Adventures in Baby Making

Dirty Little Secrets, Part 2

I know - this is just crazy, huh?  All these posts, and no one to read them!  Ha!  I don't want to jinx anything but maybe I'm back to blogging regularly after all...

So my next dirty little secret involves S-E-X.  For all that IF blogging involves conception, I often felt there was a lack of s.ex talk amongst us bloggers.  As if with all the talk of cooter cams, sperm and eggs, talking about se.x was just too much.  Sure, I wrote the token "will I ever be able to reclaim my se.x life again after all the IF damage" post.  Do we all just assume that as we deal with IF and treatments that the magic is a bit dim?  If that's the case, it doesn't get any better once there's a baby or two on the scene.

I've heard the stories - people unable to keep their hands off one another and jumping the gun before getting the green light at the 6 week post partum check up.  Didn't happen here.  Given the extreme sleep deprivation, I believe I may have fallen asleep during my post partum exam.  I have a feeling I was snoozing about the same time the doctor was saying "and it looks like you've healed nicely, you may resume sexual intercourse".

I've also heard the other stories.  From people who laugh at the idea of sex at 6 weeks post partum.  Oh no.  They were still too tired.  Geez, must've been about 2 months before they had sex again.  At which point they praise the patience of their spouses.  Didn't happen here.

Okay, those are really the only stories about post partum s.ex I can recall hearing.  So when the N & C's 4 month birthday rolled around, and the magic still hadn't returned, I started to worry.  Would I ever be hot for my husband again?  I figured maybe I should just give it a try, maybe once we got started, it would be more fun than sleep.  You never know until you try, right?  Not so much.  Maybe if I hadn't been gritting my teeth trying not to think about the pain, it could have been more fun than sleep.  But as it was, sleep would have been my preferred way of passing the time at that moment.

Fast forward 3 months, and still leery of voluntarily subjecting myself to such pain again, the magic had definitely not returned.  So a few weeks ago, much to my husband's shock and amazement my surprise, I had a hankering.  And I acted on it.  And it didn't hurt.  The next night when I got the same hankering, I acted on it again and J nearly died from the shock of se.x 2 nights in a row.  Now don't get too excited, such craziness hasn't been repeated but at least I wasn't gritting my teeth in pain - in fact, I actually enjoyed myself.  So maybe it just might happen again.  And in less than 3 months.

If you've been doing the math in your head, you'll realize that we've had s.ex 3 times in 8 1/2 months.  I know, pretty impressive, huh?  But I have hope - I've seen a glimmer of the magic.  It's just taken a while to see the glimmer and that is my dirty little secret.  Or not so dirty actually.

Dirty Little Secrets, Part 1

I know - 2 posts in the same month!  And the post title implies more to come to boot!  I've had these posts (Part 1 and what I hope will be 2 and 3) on my mind for some time - it's only now that I have the mental energy to write them.  But anyhoo - everyone has their own take on issues they feel no one tells them about the transition to motherhood but that should be told.  Here's mine.

I really, really hated my husband for the first 2 months after N & C were born.  As in "oh fuck, why did I marry him and how the hell can I get out of this?"

I would say that J and I had a very strong relationship as we got closer to the birth of our babies.  We certainly had plenty of time to contemplate the shift in our relationship and family.  Yet, still we were entirely unprepared for the impact parenting newborn twins would have on our loving marriage.  Some of the issues were genuine and others the result of sleep deprivation, stress and hormones.  But at the time that distinction was irrelevant.  Almost every time I slipped out of the house to run errands, I ended up sitting in some store's parking lot, sobbing and screaming on the phone to my uber-fertile best friend about how much I hated my husband.  Every single thing he did infuriated me - without fail.  I was so confused as to why I was feeling so much rage toward the man I was pretty sure I loved.  On all those stupid baby shows on tv, everyone says something to the effect of how they love their husbands oh so much more when they see them holding their baby.  So that was my expectation.  We would bring our babies home, J and I would gaze lovingly at them and then at each other and all would be fuzzy and lovely.  When I said as much to my uber-fertile best friend on one of these parking lot phone calls, she reminded me of when we visited our friend S after the birth of her first baby (she was also the first of our friends to have a baby).  While visiting S, she and her husband got into a vicious screaming match about using the microwave to heat formula.*  It was ugly.  Uber-fertile best friend and I left that visit, talking about their shaky marriage.  Both of us having bought into the "love the husband on a whole new level" crap, reassured ourselves that clearly S and her husbands marriage just wasn't as strong as our marriages.  We would obviously sail through the shift to parenthood.  Ha!!

Even feeling as strongly as I do that this is one of those dirty little secrets, there's a part of me that worries that I'll hit the Publish button only to hear silence in return.  That what I think is a dirty little secret about the motherhood transition, is in fact, just me having been crazy and hateful - everyone else is gazing lovingly at each other.  Maybe so.  All that matters though, is that now, I am incredibly glad that while at the courthouse getting sworn in to the bar at 5 weeks postpartum I did not file the divorce papers I had mentally prepared.

*She had a breast reduction and despite her best efforts, could not breastfeed.  But more importantly, why do I feel these "choices" need to be explained?  Probably a topic for a whole other post.

Anyone there???

Um yeah, so I guess I kind of suck at the whole blogging with kids bit.  I miss it though.  I've been trying to keep up on bloglines.  Most of the time, I'm in the middle of a post and one or both of my bambinos is in need of attention.  I don't want to be one of "those" bloggers that just drops off the face of blogosphere, though I suppose that's exactly what I've done.
Not much on my mind tonight other than the anxious wait for the latest HP book.  But I just thought I'd post and let you all know that we're doing well over in our little corner.
I'm not exaggerating when I say that there is not a single day that goes by that I don't look at my babies and think "wow, how lucky am I?"  It really is that great.  But don't be fooled some days are monumentally harder than others though for the most part we've got a good little routine going. 
As much as I'm enjoying being home with Nate and Catherine, I've just started my job search in earnest.  I really need to get out of the house before I lose my shit.  I have most definitely not discovered domestic bliss.  It's not that I mind being home, I'm just an uncomfortable with the dynamic being an at home mom creates with my husband.  A little to June Clea.ver for me.  Makes me a little bitchy.  When I asked him to get me a bottle of wine on his way home one day and this is what he bought, I realized I wasn't exactly hiding my feelings all that well.  Relying solely on J's income feels very imbalanced to me.  I hope once I'm working it will be more that we both do a little of this and a little of that rather than I do this and he does that.  If that makes any sense.
Well, that's really all I have for tonight. 

Still Recovering

Much to my continued surprise, I seem to still be recovering from the NICU experience.  A part of me feels like I should be over it by now as the twins were just there as feeders and growers with no major issues.  They were not fighting for their survival.  This part of me makes the other part of me feel like a drama queen for still feeling sadness and stress about the time they spent in the NICU.

My uber fertile best friend's oldest son had minor surgery recently.  As she was talking to me about her angst at leaving her boy in the hands of others, she told me she just couldn't imagine what I went through leaving the twins every night in the care of the NICU nurses and doctors.  That's when I realized that it doesn't matter how healthy my babies were in comparison to others in the NICU - that's not the part that I'm still struggling to process.  No matter why your babies are there, you still have to walk out the door and leave them in the care of others.  A truly difficult thing to do when you've just brought them into this world.

My family has been giving me a hard time about the fact that I respond quickly when the babies cry and that I don't let them cry it out.  Aside from the fact that the babies are way to young for crying it out and it's not really my style, I still get so upset thinking about all the times they must've cried and I wasn't there to comfort them or they weren't comforted at all if their nurse was caring for another baby at the time.  It's hard for me to believe that they have no memory of their time in the NICU and that it has not affected them on an emotional level.  I guess my quick response to their crying is my effort to somehow make it up to them.

I'm having a hard time falling to sleep after Catherine's 3AM feeding.  The other night I just kept reliving the NICU days.  There's so much I would've done differently if only I'd hadn't been recovering from childbirth and had the energy.  I still feel like I should've been there around the clock as if my constant presence would've translated into an earlier discharge date.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this post except to say that the NICU experience is still a painful on for me and I don't know what to do about it.

Going Out

Before I get in to the nitty gritty of my post (not that it's all that gritty mind you), I have a bit of an admission and explanation.  One of the many little things that keeps me from posting, is my inability to think of clever post titles.  I know, wicked lame huh?  In an effort to post more, I've given myself permission to ditch titles and just write.  It's not like my titles have ever been particularly creative or clever so I'm not sure what my deal is - I end up giving it way too much thought.  So there it is, I just had to get that off my chest.

I've started going out more regularly with the kiddos.  This has been a big deal for me.  When they were in the NICU, we were advised against taking them out until April when RSV season has passed.  Not relishing the thought of being cooped up, I raised the issue with our new pediatrician (you know, the one NOT affiliated with Satan's HMO).  The pediatrician said it was fine to take them out, just make sure people washed their hands before touching the kiddos and to perhaps the busiest places that were overly crowded.

I'd read about the stupid things people say when you're out with twins on message boards and on other blogs but I thought they were exaggerating.  Surely people aren't really that clueless that they'll ask if your boy/girl twins are identical??  Well they are.  Others who have gone before me have not exaggerated the extent of the cluelessness out there.  One of my neighbors who has an advanced degree in some intimidating sounding biology field even asked if they were identical.  Her mother, a doctor, was standing right there and gave her a hard time.  I had to chuckle.  She did kind of deserve it.  Of course, I usually have to tell people that they are boy/girl twins even though they are covered head to toe in blue and pink.  I can't find girl clothes in blue and vice versa.  Is everyone color blind?  Is there a color blindness epidemic in my area??  One woman asked whether they were identical and I said "well one's a boy and one's a girl" thinking that was all I needed to say.  She then asked if I could tell them apart or if they needed to be naked for me to know which was which.  Oy!  People also seem compelled to either exclaim "oh look twins!" when we walk by, as if we're a circus side show.  I mean, really, twins are a bit more common these days thanks to people like me.  We should not be drawing this much attention.  My other favorite is when people ask "oh are they twins?"  Part of me wants to respond that no, they're not and they are actually 2 years apart.  Nate and Catherine are about a pound apart in size.  The fact that they are twins should be fairly obvious.  There is no way they are at least 9 months apart in age.  C'mon people, use just a little bit of common sense.  Just a little, it's all I ask.

The other morning J and I took the kiddos out to breakfast.  It was a weekday (J does not work a traditional 9-5 day) so the diner was not too crowded.  We sat next to an elderly woman who was sitting alone.  Her face lit up as she saw us get settled into our seats.  We struck up a lovely conversation and she had such nice things to say about twins, mentioning what a blessing it must be and other such positive things.  She then made a passing remark that she'd never had children and my heart just went out to her.  Obviously I didn't press, so I don't know if it was an issue that she hadn't married (a bigger obstacle to having children in her youth) or if she experienced infertility which is now what I always assume given my own experience.  Anyway, some people are so kind that I enjoy the opportunity to  chat with a stranger.

Oh, and the going out part would be so much easier if J and I actually fit comfortably in the car now that there are 2 car seats in the back.  I thought my little vol.vo wagon could handle it but I'm starting to wonder if we're headed to mini.van ownership.  My dream car is a mini.cooper not a mini.van. 

Since You Asked...

In her comment to my last post, Jenny asked to see some pictures of the kiddos.  And I'm only too happy to oblige since I do think they are awfully damn cute. 
My sister was here for a few days helping out while my Mom was away.  We did a little photo shoot try to get good shots for their birth announcement.  So here are the pictures we'll probably use.  The kiddos are 2.5 months in these shots. I might not leave them up for long so enjoy them while you can.

 

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.

First Annual Virtual Cookie Exchange

Many thanks to Jenn for her brilliant idea for a virtual cookie exchange.  I promised her a snickerdoodle recipe but I'm afraid there's been a change of plans but for a very good reason, I assure you.  I used to work with someone who was quite the prolific baker.  She would frequently bring goodies in to work much to my delight.  One of her specialties is oatmeal cookies.  These are the best oatmeal cookies I've ever had.  The entire office would go nuts at the mere rumor that she'd brought in oatmeal cookies for us.  They are thin, buttery and little crispy but still moist and chewy.  In short, these are the perfect cookies.  Imagine my delight when she emailed me the recipe just a few days ago.  I haven't yet asked J to make them for me but I can hardly wait (he's the baker in our relationship). So here goes - a recipe for the best oatmeal cookies ever.

Oatmeal Cookies
3/4 lb. butter (3 sticks)
1 Cup light brown Sugar
1 1/8 Cup Sugar
1 large egg
1 1/2 tsp. Vanilla
3 Cup rolled oats
1 1/2 Cup all purpose flour
3/4 tsp. Salt
2 1/2 tsp. Baking soda
1 1/2 Cup Raisins (some one suggested Toffee bits instead of raisins, which sounds like a yummy alternative to raisins)
1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon,
1/2 tsp. cloves & 1/2 tsp. nutmeg are her own additions, they are not in the original recipe.

Pre heat oven to 350 degrees. Cream butter until fluffy; add sugars, cream till fluffy; add egg and vanilla & mix well. In another bowl mix together oats, flour, salt, baking soda (cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg are optional) Slowly mix oat mix into butter/sugar mix until combined. Add raisins and mix. Drop by Tbsp (I use tsp. size drops) onto cookie sheet & bake for 8-10 minutes (or longer as needed)  cookies should be golden brown. Cool on cookie sheet until firm, then place on cooling rack.

Happy baking!!

Introducing...

Catherine Rose and Nathaniel Robert

Okay, if you are quicker on the uptake than J and I you may have already realized what we did - Cate and Nate.  We have not suddenly gone all cutesy - it took J and I about a day after we settled on their names to realize the nickname issue.  We went back and forth for weeks.  For a while she had a different name but it just didn't feel right.  So we re-visited her name choice and tried out some others.  But in the end it felt like we were naming our daughter a second best name - and who wants to do that?  We didn't re-visit his name because there were no others that we could even partially agree upon.  So Catherine and Nathaniel it is.  We do call him Nate but we call her by her full name.  We'll see how long that holds.

We are all home from the NICU and have been for a full week now.  Thankfully, she did not have an infection and they didn't end up doing a lumbar puncture on her.  That was the worst consent form I've ever had to sign.  Looks like she has a bit of reflux which is very common in premature babies because of immature sphincter muscles.  They are both gaining a bit of weight and Nate is already over his birth weight.  Both babies are on apnea monitors which is a bit stressful and awkward to manage.  It will be so nice to be able to pick one of them up and just walk into another room without unplugging them.

Nothing could have prepared me for how difficult the NICU experience was and our babies had very minor prematurity issues.  Nate was brought to the NICU just a few hours after his birth and every time I visited him while I was still in the hospital, I sobbed the whole way back to my room.  I tried not to cry while in the NICU and I knew I was doing well if I made it to the NICU doors before sobbing.  On not so good visits, the tears started when I got there.  I think it was my last day in the hospital by the time I could make it through seeing him without crying.  It was the most awful thing seeing my little boy all hooked up to monitors and an IV line, knowing that it was someone else comforting him in the middle of the night if he fussed.  During the first few days, the horrible weight of feeling that my body once again failed was overwhelming.  Only this time, it didn't fail me.  It failed my son.  I tried so hard to make it to that magic 36-week point only to have fallen just short.   The most dreadful part was that the night before I went into labor, I was in tears unable to take being pregnant for one more day.  I wanted them to come, even if it was too early because the pain of carrying them had become too much for me to deal with.  Naturally, I can't help but feel that they heard me and who wants to stay where they aren't welcome?? Leaving the hospital with just one baby was heartbreaking and we had to do it twice, once when we were discharged with Catherine and Nate was left behind and then when Catherine had been brought in but we left with Nate (actually we did it 3 times but the last one was a happy occasion). 

Then there's the guilt of having pushed for a vaginal delivery (no pun intended!) which ended up causing Nate a bit of stress during delivery.  His heart rate had dropped dramatically after I delivered Catherine and I was about 2 minutes from having a c-section.  The nurse had even shaved the spot where the incision would be made.  I heard the doctor say "I know she can push him out" and his belief I could do it made the difference.  Nate's cord was wrapped around his neck and all I say was a glimpse of his very blue face as they whisked him over to the neonatologists.

While we were in the NICU, it was the first time I was less than forthcoming about having conceived via IVF.  I felt like we'd brought this upon ourselves, taking unnecessary risks having transferred more than one embryo.  As if we had no one to blame but ourselves for putting our babies at risk.  I already  blamed myself for so much, I didn't need to imagine it coming from others.

As time puts more distance between us and the NICU, the intensity of these feelings has diminished but I'm not sure they will ever disappear.  My good friend who was pregnant at the same time as I was delivered a week later.  I'm still jealous of her "fertile" experience.  She has none of the worries that come with slightly premature babies and none of the guilt.  The grass is always greener, huh?