Adventures in Baby Making

Reemergence

By now we're coming up on the magical 3 month mark.  I say magical because so many people have reassured me that things get better by 3 months.  I've been skeptical but recent events have me thinking they might be right.

For starters, I signed up for a yoga class that meets once a week.  It's a beginning class and once I finish the series, I can drop in to other classes that meet at different times.  My first class was last week.  Is it okay to say that my favorite part of the class is the last 5 minutes when we lie down and close our eyes?  Definitely worth the money.  I've never really done yoga before preferring pi.lates.  I debated jumping right back into pi.lates but I'm glad I am taking it easier with yoga.  Last weeks class made me realize how my body has physically suffered because of the pregnancy.  Thanks to the bar exam, the first half of my pregnancy was spent on my ass studying in the library.  Thanks to bed rest, the last half of my pregnancy was spent on my ass watching tv.  Not much chance to get any exercise and my thighs quickly deteriorated into a jiggly mass of cellulite.  New parenthood has also been more physically demanding than I anticipated.  I'm constantly getting up and down, never sitting still for long.  There's always a baby to interact with, feed, change, etc.  And when not doing all of that, there's bottles to wash (oh, to have a dishwasher would be heavenly!), formula to prep, and diapers to be retrieved from the stash in the basement.  My joints only recently stopped aching.  So taking this yoga class felt a bit like my body was reemerging from its pregnant state.  It was finally being asked to do something unrelated to gestating or parenting.  It felt good.  Well, until one pose had my boobs being squished.  Since I am still attempting breastfeeding, they are a wee bit sore and did not like being squished.

This weekend, I made dinner.  I know, pretty wild and crazy.  Not only did I make dinner, but J and I ate it together without a symphony of crying babies.  I have the vague notion that we used to do something like that pretty regularly.  It was delightful.  I'm hoping it's something we can do again one of these days.

Very slowly, I'm feel like the fog is lifting.  Don't get me wrong, I'm still exhausted and overwhelmed by the needs of my babies.  My mom is still here everyday that J is at work so I'm rarely alone with them.  But I think it's becoming slightly more manageable and that's a good thing.  Hopefully this feeling will also translate into more regular posts.  Hopefully.

2 Months Down

The kidlets just had their 2 month birthday and we celebrated by taking them to the pediatrician.  A pediatrician that I like.  Who is NOT affiliated with Satan's HMO.  That's right folks, my nemesis, Satan's HMO, has been kicked to the curb.  We finally have insurance coverage that gives us access to a wide variety of doctors who are  not direct employees of that HMO. To say that I am pleased with the switch would be an understatement.  While under the care of Satan's HMO, on 2 separate occasions I raised issues with their pediatrician.  I was blown off on both occasions and told there was nothing to worry about.  Within 24 hours of raising the issues, my babies ended up being readmitted to the NICU (after Catherine was discharged and then when Nate contracted RSV).

For the most part, life with twins has been going much better than I anticipated.  Of course, my Mom is here with me everyday while J is at work so I feel like I'm cheating and getting off way too easy.  There is one aspect of caring for the kidlets that could be going just a wee bit better.  Breastfeeding.  I started out with a fairly healthy attitude when I decided I was going to try to breastfeed the twins.  If it worked, great - if not, I at least gave it a shot.  Somewhere  along the way, I've become obsessed with getting them to breastfeed.  And it's not going all that well.  I'm trying to figure out how much more energy I can invest in the quest to breastfeed but truthfully it's exhausting me.  Nate is doing a pretty good job at the breast and Catherine just doesn't get it.  Naturally, a great deal of guilt ensues as I've been spending so much time with Nate on the breast which means my Mom or J ends up feeding Catherine.  (Guilt about the division of my time/attention will likely be a topic for a future post)  I usually only feed Catherine if her hunger is perfectly timed with Nate's breaks on the boob.  And I won't even discuss my efforts to pump so she can at least have a bottle or two of breast milk.  I laugh when I look at all the breastfeeding supplies I bought naively thinking that of course I could feed them both.  It's the supplies to store milk in the freezer that have me most amused - I think I currently have 3 ounces frozen and that's just to make me feel better about buying all those damn freezer bags.  I have an appointment with the lactation consultant in my new pediatrician's office on Tuesday.  Hopefully it will help me figure out what I'm doing because my approach to breastfeeding has been a bit haphazard- sometimes I nurse him, sometimes I give him a bottle.  Because the other part of this whole thing is that I'm not really fond of breastfeeding.  It feels very weird to me to have to get in a state of partial undress to feed my baby.  Not to mention, I think it's boring.  I can't help but watch the clock.  The other day, Nate was at the breast and I was eating lunch and reading a book at the same time.  I can't just sit there and nurse him.  It makes me crazy.   It doesn't help that he nurses for very long periods because he's got a fairly leisurely style.   I know such sentiments are terribly un-PC but it's the truth.  Sure there are moments when I gave lovingly at my son but most of the time I'm thinking about other things I could be doing - you know, like taking care of Catherine.  And lets not forget about the nipple and breast pain courtesy of my friend the breast pump.

J and I seem to be doing okay with the transition to parenthood.  One thing I've discovered is that when I am sleep deprived, I don't like him very much.  It doesn't matter what's done or not done - I just don't like him when I'm tired.  Needless to say, making sure I get enough sleep is something he's very concerned about.

I feel badly that I've fallen into the category of bloggers who have a baby and who rarely/never post again.  Hopefully as I either adjust to sleep deprivation or it diminishes, I'll be able to post more frequently.  Because had I been posting more these past 2 months, the focus would've been how much I hate my husband.  Which would've been bad since I really do love him, even if he does get a bit more sleep than I do.