Twin Tips

When you're about to be discharged from the hospital ... 

... after you've been through labor and delivery, after you've been told the Nursery is closed due to Covid, after you've sweat through the hospital sheets at night trying to get at least three or four non-consecutive hours of sleep, after the hearing, car seat, and genetic disorder tests, after anxiously running back and forth to the NICU, after the lactation consultations, initial vaccinations, and birth record paperwork, after you've Facetimed with crying children who just want you to come home already ... 

... somehow you are supposed to pack up the piles of health-related reading material, drive home, remember everything you've been told to do to ensure your teeny tiny babies thrive, and execute the plan.  

Even with significant mom experience under my belt, even with my parents there for physical, spiritual, and loads of laundry support, the first week at home was rough. Between attempting to retain what I was told by the healthcare providers, stressing about Jacqueline's weight, and trying to remember which baby was fed how much at what time, I was stressed and overwhelmed. 

I was petrified that one of my kids would break a baby. Or worse, that I would. When the babies wouldn't wake up to eat every three hours, my heart would race and my temperature would swell. I was uncomfortable sleeping so 'far away' from the twins in my own bed, so I inched closer and closer at night, first sleeping on the sofa in their nursery, then on the floor right next to their cribs. I woke up sweating more profusely than I did in the hospital, hair and shirt soaking wet. And the same sweat-producing hormones brought a lot of emotion as well. Every little thing became the switch to overflowing tear ducts, which I had largely turned off in 2020 for survival purposes. 

I teared up every time I read a note someone sent or was told to count my blessings.  

My eyes turned red after Jacqueline and Caroline went to the pediatrician and weighed in at their birth weights still.

Leaky eyes got in the way of focusing my camera.  

I cried as my Dad toasted a first week with the twins and commented on how much better they were doing day by day. I doubted the accuracy of his statement. 

I couldn't hold it together as Mary bawled and yelled at me because she was disappointed that I didn't pick her up from school one day - that I had chosen a nap instead.

And after ten days of the most incredible support, helping with groceries, dinner, feedings at night, pick ups, drop offs, and as mentioned, piles of laundry, I sobbed when my parents left, soaking page after page of the book I was reading Bobby as I put him to sleep that evening. 

My kids have seen me teary eyed before, but what Mary and Bobby witnessed over the past week was a little different. They saw raw emotion. And the person I assume is a symbol of strength to them, looked a little weaker, a little more in need of support. Amazingly, they helped provide it. 

When Bobby saw me crying, he looked into my watery eyes, went over to his shelf and handed me my Ellie and Teddy, stuffed animals that I have carried through my lifetime. When Mary saw her tears turn to my own, she immediately stopped crying and said she would help more. Even Margaret has sensed the times when I need a hug, cuddling next next to me and telling me, 'you're my best Mommy.' 

They've all learned the definition of resiliency recently, and they've exemplified it in yet another challenging phase of this Covid crazy world. 

***

I set out to write this entry about twin tips specifically, but what I've found is that the twins are pretty easy. It's actually balancing the needs of the family as a whole that has been the most challenging.  

... so my initial 'tips' cover the twins and my experience managing a bigger family: 

- Little babies are feisty - they will fight to eat, grow, and survive. My cousin Melissa told me this, and I've experienced the truth in it. 

- A lot of my friends recommended getting a night nurse and have said it's a game changer. I believe them, but I wouldn't know - Peter and I have been the night nurses. It does sound awesome if you can manage it financially.

- If someone offers to help, take them up on it. Then thank those people gratuitously.  

- You will need a lot of diapers and wipes. (Thank you, Katrina and Shirley.)  

- Get the twins on the same feeding schedule. 

- And with that kind of time management in mind, pumping and bottling has worked better for me than nursing. 

- My friend Lori taught me how to prop a bottle which has helped in the middle of the night. However, as much as possible, I do try to give each twin individual time in my arms throughout the day. And if I'm not available, Peter, Mary, Bobby or Margaret generally are. 

- As it stated on a sign in the hospital, early ambulation has significant benefits. True. 

- I've found that my older kids need me a little more than the babies right now, so I've done my best to be there at pick up, on the sidelines of soccer and dance, around the dinner table, next to them as they practice piano, and snuggled together as we read stories at night. It has made a difference. 

- You need time with your spouse as well. And in that time, try to find the humor in all that is going on. 

- Pray. 

- Keep praying. 

- And then pray one more time. 

Because the strength, grace, and humility I've needed doesn't come from the cup of coffee I'm so dependent on, it comes from within ... placed there from above. 

Lo.    

   

A and B under the Elm Trees

Throughout my pregnancy, my twins have had the names A and B. 

A was on the left side and the smaller one; the one that did flips in my belly, who had to be told, 'be good', stop kicking.' 

B was on the right side and the bigger one; the calmer one, but the one presenting when I went in to be induced on Thursday, claiming her position after fighting it out with her sister. 

That morning, we still didn't have names for the twins. Still peanut A and peanut B, we started feeling pressure to reach consensus.  

Peter and I debated back and forth as I got Pitocin and then started having contractions, as I got an epidural and the contractions got stronger, and finally as they wheeled my bed into the OR in the event I needed an emergency c-section. We went through names that started with A, names that started with B, names that were in the family, the names of Saints, and names that complemented not only each other, but the rest of their siblings. 

It took the hours after they were born to decide, and in those hours it got more complicated because the Baby we had known as A, went by B at hospital since she was last out. She was also separated from us in the NICU where she spent 48 hours making sure she could eat and keep her sugars up. 

We finally reached a conclusion - back to the original names we were debating in the Spring. They seemed to match your little faces.  

But before I reveal, I had to dramatize just how we got here, using the words or more rhythms of one of your sister's favorite bedtime stories. So here goes ...  

Girl Girl Go Go (adapted from Margaret's favorite book, Chicka Chicka Boom Boom)   

A told B and B told A, I think we're going to come out today. 

Whee said B to A and hey, when we get out it'll be time to play. 

Girl Girl Go Go, time to put on the big show. 

There goes Mommy up to the labor and delivery floor. 

And Daddy too, wearing pink, not blue, all on their way to the big button on the door.

Girl Girl Go Go, time to put on the big show. 

Look who's coming, Nurse Teri and Dr R. 

a bracelet on my wrist and the anesthesiologist. 

And beeps and boops and who's heart beat is who's? 

The whole crew, telling Momma what to do 

Until OH MY! 

Nurse Teri said, it's show time! 

GIRL GIRL 

GO GO!

Skit skat stirrup up 

Don't you dare flip flop up 

Everybody's running to the Operating Room 

Momma and Dadda, and the nurses and docs

Gather together to lift Momma's legs up by the socks. 

Help us out cried B and A. 

A half a push later, B was out to say. 

'Come on A, your turn, okay?' 

Here comes the little one, doing it her own way. 

B is 5'1, cleaned to pink from blue. 

A is 4'4, cleaned and taken to the NICU.  

B is sleeping and A is tube eating and Momma's so scared she's hardly breathing. 

Skit skat Daddy's back, A is finally back on track 

Tube is out, mommy's crying but trying to stop her pout. 

A and B are excited, now that they are finally reunited. 

The rain is stopping, the car seats are hopping.  

And the pink balloons are bopping under the big elm trees. 

But ... 

Girl Girl, Go Go, look the moon's a glow. 

Mommy's out of bed, and this is what she said, 

Dare double dare, I couldn't love you more. 

Let your teeny tiny hearts and dreams go ahead and soar.  

Girl Girl Go Go. Girl Girl (please) Grow Grow. 

Caroline and Jacqueline, my Baby B and Baby A - 

You are home with us now, and as the story mentions, we are so in love with you. 

Your births were unlike any of my others though. Nothing could have prepared me for them. I was nervous going into labor and delivery. And I've been nervous since I left the hospital on Saturday. I'm worried about your size. Tired and emotional from days, and honestly weeks without sleeping. You entered a scary world that is masked, at odds, on fire, paranoid, perplexed, and tense. So tense. But you arrived as my teeny tiny hopes. My dreams. My chance to nurture something better. Where peace, justice, kindness, and love come first.

And that is what I promise you. A household that puts those values, and your feeding schedule first. 

I love you too much. 

 

Lo.  

Choices

My kids started school a week and a half ago. Mary and Bobby went in for the first time on Thursday, and Margaret was off to Pre-K 3 on Friday. 

Mary couldn't wait. 

Bobby could. 

And Margaret confidently marched in, masked and raring to go.  

It was like any other back to school in so many ways. The freshly laundered uniform, strategic selections of shoes and hair styles, bags of freshly sharpened school supplies, eagerness and excitement, mixed with a little of Bobby's anxiety. 

But in many more ways, it was unlike any other. They hadn't been since March. They were rusty and one was resistant. There was a 17 page document on safety precautions and procedures to follow. There were staggered arrival times, masks, temperature checks, wellness questions, separated desks, and bottles of hand sanitizer being generously pumped into kids hands.  

I've got to say, it was so weird taking the kids out of the car, strapping a mask around their mouths and noses, and giving them hugs and kisses, mask to mask. It guess it all felt safe. But also sad.  

Despite these changes and challenges though, each day the kids have run out of school with the biggest smiles on their faces. They absolutely love being back, especially my doubting Bobby. 

***

As our state reopened gradually this summer, there were all kinds of decisions to make. 

Should Peter and I go out to dinner? And on a 95 degree evening, sit inside? 

Was it safe to go to the pool? And at what capacity was it unsafe? 

Should we start going back to Church? 

Could we still go on vacation? 

Was it safe to sign Mary and Margaret up for dance? 

What about signing Bobby up for t-ball and soccer?

Is it okay to invite someone over for dinner? And then if it rains, invite them inside? 

And finally, school. Should I send them back five days a week as the school prescribes, or opt for an online model? 

Which ultimately begs the question, what's riskier? Your kids getting Covid or your kids developing mental handicaps due to isolation? Your sanity and survival or you continuing to flail through this crazy world? 

I swear, there is no good decision in this day and age, especially with all the conflicting advice: 

• From the archdiocese: We're reopening with the strictest public health guidelines - it's safe to come on back. 
• From the school itself: We are ready; your kids will be fine. 
• From one of my doctors: 'Can't they go online?
• From a couple of my other doctors 'Absolutely they should go back to school'
• From the American Academy of Pediatrics: 'kids should be in school' 
• From my mom: 'I'll pray for you all' 
• From my mom: 'Here's an article that suggests kids can have Covid in their respiratory system for weeks.' 
• From my mom: 'I'm still praying.'   
• From the right: Send em back. 
• From the left: Keep em home.

Right now, I feel like the best choice is the one you ultimately decide to make. You open yourself to risk, uncertainty, and challenges in either scenario. You think and think on what to do, and at the end of the day, make a call, any call, lean in, and like my Mom said, say a prayer or two. 

For me, I felt like they had to go back in person. They needed the socialization, the routine, the discipline, and the separation from our nest. And I needed that same distance. I felt comfortable with the measures the school was taking to keep the kids and teachers safe. I figured we had to get on, we had to try, we had to find some semblance of normalcy. 

My decision felt reinforced as back at school, the kids seem happier than they've been in a long time. They are sleeping soundly. I can see their little minds working harder. They are excited and I love seeing them spark as they tell me about their days. 

For me, the quiet around the house has been mesmerizing. I've been able to focus and take a breath again. And despite the worries that prevail, I will keep telling myself that it's right. I just hope that feeling lasts. 

Lo. 

Sharing

As Margaret opened her presents from the family who had gathered to celebrate her birthday a couple weeks ago, revealing ... a Barbie boat, Barbie doctor, Barbie babysitter, and Barbie camper, her sister and brother looked more excited than she did. Upon removing the majority of the wrapping paper, Mary and Bobby would shout with enthusiasm and make their plea ... 

'Margaret, let's share!' 

Margaret didn't even think twice about it. Share? Why of course. 

As the third child, she was born into a life of sharing. Of seeing toys come and go from her room, of hand me downs and of books that belonged to Mary or Bobby. Of leftovers and of sipping from someone else's glass. Of less space, but of more people to play with. And she seems to love all of it.  

In fact the other day, when Mary and Bobby gave her the space and some extra Barbies to play alone, she wanted nothing to do with it. She wanted her sister and brother to share their Legos with her for once. When they told her no again, she said, 'come on ... but I love you guys.' It was just about the cutest and sweetest thing I could have captured and summarized her personality so well. 

As I often do around my kids' birthdays, I wanted to capture a couple more visuals of who Margaret is as she turns three. 

She is just as lovable and squeezable as can be. Always my cuddler, she never misses an opportunity for a hug or kiss. 

She has beautiful blond hair and she comments on those, like Aunt Dee Dee, who match her. 

She loves shroot snacks. (Fruit snacks) 

She also loves making and eating man-cakes on Sunday mornings. And I refuse to tell her how to correctly say that breakfast food. 

She loves Barbies and her posse of princesses. She could play with them for hours, living in a world all her own. 

She rides a balance bike like a pro and a scooter like a speed demon, loves going for walks with me, swims like a little fish including in Lake Michigan, started her first dance class last week, and loves playing dress up.  

To that end, she have a true sense of style. She doesn't like to leave the house without her party shoes, dress, necklace, purse and hopefully a little lipstick if I let her.

She loved her birthday cake and birthday party. 

And after it was over, just as she does every night, she prayed for all those that she loves and that love her in return. 

    

Oh and after that, she prayed to 'please let coronavirus go away' 

My cuddly little sweetheart, I just love the life I share with you. And I wish you a wonderful year ahead.  

Mommy / Lo. 

A Covid Vacation

Growing up, my mom had a tense, high pressure job and she worked hard. She was generally in the office before 8:00 AM and home a little after 6:00. After dinner, bath time and bedtime rituals, she would open up a file and start working again.

While she was always my mom first, her professionalism had an always on status. And we grew up being part of her team. We were taught hard work, contribution, collaboration ... get As in school, do your chores, love one another, and if not, ship out.

There were times though, when I feel like the working mom status wore her down, when she felt like she had to her guard down and wear a personality that was both surprising and cherished. It was goofy, childlike, and absolutely joyous. You would experience it as my shopping partner on Walnut Street, as a fan on the sidelines of one of our sporting events, as a rider on the Thunderbolt or a floater on Sandcastle's Lazy River, and most notably, as a vacationer on any one of our family trips, particularly those untied to work conferences.

There is one vacation visual that perfectly summarizes her in these moments: my Mom mini-golfing. lt was always her suggestion that we play. And she didn't just love it, she was really good at it - typically the winner of our five-some. I can still see her marking up the score card with her distinct penmanship, a sly smirk on her face, leading us to believe that one of us had a chance when all along she topped the standings. Growing up, she wasn't one to play board games with us. That duty was delegated to my Dad, while my Mom highlighted briefs and shouted answers from the sidelines. 'Mooooommm, stop!' we would all yell. But Mini-Golf - that was her thing - and it was so fun playing with her. So refreshing to see her unwind. 

***

Clearly, I learned a thing or two from my Mother. Hard work as one of them. And 2020 has been the pinnacle of it. For nearly five months, I've been working 12-14 hour days, with no end in site to the demand or pace.

While I love my job, the hours have been exhausting and I feel like my family has only seen or experienced me in one state. As an (over) working mom. 

I've had conversations with other moms about why I do what I do - why I made the choice to pursue a career - why I'm willing to put in the hours - and if I could imagine life the other way. If I was to summarize a meandering conversation over a glass of wine, my response would be, yes I could imagine an alternate life, but I don't think I would like it. I have a natural drive and competitive spirit that is best taken out on corporate America, not the PTA. I much prefer up time over down time. And finally, life is really expensive, especially if you want to add a vacation to your budget.  

And I love vacation. Similar to how my Mom approached them, vacations are dedicated, well-planned, highly anticipated blocks on my calendar to completely unwind. And as a tenured employee, I now have five weeks of them.

However, going into Fourth of July weekend this year, I had only taken one day. Oh, and I used that day to work on airplanes and airports en route to Sun Valley. 

It's not that my company hasn't encouraged its employee base to take vacation. If anything, they are pushing us to do it. They know everyone needs a well-deserved break. The problem is, there's no where to go. There's no escape. And without the feeling of distance, I might as well be working, right?

Or is that the wrong attitude? My somewhat recent revelation; yes, absolutely. 

Despite approaching a maternity leave, I needed a break this summer. In our original 2020 itinerary, where I had invested heavily in vacation, we were going to Martha's Vineyard for a week around the Fourth. There would be puzzles, beaches, boat rides, and a Mom, just being a Mom for a week. 

Covid and the late stage of my identical twin pregnancy changed our plans. Instead, we drove to South Bend, Indiana, where my parents have a town home, more typically used as a launch pad for tailgates in the fall. But this summer, it doubled as our five day vacation destination.

En route, we stopped at the Indiana Dunes, National Park Passbook in hand, immediate beach gratification just an admission fee away. Or rather ... a massive line of traffic to get to the gate away. The kids were so restless sitting in the crawling queue, that I made Bobby and Margaret get out and walk the rest of the way in the blaring 95-degree heat with me. 

The parking lot was near capacity, but I didn't let it phase me. It was at a beach. And it was a Wednesday. There would be plenty of room. 

Without a private place to change, I finagled my way into my too tight swim suit in the back of a hot car, squished in between the car seats and the front seats. It was the heftiest work out I had undertaken in months. I emerged sweaty, body parts likely out of place, ready to jump straight in the Lake. 

But the beach. Was. An. Absolute. Zoo. I could sense Coronavirus wafting from the heat waves. All types: young, old, fat, thin, those with bums hanging out of their Brazilian bikinis, those with full body swimsuits, every nationality under the sun, had descended for a Wednesday afternoon at the Dunes, as lifeguards yelled on the loud speaker to maintain a social distance. 

Right. We spent perhaps 30 minutes there and left. 

That evening, we walked around campus and had Rocco's pizza for dinner. The rest of our vacation was spent doing things in and around South Bend. We found a more private beach in New Buffalo, which was wonderful. We packed picnics, sand toys, and let the kids play their hearts out. We went on a bike ride through a state park. We walked around campus, lit candles at the Grotto, put 1,000 pieces of puzzle together, read, watched movies, took the kids Go Cart driving and yes, played Mini Golf.  

It was a destination that was close and familiar, but my state of mind finally felt far away from what I'd been experiencing. I put my computer away and played with my kids in the dedicated way they crave. I was goofy, childlike and filled with absolute joy. 

Lo. 

Best Laid Plans

Early this year, after the holidays had come and gone, after we were all back at work, lamenting the road ahead in 2020, back when 2020 was just another year and not a crisis, I stopped by my friend Betsy's desk to say hello. Betsy has worked for the company for as long, if not longer than I have, and is frequently my go to for counsel, a comforting word, or a quick cursing of the current chaos.

On this particular winter day, when we all wished we were still on break, the topic was family. We talked about our kids and two blissful, disconnected weeks spent focusing on them. If only it could stay this way.

I lamented that my two year old was growing up too quickly. She was no longer a baby. And crazy as it might sound, I wanted another one.

Betsy, a mother of two beautiful girls, said she had been through similar emotions. However, she coached me to pay attention to the special, wonderful moments that you get with your kids as they grow, learn, and mature. Being present was the most important thing.

I loved that. I went into my next meeting and home that evening, celebrating the precious ages of each of my children. No longer babies, but in an equally special stage of life. I felt like I had moved on. We had moved on. Our family was complete.

A couple weeks later, I fell asleep on the train ride home. I woke up at the stop before my own, my heart racing with the horror of being one of those people that is nudged awake by the conductor at the end of the line. I may have closed my eyes on the train before, but I've never actually fallen asleep.

Groggy, I got up and made my way to the exit and biked home to get ready for Bobby's birthday weekend. My parents were coming into town. There were kids coming over the next day. There were groceries to buy, a cake to bake, presents to wrap. But something was weird. And generally when I feel a little funny, I default to taking a pregnancy test. I randomly had one, so I took it. And ...

+

No way. Can't be.

I ran to Walgreens and got another one ...

+

Oh my God.

I told Peter who was equally incredulous. I took a deep breath.

And another ... deep ... breath ... and then got on with the festivities.

Week after week went by and sleepiness turned to the worst first trimester symptoms I have ever experienced. Debilitating nausea. Fatigue. Headaches. More nausea.

Around the nine week point, I had my first doctor appointment and ultrasound. The technician, a Pittsburgh native who had done them for me in the past, laughed that I was back again, as I complained about vomit on the tip of my tongue.

I joked that the Bump.com says if symptoms are worse, it's likely multiples ... but hey, they don't run in our family, so I'm not worried about that.

As she pulled up the image of my uterus, she told me that I had called it.
'Called what?' I said.
'It's twins!'
'What? ... No way.'
'Yes ... it is ... look ... there they are.'

I started hyperventilating. Tears came to my eyes. I could handle four. I had prepared myself for four. But five? A career mom of FIVE? How was this going to work? How was I going to afford it? The vacations I want to take, plus a new car, an addition onto our house, college tuition for five. I thought I was going to pass out.

Her steel town spirit told me just what I needed to hear. 'I know you are overwhelmed, but it's a blessing.' 

I repeated what she said, 'it's a blessing.'

Yes, it is.

I drove home thinking about the conversation I had with Betsy. It had been hard cherishing the sweet moments with the kids recently. I could feel what she had expressed to me.

But then I went to something someone else had told me a long time ago: don't plan for the family you can handle right now, plan for the family you want around the Thanksgiving table twenty years from now. I embraced that and the two little blueberries growing inside me and called Peter to tell him the news.

***

2020 has been a year of changed plans. And honestly, one that I entered feeling like I had planned better than ever. There have been jobs I couldn't have predicted, cancelled and postponed vacations, anticipated events that didn't happen, and of course, the unexpected baby bump. But if there is one thing that the pandemic has taught me, it's to stay focused on the things that matter most: faith and family, humility and hard work, care and compassion. 

I'm twenty six weeks pregnant with identical twin girls today. And yes, there is still a lot to figure out. It will take a village and a lot of prayers. But I'm no longer worried. I know things will work out the way they are supposed to.

Inspired by my parents new patio table, I just ordered a new one too. One that will seat a couple more kids, looking ahead to when it might be filled with even more.   

Lo.