Odds and ends

I've had a lot of thoughts lately for posting, but mostly just random things, so here goes:

I finished breastfeeding this past Wednesday, and it's become clear that this really is the best thing for the babies. After pumping one day, I realized that one side was woefully under-producing. No wonder these kids have been fussy. Both babies are calmer after they eat now and are able to "hang out" for longer periods of time. No, they don't sleep through the night yet, but that's more because we need to keep waking them up until they get a bit bigger. But they're gaining weight and that's awesome to see. Plus, their mom is more relaxed and that's better for everyone in the house.

While looking for something to wear to church this morning, I came across all of my maternity clothes, "in-between sizes" clothes, and bigger-sized shirts I wear when I'm nursing. I began purging and didn't stop until my closet was reduced by half. And it felt great. I think a shopping trip is in order.

I find that I'm still less than patient with the three older kids. My top priority right now is to keep the babies happy and well-rested. And that doesn't always coincide with the priorities of their three loud and rather rambunctious older siblings. I really am trying to not be so uptight if they happen to wake one of the babies. But it always seems to start a ripple effect. One baby wakes up. I get said baby back to sleep, just as the other wakes up. And somehow, an hour later, I'm exhausted and it's time for them to eat again. A and I have realized that we are going to have to become more relaxed and laid back if we're ever going to get through this in one piece. I'm sure it will be a work in progress for some time.

We're specifically putting off going to church with the whole family for as long as possible. I did go today with the three older kids for all three hours (which I won't be doing again for a little while since I was on the verge of falling asleep the whole time). I tried to envision our family in church and it looked pretty ridiculous. I keep telling the older three that they have to practice being good and not asking Mom and Dad for every little thing or there's no way we're ever going to attempt church-going as a family of seven. They act enthusiastic about the idea in theory, but their actual efforts leave something to be desired...

Sometimes I feel like things are going well, and other times I dissolve into tears because I feel like things will never reach a semblance of normal. But all in all, I'm pretty impressed with how A and I are handling this life curveball. And in the middle of the night, when I'm rocking one of the babies back to sleep, I sit in awe of the two precious babies that have come into our home and our hearts, changing everything in their path and little by little, making us better people in the process.

School days

The school year has begun, with S starting second grade, H starting kindergarten, and T in preschool one morning a week. In some ways, it's good because there are less children to watch during the day, but it also means I can't be as lazy in the morning because I have to get S ready to go and get myself dressed to do the carpool. All three kids love their teachers and are having a blast. T didn't even want me to walk him into school the first day--what a big boy! With two kids in elementary school, does that mean I'm getting old? I think it does...

I also wanted to say a quick thank you to all the people who have helped us out since the babies arrived. My mom, two of my sisters, and my dad have all taken turns holding babies, cleaning my house, and corralling the older kids (and even sleeping on an Aerobed in our toyroom). They've been such a big help! I also can't forget the amazing help from A's family. A's mom took the three older kids to swimming lessons for two weeks and would almost always keep them for hours afterwards. (I would always laugh when she would ask when they needed to be home--umm, bedtime?) We've also received quite a few yummy dinners from friends and neighbors. It's so wonderful to know that we don't have to worry about dinner for the night. And plus, it's always better than what I would have scraped together. Thanks, everyone!

One month

Tomorrow marks one month since the babies were born. As I said to my husband this morning, "time has lost all meaning." I don't think of time in days anymore, but in terms of how long it's been since they've eaten, how long until they need to eat again, and how much of a nap I can get before they wake up.

One of the very first days they were home--probably the same day of my early morning jaunt with little N in the car--I got an answer to a pretty constant prayer at the time. I remember being exhausted out of my mind and just praying that it would somehow get easier. The answer was not what I wanted to hear, but it was an answer nonetheless. I remember getting a distinct impression that our lives wouldn't get easier anytime soon, but that we would get stronger in our ability to handle our new challenges. And I definitely think that we are getting stronger. Even though my arms ache at the end of every day from holding, carrying, bouncing, and feeding two small babies, I do believe that I'm getting stronger--that our family's getting stronger--with every day that passes. Who knows when we'll fully adjust to being a family of seven (does that ever actually happen?) but we'll continue to take it one feeding, one double crying session, and one day at a time.

Decision

Warning: Very long post about breastfeeding ahead...

I nursed my three older children until they were each a year old, but I've always had a lukewarm relationship with breastfeeding. I did it because it was "best", but didn't necessarily love it or even like it very much. I always said if I ever had twins, I probably wouldn't breastfeed because it just seemed way too hard.

When I was pregnant with the twins, we started crunching the numbers to figure out if we could survive if I worked part-time after they came. We could, but it would be cutting it pretty close. One of the things built into the budget is that I would nurse the babies as long as possible because of the money it would save. I bought a twin nursing pillow and got tips from my sister who had twins earlier this year.

Fast forward to now. I think I would sum up my nursing experience this time around as draining--both physically and emotionally. I've always had some pain with nursing (had a really tough time the first time around with S) but for some reason this time, I just haven't been able to get over the hump, so to speak. When each feeding time approaches, my palms get sweaty and I begin to panic, trying to put it off as long as I can. It definitely hurts more on one side than the other, so much so that it takes me at least a couple minutes extra to get the baby latched on because I just can't make myself do it. And when I do get the baby latched on, it hurts the entire time, with shooting pains that go all the way down my left side. I'm doing everything I can to reverse the pain and toughen up my body, but nothing seems to be working. If anything, it's getting worse.

About a week ago, I had a break down and was this close to giving up breastfeeding entirely, but I slogged ahead. Several wonderful women gave me great advice, telling me that nursing wasn't worth sacrificing my emotional and mental well-being, but I still couldn't get past the guilt or money worries. Until today.

I'm not exactly sure what changed--why I suddenly felt at peace with the idea of quitting. It honestly felt like a light switch flipped inside my head and I finally realized that nursing the twins was no longer the best thing for me or for them. A few things led up to this decision.

A big worry for me has been the twins' size. They started out smaller than my other babies, but I was confident that when my milk came in, they would begin fattening up pretty quickly. As I told the babies in the hospital, "I've never had any complaints about my milk before, guys." Unfortunately, they're not gaining weight very quickly. I've had a few people tell me that sometimes smaller babies gain weight slower, but little A especially just seems so skinny still. One of the things that always kept me breastfeeding before was that my babies seemed to do so well. Even if I was in pain or didn't necessarily like doing it, my babies thrived and that was enough for me. S had regained her birth weight by six days old. H had gained two pounds by the time he was three weeks old. The fact that the twins don't seem to really be thriving on breastfeeding makes it that much harder to get through the pain. Another factor is their fussiness. Yes, I know babies are often fussy, but when they get fussy only minutes after eating, I start to wonder if they're getting enough after all.

In the hospital, they told me I might have a hernia. The muscles in my stomach area didn't seem to be going back together in the right way, but the doc said we'd just have to wait and see how the next few weeks played out. He said if it was indeed a hernia and became strangulated, I'd be in a lot of pain and require emergency surgery. Last night I started having some random sharp pains in my stomach. I sat there worrying that it might be the start of a problem and actually thought to myself that if it was indeed a strangulated hernia, I'd be in the hospital for surgery and recovery for several days and most definitely would have to stop breastfeeding. I found myself hoping this would happen. Not exactly the thought process of an emotionally stable person.

Today, little N woke up earlier than her brother for a feeding. Since I feed them at the same time, I bounced her and tried to calm her down so her brother could sleep a little longer. But even when he woke up, I kept stalling, dragging my feet through the mud once again because I just wasn't ready to do it. And then the light switch turned on in my head. I realized that I would rather bounce a crying and hungry baby than nurse that baby. That's when I knew that this wasn't a good thing, for me or for the babies. So, I pulled out the formula and the older kids helped me feed the babies. And something inside me relaxed.

I'm not sure how all of the financial logistics will work out, but A has told me over and over that we'll make it work, no matter what I decide to do. I know that switching to formula doesn't mean that these babies will suddenly sleep through the night or be less fussy, or that the other stresses in our new life will suddenly go away, but I really believe that I'll be a better mom to all my kids now. The pain and stress of breastfeeding have been so wrapped in everything else about this experience that I haven't even really been able to enjoy these babies. I hope I can a little more now.

My birthday

If you have an upcoming birthday that you'd rather forget about (in my case, turning 32--yuck), a great way is to have three-week old twins. I turned 32 on Monday and kept forgetting that I even had a birthday coming up (even worse still was that I forgot about my husband's birthday the day before. Since it was a Sunday and I couldn't shop, I made him a card and put some cash in it. Sad, but since he lives in the same house I do and knows how tired we both are, he didn't complain. And he put the money toward something he wanted anyway, so it was all ok.)

He didn't forget my birthday, however, and got me this beautiful necklace with five very special charms. Of course I cried when I opened it--can't believe all these little people are mine!
I did get to do something fun for my birthday. Thanks to Gail for kidnapping me and taking me out for dessert with some awesome friends. It was a great way to celebrate!

What a day!

Yesterday's adventures began with a trip back to the hospital for little A. Since he hadn't pooped in almost two weeks (only being three weeks old, that's a bit concerning), the doc sent us to have a barium enema done. We took little N as well, since I was worried we'd be there when I needed to feed both of them. They did a live x-ray while shooting the dye through his intestines. They were specifically checking for Hirschsprung's Disease. With this condition, the large intestine doesn't have all the nerve cells that it needs. When stool gets to the part without the nerve cells, it stops and everything gets backed up. It's pretty rare, but our doc wanted to rule it out.

Ironically, little A pooped in the waiting room right before we went in. Since the doc had told us to go ahead with the procedure even if he pooped, we went on in. They did their thing while little A cried rather pitifully on the x-ray table. They didn't find evidence of the disease, but couldn't completely rule it out. They did, however, notice that he has redundancies in his colon, which means he has extra loops that stool has to pass through, making it take longer to get out of his system. That made sense, since he never seemed particularly upset about not pooping. Things were just taking extra long to make their way out. We're supposed to keep an eye on him, and if he goes this long again, we might need to do more tests.

What goes up (dye) must come out, so we prepared ourselves for some big blowouts. He had one at the hospital, and then he fell asleep on the way home. I didn't want to wake him yet, so I fed little N and let him sleep. When he woke up, we discovered he had pooped in his carseat. This all happened right as my husband was leaving to go to the airport--his brother came home from his mission to Italy last night. I made A stay until I had gotten most of the carseat cover out to wash and cleaned up little A.

A's brother was set to arrive at 8:30 pm. A and the kids were going up with the rest of the fam, and I thought they'd get home around 9:30 or 10. That's when the babies usually start to get pretty fussy, so I was nervous to be on my own, but thought it wouldn't get too bad. Just as the babies woke up around 9:30 to eat, A called to say that his brother had missed his flight and wouldn't get in until 10:30 pm. At that point, I started to panic a bit, knowing that from 10 pm until midnight every night, it takes two of us to take care of these babies. I was not at all confident that I could even do it on my own.

Two and a half hours later, A came home with the kids. I had spent 99% of the time with two babies in my arms. The saving grace of the evening was little A. Even though he had a traumatic afternoon, he lay on my lap, calmly looking around while his sister cried and fussed. He did have several more blowouts, but I was able to change him before they got everywhere.

Although my arms still feel like they're going to fall off from holding the babies for so long, I feel a certain sense of accomplishment. It was really hard at times, and at one point, I did call my husband and, in the midst of crying, asked him to please come home. But, I didn't really freak out otherwise. It's great to know that when I need to do it, I can calm these babies down on my own, even during their fussiest times. I'm not about to repeat this feat anytime soon, but it's still nice to know.

Note to my neighbors: No, I did not call anyone for reinforcements. It didn't get bad until 11 pm and I wasn't about to ring up anyone to come on over and hold a crying baby that late at night. :)

Mom always said...

if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. We love these babies so much, but we'd be even more happy if they slept a little better, were a little less fussy, and pooped a little more.

Beautiful blanket backgrounds courtesy of my mom, quilter extraordinaire. :)