Times they are a changin.
I'm 29 for only about another month, and then I'll be that other age. Sometimes I think about that other age and really have no qualms with it. All of my friends have hit that number or are right behind me. I don't want to be associated with those who don't know who Urkel is anyway-- those who never knew the thrill of playing Oregon Trail on the only computer in the classroom. Sorry, you have lost all your cattle in the river and will soon die of dysentery. Those kids who don't know what a Popple or Wuzzle is. How sad for them. But on the other hand I am having a really hard time letting go of some things, and I don't enjoy being shocked into being old.
For example. I heard on the radio a new coffee place was opening, and the young adult scene was welcome to come hang out specifically on a certain night and time. How fun! I keep listening for the details. "...so come on out all you young adults, ages 18-23, Friday nights!"
Um. I am not invited to the young adults coffee scene. And most likely if you're reading my blog, you're not invited either.
Thanks a lot stupid coffee place. Am I invited to the old adults bucci mixer? The middle age coffee social? How dare they broadcast all over the radio waves that young adults are 18-23! Whatever. I only just started liking coffee, and I wasn't going to go anyway, thankyouverymuch-you agediscriminatingjerks.
When I went into Forever 21 this weekend for the first time in 2 years (not by choice-but by geographical hardship) I'm overthrown by the taller than me middle school and high school girls looking like they just came off a Japanese music video. I like the store, but the Saturday mall thing was never fun to me at any age. I'm not a black friday, clearance fighter sort. Still, I try my best to enjoy the moment. I pick up some great costume jewelry for myself, a quartz and faux pearl necklace and another great chunky gold necklace, and think, "These would go great with tons of my clothes--super wearable. Church, downtown, everyday. And Juliette will love these too!"
Juliette is my 3 year old daughter. Awkward thought, but fleeting. I pay for the jewelry and zip out of the mall, already overwhelmed by the first store experience. I text Ryan to come pick me up, I'm ready to go. Vieja.
To ease my transition, I will start using the number 30 in my everyday. But if 30 means I am looked at strangely for painting my toes glittery gold, then yeah. I have a problem with 30. Is it ok to share jewelry and hair bows with Juliette when I turn 30? (There are those who would say it was never ok, but we aren't friends.) Once I passed that 10 year high school reunion mark, I knew things started to shift. And I know how to count, and that 30 has been in the works for awhile. But we all know, it's not exactly as exciting as 18 or 21, or even 25. Is there any age left that people look forward to? Please share if so. I'd love to look at a birthday in my future and not grimace.
Times they are a changin. Not so long ago I studied for exams and paid sorority dues. Not so long after I got married. I was the mom of 1. But now I have a 6 year old who plays soccer and goes to boyscouts, a daughter who takes dance lessons, and my babies are officially toddlers now and we've stopped breastfeeding. (For you nonbreastfeeders, that means my breasts have now returned to prepubescent size, and it kinda sucks.) I will do a lot less swaddling in my life now, and a lot more chauffeuring. Life flies. I bet 40 will come for me faster than 30, and Luke will be driving himself around.
I have a slightly older sister and a slightly older cousin who will always make my birthday seem not so bad. Maybe it'll be like the Three Billy Goats Gruff for us. I will be the last goat, pass over last, I will have to butt the ugly, warty, hairy 30 year-old troll off the bridge, but once I cross I will find all my other goat friends already enjoying the good life of green fields and dandelions. Maybe! But I already have issues with this allegory because in it, no matter where we find ourselves, we're getting older, fatter, and we're still goats.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Sunday, October 7, 2012
|The first two|
We had a great delivery, both born vaginally at 37 weeks 1 day via induction (I was BEYOND ready. I couldn't move, breathe, sit, stand, bend, hurry, sleep--you get the idea), 8 minutes apart. I had my epidural (thank you God) and didn't feel much. When baby A (Jackson) came out (6lbs 9oz), we were all pretty flustered with excitement, but soon got focused on Baby B (Lincoln), who upon Jackson's exit decided to flip around, never before had he experienced so much room in the womb. My fantastic OB, skilled at this sort of thing, simply said, "Ok, he's breached...now I'm going to do something you don't see very often..." She reached inside me, grabbed Lincoln by his little legs,and eased him out, feet and butt first. Very strange to see his legs and butt outside of my body, but not his torso or head. It was a scene fit for a SCI-FI alien movie. Just a few minutes later, and Baby B was with us. I don't remember much (no drugs, just horrible mommy memory. See Ryan for details) but they were both healthy and we immediately went to a room together, where I soon started the nursing journey with twins. We were clear with the nurses that we would be exclusively bf-ing. Jackson latched on well, but Lincoln I felt was more easily frustrated and I couldn't tell if he was getting any colostrum. I mentioned my concern to the nurse (big mistake), who promptly suggested I give him formula to supplement. "That way we can guarantee he's eating"...she says. "The lactation consultant who comes tomorrow will suggest the same thing"...she says. This upset me, because I really wanted supportive, adamant people around me, telling me I could DO THIS. Ryan was enough to sway me...we would not give Lincoln the formula, we'd just see how he fared in the night.
Thankfully we stuck to our guns. They were nursing champs, I just needed to give Lincoln a chance. Mommies, if you are in this situation please don't be discouraged at the first, second, third, or even fourth trial with breastfeeding! Over the course of their first year, I had tons of issues, and I still was able to stick it out. If you have your mind set up that you want to try breastfeeding, then give it a REAL chance. Don't let others with different experiences try to sway you. Talk to a lactation consultant (good to know of one before baby arrives) about your concerns, not just some schmo who feels they know more about your baby or your boobs than you do.
When we got home 2 days later, the pain started to set in. For me, this was typical of my bf experience. The nipples take about 7-10 days to "toughen up", but with some Lanolin and a great determination to get through it, the pain subsides and breastfeeding becomes the beautiful experience we all want.
HOWEVER. When breastfeeding infant twins, there is very little downtime in between feedings, therefore the nipple cracks and fissures took what felt like twice as long to heal. When I fed them in the beginning, I experienced incredible pain. These boys were GREAT nursers, they sucked so hard they would empty the breast in minutes. But with great suckers, come great scabs. The scabs could not heal quickly because the next baby was ready to eat, and just a bit later the other was hungry again. My toes clenched, my teeth clenched, and as I furiously tapped my hand onto the closest object, I'd count the seconds it took before my nipple went totally numb with the pain. After they'd unlatch, the pain would set in again, the temperature of the room would cause my nipples to contract, sending me into another bout of torture.
Still, we stuck to it. The pain did eventually go away (I can't remember, maybe 15-16 days of that?) and I was suuuuper proud to tell people I was breastfeeding them exclusively. Most often in the beginning I would cradle hold them or lay beside them and feed one at a time. This was my favorite because I could fall asleep at night. But as their neck muscles strengthened, we were able to double feed using the football hold. I'd put pillows on either side of me, and get both babies within arms reach on the bed. Then I'd latch Jackson on first (he seemed to be able to hold the latch better while I got L set up). I'd pull Lincoln on the other side, and voila. Double breastfeeding. Time saver? Yes. Mom ego booster? Yes. Proud enough to take a picture of them while double nursing? Yep--But that's not for this blog. In the moment, I sent the pic to my sister (who is also a bf mom) in a text, who wrote back along the lines of "Wow crazy! But now delete this, and don't ever text me pics of your boobs again". Sorry about that Brandi. Lesson learned. No one wants to see that but me and my proud husband who took to calling me Wonder Woman after I sent him the same text. Was double feeding easier than one at a time? Heck no. Unless we were late to go somewhere, I would always opt for single servings.
When they were about 3 months old, I tried to give them a bottle of formula, to see if they'd take it and allow for Ryan and I to have a date--No good. Jackson was semi interested, but Lincoln hated it. He would struggle with the bottle nipple, then he actually vomited after he took some down. I then discovered that formula can expire (sorry, very little experience with formula) and the formula in question was a few days expired...but Jackson didn't get sick so we weren't sure. After buying 1 can of NEW formula, different brand, same thing happened. Jackson took a few sips, but Lincoln ended up vomiting.
So the date nights had to wait. If I wanted alone time for more than 2 hours, I'd have to pump (the pump and me, not always compadres).
So there you have it. With the babies' cribs in our bedroom, my night became a blur of bringing the 1st baby to cry to the bed, pass out immediately while he nursed, hear the second baby later, bring him to the bed, squeeze in between Ryan and the first baby , nurse baby #2, and immediately fall asleep again. Ryan was squished to a sliver of the bed, and I just flopped left and right all night long. The babies and I nursed, and nursed, and nursed. I didn't know if they were hungry or not. I didn't know who was who, who was crying or why. I just nursed--and it was the magical mute button. I got fragmented sleep all night, but it was still sleep. I'd breastfeed them at the slightest meow they'd make, and Ryan for the most part slept on. If both babies tag teamed me, crying at the same time, Ryan would hold one until the other passed out from nursing (5-6 minutes..fast nursers). Sometimes they needed a diaper, but most times, they wanted the liquid gold.
I know everyone has their own breastfeeding experience, but I felt since breastfeeding twins varies slightly from breastfeeding one baby, I wanted to share with other interested moms and dads about the process we went through. I wanted to record what I could remember from the early months of their lives, now a year ago, and to encourage others (or scare others--whatever your perspective). We made adjustments and had setbacks later into the year, but that's another story, for another post.