Cry Baby

Everyone tells new moms to "sleep when the baby is sleeping." Great advice I suppose, if you don't have anything else to do except feed and entertain your baby. But following that same logic, I've taken to crying when the babies cry. I mean...why not, right? Sometimes a girl just needs a good cry, and as they say, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em...right?


Okay, so I don't always cry when they cry, but yesterday I was particularly weepy and couldn't help but join the girls nearly every time they expressed their inner angst. Why so sad, you ask? Well, believe it or not, Roger's parents left last night, and despite my concerns prior to their arrival, it was great having them here. The M-I-L was amazingly helpful and we were thankful for every moment that Roger's dad got to spend with his newest grandbabies. (He was particularly taken with his namesake, Bryanna.) But his declining health made saying goodbye particularly tough this time, and that - coupled with the reality that with his parents' exit, Roger and I are truly on our own with these little ones - made for an especially teary day.

But I'm feeling better today. And I know that scary as it may seem, Roger and I are ready to be on our own again. The girls are doing great, and that's because of us. (Well, it's really because we are blessed from above, but you know what I mean.) Some days they are doing better than others (and that goes for me too!), but we're sticking to the little routine we've got going and modifying the plan as needed. I'm still overwhelmed - as you will certainly see if I ever get around to typing the blog posts that I compose in my head at night while feeding babies - but I think I've accepted that as a mother of twins, the feeling of being overwhelmed is probably here to stay. So I'm just gonna roll with it...and not apologize if I occasionally join in with my girls when they're having a good cry.

Cool or Crazy?

This morning I breastfed Anna in the nursery with an audience of not just the M-I-L (who was helping me top Julie off with a bottle), but also my father-in-law, Roger’s two brothers, and my three year old niece – all while Moose and Maia attacked each other on the tummy time mat. Does this make me a cool, laid back, evolved mom? Or a crazy woman incapable of setting boundaries?

The jury is still out on that one…

In this moment...

This is hard. Not harder than I thought it would be but still…it’s really, really hard. And what I’m about to say is likely to offend much of my audience, but I can’t help but think how easy this would be if there were just one of them. Not that I’d be willing to send one back of course, but it’s that second mouth to feed that complicates things a bit. It’s the “in stereo” crying that can bring me to tears. It’s the fact that as soon as I manage to calm one down, the other starts. Surely if it was just one…this motherhood stuff would be a breeze.

But as hard as it is, it is getting easier. I think it is anyway. I may think differently after the next feeding. But in this moment, things seem like they're on their way up. My mom left last Thursday and I cried as I watched her pull out of the driveway, but her absence has forced me and the girls to figure out how to do this on our own. And we seem to be doing okay. The M-I-L is here of course, so I do have back up if I need it, but I’m taking great satisfaction from the fact that I don’t have to have her here in order to take care of my children. The fact that she’s doing laundry and helping to keep the house from looking like a bomb went off is a bonus, but her presence is not mandatory.

So yes, the in-laws have arrived and so far we’re all coping. My fabulous brother-in-law and sister-in-law and their little girl are also here and being hugely helpful. And of course my aunt and uncle came by this past weekend to dote on the girls a bit too. Never a dull moment around here! It’s wonderful to have so many people that love us, but I’d be lying if I said all the activity isn’t more than a little stressful. I’m trying to roll with it though. I’ve decided the new me – the mom version of me – doesn’t sweat the small stuff. She doesn’t worry about what others think…not even the M-I-L.

So that’s the latest with us. The girls are growing like mad (Anna was 8 lb 10 oz and Julie was 6 lb 15 oz at their 4 week appointment). They are eating better, sleeping a little better, pooping lots (which apparently is a good thing - even if it makes the 24 daily diaper changes kind of a nightmare), and I actually ventured out for a run today while the girls slept. I went about 3 miles - and loved every step.

So in this moment, I’m feeling good…and these are the moments I feel like blogging. I’m sure it would be good for me to write about the other moments too, but in those moments, all I feel like doing is stuffing my face with ice cream and hiding in the bathroom for a good cry. Then I remind myself of the bright side – that at least with all this breast feeding, it’s okay to stuff myself with ice cream! And then I feel a little better… in that moment anyway.

Their faces pretty much express how I feel moment to moment! (That's Julie on the left and Anna - having a moment of her own - on the right)

Counting

Today my daughters are 3 weeks old, or 21 days, depending on how you’re counting. Me, I’m doing a lot of counting these days – minutes spent nursing, milliliters of supplement, ounces of weight gain, number of wet diapers, number of poops, number of minutes available to shower or check email or close my eyes until the next feeding begins…

It’s certainly not easy – juggling newborn twins – but these early days haven't actually been as difficult as I feared. Of course I'm pretty sure that's only because my mother has been living with us since Day One - not only helping with diaper changes and round the clock feedings but also serving as chef, housekeeper, and personal shopper too. So it's with great dread that I'm counting down the days I have left with her here full-time.

But my mom's exit will be immediately followed by the arrival of Roger's parents, and Roger assures me that they will provide just as much assistance as my Mom. I I'm sure he's right, but it won't be quite the same. I know the M-I-L is a great house guest – she's a huge help in the kitchen and she takes her title of "Laundry Fairy" quite seriously. Still, I can't help but wonder if she will be as willing to get up at 1 am (...and 4 am...and 7 am) as my mom has been. And even if she is willing, how much harder will it be for me to ask for help from her than from my own mom? I'm counting on that being tougher than I'd like it to be.

But all in all things are going well. The girls are gaining weight, staying awake longer (though not always at appropriate times), and I'm feeling a little more confident every day that Roger and I can actually do this...even if we still have a little while before we have to do it on our own.

So mostly I'm counting my blessings...my precious little girls, my amazing husband, my selfless mom, my adoring sister and her family, my eager in-laws, and of course the generous friends who have come by offering encouragement, support, and more importantly...food! (Because one thing I'm not counting just yet is calories!)

Pretty cute, huh?

The Power of Two

This time last week I was watching the Emmy's. I was uncomfortable and cranky and wondering when my misery would end...little did I know that just 12 hours later I would be welcoming the most amazing little creatures I've ever known into my life.

My water broke around 1 a.m. Roger and I scrambled to get things together (because of course the bag was only half packed) and headed to Northside. They hooked me up to monitors and asked me a million questions before turning down the lights so we could "sleep." Roger dozed a bit while I watched the monitors for the next few hours - obsessing about the babies' heartbeats while watching the number that reflected my increasingly uncomfortable contractions. Around 7:30 the doctor came in and looked me over before deciding that a c-section would be the safest way to get the babies out of me.

I was a little panicky as they prepped me for surgery. They took me into the OR and made Roger wait outside and by the time they let him come in I had tears pouring down my face and was approaching a full on panic attack. But he quickly calmed me down and before we knew it they were asking him to stand up to witness our firstborn daughter come into the world. A few minutes later they were both in my arms. There I was - fearing the worst - that they would both be immediately rushed to the NICU, but instead the nurses were placing them in my arms while the four of us posed for a photo shoot right there in the OR. I cried again, but this time not with panic - with joy like I've never known before.

I have so much more to say about what turned out to be the best day of my life but the girls need to be fed so instead I will just choose this moment to formally introduce my daughters...

Bryanna Darby & Julie McKinney
August 30, 2010
9:18 am & 9:19 am
6 lb 7 oz, 18 1/2 in. & 4 lb 10 oz, 18 1/2 in.

"So we're okay; we're fine -
Baby I'm here to stop your crying.
Chase all the ghosts from your head,
I'm stronger than the monster beneath your bed.
Smarter than the tricks played on your heart -
We'll look at them together then we'll take them apart.
Adding up the total of a love that's true -
Multiply life by the power of two."
-Indigo Girls

Crazy

Just as expected, these last weeks of pregnancy have not exactly been easy. In fact, to put it politely, I’m pretty @#$%^& miserable...and just a pleasure to be around. I do attempt to mask my misery behind a polite smile while I’m at work, but by 5:30 I’m pretty much done. This means my husband never sees that polite smile. Instead he sees the whiney, cranky, and downright crazy version of his wife. It should come as no surprise that Roger “handles” me like a champ – listening to me and nodding with sympathy and only occasionally attempting to liken my aches and pains to something he is experiencing (I mean, really? Do you want to go there?). He actually seems to have adapted to my craziness quite well – knowing when to indulge it and when to put his foot down and stop the madness.

And I’m afraid it is full on madness. Some of it is pretty normal though, I think – the books call it “nesting,” this obsessive need to have everything clean. Now, I’m a pretty tidy person (my college roommates might beg to differ, but I’ve grown up a bit since then), but I’ve never been too terribly concerned about dirt and germs. I live with two dogs for God’s sake! What would be the point? And yet, here I am – 9 months pregnant attempting to scrub floors and wash windows and organize everything from the condiments in the pantry to the tools in the garage.

Roger has only so much patience for my obsessiveness, and I can hardly blame him. I think he feels bad to find me sweeping the garage in 100 degree heat but he has a hard time offering to take over when he doesn’t understand what a clean garage floor has to do with taking care of our babies. “Robyn, I wasn’t aware we were going to let the girls crawl around out here,” he says with a straight face. I kind of want to punch him in the nose. But before I begin my attempt to justify my admittedly absurd actions, he takes the broom out of my hands and sends me inside.

There are other signs of craziness too. For example, what woman, 9 months pregnant with twins, decides that now would be a good time to install a full length mirror in her bedroom? For the past seven months, I’ve been fixing my hair and putting on makeup in the small medicine cabinet mirror that came with our house. The most complete glimpse I’ve seen of my pregnant self has been in the mirror in the bathroom at work – and even that’s just waist (or what used to be my waist) up and fully clothed! So you can imagine my horror the first time I stepped out of the shower and into the cruel judgment of that full length mirror. A normal person would have thrown something at it to make the terrifying reflection go away but the masochist in me continues to torture myself.

I’ve been told this particular brand of madness - the nesting anyway - will subside a bit when I give birth, but it’s likely that a different kind of craziness will take over. Great. But at least pretty soon I’ll be way too busy keeping two humans alive to notice the dirt in the garage or obsess about the misshapen girl in the mirror.

Confessions from a Pregnancy

First of all, I feel truly blessed to be experiencing the completely crazy phenomenon that is pregnancy. But that doesn't mean I'm loving every minute of it. In fact, I have become immediately suspicious of any woman who claims she "loved being pregnant." I think she's either a liar or she just doesn't remember it all that well.

I know pregnancy is different for every woman, and when I compare my own experience to those of others I'm consistently reminded that it could be worse. (Apparently, it could also be better. I've heard rumors that morning sickness usually subsides after the third month...that would've been really nice. Sigh.) It's funny though, that the things I feared most about pregnancy - the expanding belly, the weight gain, the absence of wine - aren't really the worst parts at all. Now, don't worry. This isn't where I share all of the horrifying details about being pregnant. I didn't randomly return from the blogger graveyard this evening with the intention of starting a big whine fest; however, I do feel the need to confess that being pregnant is not my favorite thing.

However, there are a few good things about being pregnant, and in this last month I'm going to have to really focus on them to keep myself from spiraling into a pit of over dramatic self pity. So here goes...my list of the cool things about being pregnant.

1. Feeling them move - It just never gets old. I know it's a little weird that I constantly have a hand on my belly, but I can't stop myself. And watching the movement through my skin is even better. It's simultaneously the creepiest and coolest thing I've ever experienced.

2. The smiling - People are extremely friendly to pregnant people. Strangers smile at me and ask how I am...and I kind of love it. Of course, I fear I'm rapidly approaching the point where the smiles are mere attempts at masking the initial looks of horror that say "Good God! That woman looks like a baby might burst out of her at any moment...should I call 911?"

3. The eating - Let's face it; I'm a girl who likes to eat, and being pregnant has provided me with the perfect excuse (not that I've ever really needed one!). It hasn't been a total ice cream free for all - I've had to fit in a ridiculous amount of protein and lots of fruits and veggies too - but it's still been pretty cool.

4. My husband - From the moment I realized I was pregnant, Roger has said and done everything right. (Well, almost. I've only had to threaten him with bodily harm once or twice!). He's been the perfect mix of sympathy and encouragement. In true Roger form, every anxiety I express he manages to prove unneccessary. Even when we found out that his office would be closing shortly after the babies arrived, while I panicked, he assured me he would "make a plan" as he focused on the job hunt. And sure enough, his "plan" worked out and he's now happily employed with a new company. And whenever I start freaking out about any of the gazillion things there are to freak out about raising kids in this cruel, crazy world, Roger's mere presence reminds me that good things happen every day and despite all the bad stuff, this world can be pretty amazing too.

5. The whole miracle thing - When all else fails, I think about how completely incredible it is to be hosting two tiny lives inside my body. As physically challenging as the last eight months have been (and I fear the worst is still to come!), to be so instrumental in this kind of true miracle is both a privilege and a gift.

That's all I got for now. But hopefully it will be enough to get me through the coming weeks....I have a feeling it ain't gonna be pretty!

Here I am - big belly and all. I'm practicing with my friend's new baby, Owen. Good thing my hair hides the look of terror on my face!