Laying it all out there

Funny thing about blogs, we get to edit our lives.  We share only what we chose to share.

For the past two weeks, I haven't shared a thing. 

My excuses: I work away from home, a family business that is super super busy right now.  The twins have been playing baseball, which my dear hubby is coaching.  Oh and dear hubby started a new job, which makes things a little crazy too.  Plus little man is having a terrific transition from being two to three.  (this morning I found him after he poured dish detergent in the toilet, flinging toilet bubbles at the puppy). And the last thing I want to do at night is get back on a computer.

And then I feel guilt: for not writing, for being a one year blog, for not laying it all out there, for disappointing those who do read faithfully, for not reading others.

This morning it hit me.  I started this blog a year ago in secret.  I didn't start it for readers, I started it for me and somewhere along the way I got sidetracked.  Not that I don't love comments and followers.  That is just not why I started.  Blogs can change, transform, morph, grow, digress.  It happens.  No one is paying me to write, I write because I enjoy it.  I no longer enjoyed it when it became like a job and I felt guilty for not doing so. 
I am a mommy writer who wants to track the milestones of her children.  Those moments that you always want to remember, but know you won't if you don't capture them in some way.  Those are the moments I want to write about.
Along the way I started writing about other stuff to - because I am also a person away from a mom.  I realized I am kind of lost as that person right now.  I've decided to make a few changes in my life.

On June 1, 2010 I will breathe free.  For all you non-smokers that means I'll have my last cigarette on May 31st and actually quit for the 101st and final time.  I need to do it, I have tried to do it, I've done it before.  But this time for good.  For all of you gasping at my demise. I know.  For those of you who are closet smokers, remember I know who some of you are, and I won't hate on you when I quit.

On June 7, 2010 I am starting the couch to 5k program.  I want to run.  I've played sports, but somewhere in the last few years, I've become not a couch potato per say but a slacker for sure.  I want to be able to run with my children again without losing my breath. 

I also want to lose 15 lbs that I have put on in the last 1 1/2 years (did you know you can actually feel your metabolism change).  I've been virtually the same size for 15 years (minus a couple of pregnancies) and this sloth that I have turned into recently is really not me.  I used to be in such great shape.  I am working my way back into pilates and eating correctly.  No diet here, just awareness and more of doing what I know is good for me.

It is really hard to lay all of this out there.  But here it is.  I will share my journey and the journey of my children.  But I am not going to write like it is my job anymore.  I can't.  I have a job, or two, or three.  I don't need another.  I hope you stay with me, but if you don't, I understand that too.

with my heart on my sleeve
MamaO

Who are these smart mouthed kids?

NOT MINE!
That's for sure.
I think they get it from their father.

Background of the story - I work for/with my father at our business.
During dinner last night I asked the twins our normal round of questions about their day.  One of which is "Did you ask any good questions today?"  I think it inspires them to seek more knowledge and not just let it come to them.  They gave their normal responses about questions in math and reading.
When they asked me the question, I responded with, "I called Pe-Paw and asked him about some rates we were working on."
T1's immediate response, "Ohhhh, you had to call your Daddy and ask him questions!"
Incompetent, I'm not.

Also on the topic of discussion yesterday was the word "diva."  Someone had used the word to describe T2's girlfriend and he took great offense thinking it was similar to devil.  I explained that it was used to describe a girl that has to look just so and may be somewhat of a show off.  T2 was much happier with that answer.  Especially when he said, "Oh, so your an old lady diva!"
Diva, I'm not.

I don't know where these kids are getting it from, but it seems to be never ending.  That was just one day.  Imagine my week!
Does anyone else have a sarcastic child?

If there were no schools to take the children away from home part of the time, the insane asylums would be filled with mothers. ~Edgar W. Howe

Can you describe yourself in 10 words?

Tabitha at I Choose Bliss did a post where she was able to describe herself in 10 words.  I love her description!  It is exactly her. 

But 10 words.  10 adjectives - not 10 things like mom, wife, etc.  I wasn't so sure I could do it, but I wanted to try.

thoughtful

loving

aggressive

loud

shy

 

Well that is five.  I'm halfway there.  And I'm stuck.  Going to bing some people adjectives.

(I don't like their pic today).  

I found this great foreign language website with a huge list of English words used to describe people. I could be annoying, eccentric, gregarious, lascivious, obnoxious, virtuous.  They really have some cool words, but those don't fit me. 

 

I'm not eccentric - I'm more of a plain person.  Solids and jeans and flip flops and such.  I guess that makes me more...more.. what's the opposite of eccentric?  The computer says normal is the opposite of eccentric.  I don't think normal counts for this exercise.

 

Let's see, I'm

optimistic

resourceful

 

That makes seven.  And I'm still struggling.  I need three more.

sarcastic

giving

 

I only need one more and I just can't seem to do it.

I give up.

This exercise is hard.  Give me one adjective you would use to describe me.  And if you think it's easy- you do it!

 

 

Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind. ~Dr. Seuss

Weaknesses, I don't have any weaknesses!

Ask someone who loves you what one of your weaknesses are.  That's what Mama Kat said to do for this week's Writer's Workshop.  Who wants to do that? (well if you want to - go play along here).

I didn't want to - and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask my husband what my weakness is.  He'd come up with a whole darn list. Then I'd have to defend myself against all his crap leading to an epic battle of good verses evil.

I'd like to stay married, so no thanks.  I did however ask my best friend, who loves me no matter what.

Me:  I'm working on a project - need to ask you, What is my weakness?
BFF: You want to help everyone.  What is the project?
Me:  Why is helping everyone bad? Nope, not telling the project.
BFF: I think it is good to help people, just you need to take care of you too.

Well.  I guess it could have been worse.  She could have said my weakness was dirty old men.

Honestly - I know all they psyh crap that Oprah shows every week.  Mom's don't take care of themselves enough.  We need to put ourselves first.  If we don't take care of ourselves, we won't be able to take care of anyone else.  BLAH BLAH BLAH.

She is my best friend and she is right.  I have extreme issues with doing anything for myself.  I shut right up when she said it.  I didn't want to talk about it anymore with her, because she knows me best.  And she'll argue with me.

You guys, well, you guys can't argue until I actually post this.  So I get to voice my opinion first.

Helping people is not a weakness.  I love to help people.  I love to be a Mommy and care for my family.  I love to care for those outside of my family.  I will go out of my way to help someone who needs it under one condition.  They help someone else when they are able.  If you are a lifesucker (meaning you suck the life out of others) then sorry- no can do.

I give of myself because I enjoy it.  Yes, there are times when I get run down - exausted - a little frazzled.  But those times are worth it.  I was born to be a mom, to give to others, to take care of others.

So what if I believe others should come first.  Why is that a big deal?  Why is it a big deal that I only own 2 pairs of jeans, if I am able to make sure my children have enough.  I can wash my own, and mine don't get as dirty.  Why is it a big deal that I skip my trips to the dentist to send the kids?  I believe that if my family and those around me are taken care of- then that is all that matters.  I make do because I want to, not because I have to.

After stating my case I disagree, giving to others is not my greatest weakness.  (I still love you BFF).  I may need help from time to time taking care of me, but not too often to worry.  I believe my greatest weakness are those new Reese's Whipped. What's yours?

Wherever you go, go with all your heart. ~Confucius

10 years from now...

First off - this is all Desert Rose's fault!  If I hadn't read her post I wouldn't have realized a few things.

It started off innocently, she was talking about where she would be in 10 years.  I was reminded of the same projects from high school and middle school.  I thought they were neat then.  Especially since I've gotten half of my predictions right.

When I was 10, I was told to predict myself at 30.
have gone to college, be a model, be married, have children, own a large house, have a dog

Well, we do own a house, but it is not a large one.  Not when there are 5 of us and 2 dogs, not just one.  I'm still working on the model part though.

When I was in high school, I was also told to predict myself at 30.
have graduated college, married, with children, own a house, work with my father in the trucking business

Technically, I never graduated.  I have 7 credits left.  At the time, there were not enough teachers for my major and it was going to take me 2 years to get 7 credits.  I was paying my own way and didn't think a part time job was going to suffice. blah blah blah excuses.  Anyway, I accomplished the rest of my dreams.

On to the future.

10 years from now I hope to be in a bigger house.  If not, the twins will be hanging off their bunk beds and T2 will hit his head everytime he tries to climb in.  Why? Because they will be teenagers (shrieks)!!!!!!!
And little man will be a tween.
And I will be 40!

10 years from now I may be in a mental institution.  Where will you be?

Adolescence is a period of rapid changes. Between the ages of 12 and 17, for example, a parent ages as much as 20 years. ~Author Unknown

Gonna catch me a leprechaun

In honor of this fine festive day- I've painted the blog green. Almost as cool as the green river in Savannah.

The twins had a most awesome school project due today. They had to make a leprechaun trap.
Rules: must me made out of scrap materials, no store bought stuff. Leprechauns’ are small, so don't make a trap for a giant.
Tips: leprechauns are sneaky, they don't read signs, and like shiny things. (reminds me of men)

We spent half of Saturday working on these wonderful pieces of art, and then afterwards they wrote stories of how they caught their leprechauns.

While they wrote, I dreamed. If I caught a leprechaun, he'd have a pot of gold. A pot of gold these days, is not worth a whole heck of a lot. Especially not a small pot. So I would let him keep his gold, if he lived at my house. Then there would always be a rainbow over my house, making it beautiful every day.

I could also hold his pot of gold for ransom, and he could do things for me.

 

•  he could crawl back in the back of the dishwasher and clean out the drain, that I just can't reach.
•  he could slide down the gutters, cleaning out the pine needles.
•  I could train him to repell behind the couch and pull out the missing toys, socks, and crackers

There are all kinds of things I could find for him to do, that would make my life just a little simpler.

 

What would you do with your own leprechaun?

 

Never iron a four-leaf clover, because you don't want to press your luck. ~Author Unknown

Slipcover of life

I recently bought new slipcovers for our couch and loveseat.  We've needed them for about 2 years, but have dealt with sheets covering the cushions.

Two years ago we brought home a dog from the pound.  A beautiful mutt - boxer, pit, maybe a little lab mix.  My gentle giant.  I love her dearly, but we learned very quickly not to leave her alone in the house.  While we are home, she is fantstic, when we left, she ate our couch cushions. 
Maybe it was because they tasted good.  Maybe it was out of spite.  Maybe it was because of all the kid crumbs hiding inside.  No matter the reason - she ate them. Now she is crate trained, or goes outside.  When we are home, she is allowed to roam free, and often sleeps on the same couches she ate.

I am now in love with the new slipcovers.  Spill something on them, you don't have to worry about upholstry cleaning, just whip it off and throw it in the washer.  So easy!

I wish other parts of life were that easy.

Just imagine, make a mistake and wash it off.  Screw up your checkbook - just throw it in the wash.  Forget to send lunches for the kids, ahh - it'll comeout in the wash.

Maybe we need to spend a little more time washing out our life, and not taking things so seriously.  I believe that a lot of us have more stress in our lives than we ought to. What if we could wash out the problems, and live stress free?  We'd all live longer, I'm sure.

What do you want a slipcover for in your life?

Dear MamaO

Dear MamaO -

I know that you don't have it so easy right now.  You married into this family - and for better or worse you are putting up with it.  You are not one to walk away from a situation unless nothing else can be done.  And in that sense you are so much like me.

You often wonder, if I were there right now, what would I do.

First, I'd steal the bread you just buttered off your plate.

Then I'd put all these people in their place.  I may bail them out, but I do not suggest you do it.  I would bail them out to keep a roof over my head, remember I lived there too.

You are strong, stubborn, and the woman for the job.  That's why I hired you when I could.  Do not bail on the now.  Keep making them face their issues and stand on their own feet.  If they don't stand on their own feet now, they never will. 

And love your husband for me.

Love, Pop-Pop

PS. That little man of yours should've been named J.A.

Inspired by Mama Kat's prompt : Write a letter to yourself from someone who has passed on. (ie: parent, grandparent, famous person, friend, pet, etc) from Writer's Workshop.  If you ever need inspiration, or just want to read a bunch of cool stuff on the same topic - go check her out.  Do it now!

When I turn 100, I'm going to keel over and die

When the twins were three, dear Hubby's grandfather died.  He was someone they saw a lot and a great part of all of our lives.  His death inspired questions of life and death over the next year as they grew and were able to understand more.

They asked why, and I answered truthfully - he was very old, and very sick.  But to a young child, old is being 10, 30- is ancient.  Somehow, I had put fear into them, unknowingly, that since Mommy was ancient, she was going to die soon.  I didn't know how to calm their fears.  You don't want your children to walk around always fearful, but you want them to understand the cycle of life.

So, I told them that old is 100, not 30.

Somehow that morphed into, when you turn 100 - you keel over.

The Movie, Kung Fu Panda, just helped this theory along.  When Master Oogway, the turtle dies, it was his time, the twins believe it was because he turned 100 - thus making it his time.



Maybe it's not the best explanation, maybe I went about it the wrong way.  As they've grown, they understand that death sometimes happens to younger people.  They understand guns kill people, that people can get very sick and die, but for the most part we are all going to lead long lives.  And that is the goal right?

What do you tell your children when they ask about death?

Some people are so afraid to die that they never begin to live. ~Henry Van Dyke.

What are you teaching your children?

We teach our children all kinds of things, from the abc's to lessons on how to deal with life.
But what is sinking in, and how do you really know? 

I'm a firm believer that our children learn by example.  They learn what to do and how to do it, from the actions that we, as parents, take.  In a bad situation, which you hope upon no one - we want our children to make the right decisions.

Sunday - we had one of those situations.  And my children made me so proud.

The twins were playing down the road with their cousin who is only a year younger than them.  Running and playing in the snow as all boys do.  They were in the back yard where a narrow creek runs the property line.  Apparently all the boys were jumping back and forth across a narrow part of the creek.  Then my nephew said, and I quote
"Watch the Master," as he jumped across a wider part of the creek. 
He missed the other side, and was in water up to his neck.  He didn't know what to do and was treading water to stay up.
T1 and T2 jumped into action.  T1 went running back to the house as fast as he could while, T2 stayed calm and stayed with my nephew.  T2 told him how to swim with his arms to reach a level where he could get out of the water.  And my nephew followed directions. 

Because they didn't freak out, fight over who was going to do what. Because they thought fast, my nephew didn't drown, or get hypothermia.  Help immediately arrived, and he was safe.

I am so proud of our boys!  And the new rule in our house,
No one is allowed to say "hey ya'll watch this" or on their level "watch the master."

What do you hope your kids have learned?

It's not only children who grow. Parents do too. As much as we watch to see what our children do with their lives, they are watching us to see what we do with ours. I can't tell my children to reach for the sun. All I can do is reach for it, myself. ~Joyce Maynard

Exhaustion! Clear and Utter

I read about some amazing moms out in blogosphere and really I don’t know how they do it. I only have three kids – not six, not multiple multiples, just one set. But there are days when I just can’t do it anymore.

 

I called in sick to work yesterday. And rolled back over in bed. And slept until 11:45 am. I can’t believe it myself. I haven’t slept that late since I was in college and we didn’t get home before daybreak. Monday night I went to bed at a decent hour, although I already felt kinda crappy. Nothing in particular, just drained. I’m not really sure what did it.

 

• Maybe it was the kid who had to do his first ever book report, and then turned his book back into the library on Friday
• Maybe it was facilitating 2 book reports over the weekend
• Maybe it was the fact that these reports were actually projects that took hours upon hours
• Maybe it’s that little man is not quite potty trained, and refuses to let anyone put his pants back on other than me, causing numerous interruptions.
• Maybe it's that it has been too fricking cold for too long. I did not chose to live in the south so I could wake up to 16 degree weather every day for 12 days straight. I hate the cold!
• Maybe it’s the after Christmas blues.
• Maybe it's that work has been kinda nutty.
• Maybe it’s this AWFUL toothache I have and can’t get grips on and am waiting for money to come in so I can go to the dentist.

And writing all this makes me want to crawl back in bed. I don’t know. I know a lot of you have it worse off than me – but I needed a day to rest and a day to vent and I’ll be better tomorrow. I hope!

 

Just because you're miserable doesn't mean you can't enjoy your life. ~Annette Goodheart

scared of little ol' me???

Scary Mommy is holding an awesome contest this week.  She wants to know what makes us scary, and the scariest Mom will win a prize!  She defines scary a little differently than most would think:

"I believe a Scary Mommy is a mother who doesn’t leave the house wearing lipstick at all times. A Scary Mommy loves her kids to death, but will admit to feeling totally overwhelmed and exhausted by the gig. A Scary Mommy doesn’t really care what other people think, and a Scary Mommy thinks that all mothers win when we admit our weaknesses. How would you describe it? It’s up to you!"

As Mom's we each have our own definition of scary.  Our kids probably have hundreds examples of how we are scary.  My hubby may say my hair in the morning is pretty scary.  But as I thought about how I was scary, I didn't think I could answer this question.  I didn't think the general idea applied to me - even though I never wear lipstick, love my kids more than life, are willing to go to jail for them, can be gross with the best of them, and admit exhaustion on more than one occasion.  But that's a Mom, that's what we do.  We do whatever it takes to get the job done.

Then I had a realization.  It's not what we think of ourselves, but how other's perceive us.

I am not afraid to scream politely tell children, even those who are not my own, to stop jumping off the top of the picnic table, stop taking the legs out from underneath the little kids on the slip and slide and to stop throwing rocks at cars.  This prompted a Dad nearby to ask "Have you ever been a drill instructor?"  He probably thought I was scary -

And then there was the occasion at my son's birthday/pool party when I had all the dripping wet children line up on the kitchen floor to sing happy birthday instead of on the carpet.  Perfectly sane line of reasoning I thought, until my own son decided he was above everyone else and could stand on the carpet.  I did not get overwhelmed and freak out, instead I politely told him to get off the carpet... as my father in law snapped a picture.
 

 

My husband, brother, and father-in-law all believe this is the proof that I am the Scariest Mommy.  Do you???

on your tombstone?

Epitaphs are interesting last pieces of sentiment. When in a cemetery I enjoy reading what is written on different tombstones. My Granny has one of those prepay plans where her whole funeral is already paid for. As my Grandfather passed 10 years ago, their tombstone is already set, but it includes her name, date of birth and epitaph. On one hand it is kind of morbid, everything but the date of her death being there. On the other, no one has to think about what to write when she dies.

I don't want a tombstone, I'm going to be cremated when I die. But if I did have a tombstone, I've got a few epitaphs already picked out. (If you want to read some famous ones - wikipedia has a great list, or leave a comment telling me one of your own)

• my turn is over


• loving wife, mother, & housekeeper


• I said no


• don't worry, I will haunt you all


• Night, Night


• spending eternity in time out

"That's All Folks!" epitaph of Mel Blanc

Happy 2nd Birthday

It is hard to believe that Little Man is two years old today (we are ignoring the fact that the twins will be 7 soon).
Of course every parent says it is hard to believe that their child is __ age. But Little Man carries a special story with him. He is my miracle child. While carrying full-term for me is a miracle in and of itself, Bradley redefined the term.
After having a rough first trimester, Little Man started to calm down and grow, and grow and grow. Every time I went in for a checkup they would tell me how much more he had grown past his gestational age. He was a week big, 2 weeks big, 3 weeks big. My doctor even gave me a term for it (not that I remember what it was). I knew he was going to come early, he was big, strong, healthy and ready to see his family. Little Man's due date was June 6, 2007, but after having the twins at 36 weeks, an extra 6 weeks of pregnancy sounded too long for me. At 39 weeks I was ready to pop, they told me he was 8 lbs. 8 LBS!! I knew that if I waited full term I'd have an 11 lb baby like my brother was. I did not want an 11 lb baby. I started walking stairs at lunch, eating spicy food, basically doing every wives tale there was on how to jump start labor. Of course nothing happened. At 40 weeks, they told me he was 8 1/2 lbs and gave me the choice to induce labor.
"Where do I sign up?"
I was scheduled for 7:30am on Tuesday, May 29, 2007, the day after Memorial Day. Dear Hubby dropped the twins off at day care and my mother in law took me to the hospital. It was a great day - and relatively easy. I had an epidural and started pushing about 3 o'clock. I won't gross you out with all the gory details. I will say that when he finally arrived at quarter to 4 and the doctor lifted him up for me to see I was in shock. HE WAS HUGE. My frame of reference is a little skewed as the twins were only 5lbs each when born, but that was a big baby!!!
9 lbs 4 oz , blue eyes, blond hair, just like his brothers and just like his Daddy. He was perfect. Although he did cry for two hours straight, but only because he was hungry. After that he never fussed, slept great, and was the apple of his Daddy's eye.
Everyone who came to see us thought he was beautiful, so I am not being biast. The day after was going well until the pediatrician on staff came into my room. She said "your son has a heart murmur. We found it in a routine exam, and it may be nothing, but we want to run another test, an Echocardiogram, just to be sure." I had chosen the hospital we were in for health reasons. Because I knew from previous experience, they were thorough and my son would be in the best hands. I didn't even call John to tell him about the test, because she said it may be nothing.
Two hours later a pediatric cardiologist walked into my room and I knew the pediatrician had been wrong from the moment the cardiologist introduced himself. No one should ever have to meet a pediatric cardiologist. He told me that my son has a rare (1 in 20,000) congenital heart defect known as Ebstein's Anomaly. Our son's tricuspid valve is not closing properly, leaving an opening for blood to leak back through the valve and into the right atrium. As a result, the right atrium becomes enlarged and if severe enough, congestive heart failure can result. Luckily our son's condition was not that severe. The cardiologist told me his right atrium was enlarged and our son had constant backflow. The doctor was great, he drew pictures and sat with me for over an hour.
It didn't matter. I lost it anyway; I thought it was my fault. Then he told me, no one knows what causes this defect. He also told me that CHD is the most frequently occurring birth defect, and is the leading cause of birth-defect related deaths. I was shocked. How could I not know? Over the next few days my husband and I did a lot of research and what I found was startling, not just about my son, but about all children with CHDs. According to the American Heart Association about 40,000 babies are born each year with heart defects. And nearly twice as many children die from congenital heart disease in the United States each year as die from all forms of childhood cancers combined.
The first few weeks of Little Man's life were tough.
We questioned everything. Would he have surgery? Would he be able to play sports? Would he get tired too easily?
We had to rearrange our world. We had to have and appointment with the pediatric cardiologist and got to watch the backflow on the echo. I had to switch insurance policies as quickly as possible to make sure Little Man would be covered no matter what happened. We learned what signs to watch for, how to take his heart rate. In July he had to go on a heart monitor for about a month because his heart rate was so high. It was hard, but I knew people were worse off than us. I knew that there were worse cases who were having to have surgery right then. We were lucky. We went back for our check ups at 3 months, 6 months, a year.
His first birthday was when we found our miracle. We went to the cardiologist for a echo to see how he was doing - and the defect was all but gone!!! The doctor said that he wouldn't even say he has a problem now and to come back in 2-3 years!!! Shocked, thrilled, releived, were only some of the emotions we were feeling. We had witnessed a miracle in our own son.
So today, we celebrate our miracle. I love you Little Man!

Making the decision to have a child - it's momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart walking around outside your body. ~Elizabeth Stone

The Story of Twins

Everyone loves a story. Mommies especially love a birth story, or even better a birth story on multiples - so here is mine. (Beware it is REALLY long)

Getting pregnant was not the issue with my dear hubby and I, it was the staying pregnant part. We got preggo in the summer of 2001, only to lose it just as fast. September 11th came and we chose to try again. I made it 6 weeks this time before they found a problem, the pregnancy was eptopic and we would have to terminate. We chose methotrexate, but the pain did not cease and I ended up having laparoscopic surgery. During surgery, they found that the pregnancy had dissolved, but the source of my problems was endometriosis. They were able to burn the spots off of my uterus. Now apparently my fabulous obgyn told my family that I was super fertile after the surgery, but no one told me that. A month later - I was preggo again.

On Monday December 10th, I went in for my first ultrasound. I was only 5 weeks pregnant, but everyone wanted to make sure this one was in the right spot. My mother in law went with me and we got a great pic of what looked to me like a chicken leg. So early in pregnancy all we could see was the sack and that it was perfectly placed in my uterus. We were THRILLED to say the least. Finally after multiple losses, we knew this pregnancy was going to make it. On Friday morning I woke up to spotting. Immediately terrified I called the doctor and she ushered me in right away. They scheduled an ultrasound at another location because they were booked, but wanted to see what was going on as quickly as possible. I ended up at one of these procedure clinics that don't really have doctors, but just do ultrasounds and other screenings all day long. I didn't know anyone there, none of my friends or family could make it on such short notice. I sat freezing (swear they had the air on in December) in a place I was unfamiliar with waiting on news I knew would be devastating. The technician performing my ultrasound was super nice. She immediately started chatting about the weather, and my history, what I ate for breakfast. I was so glad she was occupying my mind which was freaking out. She continued this barade of questions about my pregnancies, what I wanted, had I ever had twins. And I answered each one; I'd been pregnant twice already, one eptopic, wanted a boy, twins run in my family, my grandfather was an identical twin, my uncles are twins, my husband's brother was a twin but one didn't make it. Then she stopped talking.
Stopped talking, for a full 15 minutes (okay maybe it was 5 but it seemed like eternity). I began to wonder what was going on, but being in an unfamiliar place I was scared to ask. Then it dawned on me, maybe she wasn't asking for the heck of it, maybe I was having...
"Why did you ask?" I said.
"Oh, you're having twins." She replied, "I'll show you in a minute, just let me finish."

Oh, you're having twins! What? I was in shock. I was expecting news about losing another baby, not gaining another baby. Apparently I was having this ultrasound on the 5week5 day mark. This was the first time they could see the heart beats and inside that sack I called a chicken leg, were two heart beats. After giving me pictures, the tech told me she had to take my results to the radiologist and wait until she came back, reminding me not to use my phone. DON'T USE THE PHONE - Oh I didn't even know how to keep this kind of news to myself. But I did. I sat patiently and waited for 30 minutes while everyone looked at my ultrasound. After coming back she explained that I had Monochorionic-Diamniotic twins and the reason it took so long was that she was looking for the membrane that was dividing the sacs of our twins. Needless to say when I got out of that place, lots of squeals of joy ensued and the journey of my pregnancy began.
It was a couple of months before we found out we were having boys, and again we were thrilled. We picked out names within a week of finding out. John picking his favorite, and I picked mine. Things progressed fairly well with monthly ultrasounds and the goal of making it to July even though my due date was August 13th. In June I started having preterm labor, eventually I ended up on bed rest which for a non-stop person like me was oh so thrilling. The twins were in perfect position for birth - baby A was head down, straight, and feet up under my right rib cage. Baby b was head down, with his head on my left side, bent at his waist with his feet also in my right rib cage. By Friday, July 5th I was miserable. Having all these feet in one set of ribs hurt, and made it hard to sit comfortably or eat. I was so ready to have them. We went to the doctor for yet another ultrasound that would measure the boys and see where we were. We were told I was having giants. That both boys were already over six pounds. I was officially at 36 weeks, could come off bed rest and if they got too much bigger, we'd look at induction.
Well that was it for me - time to get those babies out!!! My wonderful hubby and I spent that July 4th weekend walking. We walked the mall, we walked some stairs, we walked everywhere. I felt so free finally being able to do things. (although I was finally cleared to drive, it hurt too much to operate the car). I started working on every known wives tale (except castor oil) to induce the labor. Not that any of it worked. By Tuesday morning I was exhausted and there was no end in sight. Wednesday would be my birthday and I did not want to spend it in the hospital, so I decided to take a few days off. Tuesday morning I laid down on the couch for a nap around 10am (you know get all the sleep now kind of thing). I was laying there basking in the silence when I heard a small pop.
There's no way I thought. That couldn't have been my water. But what else could it be. I got up and went to the bathroom, no gushing. Just dripping, that didn't end. I called a friend who happened to be a nurse and who was working with my husband at the time. She confirmed that it was probably my water. Well - I didn't believe it. I wasn't having contractions and who hears their water pop but doesn't see the gush. I got on the phone with my hubby who was quickly preparing to make the 45 minute trip home and get me, just so we could make another 45 minute trip to the hospital. I casually got into the shower and rinsed. I didn't use soap, but if I really was going into labor, I wanted to be freshly showered. As soon as I got out, my mother in law called to say she would be taking me to the hospital. She had happened to take the day off work and was a lot closer than Dear Hubby. Moments later she was there and we were off.
As soon as I got in the car, she asked how far apart my contractions were, I said I wasn't having any. Well 12 minutes later, I was having fabulous contractions 5 minutes apart. By the time we got near the hospital they were 2 minutes apart. The next little bit is really a blur. I remember being in a lot of pain, putting off the epidural only to have these awful drugs that made me loopy. Turns out the reason my water never gushed was Baby A's head was holding it back. At my first check I was already 8 cms and they were able to touch his head already. Everything continues to be a blur, although at some point I got the epidural and at 5pm they took me to the surgery room.
I was not sure what was going on. In all my preterm labor trips to the hospital, no one ever told me I would deliver in the surgery room. The doctor quickly explained that although the goal was for me to deliver vaginally, if anything happened they needed to be ready. I started out pushing on the bed they wheeled me in on. I was told they would move me to the next bed when I was really close, and the third bed was if surgery was needed. I pushed for over an hour, all the time thinking I was never going to make it to the next bed. Around 6:30 I got to move. At this point I was ready. At 6:48pm T1 was born. I saw a glimpse of him as the doctor lifted him up. He was white as a sheet and his umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck. We had no idea he had been in distress. My quiet child was immediately whisked away to the NICU without me getting to see him again.
But with twins there is no time to dwell, it was T2's turn. Only T2 wasn't moving. His water hadn't broke, he wouldn't drop and I was back to having contractions 5 minutes apart. Of course as in any hospital it was now shift change. So one son born, another on the way and now the room is twice as full of nurses as there were before T1 was born weighing 5lbs3oz. Barb, a nurse I'd met on a previous hospital visit, came in and took over. I was so happy to have her there. There is a 20 minute time limit on twins and 15 minutes after T1  was born, the doctor decided to break the water and suck T2 down. It worked. At 7:05pm T2 was born weighing 5lbs1oz and screaming. There was nothing wrong with him other than mad about being out. I was able to hold him almost immediately.
T1 had to endure a blood transfusion, and we didn't get to hold him for 2 days, but he only spent a week in NICU. T2 was able to come home after three days in the regular nursery.