Cryin it out: My New Best Friend

Well, it worked. Who woulda thunk it. Last night (Night #3), Will and Oliver slept from 7:15 pm until 7:00 am – WITHOUT WAKING ONCE. Simply amazing. This evening, there was a moment that I forgot we had kids sleeping in the other room (does that make me a bad mom?). I will say that, in addition to improving their quality of sleep, it has also been, oddly enough, incredibly liberating. I don’t walk around in the evenings filled with the fear that they might wake up, and how, in heaven’s name are we going to get them back to sleep again. Even if they do wake up, they are learning how to get themselves back to sleep on their own. Another note is that naps are still not going swimmingly well, however, that was inline with our expectations, as daytime sleep apparently takes longer to master. They are continuing to improve on that front as well, though, which does give us hope. They slept for an hour stretch during two naps today, which we were incredibly happy with.

I’m still not getting a crazy amount of sleep, as I stay up to do the dream feed, which lasts until 11:20, and then I do a load of laundry and get everything set up for the morning. And being the night owl that I am, I proceed to then read, write or catch up on my endless Twitter articles. Finally pass out around 1:30 or so. Subconsciously, I think I’m still waiting for them to wake up, so I can take care of them before Aaron’s shift, which would usually start between 2:30-3:30. Next week, I think we will begin weaning them from their dream feed, though, and then hopefully I will really start getting some good sleep. Over a year of not sleeping through the night – I don’t remember what it feels like to have a brain that functions! Soon, Lisa, soon.

More to come.

Cryin it out: Night #2

Has it really only been 24 hours?  Uff-duh.  What a day.  After the hour and a half of crying last night, followed by a successful dream feed, they did not wake up until 3:15!  From here, they proceeded to cry on and off for about an hour and twenty minutes, but they did go back to sleep.  Then Will slept until 6:30, and we had to WAKE UP Oliver at 7. 

We made the decision to also do naps at the same time – wham bam, thank you ma’am.  #1, in order for them to go to sleep by themselves and #2, to try to get them to sleep longer and extend their naps, so we can start consolidating. While we thought about doing them at a different time, now that we are in it, I’m sooo glad that we did, because they got to practice all day long.  So when it came to this evening, they were pros!  Oliver cried for three minutes and was asleep in five.  Will took about a half hour to fall asleep, but didn’t really cry at all.  On Night 2!!  I’m wondering if this might be a fluke??  Perhaps they were so darn exhausted from crying all day that they were like, fine, I’ll go to sleep already!

When I’m able to sit back and think about it,  it’s actually a pretty amazing experience. We get to watch our kids learn the skill of how to fall asleep by themselves.  Watch how they learn to soothe themselves.  You can almost see it go through their heads as they are learning. Makes the crying a bit more tolerable.  That, and I think I would  poke my eyeballs out with burning bamboo sticks if we were to sabotage the work that we’ve done and have to start over. Hearing your baby(s) cry for so long really is one of the most brutal, terrible experiences. 

Here’s how this evening went down:

6:42 pm – Oliver is pissed:

6:45 – Oliver quiets and stares into our souls once again.

6:48 – Oliver sleeps.

6:42 – Will is chillin’.  Whatever mom and dad – fine, you left, no big whoop. I can do this by myself.

7:00 – Will is mad that we changed his sheets as he tries to find the place he was licking last night.

7:12 – Will sleeps.

PS: For those parents out there, the book that our doula recommended to use is The Sleepeasy Solution. This is the book we are going by, and it was a pretty easy read (of utmost importance when you have no time and no mental capacity due to sleep deprivation).  As an fyi – this also deals with sleep issues up until they are five, I believe. It’s a shot of Ferber, with a teaspoon of Weisbluth, combined with a quart of making parents feel better about the crying. 

Cryin it out

Well, the time has come.  The time to cry it out.  Up until now, we’ve gone through a roller coaster of sleep.  At first, even though we were up at all hours, they were pretty easy to get back to sleep.  Then, even when they ‘woke up to the world’, they were still pretty good sleepers, and by 3 1/2 months they were sleeping 7pm to 7am with a dream feed at 11.  They would still wake up from time to time needing their pacifiers, but for the most part, they were ok.  Fast forward to today (five months). They are waking each other up, they need to be rocked to sleep, Will is now waking up from his naps after 30 minutes, they are waking up many, many times a night and are increasingly difficult to get back to sleep.   They are clearly overtired, because they’re waking up so often and getting ‘junk sleep’.  If one is asleep, the other is up. In short, it’s been very, very exhausting.  And finally, Aaron and I got to our wits end.  Enter: cry it out. Or “Ferberizing” for those of you who watch Modern Family.

The big question: to separate or not to separate.  Despite the fact that we have white noise in between their cribs, they do tend to wake each other up.  Not consistently, and it depends on where in the sleep cycle they are, but they do, so initially we were going to separate them for sleep training, and then put them back together.  Ultimately, however, since they will be sharing a room until they’re quite a bit older, we decided that we wanted them to get used to each other's crying in hopes they will learn to sleep through it. We read that it will take longer to train them, but I am inspired by other moms in my PEPs group who have been successful.

So we are here. February 8th, 2010 (pronounced twenty ten, btw).  We did their normal bedtime routine, albeit a bit earlier than usual (bath, bottle, book with dad, swaddle, put down).  With our monitoring station set-up (as seen below), we were ready to go.

Here is what ensued:

6:33 – both go down – both crying and slightly confused.

6:39 – I go in and let them know that we haven’t gone to Brazil and encourage them that they can, in fact, fall asleep on their own.

6:46 – Oliver stops crying.

6:52 – Will stops crying (is it too good to be true? Yes. Yes, it is.).

6:53 – 6:54 – Oliver cries, causing Will to cry.

6:53 – 7:04 – Will cries, causing Oliver to cry.

6:58 – 7:14 – Oliver is possessed by a demon. Will is whimpering while trying to lick the side of his bed (whatever works to soothe you, my dear).

7:14 – I go in and reassure them, causing Oliver’s demon to turn into The Devil (as in, the one and only, crème de la crème, Dark Angel, Oh Fallen One).  Will is still whimpering.  I then start crying. 

7:15 – 7:31 – Oliver screams, and just before I’m about to go in again, he finds, and is mesmerized by, the green light on the camera at the end of his crib causing him to look directly into it.  He proceeds to stare into my soul.

7:22 – 7:37 – Will openly received the demon that was in Oliver and SCREAMS bloody murder.  He’s doing the ugly cry now (I feel bad that he’s swaddled and can’t hide his face in his hands – no one wants witnesses for the ugly cry).  This causes Oliver to start crying again.

We are officially an hour in.

7:37 – I sneak in to Will’s crib to reassure him that we are still here and he WILL get through this (he didn’t think it was funny). 

7:38 – 7:42 – Will cries while trying to find the place that he was licking before.

7:43 – 7:45 – Will cries more, causing Oliver to look over at him in disgust. Oliver then goes back to shaking his head back and forth trying to find a comfortable position.

I find a corner and start rocking back and forth. 

7:47 – 7:49 – Will cries AGAIN!! Oliver looks SUPER annoyed.  Then goes back to shaking his head. 

7:51 – Will is finally asleep.

7:58 – With Will asleep, Oliver is finally able to fall asleep and stop staring at us.

One hour and 28 minutes for the beginning of night one, and every minute was purdy darn bad. On a brighter note, I was able to successfully give them their dream feed (and change Oliver’s diaper – he’s a big pee-er) and get them back to bed with no waking, so we shall see what the night wakings bring. I hope not another hour and a half of crying.  All the books say that they will be happy to see us in the morning, but I’m kind of doubtful.  Oliver is shaping up to be as stubborn as me, which might not bode well in the grudge department. We shall see.  And tomorrow we get to also start training their naps too.  This week is tops.

The Dream Feeds

Omg. I’m sweating. It’s 11:30 pm and I’m sweating. Is it normal to be this terrified of your children?

Ok – I need to set the scene and provide some background info: Piece #1: So – I do the dream feed every night with the boys. (Dream feed is where I feed them when they are still asleep in hopes that they will sleep longer through the night.) I feed Oliver at 10:40 and William at 11:00. It’s the only feeding where we don’t feed them together (no laughing at the mess, the sagginess, or the everlasting sausage arms). Piece #2: While I’m waiting for the dream feed time to come, I get out my ‘pregnancy bag’, as pictured below to send to a friend. I innocently put it on top of a box of diapers in our bedroom, not thinking twice about it. Piece #3: our kids are fairly easily woken up, and they are fairly difficult to put down in the evening, so this time of night is always fraught with a bit of heart pitter patter, wondering if they will actually sleep through the feeding and that I will actually be able to put them down while still sleeping.

Alright, it’s time. I go get our young man Mr. Oliver and bring him back to bed for some noms. Things are going swimmingly, UNTIL, the third child Turtle decided to stretch her paws and get out of bed. Where does she go? Straight for the pregnancy bag of course. Apologies for bad picture quality – they were all taken with my phone with only lamp light.

I’m sitting here with Oliver, who is sleeping and eating, and I see her jump up and poke her nose in the bag. Things go slo-mo. I receive a vision of Turtle jumping in the bag, knocking it over onto the ground with a bang, leaving me to deal with a crying, hungry, angry baby. What do I do?? Deep breaths Lisa; you can do this. So, I take the bottle out of Oliver’s mouth, scoop him up, get out of bed, go over and unhook Turtle’s head, which had managed to get through the handles, grab the bag and go quietly set the bag down in the bathroom and shut the door. I scurry back to bed, lay Oliver back down and stick the bottle back in and look down (heart pounding). Awake! I quickly put my hands over his eyes, so he just sees darkness. Minutes go by, and I peek under my hand. Phew – he’s back asleep. Deep breath – nice save. Then Turtle decides THIS is the time that she wants to meet Oliver (she basically ignores and avoids them). She jumps on the bed and starts moseying her way over. Omg. Omg. Turtle!! Now?? Now you want to check him out??

She gets on the pillow that I’m feeding him on and starts kneading the pillow, looks at him, looks at me, then rips out a loud MEOW. You bitch!

Oliver stirs. I put my hand back over his eyes and give Turtle a dirty look (cuz she could totally get it). He does manage to go back to sleep. Thank God! Finally Turtle settles in next to the O-man. I’m able to finish feeding him, no problems. I put him back in his crib… and we are SAFE.

Child #2. I can still hear my heart in my ears when I pick up Sir William for his feeding. Surely this will go better. I settle him in and put a plug in it. He starts sucking, and immediately gets a ton of air. So we go from this:

To this:

Ok – think Lisa. I pull out the bottle and quickly switch bottle tops – he’s in between nipple sizes, so I’m never quite sure which one he’s going to use. Put the bottle back in his mouth, and put my hand over his eyes, so he just sees dark (inspired by how well it worked with Oliver just moments before). He starts sputtering and choking – crap, ok, the nipple is too big. Pull out the bottle, and switch tops again, back to the original size. Put the bottle back in his mouth – sucks air. Typically I don’t burp during the dream feed, but this was getting out of hand. I could hear the air going all the way down to his stomach. I pull out the bottle, and burp him, swaddle and all on my shoulder. BURP. Let’s try this again. Put bottle back in mouth. Suck, suck, AIR. Suck, suck, AIR. I try different positions, no luck. At this point, he’s SMILING at me, he’s so awake. I’m panicked. Let’s try again. Suck, suck, AIR. Dammit!! Now he just starts playing with the nipple in his mouth, and formula is going everywhere. Clearly not hungry. He ate a whopping 2.5 ounces (out of 7). So, I make the executive decision that he’s done. I pick up his little awake body up and bring him back to his room, where I proceed to rock him to sleep (shhh don’t tell). Finally, I’m able to put him down (almost done Lisa, you can see the finish line). Well, they still sleep in their rockets for their reflux, and I had to velcro him in. I woke him up. NOOOOOO (sweating profusely at this point). So I un-velcro (not quiet, btw), pick him up and rock him back to sleep again. I finally put him down and velcro him in, and he stays asleep.

And there you have an evening of the dream feeds.

End of an old chapter - beginning of the new.

Well, I’m sitting here staring at a blank sheet of (electronic) paper, and I’m really not quite sure where to begin. First, I should probably mention that the biggest reason I haven’t written in so long is that I needed some space and distance to gain perspective. I finally hit a point where I lost my fighten’ juice, and everything was just too intense to write about (especially given that I’m Scandinavian AND from North Dakota – we don’t really “do” feelings). I don’t feel quite like the normal Lisa yet, however, I think I’ve been able to process a lot of it, and I finally felt the need to write about it and move on from that chapter.

Well let’s see, I think I’m just going to start writing and see where it takes me. We left off at the hospital in a state where I was approaching “Biggest Loser” material (Approaching? Ok, I WAS Biggest Loser material). I mean, Shamu would have slipped me some Dexetrim. As I was approaching my 33rd week, things were just getting out of hand. I had to go to the bathroom every hour, I couldn’t eat anything, I was on the monitor a large portion of the day, I was getting four shots of Terb a day, I wasn’t sleeping, I could barely roll over at this point. Well, on Wednesday of that week, I was innocently enjoying my crispy chicken salad that Bridget and Rachel so kindly brought from Red Robin, when I started keeling over in pain. And so things began. The doctor came and checked my cervix (sidenote: how has no one told me that checking the cervix for dilation is right up there on the pain scale with labor? I mean really – I’ve never read it anywhere. I’m here to tell you, it’s painful, because you know what – your cervix? Not so close to the outside of your body). Anyway, I was dilating and my contractions were getting closer and closer together and so much more painful. Since I was still only 33 weeks along, they decided to put me on Magnesium Sulfate in one last ditch effort to stop these guys from being born. This is the drug that I was terrified of since being admitted into the hospital. They were always dangling it in front of me as a threat, and I think my fear of this drug is most of the reason that I kept my legs closed for as long as I did. So it’s at this point that I go into a drug-induced stupor, which I wouldn’t emerge from until Saturday morning. On Thursday, they decided that the Magnesium was not slowing my labor, so they took me off of it (thank god – not a fun drug, that one). All day Thursday, I was on some crazy pain medication where I would blurt out random things like “summer solstice” for no apparent reason. That was quite enjoyable for Aaron. On Thursday night, they put me on morphine, and in the wee hours of Friday morning I was finally rolled over to the Labor and Delivery wing. I was kind of sad to see my lil hospital home go (not that I was coherent enough to articulate this). Later in the morning, I got my first epidural (whoa, I didn’t know about that process beforehand either, thank goodness). I say first, because it didn’t take. I had been on bedrest so long that my ligaments had softened (at least that’s what I think they were trying to tell me – it was kind of like Charlie Brown’s teacher talking at that point with all the drugs). So, they went back in and gave me a second one. Later in the morning my mom arrived from North Dakota (Aaron's parents had driven up from Portland the day before and patiently stayed with us the whole time!). So, basically, I spent Friday with my head lolling from side to side using all of my energy NOT to spurt out random things (have you ever tried to have a conversation with someone when you were right on the verge of sleeping – you think you are saying things that make sense, but really they don’t? It was like that from Wednesday night until Saturday morning.) Finally, at about 3:30 that afternoon, they decided it was time. So Aaron and my mom suited up in their gowns, and I was wheeled into the operating room, where they proceeded to put me on this ITTY BITTY table. ME? Not so itty bitty. If I moved and inch to the right or left, I would have rolled off. How in heaven’s name could they expect me to stay on this thing??

 

By this time, I was like let’s rock n roll people! Push? Alrighty – no problem, let’s do this. I had been building up to this moment since February. All of the horrible sickness, pain, hospital stay, fatigue, contractions – they all came to the surface. And after my very first push, the nurse told me that Baby A was going to have dark hair. Yeah. It was crazy. I was in a tunnel of labor. I saw my doctor and nurse in front of me, and I heard Aaron behind me. <Side story: I am blind as a bat, and I was wearing my glasses through this whole ordeal (like I’m going to put in my contacts…). Well, my oxygen mask kept messing up my glasses, and the nurse tried to yank off my glasses. I was like, 'pfff, think again sister -- take my oxygen instead.' I may be going through this drugged beyond recognition, but I most certainly will not be doing all of this work without being able to see the fruits of my labor (pun intended). We compromised and I only wore the oxygen in between pushes. > If you are wondering, Aaron was most certainly not allowed anywhere but behind my head. Once you see something you can’t unsee it, and frankly, I didn’t want to risk it. And I certainly didn’t want to see it – I even closed my eyes during that part of the birthing video we were forced to watch (if I had my way, I wouldn’t have even watched one – it’s not like I could have turned back if I saw something scary). Hell, I didn’t even look to see what the damage was when I was healing. I just let the stitches fall out and prayed that everything would come out ok. My motto for my Garden for Jesus was ‘ignorance is bliss’. Anyway, so I’m focused on pushing and getting oxygen from my mask thingie. And BAM! I think it was like 8 pushes later, at 4:09 pm, out pops Baby A, who shall from this point forward be known as William. People were still filing into the operating room! They suddenly sprung into action. In the end we had 13 people in the OR, one team for each of the babies and one team for me. And man alive, Will’s head looked like an eggplant. I mean, the shape of his head was not earthly. If someone could have recorded my brain, it would have went something like this: “Did that just come out of me? His heartrate! It’s soaring, is he ok? Whoa, his head – is it supposed to be shaped that way? I’m so tired. I can’t believe I just pushed a human being out of my hooha. Are we sure he’s ok? His heart rate is continuing to go up. I worked so hard for you!” And so on and so forth. And then I ended with, “Focus Lisa, we have to do this again.” And I was back. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, they had suctioned Baby B, so he was close, and I gave a big push and out he came a tumblin’ out four minutes later. From here on out he will be known as Oliver. And because William paved the way, Oliver was actually doing alright, so I got to hold him for about three seconds before he was taken away. Both babies were briskly wheeled up to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) with papa Aaron as their escort. Thankfully they also allowed my mom to be in the delivery room, so she was able to stay with me while I hemorrhaged and was then stitched up (the worst part of the actual delivery, btw). It was awful, the doctor kept being like, ‘can I have another stitch?’. In the end, I’m not quite sure how many were in the lady parts (remember, I wanted nothing to do with that area, even during the healing process), but I will say that it was end to end. Good times. So, I will also tell you about one more thing that people did not prepare me for (my goal here is to debunk childbirth): the ‘massage’ on my belly afterward. Seriously people, my big belly was suddenly empty, and they proceed to kneed my uterus like yesterday’s baked bread. It was horrendous! I was in the recovery room and one of the nurses was kneeding away, and I innocently said, “I’m pretty nauseous, is it alright if we wait until I get my anti-nausea medication to proceed [with sitting on my stomach]?” Well, the girl didn’t listen, so I puked. And what a bizarre feeling that was. Suddenly my organs had so much room to maneuver that they were sloshing all around trying to figure out where their real home was. Couple of questions to answer for those who haven’t yet have children (I know you’re wondering, because I did, and people have asked me. Guys, please close your ears.): Do you poop on the table? Why yes, yes you do. I will caveat this by saying that #1 you don’t know that you’re doing it and #2 you could care less because you just want this whole ordeal to be over. Does it hurt when they come out? For me, no, not too bad. I had had two epidurals though, and enough pain medication for a two-ton horse me. When the doctor told me to push, I pushed. Do you tear? I tore from here until Sunday. Do you know when you’re delivering the placenta? Nope, I had no idea when or where. In fact, given how big my stomach still was after the birth, I had some concerns that they might have missed one. Let’s see, what other juicy details don’t people talk about… Did I get mad at Aaron and yell in the delivery room? In fact, quite the opposite. I was actually quite calm through it all (given the amount of drugs I’d had over the last 72 hours, I don’t know how I could have been any different ), and all I heard was him in my ear giving me encouragement. Aww – right from a Hallmark movie, ain’t it.

After I delivered, it was at this point that I suddenly lost all of my fighting juice. My pregnancy had been so awful, from throwing up out the top and peeing out the bottom (simultaneously) in the first trimester, the nausea and discomfort in the second trimester, to the bedrest, to the drugs, to the discomfort, to the pain, to the discomfort, and back to the pain again. And I had fought so darn hard to keep those babies inside as long as possible, that suddenly I ran out. This was just the beginning actually of an incredibly difficult time for me that I’m only now, two and a half months later, starting to come out of. My babies were promptly taken to the NICU right after they were born, and I was able to be wheeled by their beds after I delivered, but that was the extent of it. I didn’t see them again until Saturday. I wasn’t taking care of them – someone else (far more qualified) was. And you know what the worst part was? I was ok with it. I was ok with the fact that nurses were the ones taking care of them all day long, I was ok with the fact that I was in my own hospital bed and they were upstairs away from me, I was ok with having Aaron be the one to change their diapers and take their temperature, I was ok with not seeing them until the next day. I felt so pained with guilt for feeling that way, but I had lost my fight, and to be brutally honest, I was also worried that I would carry bitterness toward them for everything they had taken from me. They took my life, my body (we’ll see if I have the courage to post a picture of the mess that my belly has become), my mind, my sleep, my normalcy, my home, my husband. And these being my first, I really didn’t understand what they were going to give me in return. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to separate my pregnancy from them as people. These kids were mine? They didn’t feel like mine. They didn’t feel like they were anyone else’s, but they didn’t feel like mine. I wasn’t even able to hold them for the first time until Day 3, and then I was only able to hold each of them for an hour each day (split with Aaron). Hell, I could only look at them by peeking under the quilt that covered their incubators. I thought this was the time of bonding, beauty and bunnies. And instead, my kids were hooked up to breathing machines (I didn’t even know what a CPAP machine was before then!), under Bili lights, and filled with IVs.

I remember one day walking in and finding Oliver with an IV in his head and another day he had a pik line that started at his hand and went all the way up his arm and down alongside his heart. Here I was recovering from being on my side and having contraction-stopping drugs pumped into my system for two months – the exhaustion, the hormones, and the emotions. I remember my muscles shaking after I had been standing at Oliver’s incubator for about five minutes, because I had been on bedrest for so long. And here my babies were all alone in their incubator houses using all of their energy just to breathe and finish developing, and I didn’t have the energy or mental capacity to be their mom. I was still checked out, and the associated guilt was just a bomb sitting in my belly. How do I navigate through everything and figure out how to make these babies mine? I can’t even stand long enough to take their temperature and change their diapers without taking a break to sit, how am I supposed to be their mom. And compared to many of the kids in the NICU, our kids were doing really well!  We have good friends who had twins that were born at 24 1/2 weeks and had to watch our kids come and go - I can't imagine what that must have felt like.  Thankfully, I have been able to wade my way through most of this, but it has not been easy, and it happened incredibly slowly. So slowly that I’m not even sure of what the turning point was. It was just that suddenly I woke up one day, and I realized that I was, indeed their mom, and everything had been worth it.

Ugh, heavy stuff, let’s move on. After I was discharged from the hospital (AMAZING day), I got into a routine, for the next month, of going up to the hospital every day for their care times (temp, diaper, feeding). MEANWHILE, I still looked pregnant. Really pregnant. Yeah. I still looked 9 months pregnant, buuutt there wasn’t a baby in there. I remember walking through the hospital one day on my way up to visit them and someone passed by me and said congratulations on expecting. I awkwardly smiled and said thanks, while thinking, thanks douchebag. I was actually feeling pretty good about being able to cut my own toenails for the first time that morning. But let’s face it, my stomach is an utter mess. My good friend Bridget came over one morning about a week after I delivered, and I asked to see her belly, as I was horrified about my own. I was hoping that it would give me inspiration… something to look forward to… something to work toward. So she showed me her belly, and I was like, ‘Wow! That looks fantastic! You can’t even tell you had a baby’. Now, I should mention that Bridget is extremely slender and a runner anyway, so she worked hard for it, however, I was most interested in what happened to her skin, not what was under the skin. And it looked fantastic! So firm and tight. So, I was like, ‘Well, here’s where I’m starting from’ and innocently lifted up my shirt. She gasped in horror and was like, ‘umm, yeaaaa, I never looked like that.’ Crestfallen. Not that I should have been terribly surprised. I mean, I was heeyooge. Remember the gorilla people?? We measured my belly a week before I gave birth, and I was measuring to be 52 weeks pregnant (that’s one calendar year for those who aren’t paying attention). I am re-defining the term muffin top. Seriously, I even have muffin top in my underwear.

Let’s bring these babies home!

Finally!! After a total of 77 days of hospital stay for us (7 weeks for me, 4 weeks for the boys), we were finally free!!

Sayonara Swedish Medical Center – we are moving back to the Schlichting Haus. My dad was there for the homecoming, which made it extra special. Let the mayhem and sleep deprivation begin!! The schedule was this: 7:00 – 7:45: William eats; 7:45 – 8:30: Oliver eats; 8:30 – 9:00: Lisa pumps. One hour break, then it started all over again. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Remember, at this point, I’m still a total mess, and only getting 1-2 hours of sleep at a time is not helping the situation. Fast-forward: I get mastitis – in BOTH boobs. Fever, achy, the whole bit. And I was out of the game – someone up above was watching out for us, though, because Aaron’s saintly father was staying with us, and he and Aaron were up all night long caring for the babies, while I pumped, and pumped, and pumped and pumped to try to unclog ducts and get rid of the infection. Meanwhile, we were going through 16 bottles a day, 60 washcloths a day, 140 diapers a week. Like I said – mayhem!! Finally, once I hit my due date on October 17^th, we started moving to a four hour schedule instead of three, and I stopped pumping. Though controversial for some, ultimately, it was best for our family. I had officially gone off the deep end at this point, spending most of my days crying, hoping a good child fairy would come and take the kids away (bring them back when they are in college or at least until they can hold their own bottles), and the schedule was just not maintainable. The kids had been receiving supplemental formula for calories anyway, and I had pumped enough to last us through a few more weeks. You can look at the pictures here of the first couple weeks of them being home to see my progression from bad to worse… Once the breast-feeding hormones were through my system, things started to turn around a little bit. I didn’t want to give away my kids anymore (phew); I started going on walks; I was able to get out of the house by myself with both of them. It is still incredibly difficult, and I still kind of want to die because of exhaustion (so does Aaron), but I don’t feel debilitated any longer. I remember the first day that I was all by myself, taking care of the twins, I was able to go on a walk, give them both a bath, take a bath myself and get dinner on the table, oh and do two loads of laundry, a dishwasher load, 8 bottles and 8 diaper changes. Mmmmyeaaaaaaa, that only happened once, but it happened, and I couldn’t have been more proud of myself. Now, I try to have one outing every day – unless I’m giving them a bath. That counts as an outing for how hard it is and how much they hate it.

Alrighty, I think that wraps up this chapter. Tune in for cute and cuddly baby things from here on out. ;)  Here are a few photos for your viewing pleasure (for some reason Oliver is always on the right when they're together).

Still Blogging

First family photo!


It's been a while since we've updated so I (Aaron) thought it would be good to update our faithful followers (hi mom!).

William is now 6 pounds 11 ounces (oinker!) and by tomorrow his brother Oliver will be 6 pounds. Oliver might be up to 6 bottle/breast feeds by tomorrow (with 8 being the number to get to before going home). William is at 4 bottle/breast feeds and will be up to 5 soon.

Just this last Friday Lisa's dad flew in from No Dak (North Dakota) for a week's visit.

My parents came up this weekend as well (they coulden't wait any longer).

I have to admit, we are horrible hosts right now, our food selections are sub par, the service is second rate, but our floor show drives our customers wild! Will and Ollie have been a hit with all the grandparents so far. I'm sure they'll start getting spoiled very soon. :)

This has been a very sureal adventure. It's difficult to connect with your child when they have visiting hours. We want them home right now (stamps foot on the ground)! But it's best that they're here getting better and stronger everyday.

We'll let you all know when they come home (we'll send out food requests) and entry to see the kids will be from the following options: 1. Bag of new diapers (for the boys please, no depends thank you Ian) 2. Food for the parents (we're disgustingly particular so please call first for recommended list) 3. Winning Lotto ticket (current, not past dated, with winnings over $20 please) 4. College fund money (personal checks accepted). :)

I want to thank everyone who has helped us out so far. It's been a long road and our babies aren't even home yet!

William & Oliver

William Daniel Schlichting. Born at 4:09 pm at 5 pounds 7 ounces.

Oliver Gilbert Schlichting. Born at 4:13 pm at 5 pounds.

Bonus picture! Aaron giving William his first changing.

They're here!

William Daniel Schlichting & Oliver Gilbert Schlichting arrived @ 33 weeks 6 days @ 4:09pm & 4:14pm!

Lisa is still out of it. She'll report in soon.

Insider's report

Lisa has dilated to 4cm. She liked getting the epidural so much she got two (the first didn't take). Baby A's water was broken by the doctor (to get things moving) so it's only a mater of time now. More reports to follow if the time allows.

It's go time!

Thanks to the "Morphine Mix" shot (not an alcoholic drink) that Lisa received recently she is finally dilating to 2-3cm, the doctor could feel baby A's head/sac (we still don't have the names finished, we have the three finalists).

In about 3-4 hours we will be moved to labor and delivery (guess what they do there).  They will give her an epidural which should help her dilate more and with slightly more ease*(compared to now, that is).

This is it.  The big show! (if I had bells on my feet I would be jumping around like a court jester, but I don't and get the image out of your head.  That's just silly) It may take a while for Lisa to actually give birth.  I doubt that there will be another blog report for a while.

However, faithful readers, we will be back with tons of stories of poopy diapers, sleepless nights, and a whole lot of firsts (as they each have them!).

*Ease, comfortable, relaxed, and fine are all words Lisa has stricken from her vocabulary.

Not Quite 34 weeks

I should preface this entry with a note that humor will be severely lacking and spelling will be optional as it will be me (Aaron Schlichting) who will be updating the post this week.  Lisa will return to her regularly scheduled posts as soon as she is darn good and ready.  :)

Last night Lisa started getting some pretty severe contractions during girls' night (more than likely do to too much bed choreography and hip hop hands).  They also discovered that her cervix had dilated 1cm.  I was called back from the house at around 8pm.  Lisa went on Magnesium Sulphate (not sure that is correct, it may be a spice you add to gumbo) at around 9pm.

Magnesium (or MAG, as those in the know refer to it) is a drug used as a last line of defense against labor.  It's used to slow down/stop contractions.  It succeeded in slowing the contractions some but as their intensity remained they gave Lisa pain reliever medication.  This put her over the edge (imagine a really bad hangover, now mix in twin pregnancy, let simmer for 7 weeks, then put on high heat for 12 hours straight and you start to get the idea).  The entire night she didn't sleep, who could? (*answer to follow)  She needed the nurses to help her to the bathroom where they measured how much fluid was coming out versus how much was coming in (Lisa was only allowed a cup of ice per hour to avoid fluid in the lungs).

Luckily for your's truly I took the gallant route and bravely fell asleep by 1am (*there's the answer!).  Missing most of the fun until around 6am-ish.  Lisa did not sleep much but when they took her off of MAG at 8am she got a smaller dosage of pain reliever and she finally slept.  The doctors have decided that Lisa could go into labor at any minute so now we wait.  Her cervix is still 1cm dilated so there is no change even with all of the super painful and frequent contractions (I think Lisa would say: All this work, for nothing!?)

To put it in nerd terms: Lisa rolled a saving throw against labor and got a natural 20.  (This is a super nerd term.  If you get this then pull your pants up higher until they reach your clip-on bow tie, push up your taped up glasses, and pat yourself on the back)

It was a relief when my parents came up this morning.  They have been welcomed with open arms! (I told them to get us food and start doing chores. What? I'm an only child!  I get to be bossy once in a while) They are currently taking care of our fuzzy child who has been really lonely these past 7 weeks and will be excited for Lisa to come home soon.  Also exciting, is the news that Lisa's mother was able to bump her flight up to tomorrow morning.  (we have been warned that the babies are not allowed to be born until she gets here)

Lisa is taking another nap which gives me a few minutes to inform the world that the Schlichting boys are on their way.  Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but very soon.  They will most likely stay in the NICU for several weeks but they have been doing really well inside and Lisa has been keeping them in really well.

More new from your on-the-spot insider reporter when there is more to tell.  (I'm sure I've missed things and my editor will require an updated version or written apology after this is posted)

Uff-duh

Scary Times – 27, 28, 29 Weeks

Well, what a crazy last couple of weeks. I just want to thank everyone for all of their love and support – people have really been amazing.  I know most of you know the story, however, this blog has definitely become a cathartic experience for me, plus, I want to document it for the babies, so I will re-tell the tale below.  There may be a tidbit or two in here and there that didn’t get shared broadly (can’t make it ALL serious). :) 

Everything started a couple of weeks ago (week of July 13th).  I hadn’t been feeling feel well all week.  I had some abdominal cramping, and even brought it up to my doctor, but it was always associated with a poop, so I just thought the rascals were stepping on my colon (totally logical).  Work was also particularly difficult that week as well.  In fact, I remember telling my mom that Thursday that I really wasn’t sure how I was going to continue working until September – I was just so uncomfortable – the commute, the sitting scrunched up, the walking, the pain – total killers.  Well, wouldn’t ya know it – I was in preterm labor.  Uh – makes one kind of uncomfortable.

Now you’re probably asking yourself – why didn’t she just call the doctor?  Well, I had JUST been to the doctor as well as had an ultra-sound on Tuesday of that week, and my cervix looked really great – super long (more cervix details below – don’t worry, I included diagrams).  Even when I told my doctor about some of my pain, she was like, well, if your cervix didn’t look this good, I’d be more worried, but just kind of keep an eye on it. 

Friday, July 17, 2009

So Friday morning I woke up and felt really crappy.  I mean, REALLY crappy--super crampy and hardly able to stand and walk.  I stayed in bed until the last possible moment, didn’t shower (again), no make-up, and finally made it out the door to my dentist appointment.  Yes – I sat there through my whole dentist appointment, because  I didn’t want to get charged a cancellation fee (see, my brother and I DO have something in common…), besides oral maintenance is very important while with child(ren).  So, here is Lesson #1 for those folks who have yet to go through pregnancy: loose stools are one sign you may be going into labor (cleans you out naturally so you don’t poop all over the labor table – nice gesture and all, but you still do).  And thankfully  I knew this sign, because as I came home from the dentist and proceeded to go to the bathroom like four times in a row (listen, it ain’t pretty, but people gotta know the signs), and it was really painful cramping, I finally called the doctor.  The nurse said that it was probs just a gastrointestinal bug, but that I should watch it.  Well, when I got off the phone, the cramps started coming every ten minutes, and they were extremely painful.   In fact, I couldn’t do anything during them, couldn’t talk, couldn’t move, couldn’t think, nothin.  I just laid there in the Baby Norwegian position willing the pain to go away.  Lesson #2: Listen to your womanly instincts.  I decided to call my nurse back to tell her this just couldn’t be normal, and I wanted to come in and see a Dr.  By now it was about 12:30.  So, Aaron took a cab home from work, so he could drive me to the Dr.  (so painful I def couldn’t drive).  They hooked me up to the contraction machine, and non of my contractions were being picked up!  WTF.  The doc came in, and said that I looked like I was having contractions, so she did a manual check of my cervix (always a good time).  Well, my cervix had softened and dilated, so she immediately got a wheelchair, and they wheeled me right to the hospital.  They also did a test, which basically tests to see if you are going to have babies in the next two weeks.  Mine came out positive.  Now, keep in mind, that they typically only use the results of this test if the result is negative, because about a 1/3 of the positive results are false positives.

On the way to the hospital is where the fun really began.  I started going into full on hard labor.  Constant contractions, no break in between, 9.5 on the pain scale.  So I get into my hospital room, and they have to weigh me.  WHAT???  Are you friggin serious?  I’m dying here, and you want to make me get on a scale?? So not only will I be in pain from the contractions, but I can then also feel bad about myself – the brutal reminder that for some reason, the babies in my belly only weigh 2 lbs, but my face gained five and my ass gained twenty (I still have my ankles though.  Oh yes, I still have my ankles.  They are purdy and slender.  I’m not quite sure what will happen the day that I wake up to cankles…let’s not dwell it.).  And it was a digital scale so I couldn’t even pretend like I couldn’t do the math, like I typically do on the ones in my Dr’s office. 

Finally I get to lie down in the bed, and they get to work. They gave me a shot of Terbutiline, a pill of Nifedipine, and an Ibuprofen pill, all of which are supposed to stop the contractions.  Did this work?  No it did not; not even close.  Meanwhile, there are a few things going on through this:

1. Baby Names – we don’t have them. Panic ensued.  I turn to Aaron at one point in between contractions and was said (perhaps rather loudly, as the contractions never fully subsided):  These babies can’t come!  If they do, we might have to actually name these babies Amos and Barnaby!  We have since gotten a bit more serious in getting together a list.  
2. Anger management during labor – clearly something I need to work on.  Apparently I was holding my breath during the contractions, so my nurse (innocently) said, it would help if I breathed through them.  Now – no doubt this is totally true – but at that moment, pure hatred entered my heart. Frustrating hatred though, because I was in so much pain, I couldn’t even snarl or at the very least pass along a dirty look. 

Alright, back to the story.  The contractions were still coming in one wave after another, so they gave me another shot of Terb (that’s how we refer to it in the biz), and an entire bag of IV fluid (PS: As many of you probably know, the highlight about getting an IV is when they can’t find the vein.  It’s quite enjoyable indeed, especially while in labor.)  So once I received this second concoction things started to settle down a bit.  To put a timeline to this whole shadoole,  I got checked into the hospital, around 3:30 pm, and it was maybe around 8-9 that they had finally subsided to about four minutes apart.  And by 2-3 am, we finally reached our goal of 10 minutes apart (or 6 an hour). 

Emotionally, I was pretty ok during this whole thing.  I think I was in so much pain and shock that I just kind floated through the day going from contraction to contraction.  That is, until they told me I was getting steroid shots (one on Friday and one on Saturday).  As a bit of background, steroid shots are given to help the development of little babies’ lungs in the womb.  It was at this point that I started to get emotional: this means that they really think these babies might come tonight.  For some reason, this is what brought me into reality that this could really not have a good ending.  In fact, for the next three days, I think I started to cry every time I talked about those darned steroid shots.  I reacted similarly when, later in the week, my contractions broke through the meds, and they decided to start charts for each of the babies, in case they were born.  I had to sign release documents on their behalf… as their parent.  Just very overwhelming experiences to have.

Now, there are a number of things that might cause preterm labor, all of which, they have to check for up front. Option #1: Urinary tract infection.  They have to test your pee for this, which is becoming more and more complicated these days, because I can’t see down there even a little.  So basically, I just start going and then move the cup around down there until I hear that I’m in the right place.  Needless to say, there is a lot of hand washing involved afterward.  Negative – no infection.  Phew.  Option #2: Strep B infection.  So, my nurse comes into my room and talks to me about how I need to be tested for Strep B in case this is what is causing my labor.  I was like, great, let’s do it, let’s go, why the hesitation?  They needed to take a swab of my butthole.  Uhh… Hmmm… and in all honesty, I panicked. Why?  Well…  the thing is… you see…  OK, if you remember some details from earlier in the story, mainly that I hadn’t showered since Wednesday (it’s Friday night), and that I had gone #2 four times that morning, which started this whole mess in the first place, coupled with the elephant in the room that I haven’t even had the courage to talk about on this blog, which is that I can’t reach anymore to do a proper, um, cleaning job, especially when I’m in so much pain.  So… I panicked.  What were they going to find back there?  Well, sure as shit – she went in clean and came out dirty.  I was horrified.  And what’s a perfect end to this story?  In the middle of the night, the nurse comes in and woke me up to tell me that the swab she used earlier had expired and she needed to do it again.  At your own risk, I thought, at your own risk. 

Intermission: Apologies for the long post, it’s been constructed over days, as I can only write a bit at a time, since I can’t be sitting up for too long at one time. 

Saturday, July 18, 2009

It was a new day (do I get to shower today?).  I was still contracting in the morning, and I started my schedule of baby and contraction monitoring three times a day for forty minutes.  This actually seemed like a walk in the park, because I had been on the monitor since I got to the hospital.  The monitor measures the babies’ heart beats, as well as my contractions.  As you can see from below, this can be a fairly uncomfortable process (do you see the muffin top that the band creates because of how tight it is??).  I share this with you only in the interest of honest documentation.

Later in the morning, I needed to have another ultra-sound to see what my cervix looked like.  Here is Lesson #3:  What happens to the cervix during labor.  First, picture the cervix like a mini-bagel; it’s about 40-50 MM in height and there’s a hole at the bottom, but it’s closed.  During labor, two main things happen to the cervix that you can measure:  it gets shorter, and the hole gets bigger (dilation).  Please see below for a simplified visual representation of the journey of a normal cervix during labor. Note: for some unacceptable reason, there was not a good cervix option with clip art, so we are going to have to make do with a cylindrical shape.

The day prior, when I was at the Dr. office, and had the manual exam, she estimated that I was dilated a fingertip’s worth.  Since then, they have not done another manual exam.  It tends to stir things up quite a bit, and we don’t want to risk going to the bad place again.  We could do an ultra-sound, however, and to determine how short my cervix was.  If you remember, I had just had an ultra-sound on Tuesday of that week and things went swimmingly well.  Unfortunately, we did not have great results this time around.  Shows how quickly things can change.  Essentially, on Tuesday, my cervix was 41 MM long, and by Saturday it had shortened to 13 MM. 

Soooo, it was at this point that the language around the hospital started to change.  Prior to this, I kept hearing, ‘We’ll keep you here for at least a few days…’.  After the ultra-sound, I started hearing things like ‘long-term’, ‘until they’re born’, ‘hospital parking pass’.  New people also started coming into the room, telling me about the different things the hospital offers to people here long term, etc.  It was all just so shocking.  Here, just yesterday morning, I was at my house, and when I left, I hadn’t even shut the windows!   And now, I might not go back for months, and that is the best scenario, because it means the babies are cooking longer??  What about our kitty?  She’s like our child and I won’t get to see her for months?? What about the nursery?  Getting things purchased for the babies?  Nesting?  Work?  We had counted on my income for the next month and a half. I had wanted to take all of my maternity leave actually with the babies and not before!  Am I selfish for even caring about those things when I know that I’m really in the best place for these babies?  All of these things were swirling in my head.  Still no one would give me a firm answer.  I was to have another ultra-sound on Tuesday to see if things got worse.  Well, as you can see from the diagram, they did.  And here I am.  Day 17.  Babies are 29 weeks and two days.  I have heard people talk in passing that if I make it to 34 weeks, they might let me do bed rest at home.  We shall see.

What would happen if they were born?

Another scary evening for us was when the neonatologist came to our room to talk with us about what would happen if these babies were born.  Note that this discussion happened when I was 27 weeks, and we’ve come a ways since then, but it definitely served as incentive to keep my legs closed for as long as possible.  Weeks 26-30 are crucial for their development and survival.  A baby born at 25 weeks has a 50/50 chance of surviving.  By the time they are in the 29th week, it is hovering at 97%, which is quite the spike.  So, really, during these weeks, every day counts.  My nurse said that for every day that I can keep them inside, it shaves three days from their stay in the Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit (NICU).  Additionally, at this point, they had about a one in five chance of having some type of long-term disability (e.g. cerebral palsy, blindness, deafness, autism, etc.), which is a scary prospect to look toward.  These chance also obviously go down the longer I’m here.  If they were born now, they would probably be in the NICU until mid-late October.  If I can make it to 32 weeks, they would stay about 6 weeks, which is a pretty significant drop off!  All-in-all, probably the scariest meeting I’ve ever had, but also the most informative, and one that provided me with a lot of incentive!

What is my goal? 

A lot of people ask me how long they want me to last in here.  What’s my goal.  It’s so complicated, because, really, the goal of every pregnancy is to get to 40 weeks to make sure we don’t have an undercooked casserole coming out of the oven.  That being said, there are some pretty major milestones that we are hoping to hit. 

Milestone 1: Week 28 – I OWNED that.  Done and doner.

Milestone 2: Week 30 – Still at risk for many complications and a pretty long NICU stay, but way better than being born at 27 weeks.

Milestone 3: Week 32 – the  by this time, most everything is developed, they are just itty bitty. NICU stay is about 6 weeks.

Milestone 4: Week 34 – this is getting into the territory where many twins are born.  Their stay in the NICU is probably only 2-3 weeks.

Milestone AMAZING: Week 36 – let’s get those suckers OUT.

What do you do all day long Lisa?

Surprisingly I haven’t been too bored.  They keep me busy in here. Until earlier this week, my schedule has been as follows:

• 6 am: Ibuprofen, Nifedipine
• 9 am: Monitoring (1-2 hours), Pepsid, Stool softener, fiber
• Noon: Ibuprofen
• 2 pm: Nifedipine
• 6 pm: Ibuprofen
• 9 pm: Monitoring (1-2 hours), Pepsid, Stool softener, fiber
• 10 pm: Nifedipine
• Midnight: Ibuprofen

I say until earlier this week, because I had another ultra-sound on Tuesday, and in addition to my cervix shortening a bit once again, we found out that Baby A’s amniotic fluid is very low.  One of the known side-effects of Ibuprofen is that it can reduce amniotic fluid.  As a result, they took me off of all Ibuprofen, of which I was taking 600 mg, four times a day. This was one of my lines of defense against the contractions.  Dammit!  Soooo, I went off of it on Tuesday night, and my contractions have broken through every day this week, and had to have a Terb shot almost every day.  Now the contractions start when I’m sitting up for too long, so I’m able to be on the computer  meaning that I can be sitting up an on the computer even LESS than I was before.  And on the days that I have to have Terb to quiet things down, I can’t really get up at all.  Makes the heart race, and I get really, really shaky for about 3 hours, and then nauseous.  And by the time that’s all over, I’m exhausted!

So, all of this means that I spend the majority of my time, laying down on my side.  I can get up to use the bathroom, and I can get up to take a shower (sitting down in the shower).  I’ve been doing many crosswords, logic puzzles, reading books, reading my COMPLETELY badass Kindle (thanks Marty and Bob!), and philosophizing. Regarding the last activity, I have not yet made any major break throughs, nor solved any major world problems, however, I will keep you informed.

The silver lining.

The best thing about this gi-hugic roller coaster that we’ve been on over the last few weeks is that the babies are continuing to look fantastic.  They don’t seem to be under duress at all, even through all my contractions (they never completely go away – the very least I have is 1-2 an hour).  Their heart beats are good, blood flow to the brain, blood flow to the umbilical cord, placenta – all look great. 

How is Aaron holding up through this whole thing?

This definitely has not just been hard on the mother.  I’m not sure which is worse, having to go through it all, or having to just sit there and watch your partner go through it all feeling helpless.  That’s the boat that Aaron was in, and it’s a tough one.  The first few days were particularly hard, and the adjustment to having me in the hospital all the time has been a challenging one.  He sleeps here most nights, gets up and walks down to work.  After work, he comes back up here to say hi, then he goes home to do the house stuff (mainly be home for Turtle).  Then he’ll come back in time for my nightly monitoring – in bed by about midnight, and then we start it all over.  Overall, a pretty exhausting schedule, but he’s being a rockstar.  I can’t even imagine what we would do if we had another child at home. 

Well,  my oh my, there are so many more topics to discuss (wouldn’t you like to be a fly on the wall for bed rest support group?), but I think we have covered enough here today getting everyone up to speed on what’s been going on.  More stories to come.  Thank you again for all of your love, prayers and support!

26 Weeks - Pics from the Fourth

A few photos have started to trickle in from last weekend - mostly from the Fourth of July party at our house. Enjoy!

If you look closely, you can see that four generations of family managed to sneak their way into this photo - my gramma, Aaron's mom, Aaron, me, and A and B. And for those who haven't seen a picture of Aaron in awhile, isn't he progressing quite nicely through this whole ordeal?


Here you can get a good look at the previously discussed floral dress. Total camouflage. You totally can't even tell I'm pregnant...

Here is the Gilbertson clan! From left to right: Grampa Joel, Gramma Jan, Great Aunt July, Great Gramma G., Great Aunt Marty, Great Uncle Bob, Pa Aaron, Ma Lisa, Aunt Shannon, and Uncle Dave.

And the Schlichting clan! From left to right: Great Uncle Erv, Great Gramma S., Great Uncle Ray, Pa Aaron, Ma Lisa, Great Gramma P., Great Aunt Barb, Gramma Elanna, and Grampa Bob.

And I'll leave you with this neat photo. Can you tell that I'm not impressed with picture time? I was clearly not having a great morning. Look, the rest of the family is trying to ignore my surliness and pretend it's not happening. Pretty much a Norman Rockwell painting. On the bright side, in the background on the left, you can see the incredibly cute swing that David and Shanon got us. You can even put your iPod in it!

25 Weeks - Family Time

Phew! I'm exhausted!! What fun this last week was!

Festivities began on Friday - my mom and I went and got pedicures, which was fantastic, because I can only reach down there now on special occasions. Aaron is dreading the day (which is quickly approaching) that he has to cut my toenails and do all the grooming south of the border. That night my parents, Dave and Shannon all went over to my Gramma's where we met up with the rest of my family for a big dinner, which was delightful. The Fourth of July was met with all of Aaron's family joining the party; we had a grand total of 17 over at our house for dinner that evening. Thankfully the weather cooperated, and we could be outside. Though we didn't see a fireworks show (I was asleep hours before it began), we did enjoy a few sparklers. Sunday brought about the babies' shower! Thankfully it only got up to about 176 degrees Celsius outside. My babypit (much like an armpit or a kneepit) was drenched. Such a lady. I got a really cute dress for the occasion. It hit me, however, when my Gap maternity package arrived in the mail with a couple of dresses in it, that I've entered the 'let's wear big floral print to see what we can camouflage' stage. I think the brain changes with the body, because I think they're adorable. The shower was hosted by my good friends Bridget and Rachel, and it was beautiful! And those presents were just downright adorable!! Carseats, high chairs, and clothes oh my! Will post pics of the weekend as I get them.

People started to slowly trickle away from Seattle, with Dave and Shannon being the last to go yesterday morning. What a time. Cried so hard when everyone left (see here if anyone is surprised). Really makes me wonder how we are going to make it through the next several months without parents and siblings living here.

On a brighter note, we haven't talked about my growing chest size in a few weeks (I've far surpassed the kitchen scale). Well, I finally just sucked it up and went and bought a new set of maternity bras (which are also a big snug, by the way). And it was even neater, because the Nordstrom employee had a trainee with her that day. I walk in, "Yes, I need to get measured please." She totes along her trainee into the dressing room... because there's so much space for three adults and two babies in the room, and I would LOVE an audience. "Oh yes," she says, "we can help you so they don't fall down to the side of your stomach like they are doing now... see?". Omg. Really? As I tried to look around the two skinny bitches in front of me into the mirror, I realized that my belly was filling up my torso so high, that it was splitting my boobs, making each one pick a direction. I hadn't noticed before, but now that she pointed it out, thank you very much, yes, they were, in fact, droopy and looked like they were growing out of my armpits. Brilliant sales tactic, I must admit, because I did not hesitate to buy two very expensive, very large bras. I promptly texted Aaron, aghast at the size, to which he replied, "Honey, 'G' is for 'Gorgeous'." Aw. Thanks honey. Makes it one iota better now that I'm almost half-way through the alphabet.

I've included a picture below of my 1 oz.-sized sister-in-law, who is a great sport, wearing my bra. I love the size of the straps.