|
« July 2005 |
Main
| September 2005 »
Last night the girls started screaming while Jeff was on his way out to walk the dog. He came back in to find me like this. To this he said, "dude, you rock". :) And yeah, that is a sun tattoo. Pretty lame, but I got it when I was 18.
Today has been better. I gave everyone a bath and then a bottle and now they are alseep. I think I might need to do the same. Sleep.
Oh! I will be doing Crafty Bastards again this year. I am so excited. I just hope I have time to make some stuff before October 1st! Get the information here: http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/craftybastards/index.php
This is the most most fun and there is so much cool stuff to see and buy.
Saturday, October 1, 2005 • 10am–5pm+ at Western Market in Adams Morgan +
If you come, please say hi! And wish me luck on getting time to make some stuff before then! I will also be selling stuff at the First Baptist Church Fall Festival in Dupont Circle on October 8th.
Ok. Someone is hungry. Someone other than me, of course.
This is my first day of true motherhood. This is my first day at home alone with the girls.
Jeff left an hour ago and so far I have changed 4 diapers, tried to burp two babies twice, and fed two babies even though they just ate less than an hour ago. I still have a crib full of crying babies.
OK, let's see what I can do to calm them. Be back later.
I struggle to put on my lime green and blue Saucony sneakers while holding Rachel. We are listening to the new Death Cab for Cutie record and she is slowly closing her eyes, teasing me with sleep. I wonder how cool or lame I am when I inventory these cultural references. Not that it matters. But it is funny to think about. Am I the hip young mom that I want to be?
Jeff and I are struggling a little with the fact that we like one girl better than the other right now. I will not tell you who. But it is a fact and we whisper about it when the babies aren't around. All the twin parenting books tell you to talk about it. So we do. The books also say that this situation will flip flop over the months and years and not to feel bad about it. But we do. We are also spending a good amount of time discussing whether or not we think the girls are identical. They look so different to us now. We are also watching lots of TV on DVD and for some reason Dave Chapelle stand up. Chapelle makes Jeff and I talk like a stand up comedian. Calling each other MoFo and other things that I won't mention. We do this and laugh and laugh. Sometimes we don't laugh, usually in the middle of the night. Sometimes in the middle of the night we get frustrated. But everytime the girls sleep for at least 3 hours and we steal that time for sleep, too, we are all better.
It is a post-rainy afternoon and we open all the windows in the solarium. I wrap the girls in blankets and put them in their crib, removing the positioners that once kept them in their own sections of the crib. I want the girls to interact, and they do. They throw their arms around, randomly touching hands and faces. They seem free. One of the windows doesn't have a screen and Jeff tells me that a bird might fly in. This isn't Six Feet Under, I laugh. I do take note of the screen because I won't want a baby to fall out. I stand in front of it, looking down 7 floors and smelling someone cooking something out there somewhere. My pants are too big and my shoes are super cool and my babies are sleeping and I, too, seem free. For this moment. Soon there will be another feeding and some gas pains. Those things, too, bring freedom. Just a different kind.
Everytime I try to write, someone wakes on a velvety Boppy pillow from a deep sleep. Every free minute that I get, I have to choose my activity wisely. I am torn between what I SHOULD do and what I WANT to do. Breast pump or blog? Nap or work on baby books? Make a ninja necklace or prepare bottles for the next feeding? It is an unending question of priorities. I am not upset about this, but I do wish that I could be sharing this time with you a little more. I almost think that next week, when my adventure with the girls alone begins, I might have more time to write. I don't know how that is, but I think it will be true.
Today, I was sitting here pumping breast milk and I looked around to see 3 other people helping me with babies (my mom, Jeff and my friend, Eileen). I said, "this time next week, it will just be me". I thought I would say that with fear, but I didn't. It was just a statement of fact. That is what my emotional state is right now. I live and feel life in statements of fact. Fact: I have twin newborns. Fact: I do not sleep. Fact: the breastfeeding isn't working yet. Fact: I am eating way too much junk food. I can't get upset about any of my facts because, well, they are just that, facts.
Today, my friend Eileen asked me how I am doing emotionally. It was so great of her to ask because, well, she really wanted to know. That is what I love about her. I was kinda surprised to tell her that I am not doing badly at all. I thought I would be a perfect candidate for post-partum depression, but here I am, living with my facts and trying to love them. Don't get me wrong, this is so damn hard. Last weekend, when Jeff's mom was here, I got to sleep through the night for the first time in a while. When I woke up at 7 to change Rachel's diaper, I was totally wowed at just how beautiful she was. I was just floored by her tiny nose and thick Elvis hair. I don't think I have ever missed anyone more. Fact: sleep matters.
I have a couch full of wiggling babies right now. I wonder when someone will begin to meow. Anya just opened one eye, like a submarine, she is. Rachel's face is red, I think she may be pooping. These are my facts.
Here is an out-take from our announcement card photos. Rachel is doing Bill Murray doing Sinatra in Lost in Translation with that funny hand. If you have seen that movie, you know what I mean. She does this with her hand a lot. It is weird and funny.
Happy birthday to me. Today, I hope my orange Roos sneakers will be delivered. And I will eat the Mac and Cheese that Lisa and Jonah brought. Oh my! If I don't regain something from this amazing Mac and Cheese, I will surely be surprised. Today I will ditch the pjs again and walk out further into the world and grab a few minutes of feeling normal. There might be a breeze outside if I am lucky and I will close my eyes and feel it on my face and love my life.
We ventured into the world today. It did a lot for me emotionally. Will write more on that when it isn't 2 am. Isn't Jeff the cutest dad in the world?
OK. 5 am now. Waiting for Anya to fully wake so I can feed her.
Ok. 7 am now. Anya cried, but wouldn't wake up to eat, so here I am again. Waiting to see eyes and a tongue before I will feed her. My world is full of sleepy, yet hungry babies. They don't know which one they would rather be. If I were breastfeeding this wouldn't be a problem, but these stupid formula bottles have a shelf life. Formula also smells like trash. Great. It is my birthday and also the end of toxic breast milk. I will try to breast feed today. I worry it won't work, we will see. I should have had a lactation consultant lined up for today.... we will see how it goes.
Walking in the world yesterday made me feel so much more normal. I weighed 249 yesterday. 56 pounds less than the day I gave birth. I can't imagine that I had 56 pounds of extra fluids, so I hope some of it was fat. 25 more pounds and I am back down to pre-pregnancy weight. I wore a non-maternity shirt yesterday (Q and Not U t-shirt!), but I am still stuck with maternity pants because of the c-section and all of my extra skin.
Katie, who I have only met a few times, sent me the most lovely email the other day about how we as women feel closer to others who have gone through this whole childbearing thing. It made me think and worry about the women I have known. Why is it that there seems to be this quiet surrounding childbearing. No one ever talked to me about it until I got pregnant. Why aren't birthing stories a huger part of our culture? There are 14 tv shows about investigating murder, but none about giving birth. I think women need to stop being so quiet about these experiences. And that whole TLC "A Baby Story" is so sanitized. Why is it called a baby story? It isn't about the baby. Anyway... I just wish women would start wearing their birthing stories on their sleeves. But I guess they don't because most people don't want to hear them or can't relate. Also, they don't because these stories are messy and scary and life-changing and who talks about these things in normal conversation. I have a new, deeper respect for women. All women, because even if they haven't gone through this, they have the ability to. I wish our culture would allow, encourage? us to share our experiences in more profound ways. More profound than complaining about weight gain and body changes. I can't imagine not liking what this pregnancy has done to my body. I can't imagine hating myself that much, like so many American women do.
Then there is the reality of the babies. This is hard. Sometimes I look down at them and am filled with so much love. Sometimes I wonder when this will end. Knowing that this won't ever end overwhelms me. Loving them so much overwhelms me. I know it is only slightly worse/better for me because I have two. I want to think that my experience is unique because I have two, but I know those of you out there with one baby at a time have had the same experiences. But mine are just doubled.
We live life in 3 hour intervals. If we are lucky, we get 3 hours. Yesterday, it was more like 1.5 or 2 because the babies were snackers rather than eaters. It makes you realize just how long things really take when you only have 2 or 3 hours to get things done. I'm not complaining, just noticing.
Jeff and I are offically on our own this week, as his mom's two weeks here are over. Some minutes I think this is much easier than I thought it would be. And then other times, I feel like I can't believe how hard this is. Everyone says this first month is going to be the hardest. I keep thinking that can't be. I mean, now, we feed and change and sleep and cuddle. In a few months, we will do those things, PLUS the girls will need to be entertained. There will be a bigger range of things that the girls will need to be learning, everyday, every hour. I know it will be fine, but I can't imagine that this will get easier the older they get.
Now that Jeff and I are on our own, the night feedings are less baby centered. We feed babies while watching DVDs of funny TV shows. Last night, we were watching the Chappelle Show and I was surprised to look down and see that I was feeding a baby. While the girls wake to eat every 3 hours at night, they generally sleep through said eating and DVDs of TV shows makes being up at 3 am seem easier.
We can tell the girls apart now. It didn't take too long. In fact, it is so easy to tell them apart that we are wondering if they are even idenitical. Rachel has way more hair than her sister, and it is wavy and thick. Her nose is also a tad bit different and her face is fuller. Anya is more elfin, with a smaller head and more delicate features. Rachel's thicker hair likes to come to a point after a bath, which makes her look a bit like Elvis. Rachel is so far the only of my daughters to have a nickname that has stuck. A few days ago, I went into the nursery to find that Rachel had milk dried on her face from a sleepy middle of the night feeding. Hence, Milk Face. We have been calling her Milk Face for days now and I can't look at her without thinking it. We are now saying things like, "Milk Face and her sister..." Funny.
This morning, I weighed 255. 50 pounds less than the day I gave birth. This is not from anything I am doing. I have been eating lots of peanut M&Ms in the middle of the night and Cherry Coke has replaced water. So, it must be the water weight dropping and the breast pumping. 30 more pounds and I will be pre-pregnancy weight. I have to say that I love my post-partum body. I am a huge fan of watching bodies change and these changes are so fast and fun to see. I have watched my wrist bones and neck bones re-emerge over the course of just a few days. But my favorite body part right now is my tummy. I have the cutest little pot belly (top tummy) with these huge red stretch marks. It looks like I fought in a war. I love my red marks, they remind me of how hard I worked, of my little war. The bottom tummy is another story that I won't even go into right now. But I love my little tummy with her red stretch marks.
Today is the day my girls were supposed to be born. Three days from now, I will turn 32. I marvel at how grown up we all are already.
We are two weeks old now. We have belly buttons now. We hate having the hiccups, but don't mind the baby papasan. So far, our poop is not smelly at all, but our pee smells like ceral. We are two weeks old now and we are happy and lovely babies.
******
Jeff and I ventured out into the world without the babies today. First time. We left them with Grandma and drove through Monuments to find a Walmart a little too deep into Virginia for our taste. We had a gift card that we used to buy newborn diapers and formula. In the car, I cried because I missed my babies. I never knew a trip to Walmart could be so emotional. I also cried because I was buying formula, which makes me crazy. I can't wait until next Friday when I can start working on breastfeeding again. When my milk becomes toxic no more.
Some positive things, though. This morning, I weighed in at 265. I was 305 the day I gave birth and 305 the day after (thanks extra fluids!). But the fluids and pounds have been dropping off slowly these past few days. 40 pounds gone, 40 more to get to pre-pregnancy weight, then the real fun begins. Today, I could actually wear my wedding ring again. Whoohoo!
Time to sleep before a baby wakes up. More tomorrow.
If my labor and delivery had a baseball-type trading card, the statistics on the back would look something like this:
Attempts it took to insert my first IV: 5
Hours it took to induce labor: 20
Hours of active labor: 15
Hours of trying to push out Baby A: 3
Number of monitors attached to me during said 38 hours: 3
Minutes it took my doctor to decide it was time for a c-section: 2
Days we thought we would be in the hosiptal following a c-section: 4
Days we were actually in the hosiptal: 10
Number of uterus infections I got during labor: 1
Number of people in the room during my c-section: more than 12
Number of babies born: 2
Number of days the girls were away from us in the NICU: 3
Number of days of IV fluids it took before the fluid began to enter my lungs: 4
Number of catheters: 3
Number of times I had blood taken: around 20
Number of chest Xrays: 2
Number of CT scans: 2 (one of my heart and lungs, one of my uterus)
Number of Echocardiogram: 1
Number of doctors and medical students on my case: around 15
Final diagnosis from said doctors: pneumonia and fluid on the lungs from too much IV fluids, plus uterus infection from labor and of course the c-section itself
Temperature I had to stay below for 24 hours straight before I could leave the hospital: 38 C or 100.4
So, hopefully the above list tells most of the story. Basically, being induced was a bad idea. Yes, it started my labor, but it took way too long and all that time on IV fluids was too much for my body to handle. The fluids entered my lungs and then I got pnemonia. I also got a uterine infection during labor, which had something to do with when Rachel's water broke. After 15 hours of active labor and 3 hours of pushing (with the help of many female residents who work for my doctor), the party was over when my doctor came to check on me. I was 10 centimeters dialated and Rachel's head was at station 1, but my doctor used the sonogram machine to see that Anya had changed postions from head down to transverse across my tummy again, she was having none of this pushing!!!! So, no matter what, Anya would have been delivered c-section.
The decision to have a c-section was made and I have to say I was relieved. After 38 hours of work, I was ready to see these babies. It only took about 10 minutes before I was in the operating room, completely numb on a a thin table with my arms strapped down. The room was beautiful, so bright and white. Above me were these huge sci-fi looking lights and I thought, that is so beautiful. I wasn't afraid at all. I was actually excited to be almost done. Sometime after the numbing was done, I began to shake. It was all over, shaking. This, too, I almost enjoyed. It was so much better than being strapped to that labor bed with all those monitors. The shaking made me feel alive and awake in that bright bright room.
They finally let Jeff in the room, all dressed in scrubs. With his little red glasses, he looked so serious and fatherly. He told me how he had met a set of newborn twin boys in the recovery room before coming to be with me. It must have been such a positive thing for him to see and he shared the story with such excitement. Before we knew it, I was opened up and I could feel them tugging at Rachel. After those 3 hours of pushing, she was deep in my pelvis. I could feel them trying to wiggle her out by her feet. And then she was out and I felt empty where she had been wedged prior. It felt like forever, but two minutes later, Anya, too, was freed from my tummy. Before her liberation, I felt them break her water, gushing fluid all over my insides.
It must have been 30 minutes before the scrub-clad team were done cleaning up the girls and brought them to us. They were red and puffy and smaller than I thought they would be. Jeff and I were shocked by their features, though. They had the most interesting little noses and the most petite little faces. They looked nothing like most newborns look. We were warned that most newborns look like wringled old men. But not these girls. Jeff said it first, I think. "They look like tiny elves!" he said. And they did and they do.
And that ends the most important part of my hospital stay. The arrival of my tiny elves.
Of course we were in the hosiptal for 8 more days, during which the girls went to the NICU to be checked for traces of my infection, none was found. But they were successfully taught to drink formula from a bottle during this time of course, something that I was instantly upset about. By day 3, the fluid in my lungs was found when I woke up at 5 am, not being able to breathe. Days of searching for heart trouble, blood clots and who knows what else pointed to pneumonia. All the while, Jeff and his mom and I had to learn how to take care of twins in a tiny hospital room, while I was hooked to oxygen and IVs and catheters, recovering from a c-section. It was stressful to say the least. People could hand me babies, but mostly I just watched from bed.
I left the hospital after 10 days, with a prescription for the strongest antibodic around, thus also with instructions to not breastfeed for two weeks. My girls were already having trouble latching on since they were so small and only 37 weeks gestation. Now, I had toxic milk to deal with. Breastfeeding is on hold for now, so I pump and dump every 3 hours and feed my babies this gross formula. Yuck!
We are home and everyday gets easier. Being sick in the hospital made it hard to bond with the girls, but now I find it hard to put them back in their crib after they have been fed and changed. I love to feel their soft little heads against my chest, just like in the dreams I had before they were born.
Anya on the left, Rachel on the right.
Archie and Rachel meet.
This is just an update to let people know that we are all ok. It has been over a week and I just got home. Yes, we were in the hospital for 10 days. Girls were born on day 2. Then other things started happening, not to them, but to me. I will go into huge detail later, but just so you know, we are all home now and healthy and tired. Look for a real update tomorrow.
Rachel Leigh Barrus was born on July 28th, at 5:59 pm via c-section. She weighed 5 pounds and 3 ounces and was 18 1/2 inches long.
Anya Kathryn Barrus was born on July 28th, at 6:01 pm via c-section. She weighed 5 pounds and 3 -1/2 ounces and was 18 1/2 inches long.
Both look like tiny elves.
|
Copyright © 2005, Tina Henry-Barrus, all rights reserved.
Design by Jeff Barrus, 2005. |
|
|
