Chaos Comes in Cute Packages

Sometimes being a mother is so foreign to me. Like I lost all consciousness, came to, and was all of sudden in a different country [a country that has a lot of screaming children]. Sometimes I feel outside of my own body watching me scramble around trying to keep the peace, trying to stop crying, hunger, and tantrums. I watch myself and I think, "I'm so glad that I don't have to do that." And in one blink, I'm recaptured back to reality after a split dizzying second, I shake it off, and keep going. Keep surviving.

What am I doing and how did I get here??!!

I feel so awkward as a mother half the time and the other half, helpless and stressed. I don't really know what I'm doing and ALL of it is masked by a schedule--carefully planned out to the minute. Every detail of every 15 minute increment of my day is planned out. It's both devastating and addicting to live by the clock. But my schedule is pristine--even, beautiful.

And this--this meticulously planned 24 hour day, 7 days a week, helps to continue this farce that I live--this deceptive, insidious, spirit-killer, this lie that I am in control. I have everything under control. And as long as I carefully balance a casserole dish with my right hand, hold 2 bottles of milk in my left, have Libby bouncing on my knee, with Annie tied to my waist, Grace strapped on my back, WHILE dancing with Lee, and typing up a church newletter, my life wil peaceful, everything will going smoothly, and absolutely nothing will go wrong.

I was telling a friend the other day that my life is like the 4 Spiritual Laws and if you've never had the "priviledge" of having it handed to you or having it shoved down your throat, it is a evangelical tool that Campus Crusade for Christ uses to help spread the gospel. I have used it before, while in college, to explain the gospel to some who were curious about Jesus. I probably won't ever use it again because it's just not my style. I don't really condone the use of it. But, if it helps one person understand who Jesus is in 25 seconds, I won't bash it (although, probably I already did).

Well, anyway, back to what I was saying--the 4 Spiritual Laws. When you get to the part where it says, "These two circles represent two kinds of lives"

Guess which circle I am?

[See how all of the balls in the first circle are all unbalanced and different sizes? See the "s" (which stands for self) is sitting at the throne, in the center of my life? That's me. Self, sitting on the throne, with lots of unbalanced, different sized balls floating all around--chaos--the cross--Jesus--standing outside of my life. I guess, I'm supposed to want circle number two? Although, Jesus can still be sitting at the center with chaos all around. I don't think that the second circle is a good picture of the reality of christian life. Just because you have Jesus as your Lord and saviour doesn't mean your life is hunky dory, everything's clean, neat, and tucked in and away ever so nicely. It could be a complete mess (like first circle). Like my life.] 

And as I was explaining that I was the 1st circle, my friend said, "So, you're a carnal christian?" I *think* he was joking (maybe he wasn't). [But that statement deserves its own post another time. But in the meantime, here's a pretty clear definition of a carnal christian. I could very well be a carnal christian (panic attack), but hopefully I'm coming to my senses?]

Anyway, back to the lie I'm leading that my life is under control.

It's totally not under control. It's so chaotic. And the first time I admitted it last week, I wept.

I hate admitting that I'm a total failure, that I am sometimes not a good mother or wife, that I am a wreck inside about 45% of the time, that I really want to run away and not come back home for a long time. I hate admitting that I can't stand the sound of crying at about 6:23pm because I've heard it all day long, that I dread feeding Annie because it takes so long and she may end up gagging anyway and vomitting it all up. I hate admitting that I'm anxious all day long when my babies don't nap well or sleep well all night. I hate admitting that I don't want to talk to Lee at the end of the day because so many people have needed my attention all day long, I just want to crawl up in a hole and hibernate. I hate admitting that I don't make time for God because I feel like I have none to spare (even though I know I can make time).

But, when I do and I did----a d m i t---, and I let it all out, and let it all go, I felt a sense of release, relief, and rest.

Last week I said, "Alright God. I suck at this and you happen to be the PERFECT PARENT, so I GIVE UP. Please help me."

And it felt good. I still hated to admit all that, and even more, I hated to admit that I need GOD. I even hate that it takes trials and suffering for me to realize my need for God. 

But, so be it. So be-- me in all of this chaos of poopy diapers, potty training, tantrums, sickness, and fussiness-- because apparently, I have a fortress and rock bigger than all of that.

From Psalm 62:

Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
    my hope comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
    he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
My salvation and my honor depend on God;
    he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
Trust in him at all times, you people;
    pour out your hearts to him,
    for God is our refuge.

By the way, chaos comes in pretty cute packages...

Friday Night Writes

It's been so long since I've posted anything about my crazy life and here I have a moment of peace and quiet, and I don't have a darn thing to say. I know I need to write. But I am ever so slightly tempted at the thought of catching up on Bethenny Ever After (which I am shameful to admit that I purchased a TV pass on Amazon to watch).

But, I press on, and write.

I'm really tired. I am fairly content. I'm not depressed. I'm 75% of the time anxious about something. I look at, touch, hold, feed, change, breathe babies all day long. And when I'm not cooped up in the house with the babies, I (with the help of my friend Faye) run. Faye watches the babies and I run---not so far far away. But far enough to feel like I'm alone. Running helps me feel like I am doing something else besides cleaning poop and listening to burps (although burps are good sounds to hear and only a mom would appreciate that). And the running seems to dampen the anxieties that do race through my head. Running is good. It's very slimming as well. Plus I get to listen to Girl Talk All Day which is a definite pick me up.

I miss singing. I miss playing games with my friends. Late nights with those crazy few who would stay up with me to play poker til midnight on a Tuesday and lose $5 to me (or Trip). I miss the freedom to come and go as I please without having to secure a sitter. I miss my old skinny clothes (half of which I gave away). I miss being invited to social things. It seems that there is a correlation between the number of kids you acquire and the number of invitations you acquire. As the former goes up and latter goes down. Slowly you start being excluded from e-mail invitations to social events or gathering. And the less you get invited to things, the more permanent it seems--the distance between you and those "other" people. Those kid-less, couples or singles. Those cool people who you wish you could be like now, but feel guilty for even thinking that because it's "better" now that you are a couple with THREE KIDS.

Boy does that statement really date me. I'm old.

So here I am on a Friday evening--feeling like it's midnight. Yet, I glance down and it's only 9:37pm. I am sitting here in the semi-dark, listening to Libby shriek (like clockwork). She shrieks about 45 minutes after I put her down for the night. My Lee is in dining room working on a deadline. And I am venting, knowing full well, that after I finish typing these words, I'll be typing in http://www.amazon.com/ to look for the next Episode of Bethenny Every After in my Video Library.

It kind of sounds depressing. But it's really not. I'm so glad I don't have to do anything, be anywhere, or be anyone.

I do miss the old days.

But you can't beat the new.

How are you Helen (Lee, Grace, Libby, and Annie)?

Aside from this crazy body I have, that reacts so VIOLENTLY to pregnancy and after birth, things are settling down quite nicely.

Libby and Annie are growing so quickly, I don't know what to do with myself--well, actually, that's not true. I don't know what to do to BE BY myself. But----this is not a trite statement new mothers make because they feel guilty to admit the opposite--I do love my children and wouldn't trade this life for any other's. Sometimes, I do wish I can run away temporarily knowing my children are well cared for. But I don't get that feeling but once every 3 or 4 weeks. I think I'm doing pretty good.

I do have to admit, things are much easier the second (and third) time around. I think I'm not as uptight (although, my friend, and nanny may disagree since she sees me for about, well, 10 hours a day) as I was when I had Grace. I do have little saviors in my life who come to the rescue all the time.

I can tell my hormones are about to balance out. I don't know if it's because I have clumps of hair falling out or if it's because I feel more sane most of the time than insane, but I sense peace (in my body and brain) is coming soon. I haven't really struggled with post partum depression. YES--anxiety, but not really depression.

And WHAT have I been anxious about?

Annie not growing and being too skinny. Libby waking up every hour upon hour at night. My mysterious hives that keeps popping up (I'm never gonna get pregnant again just because of THIS! My body is constantly attacking itself! It should be no surprise as my body was constantly trying to OUST every baby I've carried). Grace feeling lonely or excluded or ignored. Not being able to spend any quality time with Lee (as I make time to write this "few and far between" blog post). Weaning.

Lots of worries. But I know the anxiety wind tunnel will calm down here very soon. Partly because I am weaning. It's barely sustainable--trying to keep the babies' schedule, Grace's schedule, and my pumping schedule. I know it's the best, but my primal instinct tells me "NO! Don't stop!!" But, I know what it's like to be on the other side. I know how I feel after I wean. And I know it's for the best.

I keep telling myself-- you've collected 250 bags of breast milk in the freezer. That's more than enough to last the twins 1 feeding each per day until they are 6 months old. [Keep telling yourself that Helen. Keep telling yourself that.]

Enough about me.

Annie-
She's an angel. A sweet sweet little baby girl. She likes to be left alone more than to be held. She hates eating (I mean drinking). But, I can tell she'll enjoy eating. She likes to chew on the bottle. She doesn't complain a lot. So, when she cries, I rush to her because I know something is wrong. She smiles a lot and coos and plays quietly when she's alone and not in the company of someone. But she also enjoy interaction too. But not too much. She doesn't like sleeping during the day, but she sleeps like a champ at night.

Libby-
Libby's a sassafras. She's a pistol. She tells you what she wants when she wants it and it's usually RIGHT NOW. Her cry can be heard throughout all of east Atlanta. You know she takes after her momma because she's a drama queen about everything! She loves to eat, drink, and as long as she's held, she is merry. She's SO chubby her thighs have double chins. She's very social--I can tell. She'll give you an instant smile and she ALWAYS wants to be with people. Not so good in the sleeping department at night. She may become a night owl like her momma.

Grace-
She's turned into quite a little character. Smart like her daddy, smart ass like her mommy. She still vies for our attention. It's different having two newborns. With only one, momma can hold the newborn, and daddy can pay attention to Gracie. But with two, many nights, we are both holding a newborn each, and Grace is left to fend for herself during HER fussiest time of day. She must be so very resilient because she has not LOST IT (like her momma). She rarely throws a tantrum, and the littlest things will satisfy her. I miss her. I miss her so much. I miss it just being her and me. She's a smart alec--that one. I do have to brag though. Her teachers always tell me she's SO SMART and that everybody (other teachers and other kids) LOVE Grace and want to be near her. That's my winsome girl.

Lee-
I don't really know how he is. I should ask him. I wish there was a 25th hour in the day...

On the Wild Side

We're living life on the wild side here with 2 newborns and a toddler. As you may have noticed I haven't updated my blog in some time and if you were a fly on our wall you would see why and feel a little bit sorry for us and be relieved that you were only a fly and not me or Lee. Although I would never trade my Annie and Libby for an easier life, it just ain't at easy.

Wait'll you hear how much help we have--but it's still not that easy. Now I know why people lived in villages and entire families lived together in one hut. I'm talking about extended families. It's for people like me--mothers with multiples--that God intended for people and families to live close in proximity.

So, help. I have a lot of it and I am very thankful. First off, I have a husband who goes to work at 7:30 and returns promptly at 6 every evening. During the day, my life-saver friend, neighbor and nanny comes with her 1 year old daughter to help me from 7:30 to 6. On days Faye has off, my mother comes to spend the night and help me out for a couple of days a week. And this is the cherry and sprinkles on too of it all--at night from 10pm to 6am on Sunday through Thursdays, our night nanny Anita comes to take the night shift. People say I look well rested and Anita is the reason for that.

So why is my blood pressure still teetering on stroke level? Why am I so exhausted that need a nap every afternoon? Why do my limbs feel like they are about to fall off? Why do I feel like I'm about to have a panic attack every afternoon at 4? Hormones? Two needy babies? A 2.5 yr old that is desperate for the attention that she used to get? Juggling feedings, naps, pumping, and guilt for not nursing full time? If I could just write out every single thing that I did during the day, you would get a glimpse of this crazy world I live in. But alas, that would be boring to read and I just don't have the time.

Anyway, I am blessed. I may not feel it most days, but I know I am and I am so very lucky to have a lot of supportive people around me.

That's all I have right now. But know that I will post very soon about the babies--their personalities etc... About my birth story--I know all you men out there are dying to know about that (after hearing so much about my cervix for so long!), about my mental state and the things I love now and the things I long for. It'll come soon--like when we start having 26-hr days...

Big Baby Mama

I can't believe I've made it this far. I feel like there should be an award ceremony for making it this far with confetti flying all around and people cheering for me and me winning a quarter of million dollars... wait, that's the Biggest Loser. [Although, I wouldn't mind being the Biggest Loser either--after I drop two babies].

I'm currently carrying 11 pounds. Not quite the super human feat of carrying 12 pounds like my good friend Stacey and, might I add, who gave birth to this said almost 12 pound baby, au naturalle (as in no epidural) and no tear. I STILL CAN'T believe it.

My stomach has gone from belly beautiful to monstrously grotesque--and yes, I do exaggerate. But, if you could only see the look on Lee's face whenever he gets a glimpse of my nekked belly, you would understand what I mean. I'll catch him looking and then looking away quickly like if he were to stare at it too long, he would keel over and die. Let me tell you, I've transcended what is a normal pregnant belly. If you could divide me up into sections, my torso takes up 2/3 of my weight, and my belly claims 1/3 of my body. I can confidently say, I NEVER want to be pregnant with twins AGAIN.

Now, we've had some talk about a 4th, but Lee vows to get a vasectomy. I think I can have a 4th if it's in God's plan. Lee says he never wants me to be pregnant again... And if I do ever get pregnant, it wouldn't be by him! (that's kind of funny and kind of not)

Look at me talking about being pregnant again and I still have yet to have these two. I must be crazy! Or hormonal or both.

Now that I'm home, I'm so much happier waiting for the girls to come. I'm still very anxious as to when, what day and time, and what will happen--it's very akin to waiting for Jesus to come back--I'm a little anxious about that too (subconsciously)--that and waiting for the world to end. But that's a crazy ass blog for another day.

I went to the perinatologist yesterday and the babies were a pretty good size-- 5lb 10oz and 5lb 3oz. Grace was born at 5lb 10oz so I think I feel very confident that we are out of the danger zone. My blood pressure was elevated (even though I'm on meds), so they sent me home with two urine catchers so I can collect it for 24 hours. It's pretty disgusting. I've had to do it about 5 times since 2009. But it will show whether or not I have preeclampsia, in which case, they will induce me asap. I was induced with Grace for that very reason.

Watch me not have preeclampsia, not dilate any further, not have anymore contractions. Watch me have to wait until the week of January 29th to get induced at 38 weeks.

Oh THREE more weeks.

LORD HELP ME!

This was me at 34 weeks and 3 days with Grace.
(Such a cute, stretchmark-free belly)

This is me now at 35 weeks and 2 days with twins.

(There's no way I'm taking my shirt off!)



Sweet Escape

So, I'm home again. And it's been quite stressful the way things panned out in the hospital. But, I'm glad I get to continue gestating on my corner of this couch in my home.

I think I last posted about my OB, Dr, Soufi, wanting to break my water, but the perinatologist stopping her? Yes? I remember, I was a supposed 5cm?

That was last Friday, a week ago.

On Saturday, Dr. Sun (another OB in the same practice) checked me, and I was 4 to 5 cm.

On Sunday, Dr. Anderson (yet, another OB in the same practice) checked me, and I was 3 to 4 cm.

Apparently, I have an incredibly shrinking cervix.

I was so frustrated. On the one hand, I was glad to have these girls cooking a bit longer. On the other, all I could see was me having to stay in the hospital forever with a de-dilating(?) cervix.

I thought, if I had gone into the doctor's office at that original appointment and if I had been 3 cm dilated, I would never have been sent to the hospital.

So Sunday, they took me off of Procardia (the contraction medication). Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday went by--my contractions were the same as if I had been taken the meds. We stayed in three different rooms. Poor Lee slept on a recliner and two different chairs that pulled out. You know there is no rest in the hospital. So I don't know how women do hospital bedrest and actually get to rest.

One of the 3 chairs Lee slept on.

Everyday I got checked, and everyday I was still the same. Everyday I still contracted 5 to 6 minutes apart. By Tuesday and Wednesday, I was getting pretty desperate--trying to figure out ways to get out of the hospital. Either go into labor or walk out. Walking out meant no insurance coverage for my stay there. And after much research on how to go into labor, I resorted to eating pineapple and asking Lee to press his thumbs on my ankles--none of which worked. I wasn't going to ingest herbal medications, castor oil, or do the hanky panky.

Everyday, I begged the doctors to let me leave--I even tried negotiating (which I think I'm pretty good at).

When I heard--"We will only induce you when you get to 38 weeks." I was both livid and in despair.

Why? You may ask.

Well, since 25 weeks, all I've ever heard from all my doctors is, make it to 32 weeks--but 34 weeks is the ultimate goal. If you  make it to 34 weeks, then you're really out of the danger zone and if your babies have to stay in NICU for a week or two, it's not a big deal. Over and over again, I heard this--make it to 34 weeks.

So, when I was "going into labor" last Thursday, I thought, wow, I may have done this. I may make it to 34 weeks!!! (Pat myself on the back).

It's all about expectations for me.

If the doctors had said, "You need to make it to 37 weeks" I would have spent the last however many weeks to damn well try my hardest to do that.

That, and the fact that Grace was born at 36 weeks and she was completely normal. My nephews and nieces were born at 35 and 36 weeks--no one spent any time in NICU and everyone came home at a normal time.

You can imagine my shock and despair at the thought that I would spend 4 more WEEKS in the hospital.

Well.

Thursday rolls around--I've been in the hospital for 1 week. Dr. Feng--a older gentleman with salt and pepper hair, of Asian decent, with a thick Texan accent. One of the most strict perinatologist in the practice. He strolls in and says, "What will you cook for me if I let you go home today?"

I squealed.

He asks me how far away I live. 20 minutes without traffic.

He asks me if there's an adult nearby 24/7. More of less.

He tells me I've been stable for a week with lots and lots of contractions, so he sees no point in me taking up a room at Northside.

He asks, "Will you name one of your girls after me?"

Yes, yes!!! Terry Feng.

And that was that. I came home yesterday with 6 bags in tow (it's amazing how much stuff you can accumulate in a week at the hospital).

We were all so relieved.

I'm happy to cook these babies longer--at home.

I know I keep saying that I refuse to go to the hospital again unless I'm actually in labor. But, HOPEFULLY, the next time I have to go, I WILL be in ACTUAL LABOR.

My prayer is that I will have a CLEAR SIGN to know that I'm in real labor--not just contractions (because I have contractions, painful and not painful, all the time). Please pray this for me-- a CLEAR BLATANT SIGN THAT I CAN'T DENY.

Grace visiting me in the hospital.

She was so happy this morning.

To Break or Not to Break

I vowed last week that the next time I go into the hospital will be my last, and I'm still hoping that. My stay this time may be a bit longer--but it looks like it might be the last time.

Yesterday I went to the perinatologist for a routine ultrasound--everything was perfect (no more cervical length checks). Afterwards, I had an appointment with my OB/GYN. Dr. Soufi (a substitute doctor for my original doctor who is on sick leave) has been taking care of me for the past month (and has been sending me to the hospital a lot!). I love her--I hope she delivers the twins. Anyway, she checked me and she said, "Well, you're 1cm..... No wait.... you're 4cm!".

We were sent immediately to the hospital yesterday afternoon around 4pm.

Dr. Soufi came back to check me again at 6:30pm. She said, if you are 5 or more, I'm going to break your water today.

Wha WHAT??!!

She checked me and she kind of mulled it over in her head and muttered some uncertainty-- like she thought it was 5 cm. She asked the nurse for a measuring tape and she measuring her fingers and it turned out to be 4cm.

Whew! Although it would have been WAY poetic had the girls been born last night. You see, yesterday was the anniversary of Lee's father's passing. Ever since we knew we were having twins (and not having any boys), we decided to use his father's name in the girls' names as middle names--his dad's name was James Hiatt Kynes. You'll have to wait to find out the rest of their names! It would have been a sweet gift and comfort for Lee and his mom and sisters. I just thought that it would be the coolest thing. But alas, it didn't happen.

AND for the better--because now the girls are 33 weeks and 5 days.

Anyway, this morning, Dr. Soufi came in and checked me. Lo and behold, I was 5cm (she even measured it with tape). She said she was going to break my water. And then it seemed like there was a whirlwind of activity--got to get the IV, take her blood, catch her urine, call our parents, and siblings, what to do with Grace, take a shower, etc...

Dr. Soufi left and returned shortly and told me that she had to confer with the perinatologist about breaking my water. Eventually, the peri said NO--to let me labor and progress naturally--to give these girls more time if time is available. They won't do any more interventions to stop contractions (except for the procardia I'm taking).

So, now, it's just wait and see--in the hospital.

I mean, how long can one go at 5 cm with twins???

Wish us luck and pray for us-- we may have a New Year's baby--I mean, babies in a couple of days!

Two side notes:
I now own FIVE of these

AND,

I miss my little girl...