I knew there was a daughter that was suppose to come to our family about a year before she was conceived. I even knew her name. I was blessed enough to receive this information so that my husband and I could get our butts in gear and prepare our family for her. I didn't know when she would come, I didn't know if she was the first or last. But her name was Jane Elizabeth and I was confident that I would know her when she joined our family. When I told my husband my experience of seeing this beautiful woman and knowing that she was ours, his response... Great, now you've cursed us and we'll have six boys before she comes.
We tried for six months before finding myself pregnant. I had a sneaky suspicion that Jane was to be our first. But then I found out that God had other plans for our family. I had this odd craving for a subway sub. This was before they even had all the cool bread, it was white or wheat only. While waiting to pay I felt the most awful feeling in my life. There was a sudden wetness between my legs. I paid quickly and while crying drove home. I ran into the bathroom and there was blood everywhere. There was no doubt, this baby wasn't meant to be. I hollered for Kent and he came running. He had no idea until he saw the blood.
The next day we went into the doctor, my OB wasn't there and we saw his partner. I don't hate people, but for a number of years I came awfully close to hating this man. He ran an ultrasound, confirmed that there wasn't much there, stated that he thought what was left would shed on it's own and then he commented that he wouldn't have been as generous on giving my pregnancy a chance as my OB had been. My OB had stated the previous week that dates easily could have been wrong.
So I went home and bled. I cried. I bled and cried. It was the worst feeling in the world. It was the loss potential. That little life, no matter how brief the existence had a potential and I grieved that loss. I prayed a lot too. Where was my Jane that I had felt from before?
After a week, the bleeding tapered off and then stopped. Another week went by and Kent and I were out to eat. It was a trucker stop, a place Kent use to go to with Search and Rescue. I got up to use the restroom when all of a sudden I had a huge cramp, it was gigantic. Almost knocked me off my feet. I passed a huge clot, then I cramped again and passed two more. I realized I was in trouble and went and got my husband. We went home, I ran into the bathroom and had another gush of blood. This covered the bathroom floor, I yelled for Kent. When he walked in, well lets just say for the next month he was afraid if I said anything in the bathroom, he'd walk into blood again.
Kent called the OB, got the same compassionate (haha) fill in that we had two weeks ago. He said not to worry. It was normal.
I was drenching three maxi pads (at the same time!) in about five minutes. You cannot tell me that's normal! So Kent took me to the emergency room where I met another idiot. I got there by putting a hand towel and two maxi's in my pants. I also sat on a towel just in case. I walk in, get led to a room and the RN (male!) hands me a robe and asked me to undress and put that robe on. I gave him a blank look and finally said that I was hemorrhaging and that little thin robe wouldn't last very long. He gave me some pads to sit on, which worked much better.
Then the old fart ER doctor walked in and we told him we wanted him to call the OB. He said No no, he could handle it just fine.
Great.
We said it again and got the same response. He had me lean back and started pulling clots out. He'd pull a clot out, I'd gush blood, he'd pull a clot out, I'd gush blood. I have no idea how long that went on for, it seemed like forever but I think it was more like 20 minutes. Finally he said maybe he should call the OB (Really? You think maybe?) So he came back and announced they were admitting me and I needed an IV.
I should add that the doctor's gloves and robed arms were saturated in blood. Kent said I bled on him very efficiently from the knees down. Said I ruined his shoes too.
By the time the IV was ordered my veins had collapsed. They blew four veins trying to get the line in. It was a lovely experience. I had black baseball size bruises up and down my arm. They put a warmed blanket on me and admitted me for a D&C. One of the nurses commented not to be to hard on the ER doctor. The OB didn't like to be called and gave the ER doctor hell if he felt like he was called in for something he didn't feel he was needed for.
Lovely.
Some nurse came in to talk to me about miscarriages. Annoyed the snot out of me because this wasn't a new loss, this was my body not healing like it should.
Kent begged to be able to go in the OR with me. The ER doctor remarked that he'd never seen anyone handle blood like Kent had. So Kent went in with me. The OB (typical male) said that a D&C was no different then a pap smear. Oh yes it was! I was weak and it took me a long time to heal. I had to go back to the ER for some blood tests to make sure I didn't have an infection. I passed the RN that gave me all the bruises on my arm and shouted hello to him and showed him my arms commenting that he'd done that to me. What can I say, it'd been a bad couple of weeks. He did have the decency to turn bright red.
I was suppose to give myself three cycles before trying again. If I didn't get my period, I was suppose to call for hormones so I could get those three cycles in. I had one and then I didn't have anymore. I took a pregnancy test, negative. Called the doc, took ten days of hormones and no period. I waited confused for a few weeks and then this feeling hit.
This queasy, I may throw up any minute feeling.
Oh yes baby, I was pregnant.
I wasn't completely joyful, I worried a lot about that extra dose of hormones. Especially when it was confirmed that I was a whole month farther along then I thought. I had gone to the emergency room, I couldn't breath, I confirmed I was pregnant. I was thinking five weeks, uh, the ER doc took a Doppler and there was a heartbeat. I was obviously farther along then I thought. At first I was sure I must have gotten pregnant right after the hormones. Not according to the ultrasound I had shortly after that ER visit. I got pregnant June first.
Saweet! This baby was a camping baby!! We'd taken some time to head off in the woods and just spend time together. We needed to heal, needed to connect again. Apparently we did more then just that. *laugh*
I discovered a few things during my pregnancy. I discovered (three trips to the emergency room later) that I have asthma while pregnant. I discovered my aunt was willing to put all her anguish aside on not being able to conceive to put together a nursery for us. This included matching border, curtains, quilt and crib skirt. I was so very touched by the love she'd showed us. I also found out after telling my OB that I didn't want an episiotomy, that my OB was really a control freak. If I had been more confident in being my own advocate, I would have walked out and found a different OB but it was my first pregnancy. I let the man yell at me, telling me how tearing was barbaric (yeah buddy, you don't let the woman tear from stem to stern, you take a little time and stretch the perineum) and I ended up getting cut anyway.
I had an aversion for chicken during that pregnancy. Kent made dutch oven chicken and potatoes for his family over the weekend of July forth with "Volcano spice". Dutch oven chicken still makes me queasy.
Before my first semester was over I was impressed that I was pregnant with that girl I saw over a year and a half ago. Kent realized it was a girl and that her name was Jane about a month later. All we had to do was let her grow.
About eight months before my pregnancy, Kent got raked over the coals by the IRS. Of course if they owe you money, oh well. If they think you owe them money, then they charge a $500.00 fine with interest on the original amount and who knows what else. The $400.00 that they claimed Kent owed (from before our marriage) had morphed into $2200.00. All we had was our savings for a baby. So we paid, we'd just bought our house and we sure as heck weren't taking a chance on losing it. We took out a loan and problem solved. Oh we probably swore while paying them off too, I can't remember.
Since our savings and financial security had to go to the IRS, we felt guilt free about getting on medicaid for that pregnancy. The employees are sumptin special, that's for sure. My caseworker denied me the first time because she couldn't understand the pay stub so she made up a number and added it our monthly gross total. The second time she just didn't bother to process it, until I called, six weeks later. Then she hassled me because I had insurance, so why was I trying to get on medicaid. *eye roll* I simply stated I had a $3,000 maternity deductible. For heavens sake, don't punish the person doing it right! I figured after the raking over the coals by the IRS, we were about even with the cost of Jane's pregnancy and delivery.
I swelled at the end of my pregnancy. Elephant ankles, big calves, even my fingers were swelling. I had to take my wedding ring off. As we were going for weekly visits we noticed that there was protein in my urine. The doctor didn't do anything. Finally Kent asked him and he got this thoughtful look like Oh yeah... This was on a Thursday. I was instructed to take a twenty-four hour urine test and turn it in Friday. Anyone not familiar with the term, you keep a jug in the fridge and save your urine for twenty-four hours. Yes it's as fun as it sounds. I turned the test in Friday and Saturday morning at eight am, the phone rings.
It's got to be bad if your OB is calling Saturday morning!!
I grabbed a bowl of cereal because I figured I would want to eat before going to the hospital. I almost left the bag I had packed home but Kent said it'd be foolish to forget it just in case we had a baby.
So off to the hospital we went. I was hooked up to all kinds of monitors. I should mention that the contraction monitor was pretty useless because I had a bad cold and a cough. So there were spikes all over the place. The nurses took a urine sample and took all my stats and confirmed that my blood pressure was rising and my kidneys were shutting down. I was going to have that baby that very day. While I was signing papers one of the nurses walked up and looked at my contraction sheet. She says Hey, wait a minute, you're having contractions. I responded that I was feeling tight every couple of minutes and she rolled her eyes with this look that clearly said "first time mothers".
I was put on the pit at 2:30 pm, the nurse jokingly commented that maybe she'd see a baby before her shift ended at 7:00. She didn't really mean it, but I fooled her! lol.
Jane was born at 6:40 pm. Kent said that Jane hadn't even crowned when the OB gave me the episotomy, grrrrrrrrr. I had to labor with the stupid blood pressure cuff on because of the pre-eclampsia. At one point the on call Ped tried to leave and my OB yelled at him, saying this was high risk (there was meniconium in the waters) and he wasn't to step foot out of the room until after that baby was delivered.
I begged for drugs but I transitioned amazingly fast, so I delivered Jane on the pit completely drug free.
My MIL was in the room. I hadn't planned on her being in the room but she was such a comfort while I was laboring, she just kinda stayed. Kent tried but he really wanted to watch the action. Since my mom couldn't be there, I really appreciated my MIL's help during labor.
Jane was perfect, she looked like a porcelain doll. She had tons of hair. TONS. One of the nurses commented on all her hair before I delivered after she had checked me.
Really, it's an odd thing. You wake up as one person and before the end of the day, you're two. There was no doubt as I was holding her, she definitely was my Jane Elizabeth ****. Bless her beautiful heart, we're blessed to have her in our lives.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Jane's review
Jane's three year review is coming up at school. They have to decide what tests to run on her. I was trying to describe Jane's learning problems to the twins speech teacher. This speech teacher knows our family pretty well, she was also Ean's speech teacher before Ean started Early Intervention with the school district. The speech teacher suggested that I have Jane tested for auditory/processing issues. I'm grateful for the advice, the testing will help us get the services Jane needs.
Right now she's in the resource room two hours a day. Her curriculum is adjusted in the resource room. She has a separate spelling list from her class, separate assignments. Often she'll be given less by her teacher in class. She excels in what she's given. She made honor roll fall semester. I'm so proud of her. She tries, she works hard, it's just learning isn't easy for her.
I have a hard time describing what makes learning so hard for Jane. She's had a hard time learning new vocabulary, understanding abstract concepts and is easily overwhelmed when she can't see the end of assignments.
A neighbor tried to classify her as ADD but I don't think that's it. She can sit down for an hour and concentrate on work, it's just when she sees it's to long, as in she won't finish it in time, she struggles and just shuts down. She uses tenses inappropriately. She's socially immature but she's doing much better this year then last year. Third grade was emotionally devastating. She was obsessed with people hating her, she felt like she had no friends. It's hard as a parent to see your child struggle and know there's very little you can do.
Right after Christmas she asked me why she was stupid, since she has to go to the resource room. As my heart was aching for her, I told her that she wasn't stupid, she just learns differently then some of the other kids. We all have challenges in this life, things that could hold us back if we let them. I pointed out to her that my eyesight is rotten, and always will be. It's something I'll forever struggle with during this mortal existence. Her struggle is how she learns. That doesn't make her defective, that makes her human. I reminded her about making honor roll, pointing out that she was doing her best and that's all I can ask. I reminded her that she made honor roll because she worked and tried, that's all she has to do, keep working and keep trying.
I hope I did alright. I hope she can embrace her strengths and take hold of all the positive qualities she has. I suspect her growing pains will be extra painful in a few years. She's so tender hearted. She cares so much for others. Really she's a treasure. I have to help her see that.
These tests hopefully will open doors to help her succeed even more.
I put her in Tae Kwon Do to hopefully help her self esteem. The instructors are wonderful, setting up the students for success. They don't test unless the kids are ready. Every pupil goes at their own pace. And Jane has loved it. She says she wants to be a black belt.
Jane was born to term (thirty-seven weeks, induced because I was pre-eclampsic). She was a healthy kid, she actually never had antibiotics until she was almost four. Her development was pretty normal, she didn't walk until 17 months because she flat out didn't want to. The child would stand up, rotate and then drop and crawl. *eye roll* It was downright silly. She was a light little thing, blond hair with curls, big blue eyes. Everyone that saw her was enchanted.
Her speech was funky from the start. She started trying to communicate but her pronunciation was always off. At the point where she should have been putting words into sentences, she didn't. At three, I knew she was speech delayed but I was entertaining the idea of homeschooling so I decided I'd keep her with me until four and if she didn't improve, then I'd take her in to get her evaluated. Oh yeah, I was so in over my head!!
During her evaluation I blew the Early Intervention speech teacher away when I informed her that Jane grouped words together without following or understanding basic grammar and syntax. That she inserted jargon in between words, sometimes at great length. Random words were grouped together with no understanding of sentence structure. She couldn't do a glodalstop (K's and G's, the back of the tongue popping up against the roof of your mouth makes those sounds)
Hey, I didn't flunk out of the speech pathology classes for nothing.
Needless to say, she got in. When she reached the point where we started understanding her, we started to see some of these other learning problems. We've been super lucky to have a dynamite speech teacher go to bat for her from Kindergarten on. Even though she might not qualify for "speech" she's kept her enrolled because of her language, which really is comprehension problems and she's been getting resource room under that umbrella. I absolutely shudder to think what would have happened if she'd gone into a system without someone personally in the system looking out for her interest.
So we'll see where we stand after the testing. I'll certainly update at that time.
Right now she's in the resource room two hours a day. Her curriculum is adjusted in the resource room. She has a separate spelling list from her class, separate assignments. Often she'll be given less by her teacher in class. She excels in what she's given. She made honor roll fall semester. I'm so proud of her. She tries, she works hard, it's just learning isn't easy for her.
I have a hard time describing what makes learning so hard for Jane. She's had a hard time learning new vocabulary, understanding abstract concepts and is easily overwhelmed when she can't see the end of assignments.
A neighbor tried to classify her as ADD but I don't think that's it. She can sit down for an hour and concentrate on work, it's just when she sees it's to long, as in she won't finish it in time, she struggles and just shuts down. She uses tenses inappropriately. She's socially immature but she's doing much better this year then last year. Third grade was emotionally devastating. She was obsessed with people hating her, she felt like she had no friends. It's hard as a parent to see your child struggle and know there's very little you can do.
Right after Christmas she asked me why she was stupid, since she has to go to the resource room. As my heart was aching for her, I told her that she wasn't stupid, she just learns differently then some of the other kids. We all have challenges in this life, things that could hold us back if we let them. I pointed out to her that my eyesight is rotten, and always will be. It's something I'll forever struggle with during this mortal existence. Her struggle is how she learns. That doesn't make her defective, that makes her human. I reminded her about making honor roll, pointing out that she was doing her best and that's all I can ask. I reminded her that she made honor roll because she worked and tried, that's all she has to do, keep working and keep trying.
I hope I did alright. I hope she can embrace her strengths and take hold of all the positive qualities she has. I suspect her growing pains will be extra painful in a few years. She's so tender hearted. She cares so much for others. Really she's a treasure. I have to help her see that.
These tests hopefully will open doors to help her succeed even more.
I put her in Tae Kwon Do to hopefully help her self esteem. The instructors are wonderful, setting up the students for success. They don't test unless the kids are ready. Every pupil goes at their own pace. And Jane has loved it. She says she wants to be a black belt.
Jane was born to term (thirty-seven weeks, induced because I was pre-eclampsic). She was a healthy kid, she actually never had antibiotics until she was almost four. Her development was pretty normal, she didn't walk until 17 months because she flat out didn't want to. The child would stand up, rotate and then drop and crawl. *eye roll* It was downright silly. She was a light little thing, blond hair with curls, big blue eyes. Everyone that saw her was enchanted.
Her speech was funky from the start. She started trying to communicate but her pronunciation was always off. At the point where she should have been putting words into sentences, she didn't. At three, I knew she was speech delayed but I was entertaining the idea of homeschooling so I decided I'd keep her with me until four and if she didn't improve, then I'd take her in to get her evaluated. Oh yeah, I was so in over my head!!
During her evaluation I blew the Early Intervention speech teacher away when I informed her that Jane grouped words together without following or understanding basic grammar and syntax. That she inserted jargon in between words, sometimes at great length. Random words were grouped together with no understanding of sentence structure. She couldn't do a glodalstop (K's and G's, the back of the tongue popping up against the roof of your mouth makes those sounds)
Hey, I didn't flunk out of the speech pathology classes for nothing.
Needless to say, she got in. When she reached the point where we started understanding her, we started to see some of these other learning problems. We've been super lucky to have a dynamite speech teacher go to bat for her from Kindergarten on. Even though she might not qualify for "speech" she's kept her enrolled because of her language, which really is comprehension problems and she's been getting resource room under that umbrella. I absolutely shudder to think what would have happened if she'd gone into a system without someone personally in the system looking out for her interest.
So we'll see where we stand after the testing. I'll certainly update at that time.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Teaching preemie twins to nurse.
I'd never been afraid that I'd miss out on the nursing experience until I realized my boys would be preemies. I'd been able to have such good nursing experiences with my other children, I really didn't want the boys to miss out. Not to mention, if anyone needs all the bonuses of breast milk, it's preemies in the nicu.
At the same time, I knew I couldn't sacrifice the emotional health of my three other children. I had just been on three months of bed rest, out of state testing twice a week. I had to find a compromise to meet all of my children's needs and I was emotionally prepared to formula feed if I was spending to much time on the twins teaching them to nurse.
Oh did I stress, before they were born I stressed. While they were in the nicu I stressed. I know I can search and find posts in support forums begging for advice on how to teach those preemies to nurse. Just a word, it's not beneficial to panic. That really doesn't help much.
The twins started tube feedings at about three days old for Greg and four days old for David. Interestingly enough, Dave was always about one step behind Greg in the nicu. Every milestone Greg made, Dave was about twenty-four hours behind him. Even when we thought Dave was days behind, he'd surprise us over and over again with keeping up with his *cough* older by thirty seconds *cough* brother.
They started out by giving the boys two cc's of breast milk and added about two cc's a day. We learned that sucking pacifiers was excellent for our preemies because the pacifier sucking during tube feeding was helping them learn to associate sucking with feeling full. It also strengthened their jaw muscles, which are typically weak in preemies.
Some nicu's are very supportive of breastfeeding, our local nicu was just ok. I understand the need of rules for preemies, but sometimes those rules seem to interfere with a parents right to make decisions on behalf of their babies. Individual nurses expressing opinions on that don't reflect policy was downright disturbing to me. I had one nurse tell me to not bring in anymore breast milk. She said there was to much and I needed to wait until they needed it. I left in tears, I was livid and frustrated. I was trying to establish a milk supply for twins. How dare she say something discouraging to a mom trying to establish a supply.
It was easy to convince the nicu to let me try latching Greg on, as soon as he started to transition him to the bottle, I was able to start putting him on my breast. Granted, I was only able to put him on once a day. With the other children, it simply wasn't possible for me to go to the hospital more often. They wouldn't let me latch Dave on. It was really odd. So (big time confession) after we were cleared to take the boys into one of the family rooms, I covertly put Dave on my breast. Oh he didn't latch on, he didn't nurse, he mostly put his mouth on my nipple and the kid played around but I figured that was important. He was learning how I tasted and how I smelled. I called it nipple play.
I was on wic and I found out wic will help with industrial breast pump rentals. Would you believe I was interrogated as to why I needed a breast pump? Well why Mrs **** do you need a breast pump? Are you going back to work? Do you feel you're not making enough milk? Has your doctor been concerned about your child's weight gain. Oh HELLO, have you even looked at my chart? I have premature twins in the nicu. Do I have to explain why I need a breast pump? Aren't you suppose to make me want to nurse?
I don't remember how often I was pumping but by the time Greg came home, I was getting a lot of milk. Greg was three weeks old when he came home a whole five weeks before his due date. *grin* He was so good at latching on. I still couldn't get Dave latched on. We did more nipple play in the evening except the nurses now knew I was putting Dave to my breast. They can weigh before and after a feed to see how much they actually take in, I didn't see a point in weighing him for all three sucks he might get of my milk.
Four days after Greg came home, Dave joined us. Would you believe we now had seven bodies in our house???
I spent the next couple of weeks pumping/bottle feeding, occasionally latching on the boys. It was hard to get them on. It was hard to keep up on it. It was hard to keep pumping/breastfeeding straight.
Then it started to get really hard to pump. Like I was going to put my fist through the table and bite my lip off. After a week of raw and bleeding nipples I figured out I had a yeast infection. I told my husband I was quitting, he said I couldn't, I said, like hell, it's my body and if I want to quit, I'm quitting. So I made a decision, I gave myself four weeks, if I didn't have the boys nursing full time by four weeks, I was going to quit. Smartest thing I could have ever done. I stopped pumping that day and from then on I latched the boys. It got easier and easier. Finally when the boys were two months old, they were on the breast full time and my yeast infection was almost gone (it was still a bit painful but much better.)
Two months later my sleep deprived brain was so happy to discover that I could tandem nurse dem boys. Oh that made my sitting on my rear time so much less!!!
Good thing I had lots of milk because both boys projectile vomited for about four months and Dave an additional four months after that. I spent a lot of time stripping and washing clothes. Nurse, throw-up, strip, dress, nurse, throw-up, strip, dress... it was never ending.
My advice to anyone in the same boat, keep trying. Just keep trying.
At the same time, I knew I couldn't sacrifice the emotional health of my three other children. I had just been on three months of bed rest, out of state testing twice a week. I had to find a compromise to meet all of my children's needs and I was emotionally prepared to formula feed if I was spending to much time on the twins teaching them to nurse.
Oh did I stress, before they were born I stressed. While they were in the nicu I stressed. I know I can search and find posts in support forums begging for advice on how to teach those preemies to nurse. Just a word, it's not beneficial to panic. That really doesn't help much.
The twins started tube feedings at about three days old for Greg and four days old for David. Interestingly enough, Dave was always about one step behind Greg in the nicu. Every milestone Greg made, Dave was about twenty-four hours behind him. Even when we thought Dave was days behind, he'd surprise us over and over again with keeping up with his *cough* older by thirty seconds *cough* brother.
They started out by giving the boys two cc's of breast milk and added about two cc's a day. We learned that sucking pacifiers was excellent for our preemies because the pacifier sucking during tube feeding was helping them learn to associate sucking with feeling full. It also strengthened their jaw muscles, which are typically weak in preemies.
Some nicu's are very supportive of breastfeeding, our local nicu was just ok. I understand the need of rules for preemies, but sometimes those rules seem to interfere with a parents right to make decisions on behalf of their babies. Individual nurses expressing opinions on that don't reflect policy was downright disturbing to me. I had one nurse tell me to not bring in anymore breast milk. She said there was to much and I needed to wait until they needed it. I left in tears, I was livid and frustrated. I was trying to establish a milk supply for twins. How dare she say something discouraging to a mom trying to establish a supply.
It was easy to convince the nicu to let me try latching Greg on, as soon as he started to transition him to the bottle, I was able to start putting him on my breast. Granted, I was only able to put him on once a day. With the other children, it simply wasn't possible for me to go to the hospital more often. They wouldn't let me latch Dave on. It was really odd. So (big time confession) after we were cleared to take the boys into one of the family rooms, I covertly put Dave on my breast. Oh he didn't latch on, he didn't nurse, he mostly put his mouth on my nipple and the kid played around but I figured that was important. He was learning how I tasted and how I smelled. I called it nipple play.
I was on wic and I found out wic will help with industrial breast pump rentals. Would you believe I was interrogated as to why I needed a breast pump? Well why Mrs **** do you need a breast pump? Are you going back to work? Do you feel you're not making enough milk? Has your doctor been concerned about your child's weight gain. Oh HELLO, have you even looked at my chart? I have premature twins in the nicu. Do I have to explain why I need a breast pump? Aren't you suppose to make me want to nurse?
I don't remember how often I was pumping but by the time Greg came home, I was getting a lot of milk. Greg was three weeks old when he came home a whole five weeks before his due date. *grin* He was so good at latching on. I still couldn't get Dave latched on. We did more nipple play in the evening except the nurses now knew I was putting Dave to my breast. They can weigh before and after a feed to see how much they actually take in, I didn't see a point in weighing him for all three sucks he might get of my milk.
Four days after Greg came home, Dave joined us. Would you believe we now had seven bodies in our house???
I spent the next couple of weeks pumping/bottle feeding, occasionally latching on the boys. It was hard to get them on. It was hard to keep up on it. It was hard to keep pumping/breastfeeding straight.
Then it started to get really hard to pump. Like I was going to put my fist through the table and bite my lip off. After a week of raw and bleeding nipples I figured out I had a yeast infection. I told my husband I was quitting, he said I couldn't, I said, like hell, it's my body and if I want to quit, I'm quitting. So I made a decision, I gave myself four weeks, if I didn't have the boys nursing full time by four weeks, I was going to quit. Smartest thing I could have ever done. I stopped pumping that day and from then on I latched the boys. It got easier and easier. Finally when the boys were two months old, they were on the breast full time and my yeast infection was almost gone (it was still a bit painful but much better.)
Two months later my sleep deprived brain was so happy to discover that I could tandem nurse dem boys. Oh that made my sitting on my rear time so much less!!!
Good thing I had lots of milk because both boys projectile vomited for about four months and Dave an additional four months after that. I spent a lot of time stripping and washing clothes. Nurse, throw-up, strip, dress, nurse, throw-up, strip, dress... it was never ending.
My advice to anyone in the same boat, keep trying. Just keep trying.
The destruction of my home
My house is going downhill. I had no idea how much destruction small children could have on a home.
First there's the superficial. You know, marker on the wall, stickers on the doors and the unidentified brown stuff on the hallway wall going down the entire length. I really need to clean the up. There's also the new marks on the wall in the front room. My twins have discovered they can take the recliner, pop up the footrest and use the whole recliner like a teeter toter. The problem? The crashing against the wall is making gouge marks that will need to be patched before we can paint it.
My ten year old wants to decorate everything because you know if there's mud on the kitchen floor and dirty dishes piled up to my armpits, duct taped pictures on the appliances will really spruce up the kitchen.
I know folks have asked me why I don't watch the kids closer. Why I don't clean up after them. I'm not joking, I have been asked this by well meaning know it all adults that haven't yet been blessed with children. Worse, adults that have grown children and have forgotten what it's like. I'm simply out numbered. Right now I have two 2 year olds and one 3 year old. Throw in the seven and ten year old and you have a better handle on my day. I can supervise all I want but unless I split myself into thirds (going on the assumption the older two don't need quite as much supervision) there's always going to be at least two out of my sight.
And causing mischief.
It was really hard that first year. When Ean was two and I was nursing those twins almost non-stop, he simply had a heyday, Everyday. I've joked before that Ean's mission in life is to keep us humble by shedding us of the material possessions. Unfortunately he's not only destroyed things that can eventually be replaces like DVD's and VHS tapes but he's destroyed irreplaceable keepsakes that are now gone forever. He recently ripped up some newspaper articles about my grandpa. I don't know if I'll be able to find copies again. Pictures and negatives have been destroyed. Oh and he almost took all the buttons off a remote once. The only reason he didn't succeed is because I caught him before he was done.
And I really shouldn't pin it all on Ean. Greg went through a faze where he made any VHS tape he ran across into a purse. Just pull that black stuff out about six inches and it's a handbag. Add another eight inches and it's a shoulder bag.
The girls do more unintentional destroying. They don't sit down and think Hey, wouldn't it be cool to rip this Star Wars book into 10,000 pieces? Instead they think they'll play "school", take the Star Wars book down and then not put it back up so one of the red headed bandits can rip it into a 10,000 pieces. This of course is followed by a round of "but it wasn't me?!"
When Jane was a toddler there was literally a hurricane of paper that followed her from room to room. It was awful! I wouldn't allow scrap paper in the house because I just couldn't' cope with it. Well now it's not scrap paper but that girl leaves a trail of belongings where ever she goes. She had the nerve to ask me the other day why our house was such a mess. If looks could kill...
Did you know that if you flush a clogged toilet four times in a row enough water will surge out to completely flood not the upstairs bathroom and hallway but the downstairs as well? We're talking a three inch surge of water over the carpet. It took over a week to dry it all out and this with professional grade fan running twenty-four-seven.
The downstairs bathroom is directly under the upstairs bathroom. There have been so many floods, Kent's started pulling out dry-wall because he's found mold. I think it's all dried out but that's scary. Some stuff can't be repaired and honestly I never thought mold in our house would be a problem. We live in the bless-ed desert!
Our flooding basement reminds me all to much of my childhood and my older brother's constant flooding of our bathroom which sat directly over the kitchen. It was a regular thing to see water start to pour out of the kitchen light. Well, our flooding hasn't been that bad, yet.
Speaking of flooding we have a leak under dishwasher right now. Everything has to be washed by hand because the leak happens when the pump is running. The kicker? The dishwasher is set an inch below the the kitchen floor, with the swollen floorboards, it can't be removed to fix the leak. I'm afraid when push comes to shove we'll have to replace wood when we do finally take it out.
Is there someway I can blame that on the kids?
First there's the superficial. You know, marker on the wall, stickers on the doors and the unidentified brown stuff on the hallway wall going down the entire length. I really need to clean the up. There's also the new marks on the wall in the front room. My twins have discovered they can take the recliner, pop up the footrest and use the whole recliner like a teeter toter. The problem? The crashing against the wall is making gouge marks that will need to be patched before we can paint it.
My ten year old wants to decorate everything because you know if there's mud on the kitchen floor and dirty dishes piled up to my armpits, duct taped pictures on the appliances will really spruce up the kitchen.
I know folks have asked me why I don't watch the kids closer. Why I don't clean up after them. I'm not joking, I have been asked this by well meaning know it all adults that haven't yet been blessed with children. Worse, adults that have grown children and have forgotten what it's like. I'm simply out numbered. Right now I have two 2 year olds and one 3 year old. Throw in the seven and ten year old and you have a better handle on my day. I can supervise all I want but unless I split myself into thirds (going on the assumption the older two don't need quite as much supervision) there's always going to be at least two out of my sight.
And causing mischief.
It was really hard that first year. When Ean was two and I was nursing those twins almost non-stop, he simply had a heyday, Everyday. I've joked before that Ean's mission in life is to keep us humble by shedding us of the material possessions. Unfortunately he's not only destroyed things that can eventually be replaces like DVD's and VHS tapes but he's destroyed irreplaceable keepsakes that are now gone forever. He recently ripped up some newspaper articles about my grandpa. I don't know if I'll be able to find copies again. Pictures and negatives have been destroyed. Oh and he almost took all the buttons off a remote once. The only reason he didn't succeed is because I caught him before he was done.
And I really shouldn't pin it all on Ean. Greg went through a faze where he made any VHS tape he ran across into a purse. Just pull that black stuff out about six inches and it's a handbag. Add another eight inches and it's a shoulder bag.
The girls do more unintentional destroying. They don't sit down and think Hey, wouldn't it be cool to rip this Star Wars book into 10,000 pieces? Instead they think they'll play "school", take the Star Wars book down and then not put it back up so one of the red headed bandits can rip it into a 10,000 pieces. This of course is followed by a round of "but it wasn't me?!"
When Jane was a toddler there was literally a hurricane of paper that followed her from room to room. It was awful! I wouldn't allow scrap paper in the house because I just couldn't' cope with it. Well now it's not scrap paper but that girl leaves a trail of belongings where ever she goes. She had the nerve to ask me the other day why our house was such a mess. If looks could kill...
Did you know that if you flush a clogged toilet four times in a row enough water will surge out to completely flood not the upstairs bathroom and hallway but the downstairs as well? We're talking a three inch surge of water over the carpet. It took over a week to dry it all out and this with professional grade fan running twenty-four-seven.
The downstairs bathroom is directly under the upstairs bathroom. There have been so many floods, Kent's started pulling out dry-wall because he's found mold. I think it's all dried out but that's scary. Some stuff can't be repaired and honestly I never thought mold in our house would be a problem. We live in the bless-ed desert!
Our flooding basement reminds me all to much of my childhood and my older brother's constant flooding of our bathroom which sat directly over the kitchen. It was a regular thing to see water start to pour out of the kitchen light. Well, our flooding hasn't been that bad, yet.
Speaking of flooding we have a leak under dishwasher right now. Everything has to be washed by hand because the leak happens when the pump is running. The kicker? The dishwasher is set an inch below the the kitchen floor, with the swollen floorboards, it can't be removed to fix the leak. I'm afraid when push comes to shove we'll have to replace wood when we do finally take it out.
Is there someway I can blame that on the kids?
Ean and the artwork
Pictured at the side of my blog is my middle child, sporting a lovely set of hand drawn pictures including fake glasses. He was two when he was mistaken as a spare canvas by his two older sisters.
The previous Christmas I had the kids decorate Christmas cookies. I had candy, frosting and these really cool markers used to paint on the frosting. The kids had a blast! I put the markers away in a drawer thinking we could use them again for another project. That was a mistake on my part. You'd think being mom for as long as I have with the very same children I'd know when I was setting myself up. *eye roll*
Frankly I thought Ean colored to the hilt was hysterical. Unlike the time my oldest at the tender of age of three colored her skin with a black sharpie, you could tell he was colored. Uh, did you know that if you try to wash sharpie marks off, you can get enough color off to leave yellow and green sub tones on the skin? Did you also know that if your child has colored big blocks of color on her arms, torso, stomach and thighs it will look like you beat her?
I kept her in for a solid week. I just knew if I took the kid out in public someone would call CPS on us.
It did finally all wash off but my point, where Jane's coloring horrified me because it seriously looked like bruises, Ean's had me laughing for a month. There was no mistaking it for what it was.
While interrogating the girls I gazed at my son's green eyeglasses carefully drawn around both eyes. No mom, it wasn't us, Ean did it all by himself. I asked again, my eyes turning to his back where a few solid spots of color had been scribbled in between his shoulder blades. Mom, he got the markers and did it all, honest! I then glanced down and my oldest had actually signed her name on her brothers calf! Really, he's doing a great job at his letters mom.
Uh huh.
You know as a parent I hate it when my kids force me to punish them. They wouldn't have really gotten into trouble for drawing on Ean, just a sigh followed with a "You don't do that girls" but really, that would have been it. The lying was different. Because they lied, I had to get them in trouble. Really, did Jane believe she'd get away with it when she'd written her name on her brothers leg?
Well, Jane denied. Kate proudly proclaimed she'd drawn the glasses.
*snort*
Well, she should take credit, I think she did a great job! Ean liked them and if you're going to draw on your little brother you should at least draw stuff he likes.
The previous Christmas I had the kids decorate Christmas cookies. I had candy, frosting and these really cool markers used to paint on the frosting. The kids had a blast! I put the markers away in a drawer thinking we could use them again for another project. That was a mistake on my part. You'd think being mom for as long as I have with the very same children I'd know when I was setting myself up. *eye roll*
Frankly I thought Ean colored to the hilt was hysterical. Unlike the time my oldest at the tender of age of three colored her skin with a black sharpie, you could tell he was colored. Uh, did you know that if you try to wash sharpie marks off, you can get enough color off to leave yellow and green sub tones on the skin? Did you also know that if your child has colored big blocks of color on her arms, torso, stomach and thighs it will look like you beat her?
I kept her in for a solid week. I just knew if I took the kid out in public someone would call CPS on us.
It did finally all wash off but my point, where Jane's coloring horrified me because it seriously looked like bruises, Ean's had me laughing for a month. There was no mistaking it for what it was.
While interrogating the girls I gazed at my son's green eyeglasses carefully drawn around both eyes. No mom, it wasn't us, Ean did it all by himself. I asked again, my eyes turning to his back where a few solid spots of color had been scribbled in between his shoulder blades. Mom, he got the markers and did it all, honest! I then glanced down and my oldest had actually signed her name on her brothers calf! Really, he's doing a great job at his letters mom.
Uh huh.
You know as a parent I hate it when my kids force me to punish them. They wouldn't have really gotten into trouble for drawing on Ean, just a sigh followed with a "You don't do that girls" but really, that would have been it. The lying was different. Because they lied, I had to get them in trouble. Really, did Jane believe she'd get away with it when she'd written her name on her brothers leg?
Well, Jane denied. Kate proudly proclaimed she'd drawn the glasses.
*snort*
Well, she should take credit, I think she did a great job! Ean liked them and if you're going to draw on your little brother you should at least draw stuff he likes.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
TTTS part seven, the end of the story.
Remember I said Kent's interest in blood and gore would a problem? Well this is where it became a problem. While the boys were whisked off to the nicu, Kent was suppose to follow them but no, he tried to stay behind so he could watch my tubes getting tied. He was really a bit miffed they wouldn't let him stay. I actually yelled at him to go check our babies and he respond "they were fine!"
He finally left.
That's when things got really weird for me. The chatter wasn't about babies anymore, it was all surgical talk. I started to feel a lot of tugging and lower back pain. I actually started stretching my back and trying to arch my back. The anesthesiologist asked me if I was alright so I told him how much pain I was in. He gave me something and the world went weird. I closed my eyes and started to hallucinate toys falling off the operating table. It was the craziest experience I'd ever had. I could hear them, see them and if my stupid arms weren't strapped down I think I could have touched them. When someone asked me a question I could open my eyes and be right there and feel fine but the second I closed my eyes the toys started falling off the table again.
Finally my OB finished up and I was wheeled into recovery. My spinal was starting to wear off so I welcomed the drugs they offered me. My friends mom worked in recovery and she stopped by to say hi and congratulate me on the birth of the boys. Oh yeah, I almost forgot about them. I honestly was so out of it for the first time in months they weren't on my mind. Luckily that feeling didn't last long and I started to connect again with my thoughts and feelings.
There's a lot of blurred memories for me while I was in the hospital. I was so tired and I hurt. I'd never had surgery before, it was all so new. I do vividly remember begging the nurse for food that evening. she wanted me to take it slow and I couldn't convince her that I wanted to eat!!! Holy cow I hadn't eaten in 24 hours and I was used to grazing all day long. She finally brought me a clear liquids tray, tea, jello, broth etc. I ate that and all it did was make me hungrier. She was finally convinced I wanted and could handle food!
Still hooked up to the IV and the Foley, I got to take a wheelchair over to the nicu and see the boys that night. The were so little. Greg had an oxygen tube (whatever it's called!) and Dave was hooked up to a c-pap. I didn't know what to do. They looked so fragile. You know what though, as I gazed at them I felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. They were safe, finally they were safe. The malfunctioning placenta they shared couldn't hurt them, they could grow unhindered and they were HUGE. According to nicu standards four pound thirty-two weekers are incredible and when you take into account the twin to twin, it's downright miraculous.
Greg was red for about a week and Dave was pale for a bit longer. They had some fluid transfer during birth, a late form of ttts. Greg's redness was from to much fluid and Dave's paleness was from not enough. So the fluid in Dave was literally squeezed into Greg through their placenta. One last jab of the twin to twin I guess.
My aunt remarked that it was darn foolish of me to plan so many birthdays the week of Christmas. Oh HELLO, I was due with the twins on Valentines day. I could hardly be blamed for poor planning.
I was in the hospital for three days. I was released Christmas Eve. I had friends visit and Kent's parents came that first day but they didn't come after that. No one in Kent's family came. They were all getting ready for Christmas I guess. My mom watched my kids and Kent's parents wouldn't take the kids so my mom could come to the hospital. I was furious. They didn't have time. Apparently they were having some people they knew over for Christmas and they wanted to make it extra special. To hell with us I guess. It's taken a long time to let go and I don't know if I'll ever fully succeed. I do know that my pregnancy with the twins damaged my relationship with my in laws in ways that can never be fully repaired. There's so much more but it accomplishes nothing to rehash every little bit.
I skipped seeing them completely that Christmas. I just couldn't, I was far to hurt.
So Kent as exhausted as he was would rush home during the day to watch kids so my mom could go up to the hospital to see me and the babies. My mom made a huge sacrifice for us. My brother was visiting in Vermont, was actually staying at my mom's house and mom was in Idaho with us. She left us far sooner then I wanted her too, just after the new year but she needed to spend time with my brother and I would never have begrudged her that. Spending Christmas away from him was hard enough, I wouldn't have ever asked her to miss him completely.
Mom got to hold those little boys. see some of the sleep apnea, feed them bottles, I think she even changed a diaper or two.
The boys were in the nicu for three weeks (Greg) and three and a half weeks (David). Once again our church family saved us. They watched our children every evening so we could go and see our boys. There was one teenage girl that came over about 10 days in a row, eagerly helping us out. I'll forever be grateful for her sacrifice.
I attended Christmas services four days after my boys birth. Some thought I was a little nuts but I had been on bed rest for three months. I needed to give thanks, on Christmas day seemed especially appropriate.
My boys are miracles. Kent's told me that we had twins because I had stated I would only have one more pregnancy after Ean and that's it so it was my fault. I don't believe that's why we had the experience. I believe we went through that pregnancy so we could lean on God, lean on each other, humbly accept the gifts of service given so freely by others. At anytime they could have been taken from us and they weren't. We went through what we did so that we could say that we've experienced a miracle.
He finally left.
That's when things got really weird for me. The chatter wasn't about babies anymore, it was all surgical talk. I started to feel a lot of tugging and lower back pain. I actually started stretching my back and trying to arch my back. The anesthesiologist asked me if I was alright so I told him how much pain I was in. He gave me something and the world went weird. I closed my eyes and started to hallucinate toys falling off the operating table. It was the craziest experience I'd ever had. I could hear them, see them and if my stupid arms weren't strapped down I think I could have touched them. When someone asked me a question I could open my eyes and be right there and feel fine but the second I closed my eyes the toys started falling off the table again.
Finally my OB finished up and I was wheeled into recovery. My spinal was starting to wear off so I welcomed the drugs they offered me. My friends mom worked in recovery and she stopped by to say hi and congratulate me on the birth of the boys. Oh yeah, I almost forgot about them. I honestly was so out of it for the first time in months they weren't on my mind. Luckily that feeling didn't last long and I started to connect again with my thoughts and feelings.
There's a lot of blurred memories for me while I was in the hospital. I was so tired and I hurt. I'd never had surgery before, it was all so new. I do vividly remember begging the nurse for food that evening. she wanted me to take it slow and I couldn't convince her that I wanted to eat!!! Holy cow I hadn't eaten in 24 hours and I was used to grazing all day long. She finally brought me a clear liquids tray, tea, jello, broth etc. I ate that and all it did was make me hungrier. She was finally convinced I wanted and could handle food!
Still hooked up to the IV and the Foley, I got to take a wheelchair over to the nicu and see the boys that night. The were so little. Greg had an oxygen tube (whatever it's called!) and Dave was hooked up to a c-pap. I didn't know what to do. They looked so fragile. You know what though, as I gazed at them I felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. They were safe, finally they were safe. The malfunctioning placenta they shared couldn't hurt them, they could grow unhindered and they were HUGE. According to nicu standards four pound thirty-two weekers are incredible and when you take into account the twin to twin, it's downright miraculous.
Greg was red for about a week and Dave was pale for a bit longer. They had some fluid transfer during birth, a late form of ttts. Greg's redness was from to much fluid and Dave's paleness was from not enough. So the fluid in Dave was literally squeezed into Greg through their placenta. One last jab of the twin to twin I guess.
My aunt remarked that it was darn foolish of me to plan so many birthdays the week of Christmas. Oh HELLO, I was due with the twins on Valentines day. I could hardly be blamed for poor planning.
I was in the hospital for three days. I was released Christmas Eve. I had friends visit and Kent's parents came that first day but they didn't come after that. No one in Kent's family came. They were all getting ready for Christmas I guess. My mom watched my kids and Kent's parents wouldn't take the kids so my mom could come to the hospital. I was furious. They didn't have time. Apparently they were having some people they knew over for Christmas and they wanted to make it extra special. To hell with us I guess. It's taken a long time to let go and I don't know if I'll ever fully succeed. I do know that my pregnancy with the twins damaged my relationship with my in laws in ways that can never be fully repaired. There's so much more but it accomplishes nothing to rehash every little bit.
I skipped seeing them completely that Christmas. I just couldn't, I was far to hurt.
So Kent as exhausted as he was would rush home during the day to watch kids so my mom could go up to the hospital to see me and the babies. My mom made a huge sacrifice for us. My brother was visiting in Vermont, was actually staying at my mom's house and mom was in Idaho with us. She left us far sooner then I wanted her too, just after the new year but she needed to spend time with my brother and I would never have begrudged her that. Spending Christmas away from him was hard enough, I wouldn't have ever asked her to miss him completely.
Mom got to hold those little boys. see some of the sleep apnea, feed them bottles, I think she even changed a diaper or two.
The boys were in the nicu for three weeks (Greg) and three and a half weeks (David). Once again our church family saved us. They watched our children every evening so we could go and see our boys. There was one teenage girl that came over about 10 days in a row, eagerly helping us out. I'll forever be grateful for her sacrifice.
I attended Christmas services four days after my boys birth. Some thought I was a little nuts but I had been on bed rest for three months. I needed to give thanks, on Christmas day seemed especially appropriate.
My boys are miracles. Kent's told me that we had twins because I had stated I would only have one more pregnancy after Ean and that's it so it was my fault. I don't believe that's why we had the experience. I believe we went through that pregnancy so we could lean on God, lean on each other, humbly accept the gifts of service given so freely by others. At anytime they could have been taken from us and they weren't. We went through what we did so that we could say that we've experienced a miracle.
Intermission. Update on today.
There's so much to write on the boys but I need to keep up with the here and now too.
Last night Dave went to bed around ten. I was babysitting for a friend so she and her husband could go on a date. There wasn't any point in trying to get the twins down until after the extra three went home. So ten it was, a full two hours after their actual bedtime. Oh my, talk about cranky! But it was late so surely I thought the grouchies were because of that.
Oh my was I wrong! Got the other kids to bed and at 11pm I was ready to collapse! Someone started crying. I went and looked, it was Dave. Now the boys share a room so I can't just wait and see. I have to jump when someone wakes up or I'll have two 2 year olds awake.
Dave was upset but I nursed him, rocked him and he acted sleepy so I dumped him back into bed. Oh, I also made sure he wasn't poopy. There wasn't any reason for that boy to not snooze. I got ready for bed and just as I was about to crash, Dave was screaming again. This time he was inconsolable. Something was obviously wrong. My poor babe was sticking his fingers in his ears and sobbing. My lay mans diagnosis would be an ear infection. I rocked and held him, let him down, picked him up. I had that child from midnight until four am!!! Finally I got him to settle down enough to put him back into bed. The Tylenol I gave him seemed to be helping too. I waited a half hour to make sure he was asleep. I wasn't about to get comfortable only to have to haul my rear out of bed again! Of course that's when Kent woke up to get a drink "You should stay off the computer at four in the morning, you wouldn't be so tired." Thanks honey.
So this morning I walked around like death warmed over. Every question Kent asked me, I responded "whatever, today I don't care." I finally got the boys ready and took them to convenient care, the sub office from the hospital so you don't have to go to the emergency room. After the boys amused the waiting room by fake coughing anytime anyone coughed we got in and confirmed Dave has a double ear infection. Yeah, I could have called that one in the dark.
Greg was fine, just has a virus but I got a prescription for nystatin to treat the yeasty rash on his rear. The doctor suggested monastat (never heard of using that for a diaper rash?) but since the boys are on medicaid and we have no money coming in, I asked for the prescription.
Oh, did I say no money? Sorry, after four months without a paycheck, Kent's received *drum roll* a thousand dollar check. Yes the man is job hunting. Another major business is closing in town so the job prospects are getting to be less and less.
I took the twins to the pharmacy, tried to stop them from playing the maracas (aspirin bottles) while everyone chuckled except the Walgreen's employee that freaked when the boys were giving each other rides on the grocery cart. You know you fit perfectly underneath those mini-carts when you're only twenty-six pounds.
I came home to a mountain of dishes. I was going to do them last night but I ended up tending my double ear infection boy. While doing dishes the kids all announced they were starving. I gave them celery (sure, it doesn't really cure hunger but it keeps them busy until I can make real food.) I have a splitting headache and called my neighbor to ask (*cough*beg*cough*) her for caffeine. She had a cola in her fridge. WHOOT!
Caffeine is one of the few things that'll knock a fatigue headache out of the water for me. She borrowed carrots so I think we're even. *smile*
Kate decided to spit a wad of chewed up celery at her sister. Oh my hell. I swear I'm not raising that girl in a barn. I sent her downstairs to clean up the wad of food. She shrieked and hollered. She couldn't do it, she didn't want to do it, Jane must've thrown it away, she hated me, she hated the family.
I just did dishes and calmly stated that if she wanted to eat, she'd find that celery wad. "But I'm starving!! You can't do this, I hate this family, I want to eat NOW." The child is seven. Seven?! Oh we're going to have fun when she's a teenager. She didn't get away with it though. It took over an hour of dramatics but by the time I had lunch ready she found the wad of chewed celery.
I made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Kate knocked one of my glass liquid measuring cups on the floor, right in front of the stove where lunch was cooking. For some reason my broom was downstairs (It's carpeted downstairs ??? ) When I ran back upstairs I stepped on some glass, lurching forward to avoid putting weight on my foot, I grabbed the stove. Well, I thought I was grabbing the stove, I was really grabbing the hot pan I was cooking sandwiches in.
At this moment Jane's bugging me to serve her soup, as I'm holding my newly burned fingers, stepping on broken glass and trying to keep lunch from burning.
I just made no-bakes. It was time for chocolate. Seriously, if I drank, I'd be drinking now but since I don't, I'll settle for chocolate.
Just for the record anyone wanting to know what a pack of wild animals looks like circling their prey is welcome to watch my kids while no-bakes are cooling on the kitchen table.
Last night Dave went to bed around ten. I was babysitting for a friend so she and her husband could go on a date. There wasn't any point in trying to get the twins down until after the extra three went home. So ten it was, a full two hours after their actual bedtime. Oh my, talk about cranky! But it was late so surely I thought the grouchies were because of that.
Oh my was I wrong! Got the other kids to bed and at 11pm I was ready to collapse! Someone started crying. I went and looked, it was Dave. Now the boys share a room so I can't just wait and see. I have to jump when someone wakes up or I'll have two 2 year olds awake.
Dave was upset but I nursed him, rocked him and he acted sleepy so I dumped him back into bed. Oh, I also made sure he wasn't poopy. There wasn't any reason for that boy to not snooze. I got ready for bed and just as I was about to crash, Dave was screaming again. This time he was inconsolable. Something was obviously wrong. My poor babe was sticking his fingers in his ears and sobbing. My lay mans diagnosis would be an ear infection. I rocked and held him, let him down, picked him up. I had that child from midnight until four am!!! Finally I got him to settle down enough to put him back into bed. The Tylenol I gave him seemed to be helping too. I waited a half hour to make sure he was asleep. I wasn't about to get comfortable only to have to haul my rear out of bed again! Of course that's when Kent woke up to get a drink "You should stay off the computer at four in the morning, you wouldn't be so tired." Thanks honey.
So this morning I walked around like death warmed over. Every question Kent asked me, I responded "whatever, today I don't care." I finally got the boys ready and took them to convenient care, the sub office from the hospital so you don't have to go to the emergency room. After the boys amused the waiting room by fake coughing anytime anyone coughed we got in and confirmed Dave has a double ear infection. Yeah, I could have called that one in the dark.
Greg was fine, just has a virus but I got a prescription for nystatin to treat the yeasty rash on his rear. The doctor suggested monastat (never heard of using that for a diaper rash?) but since the boys are on medicaid and we have no money coming in, I asked for the prescription.
Oh, did I say no money? Sorry, after four months without a paycheck, Kent's received *drum roll* a thousand dollar check. Yes the man is job hunting. Another major business is closing in town so the job prospects are getting to be less and less.
I took the twins to the pharmacy, tried to stop them from playing the maracas (aspirin bottles) while everyone chuckled except the Walgreen's employee that freaked when the boys were giving each other rides on the grocery cart. You know you fit perfectly underneath those mini-carts when you're only twenty-six pounds.
I came home to a mountain of dishes. I was going to do them last night but I ended up tending my double ear infection boy. While doing dishes the kids all announced they were starving. I gave them celery (sure, it doesn't really cure hunger but it keeps them busy until I can make real food.) I have a splitting headache and called my neighbor to ask (*cough*beg*cough*) her for caffeine. She had a cola in her fridge. WHOOT!
Caffeine is one of the few things that'll knock a fatigue headache out of the water for me. She borrowed carrots so I think we're even. *smile*
Kate decided to spit a wad of chewed up celery at her sister. Oh my hell. I swear I'm not raising that girl in a barn. I sent her downstairs to clean up the wad of food. She shrieked and hollered. She couldn't do it, she didn't want to do it, Jane must've thrown it away, she hated me, she hated the family.
I just did dishes and calmly stated that if she wanted to eat, she'd find that celery wad. "But I'm starving!! You can't do this, I hate this family, I want to eat NOW." The child is seven. Seven?! Oh we're going to have fun when she's a teenager. She didn't get away with it though. It took over an hour of dramatics but by the time I had lunch ready she found the wad of chewed celery.
I made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Kate knocked one of my glass liquid measuring cups on the floor, right in front of the stove where lunch was cooking. For some reason my broom was downstairs (It's carpeted downstairs ??? ) When I ran back upstairs I stepped on some glass, lurching forward to avoid putting weight on my foot, I grabbed the stove. Well, I thought I was grabbing the stove, I was really grabbing the hot pan I was cooking sandwiches in.
At this moment Jane's bugging me to serve her soup, as I'm holding my newly burned fingers, stepping on broken glass and trying to keep lunch from burning.
I just made no-bakes. It was time for chocolate. Seriously, if I drank, I'd be drinking now but since I don't, I'll settle for chocolate.
Just for the record anyone wanting to know what a pack of wild animals looks like circling their prey is welcome to watch my kids while no-bakes are cooling on the kitchen table.
TTTS or why my boys are miracles, part six
Our beloved battle ax nurse walked in and asked me if I realized that I was having those babies today. Um, yeah, we sorta figured that out. Surgery was scheduled at 8 am. I think two elective sections were bumped that morning because of me. I was unhooked from all the monitors, had to sign all the forms and my OB finally showed up to talk with me.
I managed to remember to ask if I could have my tubes tied. My mind was a whirl and I almost forgot. Our battle ax nurse informed me that I did not want to do that. She was concerned because the twins were in trouble and the possibility of losing one or both was very real. I flat out told her "look, we've been dealing with the possibility of losing these boys since 19 weeks gestation. We've already come to terms with the possibility and still we've made the decision that our family is complete." Without a word she left to get the papers to sign.
There were a number of circumstances that could have made our life so much more difficult. Stuff completely out of our control. We were still going to Salt Lake on a regular basis. If the twins had gone south right before a Salt Lake trip, we would have delivered in Salt Lake. The boys definitely would have spent some nicu time there and our family would have been separated for a period of time right at Christmas. Delivering locally was a huge blessing. Of course there was always the possibility if either baby was sick of getting life flighted to Salt Lake, but our chances to be together were so much better with a local delivery.
After literally months of travel, bed rest and being bopped around to different sitters, my older children needed me. They missed me terribly.
Another blessing, our OB's daughter was getting married the next day, if circumstances had lead to an emergency delivery on the twenty-second, we would have been stuck with the OB on call. A doctor that only performs the old fashion belly button to crotch cut, harder to heal with, worse scarring. Oh was I counting myself lucky to avoid having him cut me!!
So I left labor and delivery. Truly it was an odd feeling. This was the first time I'd left Labor and delivery without a baby! My three previous births had been vaginal and knowing I wouldn't go through labor still made me sad. Oh don't get me wrong, getting the boys out alive was obviously far more important but I don't think there's a mom out there that doesn't understand letting go of a dream. I had argued with my OB just three days before on having a section because I understood now the dangers monochorionic twins are in with a vaginal birth, but still, it was odd being wheeled out still pregnant so I could be prepped for surgery.
By the time I was wheeled into the OR my contractions were getting really strong. I didn't feel a need to mention it, after all, they were prepping me for my c-section. Kent was with me at first as they explained the procedure and what would happen. Then Kent had to leave, he would be brought back right when surgery started.
My contractions made it very difficult for me to lean forward for the spinal. Maybe I should have mentioned it? Not that it would have made a difference, I still needed the spinal in. Sitting up, leaning forward contracting, I was more then a little annoyed when the anesthesiologist got after me for not leaning forward far enough. Yes he was a man, no idea what it's like to lean over a watermelon while your guts and back were being squeezed with pain shooting all directions. The OR doesn't exactly give you an opportunity to work with contractions.
Finally the spinal was in and the effects were almost immediately. I numbed quickly down my legs and back. The nurses laid me down and I was exposed. I knew it had to be but laying there, numb, while the nurses just worked, and chatted while prepping me, for them just another day. It was so routine for them.
In labor, it's different being exposed. You're working towards something, stuff is happening. Every contraction brings you closer to your goal. As your working, your support team helps you, encourages you. The extra touching for comfort, all talking is to you. You feel like part of the machine. While prepping for your section, oh your still the center of attention but you're not doing anything. Just lying there caught up in my own thoughts, I felt disconnected. There was time to fear the outcome, to worry and fret.
I was shaved, very little was spoken to me. Finally my doctor came in, the atmosphere changed as he pulled me into the conversation. He talked to me instead of over and around me. I became a person again. The drape was put up and Kent was brought in.
Boy did he look funny all done up in the surgery attire, mask, hair thing, booties and gown.
I have to explain about my husband. The man spent years and I mean years volunteering for the local Search and Rescue. He was an EMT when we got married. Extricating bodies from accidents didn't faze him in the least. He wasn't squeamish and he wanted to see what was going on.
I knew this was going to be a problem.
After they started cutting, my husband discovered he was at a great disadvantage. The man isn't short but he isn't tall either. The drape was to high and Kent was frustrated he couldn't get pictures like he wanted. The anesthesiologist got him a stool *laugh* Oh he was much happier with a better view. He would have been standing next to the doctor if the doctor had allowed it.
There wouldn't have been room. The operating room was smallish to begin with. So there was the surgical team working on me, two nicu nurses, a ped and four other random (ok, not random but I don't know who they were) staff to attend to the twins. Every C-section has a ped present and a nicu nurse, even those to term and scheduled because of the inherent risk of major surgery to the fetus. My boys wouldn't benefit from the squeezing of amniotic fluid out of their lungs like their siblings had during their vaginal births. This increases the chances of pneumonia and infection if the lungs aren't properly suctioned in c-section babies. Of course my boys were premature, 8 whole weeks premature. They were in major trouble in utero, there wasn't anyway to know what kind of problems they would have until they were delivered.
I need to tell about the boys names. We were advised early on by fellow twin to twin parents to name our babies early so we could connect with them. This really made sense to us. We had spent almost 3 solid months fighting over Ean's name, you would think this would have been hard for us, but a Solomon like solution was within our reach. Two babies, two parents, we each got to pick a name. Kent picked Greg Walter. Greg was Kent's favorite uncle growing up. He lived a rough life, was a biker, drank, did drugs but he had a heart of gold. Walter was Kent's grandfather, he was a school teacher. I picked David Kenneth after my paternal grandfather. A kind and caring man with class and dignity. A diplomat that worked with presidents.
We were both inspired at about 21 weeks gestation that the little baby stuck against the uterin wall was David, while the hellion bouncing all over the place was Greg. Oddly, my mom called to tell me who she thought should get each name. Her intuition was the same as ours.
Since there names were picked out early on and we knew which baby had which names, we had to know who was coming out first. The boys were both vertex (head down) laying side by side. My OB literally could have flipped a coin when deciding who to deliver first. We made sure he understood he had to tell us, so very loudly he proclaimed to the whole room "I'm delivering the baby on the left" Kent and I looked at each other. "It's Greg" we said. Kent quickly got to work snapping pictures and there was a cry. Greg Walter **** was born weighing four pounds two ounces and sixteen inches long. About 30 seconds later David Kenneth **** was born weighing in at four pounds four ounces and sixteen and a half inches long. I couldn't tell if he cried, Greg was loud. They brought me David first. Oh my, what a scrawny pale thing. He was the same size as the hospital tissue box I found in my room an hour later. Then I saw Greg, he was beat red and man. Oh was the boy mad!!!
They whisked the boys off to the nicu. My twins were alive.
I managed to remember to ask if I could have my tubes tied. My mind was a whirl and I almost forgot. Our battle ax nurse informed me that I did not want to do that. She was concerned because the twins were in trouble and the possibility of losing one or both was very real. I flat out told her "look, we've been dealing with the possibility of losing these boys since 19 weeks gestation. We've already come to terms with the possibility and still we've made the decision that our family is complete." Without a word she left to get the papers to sign.
There were a number of circumstances that could have made our life so much more difficult. Stuff completely out of our control. We were still going to Salt Lake on a regular basis. If the twins had gone south right before a Salt Lake trip, we would have delivered in Salt Lake. The boys definitely would have spent some nicu time there and our family would have been separated for a period of time right at Christmas. Delivering locally was a huge blessing. Of course there was always the possibility if either baby was sick of getting life flighted to Salt Lake, but our chances to be together were so much better with a local delivery.
After literally months of travel, bed rest and being bopped around to different sitters, my older children needed me. They missed me terribly.
Another blessing, our OB's daughter was getting married the next day, if circumstances had lead to an emergency delivery on the twenty-second, we would have been stuck with the OB on call. A doctor that only performs the old fashion belly button to crotch cut, harder to heal with, worse scarring. Oh was I counting myself lucky to avoid having him cut me!!
So I left labor and delivery. Truly it was an odd feeling. This was the first time I'd left Labor and delivery without a baby! My three previous births had been vaginal and knowing I wouldn't go through labor still made me sad. Oh don't get me wrong, getting the boys out alive was obviously far more important but I don't think there's a mom out there that doesn't understand letting go of a dream. I had argued with my OB just three days before on having a section because I understood now the dangers monochorionic twins are in with a vaginal birth, but still, it was odd being wheeled out still pregnant so I could be prepped for surgery.
By the time I was wheeled into the OR my contractions were getting really strong. I didn't feel a need to mention it, after all, they were prepping me for my c-section. Kent was with me at first as they explained the procedure and what would happen. Then Kent had to leave, he would be brought back right when surgery started.
My contractions made it very difficult for me to lean forward for the spinal. Maybe I should have mentioned it? Not that it would have made a difference, I still needed the spinal in. Sitting up, leaning forward contracting, I was more then a little annoyed when the anesthesiologist got after me for not leaning forward far enough. Yes he was a man, no idea what it's like to lean over a watermelon while your guts and back were being squeezed with pain shooting all directions. The OR doesn't exactly give you an opportunity to work with contractions.
Finally the spinal was in and the effects were almost immediately. I numbed quickly down my legs and back. The nurses laid me down and I was exposed. I knew it had to be but laying there, numb, while the nurses just worked, and chatted while prepping me, for them just another day. It was so routine for them.
In labor, it's different being exposed. You're working towards something, stuff is happening. Every contraction brings you closer to your goal. As your working, your support team helps you, encourages you. The extra touching for comfort, all talking is to you. You feel like part of the machine. While prepping for your section, oh your still the center of attention but you're not doing anything. Just lying there caught up in my own thoughts, I felt disconnected. There was time to fear the outcome, to worry and fret.
I was shaved, very little was spoken to me. Finally my doctor came in, the atmosphere changed as he pulled me into the conversation. He talked to me instead of over and around me. I became a person again. The drape was put up and Kent was brought in.
Boy did he look funny all done up in the surgery attire, mask, hair thing, booties and gown.
I have to explain about my husband. The man spent years and I mean years volunteering for the local Search and Rescue. He was an EMT when we got married. Extricating bodies from accidents didn't faze him in the least. He wasn't squeamish and he wanted to see what was going on.
I knew this was going to be a problem.
After they started cutting, my husband discovered he was at a great disadvantage. The man isn't short but he isn't tall either. The drape was to high and Kent was frustrated he couldn't get pictures like he wanted. The anesthesiologist got him a stool *laugh* Oh he was much happier with a better view. He would have been standing next to the doctor if the doctor had allowed it.
There wouldn't have been room. The operating room was smallish to begin with. So there was the surgical team working on me, two nicu nurses, a ped and four other random (ok, not random but I don't know who they were) staff to attend to the twins. Every C-section has a ped present and a nicu nurse, even those to term and scheduled because of the inherent risk of major surgery to the fetus. My boys wouldn't benefit from the squeezing of amniotic fluid out of their lungs like their siblings had during their vaginal births. This increases the chances of pneumonia and infection if the lungs aren't properly suctioned in c-section babies. Of course my boys were premature, 8 whole weeks premature. They were in major trouble in utero, there wasn't anyway to know what kind of problems they would have until they were delivered.
I need to tell about the boys names. We were advised early on by fellow twin to twin parents to name our babies early so we could connect with them. This really made sense to us. We had spent almost 3 solid months fighting over Ean's name, you would think this would have been hard for us, but a Solomon like solution was within our reach. Two babies, two parents, we each got to pick a name. Kent picked Greg Walter. Greg was Kent's favorite uncle growing up. He lived a rough life, was a biker, drank, did drugs but he had a heart of gold. Walter was Kent's grandfather, he was a school teacher. I picked David Kenneth after my paternal grandfather. A kind and caring man with class and dignity. A diplomat that worked with presidents.
We were both inspired at about 21 weeks gestation that the little baby stuck against the uterin wall was David, while the hellion bouncing all over the place was Greg. Oddly, my mom called to tell me who she thought should get each name. Her intuition was the same as ours.
Since there names were picked out early on and we knew which baby had which names, we had to know who was coming out first. The boys were both vertex (head down) laying side by side. My OB literally could have flipped a coin when deciding who to deliver first. We made sure he understood he had to tell us, so very loudly he proclaimed to the whole room "I'm delivering the baby on the left" Kent and I looked at each other. "It's Greg" we said. Kent quickly got to work snapping pictures and there was a cry. Greg Walter **** was born weighing four pounds two ounces and sixteen inches long. About 30 seconds later David Kenneth **** was born weighing in at four pounds four ounces and sixteen and a half inches long. I couldn't tell if he cried, Greg was loud. They brought me David first. Oh my, what a scrawny pale thing. He was the same size as the hospital tissue box I found in my room an hour later. Then I saw Greg, he was beat red and man. Oh was the boy mad!!!
They whisked the boys off to the nicu. My twins were alive.
Friday, March 28, 2008
TTTS or why my boys are mircles, part five
I should note several different Peri's performed the various reductions and it was interesting to see how they differed. One Peri sterilized a dinner plate size spot and was pretty casual in his technique. Another Peri painted my entire stomach and had the ultrasound tech use a glove on the ultrasound machine. She wanted the entire field sterile and used about six drapes on me. Goodness, I had as many drapes when I had my c-section.
I knew when I needed an amnio reduction too. I got very sick when Greg's fluid was really out of wack. Also, my tummy on the first reduction went from being very round to almost flat. It was really odd.
Another fact I want to note, it hurts more to have the Doctor push the baby out of the way to make a bigger pocket of fluid then to have the doctor swish the four inch tube back and forth to try to get a bigger pocket of fluid. I really could have lived life just fine not knowing this!
After the third amnio reduction the most amazing thing happened. The boys ttts went into a sort of remission. I had an amazing six weeks where my babies just grew, without any complications. That brought us well into viability. As each week ticked by, we knew we were one step closer to having babies.
TTTS is tricky though. You can stop having problems and you can start again even worse then before. I read stories online from mamas that made it to 30 and 32 weeks, thought they were in the clear and at one of their Peri appointments, a baby had died. I couldn't ever fully relax and think we'd made it. Not while the boys were still inside me with a malfunctioning placenta.
Two solid months we went to Salt Lake twice a week. We finally reached the point where the boys were big enough, far enough along that the Peri's allowed control to be switched to my local OB. It was a bit of a disaster. We knew more about how the measurements were to be taken then the local tech did. He measured the fluid like it was a singleton pregnancy, measuring and adding each quadrant. That's pretty useless for twin to twin. There was also the level of secrecy locally. They didn't want to talk or say anything.
What the local tech failed to realize was that we were experts. We had a basic knowledge at that point on how to read the flow from the umbilical cords. We knew what needed to be measured, That finding a bladder on Dave was more important then finding a bladder on Greg. Hell, in Salt Lake I personally taught a med student about ttts while she was observing our ultrasound. I might add this cracked the Salt Lake tech up.
Ah, the Salt Lake tech. We requested her again and again. She was professional, informational and dang funny. What a lovely person. I actually called her about eight months ago, she knew right who I was. She said she loves thinking about my boys because it gives her hope whenever a twin to twin case comes in.
The problems with doing the ultrasounds locally proved to be moot because we were actually within 10 days of delivering the boys. We just didn't know it yet. They were also starting to get into trouble, we didn't know that either. We saw signs, but we didn't realize how serious what we observed was.
After the reductions, Gregs fluid remained high, above six centimeters but it was well below the danger range. Dave's sac wasn't ever shrink wrapped again, he managed to remain between two and three and a half centimeters. That's still low, very low but he was obviously getting some nourishment and making amniotic fluid. At about twenty eight weeks, Greg's fluid started to drop. It fell into normal and then continued to fall until his level was similar to Dave's. That meant both boys had low amniotic fluid. Their movements the last week started to drop drastically. I had a non-stress test three days before their birth and my OB gave me the steroid shots for the boys lungs.
Kent and I had been discussing vaginal vs c-section. I desperately wanted a vaginal birth. Actually we knew we were done having children and made a deal that if I had a c-section, I'd get my tubes tied but if I had a vaginal delivery, Kent would get snipped. In trying to find the answer to this question we called the leading expert in twin to twin. He was far more concerned about the non-stress test then the method of delivery. He coached Kent on what to say after the boys delivery to make sure they received proper treatment if there was a sudden fluid transfer from one twin to the other.
I came to terms over a short period of time that my dream of delivering the boys vaginally was not meant to be. Pity. The boys were both vertex, positioned perfectly for a vaginal delivery.
We struggled with some family stuff, conflicts with inlaws, added stress I didn't need, didn't want. I cried lots right before the boys birth. Spending so much time on me was wearing on the kids, on Kent. It was a hard time.
During my pregnancy we faced a problem with where to sleep our children. Our room is to small to safely co-sleep. We didn't have egress windows and couldn't put children downstairs until we did. Kent started digging a window well in the garden during the summer but it became clear in the fall when my pregnancy went south, he was in over his head. Some wonderful friends dug the rest of the window well and a good friend put in the window. It made the downstairs bedroom a mess and we needed that room for my mom to sleep in. We were moving Jane downstairs while my mom was here so it'd be an easier transition for her.
We got a little help from Kent's dad and a few brothers to clean up the cement and drywall from the new window and cleared a spot for my mom to sleep. Mom came just in time cause the boys were done baking. We'd reach the point where it was safer for them to be out then in.
Kent said a prayer the night of the twentieth that he'd know when to take me to the hospital. A huge contraction woke me up at two am. I laid back and waited, sure enough four contractions in forty-five minutes. It was time to go to the hospital. I woke up Kent. He told me as we were driving to the hospital that he briefly thought of telling me to roll over and wait and see what happens when he thought you asked to know when to go to the hospital.
Since my mom was here it was easy to wake her up to let her know she needed to get Jane to school. It was the last day for Jane before Christmas break. The twenty-first of December.
At the hospital it started out pretty casual. We got this (as Kent put it) old battle ax for a nurse. We actually knew this woman from Ean's birth. She was there when I delivered Ean and I loved her, she was the most help in her surly ways then any other nurse I've met in labor and delivery. She hooked me up to the monitors, confirmed I was having contractions, gave me a ton of water to try to help stop the contractions. I got an oral medication, I can't even start to remember what it was. It slowed them down and briefly it looked like they had stopped but they started up again.
Some problems showed up immediately. The boys heart rates were both static except when they decelerated during a contraction. The top ultrasound tech was called in off her vacation to see me. She said not to feel to bad, she was getting triple time. The boys weren't moving. Poking, prodding, all that cold water, nothing. They were really in trouble.
I just have to interject that I honestly hate our local hospitals obsession with full bladders during an ultrasound. I never needed a full bladder in Utah, I literally had thousands of ultrasound pics done in Utah. All with an empty bladder. Yet the staff obsessed with full bladders wouldn't let me go before the ultrasound after having me sip cold water for ninety full minutes!! Oh hello, thirty-two weeks pregnant with twins here!!! The tech let me go once she confirmed that I wasn't kidding about how full my bladder was! Sheeeeeeeesh!!
ANYWAY, fetuses are rated on a scale from one to ten with ten being the best. If an infant is rated at a four then they wait an hour and test again. Both our boys were rated at a two. This meant they had to get out immediately. Ironically the two scored was for both boys having fluid. At six am the first spot that morning in the OR was now reserved for me.
I knew when I needed an amnio reduction too. I got very sick when Greg's fluid was really out of wack. Also, my tummy on the first reduction went from being very round to almost flat. It was really odd.
Another fact I want to note, it hurts more to have the Doctor push the baby out of the way to make a bigger pocket of fluid then to have the doctor swish the four inch tube back and forth to try to get a bigger pocket of fluid. I really could have lived life just fine not knowing this!
After the third amnio reduction the most amazing thing happened. The boys ttts went into a sort of remission. I had an amazing six weeks where my babies just grew, without any complications. That brought us well into viability. As each week ticked by, we knew we were one step closer to having babies.
TTTS is tricky though. You can stop having problems and you can start again even worse then before. I read stories online from mamas that made it to 30 and 32 weeks, thought they were in the clear and at one of their Peri appointments, a baby had died. I couldn't ever fully relax and think we'd made it. Not while the boys were still inside me with a malfunctioning placenta.
Two solid months we went to Salt Lake twice a week. We finally reached the point where the boys were big enough, far enough along that the Peri's allowed control to be switched to my local OB. It was a bit of a disaster. We knew more about how the measurements were to be taken then the local tech did. He measured the fluid like it was a singleton pregnancy, measuring and adding each quadrant. That's pretty useless for twin to twin. There was also the level of secrecy locally. They didn't want to talk or say anything.
What the local tech failed to realize was that we were experts. We had a basic knowledge at that point on how to read the flow from the umbilical cords. We knew what needed to be measured, That finding a bladder on Dave was more important then finding a bladder on Greg. Hell, in Salt Lake I personally taught a med student about ttts while she was observing our ultrasound. I might add this cracked the Salt Lake tech up.
Ah, the Salt Lake tech. We requested her again and again. She was professional, informational and dang funny. What a lovely person. I actually called her about eight months ago, she knew right who I was. She said she loves thinking about my boys because it gives her hope whenever a twin to twin case comes in.
The problems with doing the ultrasounds locally proved to be moot because we were actually within 10 days of delivering the boys. We just didn't know it yet. They were also starting to get into trouble, we didn't know that either. We saw signs, but we didn't realize how serious what we observed was.
After the reductions, Gregs fluid remained high, above six centimeters but it was well below the danger range. Dave's sac wasn't ever shrink wrapped again, he managed to remain between two and three and a half centimeters. That's still low, very low but he was obviously getting some nourishment and making amniotic fluid. At about twenty eight weeks, Greg's fluid started to drop. It fell into normal and then continued to fall until his level was similar to Dave's. That meant both boys had low amniotic fluid. Their movements the last week started to drop drastically. I had a non-stress test three days before their birth and my OB gave me the steroid shots for the boys lungs.
Kent and I had been discussing vaginal vs c-section. I desperately wanted a vaginal birth. Actually we knew we were done having children and made a deal that if I had a c-section, I'd get my tubes tied but if I had a vaginal delivery, Kent would get snipped. In trying to find the answer to this question we called the leading expert in twin to twin. He was far more concerned about the non-stress test then the method of delivery. He coached Kent on what to say after the boys delivery to make sure they received proper treatment if there was a sudden fluid transfer from one twin to the other.
I came to terms over a short period of time that my dream of delivering the boys vaginally was not meant to be. Pity. The boys were both vertex, positioned perfectly for a vaginal delivery.
We struggled with some family stuff, conflicts with inlaws, added stress I didn't need, didn't want. I cried lots right before the boys birth. Spending so much time on me was wearing on the kids, on Kent. It was a hard time.
During my pregnancy we faced a problem with where to sleep our children. Our room is to small to safely co-sleep. We didn't have egress windows and couldn't put children downstairs until we did. Kent started digging a window well in the garden during the summer but it became clear in the fall when my pregnancy went south, he was in over his head. Some wonderful friends dug the rest of the window well and a good friend put in the window. It made the downstairs bedroom a mess and we needed that room for my mom to sleep in. We were moving Jane downstairs while my mom was here so it'd be an easier transition for her.
We got a little help from Kent's dad and a few brothers to clean up the cement and drywall from the new window and cleared a spot for my mom to sleep. Mom came just in time cause the boys were done baking. We'd reach the point where it was safer for them to be out then in.
Kent said a prayer the night of the twentieth that he'd know when to take me to the hospital. A huge contraction woke me up at two am. I laid back and waited, sure enough four contractions in forty-five minutes. It was time to go to the hospital. I woke up Kent. He told me as we were driving to the hospital that he briefly thought of telling me to roll over and wait and see what happens when he thought you asked to know when to go to the hospital.
Since my mom was here it was easy to wake her up to let her know she needed to get Jane to school. It was the last day for Jane before Christmas break. The twenty-first of December.
At the hospital it started out pretty casual. We got this (as Kent put it) old battle ax for a nurse. We actually knew this woman from Ean's birth. She was there when I delivered Ean and I loved her, she was the most help in her surly ways then any other nurse I've met in labor and delivery. She hooked me up to the monitors, confirmed I was having contractions, gave me a ton of water to try to help stop the contractions. I got an oral medication, I can't even start to remember what it was. It slowed them down and briefly it looked like they had stopped but they started up again.
Some problems showed up immediately. The boys heart rates were both static except when they decelerated during a contraction. The top ultrasound tech was called in off her vacation to see me. She said not to feel to bad, she was getting triple time. The boys weren't moving. Poking, prodding, all that cold water, nothing. They were really in trouble.
I just have to interject that I honestly hate our local hospitals obsession with full bladders during an ultrasound. I never needed a full bladder in Utah, I literally had thousands of ultrasound pics done in Utah. All with an empty bladder. Yet the staff obsessed with full bladders wouldn't let me go before the ultrasound after having me sip cold water for ninety full minutes!! Oh hello, thirty-two weeks pregnant with twins here!!! The tech let me go once she confirmed that I wasn't kidding about how full my bladder was! Sheeeeeeeesh!!
ANYWAY, fetuses are rated on a scale from one to ten with ten being the best. If an infant is rated at a four then they wait an hour and test again. Both our boys were rated at a two. This meant they had to get out immediately. Ironically the two scored was for both boys having fluid. At six am the first spot that morning in the OR was now reserved for me.
TTTS or why my boys are mircles, part four.
After the amnio reduction, what possibly could be the stupidest thing we could do? Why go search the basement of the U of U for their cafeteria to grab a bite of horrible food, that's what. I think we walked a mile, it took *F*O*R*E*V*E*R* to find it. It was practically empty, the food, well my 10 year old can make better food. I was exhausted, crabby (sorry Kent!) crampy, really crampy. I had no business walking that much. I was suppose to be taking it easy!
We never went back to their cafeteria but we did learn that Children's Primary in Salt Lake has an excellent cafeteria. So just a note, there's a bridge in the basement of the U of U that connects to the top floor of Primary Children's. If you're ever stuck at the U of U, that's where you want to eat! I'm serious!! lol
This was a crazy time. Not just for us, my whole family was going through different crisis's. Right before I was diagnosed my uncle was in a life altering accident. He suffered a brain injury, had to have part of his brain removed and will never be the same. He's a lot like a child. He spent six months in the hospital, actually spent some time at the U of U, so I saw him while going for one of my check-ups.
My husband's grandmother was dying and she actually died before the babies were born, I didn't/couldn't go to her funeral.
And all I could do was watch it all. I felt like I was at a play. It wasn't my life, I was just the viewer. I saw my kids grow up and accomplish, I didn't know how much they could grow in 3 short months. I saw family born and family die. I saw some really bad cable shows because I was bored out of my mind! I saw my house get messier and dirtier then it had ever been before. There was a spot where the dog layed, right next to the wall. It was disgusting. I had to get up one day and clean it, I couldn't stand it!
Our Ward, our church family saved our lives. They freely watched our children while going to Salt Lake. One day my house was stormed by a dozen church ladies that whipped my house into shape. It was humbling. I was on the couch, watching, talking, and feeling overwhelmed that they cared so much. One older woman spent a month taking our laundry for us. She mended holey bath towels, told me my husband had to many shirts and cleaned his closet *snort*. She was incredible. They all were incredible.
My cousin also helped a lot, she freely watched my children every chance she had. I was so touched because at one point she would have helped me so I could see how good she was. She had matured and grown because I knew (and I start to tear up whenever I think of her) I knew she was helping simply because she loved us.
There was also the woman on an Internet playgroup that mailed us a case of boost protein shakes, and there was Ron. Ron was a man from an ebay board. He paypaled us gas money, several times. So many people reached out and touched our lives.
We've had a few chances to give back. When Ron got sick during the babies first year, I mailed him a quilt. Another family in town was diagnosed with ttts right after our boys were born. We gave them gas money anonymously, encouraged them to talk to the experts. This dear family had their babies three months premature, one baby died right before birth. This strong little baby stayed alive long enough to give her sister a chance to live. She's thriving now. I haven't ever actually met them, I didn't want it to hurt for her to see my two twins when she'd lost one.
Losing babies is a very real part of twin to twin. It's brutal, it's heartless, it's often a silent killer, taking babies before the parents have a chance to know what's wrong.
Which brings me back to my boys.
We set up a schedule with the Peri on call. Every three weeks we'd do a growth scan. Twice a week we'd do a quick fluid check (ever feel like a car?), check Gregs heart, make sure it wasn't enlarged or have water around it (a sign of heart failure). We'd then check Dave's bladder. Not having enough blood and nutrients donors have been known to have under developed bladders and kidneys. Seeing a bladder was a wonderful sight on that boy.
I had two more reductions, one at 21 1/2 weeks where they removed 1900 cc's of amniotic fluid and another at 23 weeks where they removed 1200 cc's of fluid. I should note that after the first draw, the Peri eagerly sent in the fluid to have it checked. *shaking head* He figured since there was so much, why not? The good news, it all came back normal. All the worries I had, the results of an amniocentesis wasn't one of them.
We quickly started scheduling our own appointments "Yes we're coming back Friday and need a weight scan scheduled". The receptionists loved us, as we ordered our own tests, lol!
This is where my local OB shined. Bless his humble heart, he tracked my pregnancy but he recognized that he was clueless about ttts. He asked us questions, the U of U was fantastic on sending him information but sometimes it was a few days behind so I had to update the latest fluid levels and info. I shudder to think what could have happened if I'd had an egocentric OB that tried to fight what the Peri's in the Salt Lake were doing.
My husband gave me blessings every few days. I gained strength, I felt spiritually renewed. I spent a good six weeks not knowing if my boys would make it but as time passed I felt my soul accepting the path the Lord had chosen for our family, even if I didn't know what that path was. I saw blessings from my pregnancy. It was a stressful but wonderful time for my husband and I. Twice a week we spent five plus hours in the car. We visited, talked, connected like we hadn't done in years. We held hands while driving. We worried, prayed, laughed, cried (well, I cried). As rough as it was, I know Kent holds those drives as dearly in his heart as I do.
I don't know when I first suspected the twins would make it. I never dared vocalize it, I knew it wasn't my will, but his. But gradually this feeling of peace crept over me. This feeling my boys would make it.
We never went back to their cafeteria but we did learn that Children's Primary in Salt Lake has an excellent cafeteria. So just a note, there's a bridge in the basement of the U of U that connects to the top floor of Primary Children's. If you're ever stuck at the U of U, that's where you want to eat! I'm serious!! lol
This was a crazy time. Not just for us, my whole family was going through different crisis's. Right before I was diagnosed my uncle was in a life altering accident. He suffered a brain injury, had to have part of his brain removed and will never be the same. He's a lot like a child. He spent six months in the hospital, actually spent some time at the U of U, so I saw him while going for one of my check-ups.
My husband's grandmother was dying and she actually died before the babies were born, I didn't/couldn't go to her funeral.
And all I could do was watch it all. I felt like I was at a play. It wasn't my life, I was just the viewer. I saw my kids grow up and accomplish, I didn't know how much they could grow in 3 short months. I saw family born and family die. I saw some really bad cable shows because I was bored out of my mind! I saw my house get messier and dirtier then it had ever been before. There was a spot where the dog layed, right next to the wall. It was disgusting. I had to get up one day and clean it, I couldn't stand it!
Our Ward, our church family saved our lives. They freely watched our children while going to Salt Lake. One day my house was stormed by a dozen church ladies that whipped my house into shape. It was humbling. I was on the couch, watching, talking, and feeling overwhelmed that they cared so much. One older woman spent a month taking our laundry for us. She mended holey bath towels, told me my husband had to many shirts and cleaned his closet *snort*. She was incredible. They all were incredible.
My cousin also helped a lot, she freely watched my children every chance she had. I was so touched because at one point she would have helped me so I could see how good she was. She had matured and grown because I knew (and I start to tear up whenever I think of her) I knew she was helping simply because she loved us.
There was also the woman on an Internet playgroup that mailed us a case of boost protein shakes, and there was Ron. Ron was a man from an ebay board. He paypaled us gas money, several times. So many people reached out and touched our lives.
We've had a few chances to give back. When Ron got sick during the babies first year, I mailed him a quilt. Another family in town was diagnosed with ttts right after our boys were born. We gave them gas money anonymously, encouraged them to talk to the experts. This dear family had their babies three months premature, one baby died right before birth. This strong little baby stayed alive long enough to give her sister a chance to live. She's thriving now. I haven't ever actually met them, I didn't want it to hurt for her to see my two twins when she'd lost one.
Losing babies is a very real part of twin to twin. It's brutal, it's heartless, it's often a silent killer, taking babies before the parents have a chance to know what's wrong.
Which brings me back to my boys.
We set up a schedule with the Peri on call. Every three weeks we'd do a growth scan. Twice a week we'd do a quick fluid check (ever feel like a car?), check Gregs heart, make sure it wasn't enlarged or have water around it (a sign of heart failure). We'd then check Dave's bladder. Not having enough blood and nutrients donors have been known to have under developed bladders and kidneys. Seeing a bladder was a wonderful sight on that boy.
I had two more reductions, one at 21 1/2 weeks where they removed 1900 cc's of amniotic fluid and another at 23 weeks where they removed 1200 cc's of fluid. I should note that after the first draw, the Peri eagerly sent in the fluid to have it checked. *shaking head* He figured since there was so much, why not? The good news, it all came back normal. All the worries I had, the results of an amniocentesis wasn't one of them.
We quickly started scheduling our own appointments "Yes we're coming back Friday and need a weight scan scheduled". The receptionists loved us, as we ordered our own tests, lol!
This is where my local OB shined. Bless his humble heart, he tracked my pregnancy but he recognized that he was clueless about ttts. He asked us questions, the U of U was fantastic on sending him information but sometimes it was a few days behind so I had to update the latest fluid levels and info. I shudder to think what could have happened if I'd had an egocentric OB that tried to fight what the Peri's in the Salt Lake were doing.
My husband gave me blessings every few days. I gained strength, I felt spiritually renewed. I spent a good six weeks not knowing if my boys would make it but as time passed I felt my soul accepting the path the Lord had chosen for our family, even if I didn't know what that path was. I saw blessings from my pregnancy. It was a stressful but wonderful time for my husband and I. Twice a week we spent five plus hours in the car. We visited, talked, connected like we hadn't done in years. We held hands while driving. We worried, prayed, laughed, cried (well, I cried). As rough as it was, I know Kent holds those drives as dearly in his heart as I do.
I don't know when I first suspected the twins would make it. I never dared vocalize it, I knew it wasn't my will, but his. But gradually this feeling of peace crept over me. This feeling my boys would make it.
Intermission
Taking a break from history, I thought I should update on the here and now. Today is the last day of spring break and honestly, I don't know how my mom survived when we were growing up. We actually had two breaks after Christmas, one in February and one in April. This one week has left me in doubt of my ability to parent all my children at the same time. When did this get so hard?
I have to remind myself that it will be easier in the summer, today is a chilly spring day and while the older kids are going in and out, it's been hard to keep the twins in. They love the outdoors. I need to buy new sunblock for summer, I've got to get in the habit of sun blocking the boys every morning now that they're going outside.
Talk about sensitive skin, I had one of those I'm a terrible mom moments when the twins were about five months old. We had a garage sale, something my husband has sworn we'll never do again. It was a warm sunny day around the end of May, first of June. The twins stayed outside with us and I kept them in the shade. Greg got blisters on his face, It was three or four all along his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. I felt terrible, I hadn't realized he could burn so easily.
This child also always has diaper rash. I love cloth diapering my kids but on him I've been using sposies the past four months just so I can coat his butt with a half inch of desitin. It seems to be the only thing that keeps the rash at bay. I shouldn't be surprised, sensitive tush did have a bleeding diaper rash in the nicu.
Oddly, it's just Greg that struggles, Dave doesn't have a problem with diaper rash, doesn't burn (unless it's my herbal tea off the counter, but I'll save that bad mom moment for another time).
Knowing his skin, that does make summer a little more scary. After all the boys will be outside playing with siblings, running, opening doors to let themselves out. Do they make an SPF 1000?
Other updates, yesterday David choked on a necklace. Ean ran and got me while yelling that Dave was choking. I arrived just as he was throwing up all the contents of his stomach and his sister's Easter necklace. The dog cleaned the carpet for me. I know, I try not to think about it. I made a big point of letting Ean know that he'd done the right thing. Ean is my true middle child stuck between identical younger brothers and big bossy sisters. He especially needs to know when he's done the right thing. He was very proud of himself for coming to get me. *smile*
Speaking of Ean, when you've vacuumed up ham base from then on when you use your vacuum it smells like bacon bits. It was a new bag so I have a month of bacon bits smell before I can change the bag.
I outta mention that Kate was very brave last night. /sarcasm She got a couple of glass slivers but dang, you'd think I was going to cut that girls foot off. The glass was from the kitchen plates that fell and shattered. I'm not sure what happened, Jane had the plates, Kate wouldn't move but two plates went kamikaze right when I was about to serve dinner. I have an arrangement with my neighbor where we alternate dinner on Thursdays and it was my Thursday to feed both families. There was a lot going on with Kate shrieking, Jane not getting her shoes, Kent vacuuming with an ode 'de bacon bits wafting after him.
Well I need to get back to telling about the twins. This is the first time I've ever tried to write the whole experience out. Whew!
I have to remind myself that it will be easier in the summer, today is a chilly spring day and while the older kids are going in and out, it's been hard to keep the twins in. They love the outdoors. I need to buy new sunblock for summer, I've got to get in the habit of sun blocking the boys every morning now that they're going outside.
Talk about sensitive skin, I had one of those I'm a terrible mom moments when the twins were about five months old. We had a garage sale, something my husband has sworn we'll never do again. It was a warm sunny day around the end of May, first of June. The twins stayed outside with us and I kept them in the shade. Greg got blisters on his face, It was three or four all along his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. I felt terrible, I hadn't realized he could burn so easily.
This child also always has diaper rash. I love cloth diapering my kids but on him I've been using sposies the past four months just so I can coat his butt with a half inch of desitin. It seems to be the only thing that keeps the rash at bay. I shouldn't be surprised, sensitive tush did have a bleeding diaper rash in the nicu.
Oddly, it's just Greg that struggles, Dave doesn't have a problem with diaper rash, doesn't burn (unless it's my herbal tea off the counter, but I'll save that bad mom moment for another time).
Knowing his skin, that does make summer a little more scary. After all the boys will be outside playing with siblings, running, opening doors to let themselves out. Do they make an SPF 1000?
Other updates, yesterday David choked on a necklace. Ean ran and got me while yelling that Dave was choking. I arrived just as he was throwing up all the contents of his stomach and his sister's Easter necklace. The dog cleaned the carpet for me. I know, I try not to think about it. I made a big point of letting Ean know that he'd done the right thing. Ean is my true middle child stuck between identical younger brothers and big bossy sisters. He especially needs to know when he's done the right thing. He was very proud of himself for coming to get me. *smile*
Speaking of Ean, when you've vacuumed up ham base from then on when you use your vacuum it smells like bacon bits. It was a new bag so I have a month of bacon bits smell before I can change the bag.
I outta mention that Kate was very brave last night. /sarcasm She got a couple of glass slivers but dang, you'd think I was going to cut that girls foot off. The glass was from the kitchen plates that fell and shattered. I'm not sure what happened, Jane had the plates, Kate wouldn't move but two plates went kamikaze right when I was about to serve dinner. I have an arrangement with my neighbor where we alternate dinner on Thursdays and it was my Thursday to feed both families. There was a lot going on with Kate shrieking, Jane not getting her shoes, Kent vacuuming with an ode 'de bacon bits wafting after him.
Well I need to get back to telling about the twins. This is the first time I've ever tried to write the whole experience out. Whew!
TTTS or why my boys are miracles, part three
My husband gave me a blessing that awful weekend right after we had been diagnosed and in that blessing we were promised that we would know what doctors to see and what medical procedures to do. When the Peri started talking with us, I felt comforted, knowing we were in the right place. I didn't know what the Lord had planned for us, but I knew the doctors we were seeing would help us through this medical crisis.
It'll be easier to call the boys by name. *wink* Greg was our recipient, the little swimmer that mooned us. David was our donor, the twin denied nutrients by a malfunctioning placenta. He was our guy that hardly moved because his amniotic sack was shrink wrapped around him.
Amniotic fluid is measured differently in twins then it is in singletons. In twins the tech measures the largest pocket of fluid from baby to uterin wall. For this pocket to count it can't have any limbs or cord in it. A five centimeter pocket is considered normal in a twin pregnancy. Greg had a nine centimeter pocket while I don't think Dave even had anything to measure.
For severe cases of TTTS, there is an option of in utero surgery. Qualifications differ according to the doctors that perform the surgery (and there's only five or six in the country) but most require the recipient to have a fluid pocket of over ten centimeters, the donor to have less then two centimeters and some also require heart problems in the recipient. The extra fluid can cause an enlarged heart and/or fluid around the heart.
We did not qualify for surgery, which was good. It meant my twins little 20 week old bodies hadn't been damaged by the twin to twin. Our options, aborting the pregnancy, tying off the donors umbilical cord so the recipient had a better chance, do nothing and go into premature labor because of the all the extra fluid and let our babies die or serial amnio reductions.
Serial amnio reductions??? I can't explain it, but I knew that's what we needed to do, even before I knew what it involved. The Peri explained, like an amniocentesis, amniotic fluid is removed from the recipients sack. The difference is a lot of fluid is removed. For some reason, sometimes the placenta works better once the pressure is taken off the donors sack. They siphon out as much as they can safely. This isn't a miracle cure, there are risks. Amnio reductions can throw a mother into premature labor. There's a risk of infection being introduced to the fetus. There's a chance of puncturing a hole in the membrane, causing cloudy fluid. If this happens you can never have the surgery. Also babies that experience serial amnio reductions have a 25% chance of having cerebral palsy. It doesn't cure the ttts, it only manages it.
Oh and the monitoring! Some women need reductions every few days, some women just once. Since this isn't a cure, the ttts can rear it's ugly head at any time becoming worse, literally killing overnight. We didn't know the future, my pregnancy wasn't even viable yet. We couldn't even think of the future at that point. Our very first goal was to make it to 24 weeks, so those babies could be viable.
We were given the option of waiting and seeing what happened for a few days before deciding on the amnio reduction. We spoke immediately, both of us at the same time, that we wanted it done right then. Knowing there was no chance if we didn't try the reductions made waiting seem like the craziest option ever. It was a lot to digest and while I can't speak for my husband, my thoughts were clear, I wanted my boys to have a chance. I needed to have the reduction done.
The Peri was a bit surprised we were so quick to go with the reduction. He got the bottles out, all the equipment, the tubing. It actually looked like he was setting up to make moonshine rather then a medical procedure. He was connecting tubes to glass bottles. I needed a constant ultrasound during the procedure. The tech would make sure the baby wasn't in the way and that the needle was in the right spot. When I got stabbed, they needed to siphon from the biggest pocket to make the procedure most effective.
The Peri used a smaller needle and realized after starting that was a mistake. He tried to not stress my uterus by taking fluid out slowly. I ended up with a four inch metal tube in my abdomen for over 20 minutes. Just for the record, a four inch tube stuck through your uterus while your uterus is contracting hurts!
They siphoned 2100 cc's of amniotic fluid out of Greg's sack. Uh, that's more fluid then a 2 liter pop bottle folks. Greg still had to much, his pocket was down to seven centimeters but he was in the way.
The most amazing thing, once that huge amount of fluid was gone, the pressure was let up off Dave and we saw him move his legs. Actually give some kicks, it was like he was free.
As I said, the reductions don't cure ttts, they only manage it. So we really were just at the beginning of a very long journey.
It'll be easier to call the boys by name. *wink* Greg was our recipient, the little swimmer that mooned us. David was our donor, the twin denied nutrients by a malfunctioning placenta. He was our guy that hardly moved because his amniotic sack was shrink wrapped around him.
Amniotic fluid is measured differently in twins then it is in singletons. In twins the tech measures the largest pocket of fluid from baby to uterin wall. For this pocket to count it can't have any limbs or cord in it. A five centimeter pocket is considered normal in a twin pregnancy. Greg had a nine centimeter pocket while I don't think Dave even had anything to measure.
For severe cases of TTTS, there is an option of in utero surgery. Qualifications differ according to the doctors that perform the surgery (and there's only five or six in the country) but most require the recipient to have a fluid pocket of over ten centimeters, the donor to have less then two centimeters and some also require heart problems in the recipient. The extra fluid can cause an enlarged heart and/or fluid around the heart.
We did not qualify for surgery, which was good. It meant my twins little 20 week old bodies hadn't been damaged by the twin to twin. Our options, aborting the pregnancy, tying off the donors umbilical cord so the recipient had a better chance, do nothing and go into premature labor because of the all the extra fluid and let our babies die or serial amnio reductions.
Serial amnio reductions??? I can't explain it, but I knew that's what we needed to do, even before I knew what it involved. The Peri explained, like an amniocentesis, amniotic fluid is removed from the recipients sack. The difference is a lot of fluid is removed. For some reason, sometimes the placenta works better once the pressure is taken off the donors sack. They siphon out as much as they can safely. This isn't a miracle cure, there are risks. Amnio reductions can throw a mother into premature labor. There's a risk of infection being introduced to the fetus. There's a chance of puncturing a hole in the membrane, causing cloudy fluid. If this happens you can never have the surgery. Also babies that experience serial amnio reductions have a 25% chance of having cerebral palsy. It doesn't cure the ttts, it only manages it.
Oh and the monitoring! Some women need reductions every few days, some women just once. Since this isn't a cure, the ttts can rear it's ugly head at any time becoming worse, literally killing overnight. We didn't know the future, my pregnancy wasn't even viable yet. We couldn't even think of the future at that point. Our very first goal was to make it to 24 weeks, so those babies could be viable.
We were given the option of waiting and seeing what happened for a few days before deciding on the amnio reduction. We spoke immediately, both of us at the same time, that we wanted it done right then. Knowing there was no chance if we didn't try the reductions made waiting seem like the craziest option ever. It was a lot to digest and while I can't speak for my husband, my thoughts were clear, I wanted my boys to have a chance. I needed to have the reduction done.
The Peri was a bit surprised we were so quick to go with the reduction. He got the bottles out, all the equipment, the tubing. It actually looked like he was setting up to make moonshine rather then a medical procedure. He was connecting tubes to glass bottles. I needed a constant ultrasound during the procedure. The tech would make sure the baby wasn't in the way and that the needle was in the right spot. When I got stabbed, they needed to siphon from the biggest pocket to make the procedure most effective.
The Peri used a smaller needle and realized after starting that was a mistake. He tried to not stress my uterus by taking fluid out slowly. I ended up with a four inch metal tube in my abdomen for over 20 minutes. Just for the record, a four inch tube stuck through your uterus while your uterus is contracting hurts!
They siphoned 2100 cc's of amniotic fluid out of Greg's sack. Uh, that's more fluid then a 2 liter pop bottle folks. Greg still had to much, his pocket was down to seven centimeters but he was in the way.
The most amazing thing, once that huge amount of fluid was gone, the pressure was let up off Dave and we saw him move his legs. Actually give some kicks, it was like he was free.
As I said, the reductions don't cure ttts, they only manage it. So we really were just at the beginning of a very long journey.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
TTTS or why my boys are miracles, part two
The OB I talked to was one I'd never spoken to before. He mentioned twin to twin, said I needed to go to Salt Lake and talk to the doctors there, said that if I went in the morning, that would be fine. Feeling slightly stunned, we quickly called and arranged babysitting for the next morning. We had been told to go to labor and delivery at the University of Utah. So that was the plan.
We quickly looked up twin to twin on the Internet and what we saw was scary. There's a huge mortality rate and those that make it have an increased chance of birth defects. We're talking everything from cerebral palsy, to permanent kidney damage requiring a transplant to heart problems and even malformation of limbs. We also learned that even though there wasn't medical research backing up the claim, bed rest and protein shakes were suppose to help the placenta work better. Of course we were willing to try anything so I put myself on bed rest and started sipping boost protein shakes three times a day.
Bed rest with three young children is almost impossible, but we did the best we could. My oldest was seven, the next four and the youngest just over a year. It was hard for everyone. The oldest was mothering when she needed to be mothered. The youngest bossed by older sisters the whole three months. My husband killed himself working full time, cleaning house, tending children when he was home, taking care of meals and laundry. To top it all off, we had twice weekly trips to Salt Lake. It's a two and a half hour drive one way, so literally it took all day. To keep up his hours at work, my husband spent the first hour of the drive on the phone taking care of business, but he had to hang up before we started roaming.
I'm getting ahead of myself. That first trip was on a Saturday, my ultrasound had been on Friday. What we didn't know was that the woman's clinic in the U of U was only open during the week and you needed an appointment. Since I was three days shy of 20 weeks, labor and delivery wouldn't see me. We were walking (well driving) into a day of frustration as the OB that I had talked with miss informed us of what we needed to know. Still, there's a purpose in all things and we could see divine intervention on behalf of our boys as the young resident we eventually talked to at the U of U agreed we needed to be seen at the clinic immediately. She placed a call Monday morning with our names and expressed urgency on getting us in. We were able to get in Monday afternoon, which blew my OB away. When we talked with him (while driving to Salt Lake) he mentioned that he thought it'd be a few days before we got in and was concerned about the time.
The visit to the clinic started off with the longest most in depth ultrasound I'd ever had. I spent two hours on the table while measurements were taken, fluid levels recorded. Several times our tech went to check with the Perinatologists to see if she was done, but they weren't happy with some of the recorded information so they'd have her check again.
My husband and I did notice that over the weekend there seemed to be a definite improvement in the stuck baby. Little kicks in the legs, more movement in the torso, more arm movement. We were sold on the protein shakes and bed rest at that point.
The recipient (baby receiving to much fluid, has to much fluid) was really swimming. I mean swimming. *Stroke* *Stroke* *Stroke*, hit the uterine wall, turn *Stroke* *Stroke* *Stroke. The amazing thing was watching this baby go and lay next to his twin for a minute, then he'd take off and swim, come back and lay next to his brother. It was touching to see them connected, to find comfort I assume in each other. The recipient was also a character. He mooned us. He bent over and there was his tush with little boyness dangling for all to see. How odd, I had believed for a month that I was feeling two babies, not realizing one was in trouble and it was only one baby I was feeling, bouncing everywhere.
Finally, it was time to talk with the doctors.
We quickly looked up twin to twin on the Internet and what we saw was scary. There's a huge mortality rate and those that make it have an increased chance of birth defects. We're talking everything from cerebral palsy, to permanent kidney damage requiring a transplant to heart problems and even malformation of limbs. We also learned that even though there wasn't medical research backing up the claim, bed rest and protein shakes were suppose to help the placenta work better. Of course we were willing to try anything so I put myself on bed rest and started sipping boost protein shakes three times a day.
Bed rest with three young children is almost impossible, but we did the best we could. My oldest was seven, the next four and the youngest just over a year. It was hard for everyone. The oldest was mothering when she needed to be mothered. The youngest bossed by older sisters the whole three months. My husband killed himself working full time, cleaning house, tending children when he was home, taking care of meals and laundry. To top it all off, we had twice weekly trips to Salt Lake. It's a two and a half hour drive one way, so literally it took all day. To keep up his hours at work, my husband spent the first hour of the drive on the phone taking care of business, but he had to hang up before we started roaming.
I'm getting ahead of myself. That first trip was on a Saturday, my ultrasound had been on Friday. What we didn't know was that the woman's clinic in the U of U was only open during the week and you needed an appointment. Since I was three days shy of 20 weeks, labor and delivery wouldn't see me. We were walking (well driving) into a day of frustration as the OB that I had talked with miss informed us of what we needed to know. Still, there's a purpose in all things and we could see divine intervention on behalf of our boys as the young resident we eventually talked to at the U of U agreed we needed to be seen at the clinic immediately. She placed a call Monday morning with our names and expressed urgency on getting us in. We were able to get in Monday afternoon, which blew my OB away. When we talked with him (while driving to Salt Lake) he mentioned that he thought it'd be a few days before we got in and was concerned about the time.
The visit to the clinic started off with the longest most in depth ultrasound I'd ever had. I spent two hours on the table while measurements were taken, fluid levels recorded. Several times our tech went to check with the Perinatologists to see if she was done, but they weren't happy with some of the recorded information so they'd have her check again.
My husband and I did notice that over the weekend there seemed to be a definite improvement in the stuck baby. Little kicks in the legs, more movement in the torso, more arm movement. We were sold on the protein shakes and bed rest at that point.
The recipient (baby receiving to much fluid, has to much fluid) was really swimming. I mean swimming. *Stroke* *Stroke* *Stroke*, hit the uterine wall, turn *Stroke* *Stroke* *Stroke. The amazing thing was watching this baby go and lay next to his twin for a minute, then he'd take off and swim, come back and lay next to his brother. It was touching to see them connected, to find comfort I assume in each other. The recipient was also a character. He mooned us. He bent over and there was his tush with little boyness dangling for all to see. How odd, I had believed for a month that I was feeling two babies, not realizing one was in trouble and it was only one baby I was feeling, bouncing everywhere.
Finally, it was time to talk with the doctors.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
TTTS or why my boys are miracles, Part one
The twins were monochorionic diamniotic twins, that means they are identical twins that shared a placenta but had a membrane separating them putting them in their own sacks. Monochorionic twins can have some specific complications that fraternal twins don't have. Twin to twin transfusion syndrome or ttts is one of those possible complications.
When diagnosed between 12 and 26 weeks, without interventions there is a zero percent chance of survival. I was diagnosed at 19 1/2 weeks.
We knew we were having twins fairly early on. My cycles have always been screwy and I've needed an ultrasound to date every one of my pregnancies. So at eight weeks, we knew it was twins. Oddly my husband knew they were twins and he suspected they were boys. His intuition was spot on. As impressive as that might be, it's not nearly as impressive as my second daughter, then five. Kate announced a week and a half before I confirmed my pregnancy that I was pregnant. She also announced weeks before that first ultrasound, that it was two boys. Silly me, I thought she meant Ean and the baby, Ean was only a year when I got pregnant. Uh, no, her intuition was also spot on. Pretty impressive for a five year old, and the only person in the dark was me lol.
So at eight weeks we knew it was twins. I had several previous miscarriages and wanted to keep quiet about this pregnancy until we knew for sure that the pregnancy would stick. That wasn't possible, I started throwing up immediately. That summer was horrible (found out I was pregnant in June). When I opened the door and the summer heat hit me, I threw up. I'd had morning sickness before but nothing like this. Needless to say, I lost weight and gained tummy that summer.
I was able to have Kate and Ean delivered by our family doctor. A wonderful spiritual man that believes a woman's body is capable of birth without intervention. A rare find in the medical community. Needless to say, I was sad when I had to go doctor searching, family doctors don't handle high risk and twins bump you into high risk.
There were two choices in town, one a doctor notorious for overbooking, vacationing and not delivering his own patients. Almost impossible to get into. Then another doctor that I wasn't to impressed with, after hearing some of his policies when he delivered my cousin. I went with the second doctor and boy did it turn out to be the right decision, we knew that right when my pregnancy started to go south.
It's important to note that during my first ultrasound, there was a definite membrane between the boys. When we went in for the 20 week ultrasound (three days shy of 20 weeks) there wasn't a membrane to be seen. One boy was swimming, literally swimming in utero. He was pretty easy to spot as a boy. The other boy, well we couldn't identify his sex, He was laying against the uterin wall and only his hands moved, just a little bit. No leg movement, very little body movement. Don't ask me why but it didn't even occur to me to be worried at that point. I don't even remember how long the ultrasound took. We were just happy that the babies looked ok.
We went to eat at Red Lobster to celebrate. My husbands cell phone rang several times but my husband didn't recognize the number so he turned the ringer off and we leisurely enjoyed our late lunch. Our three children were at my inlaws, so no worries, no hurry. Finally when we were done, we started the 15 minute drive across town and up the canyon to pick up the kids. Five minutes before reaching their house, we got another phone call from the same number, it was a receptionist wanting us to call the OB on call at the hospital.
I can't describe the sinking in my stomach. To know that something was obviously wrong. A random OB that just happened to be at the hospital wouldn't call unless something was really wrong. I finally got through a few minutes before picking up the kids and learned that our plans for our babies, our hopes and our dreams were completely out of our control. Suddenly we didn't know what the size of our family would actually be. Our boys lives were in danger and the survival statistics sucked.
I don't know how we'll survive summer
Today has been awful! The tv's been off and we've been working (the girls definition of working is vastly different then my own). Oh the whining, stalling, complaining, fighting. It's been literally non-stop since they got up.
I discover ham base on Ean's floor. The boys were rolling in it! My house smells like a soup factory. The little turkeys, I don't know when they got into it! And I thought it was locked up. Grrrrrrr.
I hate seeing waste, absolutely hate it. It doesn't help that we've haven't had a paycheck for four months. Every little bit means oodles. We've survived on savings and we didn't have debt and we're receiving food from church. Oh and my mom has helped pay for "fun" stuff for the kids. Kate is in dance and Jane is in Tae Kwon Do (she's a green belt!)
Of course this isn't the first time somethings been played with in my house that shouldn't have been. Ean's made sandboxes in the middle of my kitchen using infant rice cereal, flour, whole wheat flour, sugar and I'm sure I'm leaving out at least a dozen others. Oh and the swamps that boy has made. There was the olive oil that he spilled on the counter, into the drawers and on the floor. I had to clean four levels of kitchen, I spent five hours on the mess (uh, it was a half gallon of olive oil) Then there was the dish soap, that dawn foam. I had it on top of the fridge so he couldn't get into it. He knocked it off with the broom, spilled and his little brothers were playing in it. That's two one year olds covered in dish soap. I frantically called my neighbor and asked (begged) for her to take Ean (then two). She did, which was a huge lifesaver.
The twins I rushed to the bathroom and started rinsing them off in their clothes. One twin, I think it was Greg had it in his eyes and he was howling. I can't imagine how much that must of stung. I had to rush to get Dave's hands rinsed so he didn't get it in his eyes either, or his mouth (blech!) My neighbor then took the twins so I could work on the floor.
Anyone familiar with dawn dish foam. It's twice as thick and guess what, it
foams!!!
I spent about an hour dumping water on the kitchen floor and sweeping the foam out. My back deck looked like a winter wonderland, a bubble machine gone wild from Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. Like my kids would have a hay day, if I'd let them. It only took six hours for the foam to die down to six inches or so. All the children survived and the twins were squeaky clean.
So I guess the ham base (about a pound) and my house smelling like a soup kitchen wasn't so bad.
I need to reflect on the past more often, it just might give me perspective for the here and now.
I discover ham base on Ean's floor. The boys were rolling in it! My house smells like a soup factory. The little turkeys, I don't know when they got into it! And I thought it was locked up. Grrrrrrr.
I hate seeing waste, absolutely hate it. It doesn't help that we've haven't had a paycheck for four months. Every little bit means oodles. We've survived on savings and we didn't have debt and we're receiving food from church. Oh and my mom has helped pay for "fun" stuff for the kids. Kate is in dance and Jane is in Tae Kwon Do (she's a green belt!)
Of course this isn't the first time somethings been played with in my house that shouldn't have been. Ean's made sandboxes in the middle of my kitchen using infant rice cereal, flour, whole wheat flour, sugar and I'm sure I'm leaving out at least a dozen others. Oh and the swamps that boy has made. There was the olive oil that he spilled on the counter, into the drawers and on the floor. I had to clean four levels of kitchen, I spent five hours on the mess (uh, it was a half gallon of olive oil) Then there was the dish soap, that dawn foam. I had it on top of the fridge so he couldn't get into it. He knocked it off with the broom, spilled and his little brothers were playing in it. That's two one year olds covered in dish soap. I frantically called my neighbor and asked (begged) for her to take Ean (then two). She did, which was a huge lifesaver.
The twins I rushed to the bathroom and started rinsing them off in their clothes. One twin, I think it was Greg had it in his eyes and he was howling. I can't imagine how much that must of stung. I had to rush to get Dave's hands rinsed so he didn't get it in his eyes either, or his mouth (blech!) My neighbor then took the twins so I could work on the floor.
Anyone familiar with dawn dish foam. It's twice as thick and guess what, it
foams!!!
I spent about an hour dumping water on the kitchen floor and sweeping the foam out. My back deck looked like a winter wonderland, a bubble machine gone wild from Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. Like my kids would have a hay day, if I'd let them. It only took six hours for the foam to die down to six inches or so. All the children survived and the twins were squeaky clean.
So I guess the ham base (about a pound) and my house smelling like a soup kitchen wasn't so bad.
I need to reflect on the past more often, it just might give me perspective for the here and now.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Huh, obviously this is going to well
or I really want to not do dishes. lol
Weaning. Such a simple word, such a simple concept, yet putting this verb into action alludes me. I spent 20 minutes today with two toddlers running to nurse because their brother was latched on and they didn't want to be left out. Heaven forbid!
Anyone familiar with my twins birth history can appreciate the irony that the little addicts firmly believe they own stock option on my nipples. The guys were preemies, born 8 weeks early, spending 3 weeks (Greg) and 3 1/2 weeks (David) in the Nicu. I pumped, they were tube fed for a week, worked up to bottle feedings and except for a few precious moments, didn't even get to really latch on in the nicu. We learned at home and it was a full month after they came home before we gave up the bottles and went full time nursing.
Teaching one preemie to nurse is challenging, teaching two, downright amazing, teaching twins to nurse with older sibblings in the house that needed their mom after she'd been on bedrest for three months with a high risk pregnancy, while fighting a painful yeast infection, a miracle.
So I worked for this torment, to have little people pushing and pulling at my breasts. Shoving each others heads because they want the tap their twin has. What was I thinking????
Seriously, I'll never regret the decision to nurse the monkeys, nor will I regret how hard I fought to get them my milk with all the bonus's that it provides. But I need to be done now. I need to claim my chest as my own, to be able to lay down on my bed or a couch without little people turning and running thinking it's an invitation for milkies.
I was ready to be done at a year however my boys weren't ready, especially David. He had issues with chewing and swallowing, he also projectiled vomited for almost 8 solid months. I did a lot of laundry that first year. Dave needed my milk, eating anything else caused vomiting. So I knew I needed to keep going. Thankfully we're past that issue, well past that issue. Heck the boys are even on the chart for weight now. How cool is that?! *cough* They're still not on the chart for hight. Unless they hit a mega growth spurt, I fear they may be as short as their mama. We'll have to see what happens.
My neighbor has offered to take the boys for three days in May, while her husband is out of town so they can wean. I'm seriously thinking of taking her up on it. Desperate times you know, lol.
Weaning. Such a simple word, such a simple concept, yet putting this verb into action alludes me. I spent 20 minutes today with two toddlers running to nurse because their brother was latched on and they didn't want to be left out. Heaven forbid!
Anyone familiar with my twins birth history can appreciate the irony that the little addicts firmly believe they own stock option on my nipples. The guys were preemies, born 8 weeks early, spending 3 weeks (Greg) and 3 1/2 weeks (David) in the Nicu. I pumped, they were tube fed for a week, worked up to bottle feedings and except for a few precious moments, didn't even get to really latch on in the nicu. We learned at home and it was a full month after they came home before we gave up the bottles and went full time nursing.
Teaching one preemie to nurse is challenging, teaching two, downright amazing, teaching twins to nurse with older sibblings in the house that needed their mom after she'd been on bedrest for three months with a high risk pregnancy, while fighting a painful yeast infection, a miracle.
So I worked for this torment, to have little people pushing and pulling at my breasts. Shoving each others heads because they want the tap their twin has. What was I thinking????
Seriously, I'll never regret the decision to nurse the monkeys, nor will I regret how hard I fought to get them my milk with all the bonus's that it provides. But I need to be done now. I need to claim my chest as my own, to be able to lay down on my bed or a couch without little people turning and running thinking it's an invitation for milkies.
I was ready to be done at a year however my boys weren't ready, especially David. He had issues with chewing and swallowing, he also projectiled vomited for almost 8 solid months. I did a lot of laundry that first year. Dave needed my milk, eating anything else caused vomiting. So I knew I needed to keep going. Thankfully we're past that issue, well past that issue. Heck the boys are even on the chart for weight now. How cool is that?! *cough* They're still not on the chart for hight. Unless they hit a mega growth spurt, I fear they may be as short as their mama. We'll have to see what happens.
My neighbor has offered to take the boys for three days in May, while her husband is out of town so they can wean. I'm seriously thinking of taking her up on it. Desperate times you know, lol.
I should be doing dishes
But dang, where else am I going to record that my son not only took a kitchen drawer out but broke one side off, all why his older sisters were sitting two feet away from him watching a barbie movie.
*Slapping forehead"
Needless to say, the girls are going the next two days without tv. We actually should turn off the tv for good, the kids would be so better off but tis the season for American Idol, and why should I suffer too?
Anyone in doubt this was my almost four year old that broke the drawer, the jury is still out if his seven year old sister helped.
I was laying down for a moment with my husband taking it easy. It had been a long day and I had to take a break. Well back to the grind, there's stuff to do and the cleaning fairy skipped my house again.
*Slapping forehead"
Needless to say, the girls are going the next two days without tv. We actually should turn off the tv for good, the kids would be so better off but tis the season for American Idol, and why should I suffer too?
Anyone in doubt this was my almost four year old that broke the drawer, the jury is still out if his seven year old sister helped.
I was laying down for a moment with my husband taking it easy. It had been a long day and I had to take a break. Well back to the grind, there's stuff to do and the cleaning fairy skipped my house again.
I tried this once before and didn't keep up
So here I am trying again. I seem to have some arthritis in my hands and it's making writing difficult, journal writing that is and there's so much I need to record and save, all of it about my children. We've been blessed with five in our family. Two blond girls, ages 10 and 7, then the boys. Three wonderful, beautiful, energetic, curious, destrutive, mischievious boys! All the boys have red hair. Ean is my almost 4 year old, birthday is in six weeks and then last but not least there are the twins, 27 months old. There are 19 months between the twins and Ean.
Having 3 boys 19 months apart in age is an adventure to say the least. The twins now scatter automatically in parking lots. Going anywhere can be a nightmare. I was enrolling Ean in head start for next fall, it took me 20 minutes and the help of 3 other women to herd the boys out of the building. They all tried to escape in the mens room, I reached my arm around the door to grab David and he lunged behind the door just as I was pushing the door open. He's now sporting a lovely bruise on his forehead.
Of course it goes both ways, I currently have a small cut on my upper lip from Greg head-butting me last night.
SO yes, the fun never ends at my house. Really, should I even try this? Will I have time to blog??? I've been informed by my husband that I have to write stuff down. I just have to. He's convinced I can write a book about raising our kids and make millions, he can then retire.
I'm not sure I'll be around to write a book. I'm hoping to have a house in a year or two. Someone is always writing on a wall, putting stickers everywhere. Oh and the water spills. I'm afraid of what might be growing under the carpet. Dave drinks from the toilet on a regular basis. Greg climbs on the tramp to jump with the older kids. Ean pushes the twins off funiture. Heck with the house, will the kids survive each other????
Maybe this blog thing can work after all. It does give me something to do when I'm trying to ignore the latest and greatest mess.
Having 3 boys 19 months apart in age is an adventure to say the least. The twins now scatter automatically in parking lots. Going anywhere can be a nightmare. I was enrolling Ean in head start for next fall, it took me 20 minutes and the help of 3 other women to herd the boys out of the building. They all tried to escape in the mens room, I reached my arm around the door to grab David and he lunged behind the door just as I was pushing the door open. He's now sporting a lovely bruise on his forehead.
Of course it goes both ways, I currently have a small cut on my upper lip from Greg head-butting me last night.
SO yes, the fun never ends at my house. Really, should I even try this? Will I have time to blog??? I've been informed by my husband that I have to write stuff down. I just have to. He's convinced I can write a book about raising our kids and make millions, he can then retire.
I'm not sure I'll be around to write a book. I'm hoping to have a house in a year or two. Someone is always writing on a wall, putting stickers everywhere. Oh and the water spills. I'm afraid of what might be growing under the carpet. Dave drinks from the toilet on a regular basis. Greg climbs on the tramp to jump with the older kids. Ean pushes the twins off funiture. Heck with the house, will the kids survive each other????
Maybe this blog thing can work after all. It does give me something to do when I'm trying to ignore the latest and greatest mess.
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