was doing. Shannon knew what they meant, but thought it was an interesting comment. When it came to eating, Colin was a little slower to get it. He improved every time, but finds the whole sucking/swallowing thing a little complicated and doesn't really like the bottle because it's too fast. I got to try to nurse Colin first, but that first time he was much more interested in cuddling and sleeping than he was in eating, so he was fed most of his meal through the feeding tube.

Claire 3 days old

Claire came into NICU and needed the CPAP longer and needed more attention. When she came off the CPAP on day 3, she was on oxygen for 2 days. I was released from the hospital on Tuesday, and when I came in on Wednesday, she didn't have the oxygen tubes anymore. Wednesday they started trying to feed her with the bottle, and while she can't suck down a whole bottle on her own, she was more interested and less annoyed by the nipple feeding than her brother. When I came in on Thursday, she didn't even need the lamps and was in a normal bed. Colin had even started eating about 3/4 of his meals by bottle when they offered him the nipple. When I walked in on Friday, the first thing the nurse said was that they were moving them up to the baby steps area of the NICU - which means that they needed less intervention and were healthy enough to start practicing to go home.

Baby Steps - Colin and Claire's new "room"

Yesterday for an hour I held both Colin and Claire at the same time while they slept, and then helped them move to their "new room" in Baby Steps and tried out nursing both of them - Colin for the second time, and he was much more interested. He then stayed awake for almost an hour, looking around at every body. I also nursed Claire for the first time, and she was a natural. They are both around the same level of improvement - Claire does not digest her food very well and often has issues with residual meals still being in her stomach by the time her next meal begins, but when she eats she does well. Colin digests fine, but despite his full, adorable little cheeks, is not as interested in eating as he is in cuddling. So they have a little to teach each other I suppose.

As for their personalities, they are very different -- both are calm, and I have not heard either cry unless they are annoyed by a diaper change (Claire) or by a bath (Colin HATES baths until you rub his head). I asked the nurses if I've just been lucky and only been around when they aren't fussing, and they tell me that neither of them really fusses much. They are pretty content. However, Claire is a little fiesty and wiggly. She's active like her oldest brother. Colin is complacent, observant, and laid back. He opens his eyes to find you and just takes it all in. Both Colin and Claire look like Adam, but they look very little like each other. I'm not sure how that can happen, but it did.

Colin 1 day old

Colin 4 days old

Adam at 1 day old

Adam at 13 days old

Claire 6 days old

Claire

Colin

They are still in NICU today, and they just need to work on eating all of their meals (currently more than half of their meals are given via feeding tube) and gaining weight so they can better regulate their body temperatures. They are doing extremely well and continue to surprise me every day. They have not yet met Adam, mostly because Adam's active two year old brain would have been more interested in the beeps, buttons, and tubes in the NICU. However, the new environment they are in is much less distracting and depending on how long they might be there, we may take him for a quick visit to see them. So far he has just seen pictures... and he gets excited and says, "Baby sleeping! Shhhh!" Still not quite sure how much he grasps that they are his... ours... I imagine not much since they are not home yet and in his space. Hell, they don't even fully feel like "mine" yet, although that is getting better with each hour I get to spend with them.

Erin and Claire

Shannon and Colin

So, to wrap up my series of weird headless body shots, here is a picture of me one week after delivery. I may feel a little more comfortable, but a part of me knows I should still be pregnant, and all of me misses my kids severely.