*In case you missed the rest of this story, read part 1, part 2, and part 3.*
Sorry about the wait…a couple of days turned into a week plus. But I’m back, running on almost five hours of sleep, and going to finish the last details of this birth story once and for all.
So, the twins were born, joy and tears abounded (along with stitches and pain meds…a scary place to which I will not wander), and it was finally time to go to our own room. Completely unlike the room we were placed in while I was induced and starting labor, our new room was complete with a flat screen TV, a beaut of a bathroom, and lots of space to spread out…or in our case, to store two brand new babes. I don’t remember much about the couple of hours after the twins were born. I was probably mesmerized by them and since I couldn’t yet feel my lower half, I had nothing to do but stare at them. Speaking of feeling my lower half, remember that higher dosage of epidural magic I was given? Feeling not a thing during labor became feeling not a thing until six hours after the potion was needed. Aaandd, that’s not all. It gave me the shakes unlike anyone naked in Antartica has ever seen before and stole from me anything and everything I had eaten and gave it to the trash can held by my adoring, but slightly grossed out hubs. It was marvelous. The one bathroom trip I had whilst hanging on to two poor nurses ended in an almost black-out and the wonderful visitors we had were probably scarred as I tried so hard to relax and keep still, clenching my hands together thinking one shaking extremity could hold still the other shaking one. Never have I ever been phased by anesthesia but this anesthesia packed quite the punch and really made me question the value of an epidural for future, pain-free births. By late that wonderful night, all side effects had subsided and on came the new challenge – taking care of not one, but two, sweet, little needlings.
I mean, how hard could it possibly be? I’ve been babysitting for something like 15 years and consider taking care of kids pretty simple. Yes, I knew sleep would evade me and breastfeeding and changing diapers would become things I could do with my eyes closed but I really thought beyond that, how hard could loving on my two angels be? I will tell you…I have never, ever been a paranoid person in my entire life, especially when it comes to kids. That all changed the ninth of July. I know for a fact that if I didn’t have a little red button attached to my bed that instantly brought me a nurse, I’d be sitting in a psych ward somewhere. Multiple times Seraphia started gagging on pesky, leftover mucous from birth and I thought for sure we’d have lost her if it wasn’t for a heroic lady in blue coming to our aid (one who then went on to pet our beginner parenting woes by telling us about the incredible ability newborns have of keeping their airways open). Needless to say, we chickened out both nights we were in the hospital and had the twins sent to the nursery for fear we’d do something wrong or not do something we were supposed to. By the time Wednesday rolled around and it was time to head on home, we were petrified and almost begged our nurses to let us stay just one more day. But, sooner than we both knew it, Anthony was behind the wheel of the Twinmobile and I was in the back seat, nicely jammed between the two, now occupied car seats (I had to keep an eye on them in case something happened), and profusely leaking tears of both joy and absolute terror the entire way home. Ten minutes later, home we were where the first thing we did was set the twins on the kitchen table and hold each other, me still crying of course, seemingly so unprepared for the future.
Five bittersweet weeks later all four of us are alive and well, family members have been in and out, sleep has been playing hide-and-seek, and the twins are growing – Cecilia still only eight pounds and Seraphia seven – each having gained a pound in two weeks! We’ve finally come to the conclusion that the only way the twins will sleep more than an hour at a time (and us too!) during the night is in their swings next to our bed after trying and failing at several ways to get some shut-eye – swaddled and laid in a co-sleeper (fail – they hate their arms being restricted and therefore hit and kick each other within the small confines of the co-sleeper), moving a crib into our room (fail - for some undetermined reason they manage five minutes of sleep before wailing), and several jerry-rigged options involving blankets and boppy pillows. Five hours of sleep any given night has become a luxury and by the grace of God, Anthony and I have felt semi-rested each day. Awesome because I distinctly remember sitting on the hospital bed shortly before we headed home with the twins while Anthony was out loading the car and knowing things were going to be okay…crazy, but okay. During those few moments as I sat staring at our miracles barely filling out their car seats, the song “Be Not Afraid” popped into my head and I started singing it aloud to the girls and soaking up the words: “Be not afraid. I go before you always. Come follow me, and I will give you REST”! At the time, I took it as God’s way of telling me to trust in Him and all would be well but since then, I’ve also realized He was letting me know He’d help me out in the sleep area too and that He has.
As for the twins birth and the thoughts and events surrounding it I could write forever but then I’d clue you all in on how crazy my mind really is. :) I’m sure I’ll have plenty of stories to share in the coming months but now I must be getting back to my passion – DIY. I’ve managed to squeeze in a few projects during my waking hours that I simply must share and I simply must get back to my regular Saturday posts…crossing my fingers for this Saturday. Also, my savvy sis Farrah and I have a plan up our thrifty sleeves to start a monthly link-up party soon so stay tuned for that. Fun will abound.
Peace, love, and joy until we meet again! Adios!
