Single Mom

When I was pregnant, I wanted to take a child-birth class before I had the babies. I looked into it. It was the first time I had to deal with being a "single mom".

I didn't want to go sit in a class full of mommies and daddies happily expecting their little bundles of joy, looking into each other's eyes twinkling with excitement and hope for the future. In fact for many months, couples made me very uncomfortable. Even couples I love very much.

Instead I was offered to go to the single mom's child-birthing class.

But I didn't fit in there either.

Instead I skipped it all together and counted on my mom and my friend Shannon to get me through labor. They did fine, I made it through, and after 26 hours I ended up with a c-section anyway, so it really didn't matter.

The point is: I am not a "single parent". I mean, I am, but I am widowed, which is different. Drastically different.

I know that there are a million scenarios when it comes to parenting, and some of what I am about to say might not be entirely fair, but I'm going to say it anyway.

In a typical divorced, single parent set-up there are a few things that happen:

You, your husband or both of you made a decision to end your marriage.
You fought over possessions and debt. You got the couch, he got the TV, you split the AmEx bill.
A "parenting time" plan was set in place, as was child support and alimony where applicable.
You argue with your former spouse about pick-up and drop-off times, general parenting decisions and even money matters. You think he/she is a jerk.
You realize that it's hard being a single parent when there is nobody to pick up the slack around the house or with the kids.
You struggle with guilt and end up getting relaxed on rules and maybe even trying to be the "favorite" parent by letting your kids get away with more then your former spouse.

When people tell me they know how hard it is to be a single parent, the little voice inside my head wants to scream. The only person who knows what it is like for me is another widowed parent.

I didn't make a decision to end my marriage - my husband was stollen from his family against his will.
I got everything. That means I got to keep the bed we used to sleep in, the couch we used to snuggle on and the dinner table we used to sit around. I also got the AmEx bill.
When Divorced Dad is coming by Wednesdays and every other weekend to take the kids, you may not like every decision he makes, but you are getting a break. You can have cereal for dinner, go out with your friends, work on a project - whatever you want. You are getting some time.

 I get time one of 2 ways - either I ask a favor of a friend or family member or I pay a babysitter. And they are making $10-14 and hour these days. Ouch. I shell out for a break once a week for 4 hours. And I earned those 4 hours. The other 164 hours a week, I am on-duty.

I can't tell you what I would give to be divorced from Tim. I saw how he was as a dad and as an ex-husband and it was pretty admirable. He got along with his ex-wife and was still able to be a phenomenal Dad to his daughter. I would love the opportunity to be divorced from him for the simple fact that it would mean A&A could still have him, even if I couldn't.

Yes, it is hard being a single parent. I get that. You know what sucks even worse? Not having an ex to complain about.

A Rose By Any Other Name

We got our first run at naming when we got Kaiser. We made a list of possibilities and over Mexican food and margaritas we narrowed it to 3 options. Within a couple of days we had decided and Kai's name is one we both liked a lot. Seemed easy enough.

Shortly thereafter, Tim & I starting accumulating another list of names - this time for the child we hoped to have soon. Because our reproductive process took so long, our list was added to and purged from for a year and a half. When we were not together, we would text each other ideas and commentary. Those that we both liked were added to the ongoing list.

I am frequently asked how we came up with the kids' names.

"Ayla" made it's way onto the list early. Ayla is the name of a nurse at our old vet's office. I saw it on her name tag and asked her about it. She loved her name, as did Tim and I... it stayed st the top of the list. Of course, once we knew we were having twins, we had to make sure we had 2 girl names and 2 boy names ready to go. Innitially, Ayla's middle name was to be Angeline, a combination of my mom's name (Anne) and my Aunt's name (Eileen). Our second girl name was "Ruby". Because Tim's parents often give everyone the joking middle name James, we talked about her middle name being a slightly more feminine version: "Jaymes".

An early addition to the boy's name list was "Rhett", chosen by me after a singer I like, Rhett Miller, and also because my mom dreamed while she was pregnant with me that she was having twin boys. One was to be named Barret and called Rhett.

Early in the pregnancy, we knew we were expecting twins. I began searching for a blog written by a mom of twins to read. I guess I just wanted confirmation that it could be done! I stumbled on Jodi's blog during my google search, enjoyed her writing and never looked back. She often talks highly of her wonderful husband, Anson... that's how his name bumped Rhett into the 2nd position.

We had planned to use just an innitial as the boy's middle name: "J.".  We didn't have a contingency plan for middle names if it were 2 boys. We always blindly assumed it was a girl and a boy.

I added Tim's name, "Timothy" as an executive decision knowing that Tim would be honored to have his son carry it as his middle name. There was no doubt that Ayla was "Ayla James", using her daddy's middle name as her own. She is feminine enough without altering the spelling to girly it up.

I'm so proud to call Tim my husband and so proud that our kids can carry his name with them throughout their long, healthy lives.

Names that made the list, but didn't make the cut:
Drake
Leah
Beau
Rhett
Vance
Donovan
Stella
Katherine
Ruby
Evan

364 Un-Birthdays: A Birth Story (Part II)

...Continued from a previous post.
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I have had to take off my necklace which upsets me. I have worn Tim's wedding ring around my neck and have never removed it. I negotiate to be able to hold it the whole time. The chain is wrapped around my hand and his ring is around my finger.

They roll me the very short distance to the operating room. It is a lot smaller than I expected inside. They have 2 baby warmers waiting. I have already been cautioned about the number of people that will be in there, so I am not shocked. Had I not been warned, I probably would be - It seems like there are 14-16 people present. A surgical team, the anisthesiologist (Richard) and a team for each baby.

I am lifted on my sheet and placed on the operating table. It is a strange sensation because I can feel only some of my body. I suddenly realize my mom is not there but then a moment later she is on my left side holding my hand. She is wearing scrubs like the doctor. She looks cute - if only she didn't have a weak stomach maybe she would have been a doctor herself.

A blue paper drape is put up at about my chest level blocking my view so I can't see what is about to happen to my abdomen. Richard has connected me to more medicine that is running through my epidural. Someone is pinching me to make sure it is working. I don't feel a thing. They begin.

Suddenly I feel the cutting. It doesn't hurt, but I feel it and it scares me.
"Mom, talk to me. Talk to me!"
"What do you want to talk about?"
I couldn't answer - it would take too long. Instead I started singing the first thing that came to mind: Happy Birthday. Fitting, I suppose.

The doctor is pushing down on my stomach. Pressure. Then I feel pulling. A moment later, a cry. My first baby is held up above the drape for me to see a perfect, bloody, slimy little face. As they whisk the baby away, the nurse stops aside me so I can have another little look. Just like I wanted, my mom goes with the baby.

Suddenly, I realize that I didn't stop to think that her going with that babies means that I am alone.

I am crying. Crying because I have a beautiful baby, because I can't believe Tim isn't here with me, because my mom is not holding my hand and the pushing and tugging is starting again.

"Richard? Richard!"
Richard the anesthesiologist it looking down at me from under his big, bushy eyebrows.
"Richard, hold my hand!"

Poor Richard looks shocked like this is the first time this has happened to him. I'm okay with that because I'm not alone on this side of the drape anymore.

Another sweet, blood-covered little face pops over the drape for me to see. I am in love. My mom comes over to talk to me.

"They are beautiful!"
"What's their APGARs?"
"I don't know."
"Can you find out?"
...a moment later, "They are perfect."

Moments later both babies are brought over to me so that I can kiss their little faces before they are driven away in their baby warmers with my mom in tow. They are perfect. Perfect. Tim and I made perfect babies and I somehow held them in long enough for them to be big and healthy. (I would later learn that Ayla was 7lb 0oz and Anson was 7lb 1oz.) Now that I know they are okay, I am dozing off as they are stitching me up.

I hear them giving me a drug that is supposed to help slow my bleeding. I hear that I am bleeding a lot. I hear the word transfusion. I'm so tired that I am very unconcerned. I hear them giving me another drug that seems to do the trick - I'm fine and bleeding is under control. It takes awhile to stitch me up, so I fall asleep again.

They transfer me back onto a gurney - I decided I kind of like the strange sensation the movement gives.

I keep going in and out of sleep. In recovery I get to hold Ayla and Anson together for the first time. They are incredible. Anson looks like Tim. Ayla has red hair. They both have Tim's earlobes. I can't explain why this is one of the first things I notice. Maybe because I loved kissing his ears.

It feels like it is the middle of the night even though it is the afternoon. My dad comes in to meet them. I ask him to get Brittany - I want her to be the first to meet her little brother and sister. I stay awake while she is there, even though everything is blurry. It is a revolving door of family coming to greet the newest little members of our family. I am exhausted. I can't tell you if I am dressed, if I talked to anyone, what time it is. I just know that this is the best day of my life and I have finally met the two people I've known for the last 9 months. We did it together even though we are so far apart.

364 Un-Birthdays: A Birth Story

After weeks of practically begging my OB for an induction, I was scheduled for one on Monday 1/23/12 at 10am. The days leading up to that day were spent furiously cleaning, organizing and doing last-minute preparations for the arrival of our sweet babies. I was rushing around with no time for clear thought or reflection - driven solely by the thought of finally having our babies in my arms.

I snapped a couple last photos of my bare, pregnant belly before I drove my mom and myself to the hospital and wheeled my big suitcase inside. We met my friend Shannon who would be serving as my other labor coach. We entered the registration area where I was met by the same smiling face of the lady who had checked me in for the last many Thursdays for my NSTs. Finally I was here for the real deal. She placed 2 bracelets on my wrist. The real kind, not the thin ones you get when you pay your concert admission.

My step-daughter Brittany, my in-laws and my brother-in-law and sister-in-law were all gathered in a waiting room anticipating the babies' arrival. The world was at a stand-still as far as any of us were concerned. We were all here for one important reason. Today would be the day that all my in-law's grandchildren were born on Mondays. This morning Brittany made her Dad proud by picking up 2 newspapers for the babies to look back on many years from now. The day I finally get to meet the people Tim and I created out of the greatest love I have ever known. A whole room, Department, family, community and loved ones around the world are ready and waiting.

In labor and delivery, I got into comfortable nursing pajamas. 3 probes are strapped to my very swollen belly to monitor the babies and me just like every Thursday. An IV was run and Pitocin began dripping into my body. I had not wanted to be induced - I wanted no Pitocin, having read "horror" stories about it. Now, I just wanted my babies. Up 2 mg at a time, the dosage was increased every half hour.

"Is anything happening?"
"No."

"Anything?"
"No. Nothing."

I reached the max dosage of 24mg with no changes. I am told that I should go walk around for awhile. Go to the cafeteria and eat some food. I knew this was not a good sign. No laboring woman is allowed to eat, but I was not laboring, was I? I ate soup and a big cookie. The soup was good. The cookie was just alright.

Back to the room. Still no changes. Back on Pitocin. Back to waiting. Reading trashy magazines usually reserved for the hair salon. Mom and Shannon are dozing off while I sit listening to their breathing just wishing for sleep and wishing that things would move along. Willing my cervix to dilate so I can meet our babies.

Tuesday creeps in.

There is some progression and the decision is made to break my water. It doesn't hurt. An hour passes before the contractions catch up to me.

"Rate your pain for me."
"Five or six. This is not comfortable. I am not comfortable."
"She's more like a seven or eight."
"Aghhh. This is not comfortable!"

They offer me an epidural. I don't think I have endured enough to justify it yet. Childbirth is supposed to be hard, and this is just becoming hard. I wait.

A little while later I do want that epidural. I didn't know it would take 15 minutes for the anesthesiologist to arrive and drive it into my spine. Those were long minutes followed my a pinch, a burn and sweet relief.

Now they think I can't walk so I need a catheter. Funny thing is I can move my legs freely. Inserting the catheter hurts worse than the contractions had. I'm not numb where I need to be numb. I am getting scared. I don't want to give birth when I can feel my lady parts. I want more medicine, but they can't give it to me yet.

The external monitors are not giving the Dr all the information he needs, so the decision is made to place an internal monitor on one of the babies' heads. It hurts like the catheter did, but the discomfort is lingering. Neither sitting nor laying on my side is tolerable. Mom and Shannon are dozing off again. I'm playing some version of Scrabble on my cell phone. I'm losing game after game.

I'm getting the feeling things are not going well. The nurses keep checking me and my progress is minimal. The internal monitor is not registering and every attempt to re-position it is painful, but they don't want to remove it. When the Dr comes in to check me, I ask him and he agrees to remove it. He is now my favorite person.

It is now nearly noon. I have not slept aside from a small dozing here and there. I am exhausted. A nurse checks me and calls the Doctor to check me. I can tell he is not liking what he sees. He talks to me frankly. The babies are being squished by my contractions that are not progressing. Every step they take to try to advance the delivery seems to set it back instead. The harder I we work at it, the farther I am getting from the vaginal delivery I had envisioned. But nothing about this day is at all what I had envisioned because Tim isn't here like he should be. I am surrounded by people who love me or have my best interest at heart, but I am alone.

He is suggesting I strongly consider a c-section. I am free to continue to labor but he feels that it is not going to get better for me in my state of exhaustion or for the babies who are being subjected to a labor that is not progressing. There are 6 people in the room. All agree that the c-section is the right thing to do. I concur.

The doctor goes off to check the OR schedule. He thinks they can get me in in the early afternoon.

Moments later, the Doctor and a small crew of people come into the room.

"Now. We're going now," he says while directing people to pack up my things and get me prepped. Shannon is gathering my things onto a cart to take to my pre-selected post-partem  room. Mom is rushing around preparing to head to the OR with me. I am sending a few select texts to let those closest know I am heading in for a c-section.

I feel a strange sense of relief that I have no time to over think or dwell on the situation. Relief that I am finally about to meet the two people who will forever change my life and my role in life.

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Stay tuned for the rest of the story.

Teaser

I have been conspicuously absent the last several days.... It doesn't take many guesses to get to the bottom of the reason for my absence.

On Tuesday January 24th, I learned about a kind of love I had only dreamed about when our 2 anxious families welcomed our 2 beautiful and healthy children into the world.

It has only been 6 days, but I feel like I have loved these babies forever.

Ayla James Barber... 7lb 0oz

Anson Timothy Barber... 7lb 1oz

Anson on the left & Ayla on the right in a tribute to their incredible Daddy.

Stay tuned. A new adventure is just beginning.

Obsessing? Me?

Now that I have a firm date in my mind about when the babies will arrive, some things are happening.

I am assembling, organizing, cleaning and obsessing over things that don't need to be obsessed over. Like whether my camera is good enough to photograph them. If there is too much dust on the baseboards. Whether it is crazy to shave Kaiser so he doesn't shed near them. (Yea, he wasn't wild about that idea either....)

I am going over and over the mental list of the things to remember at the hospital. Take the baby CPR class they offer. Learn to swaddle because when I've tried, the doll I used looked like a baggy burrito. Make sure Mom gets photos of their first bath. Do you think I could teach her to run video on the camera? Probably not, she still stumbles through checking the voicemail on her blackberry. Pictures, lots of pictures. Don't forget all the tips and tricks I learned about breast feeding. Which lactation consultant was it I was supposed to avoid?

Months back, people started suggesting that I take a Lamaze class or some other kind of birth class. I couldn't. I just couldn't go there with all the other moms and dads and pretend everything was okay. I was told there are special classes for single moms and their coaches and I wanted to scream, "I'M NOT SINGLE!!!" So, here I am, 3 days from the Big Day and I have no idea how to have a baby other than what I have read in books and watched on cable. I keep assuring myself that I'll have Mom there and she knows things. And my wonderful friend Shannon will be there and she knows even more things. This should be a comfort to me, and in most moments it is.

In the other moments it isn't and I get frustrated and sad and I feel jipped because my best cheerleader and the one person who knows how to handle all of my million moods doesn't get to talk me through this. Instead, I have to do what I'm growing more accustomed to doing: I have to 'just know' what he would say and know that he is there watching and looking out for me, even if nobody can see him.

Every real-feeling contraction has me thinking this could be it and I'll be out of time to get done all the tings I need to get done. ("Need" is relative here.)

I should go clean the fridge because I don't want our kids coming into a house with old mustard in the fridge.....

The Challenge

Today I would like to offer up a challenge to my chubby little children....

Yes, I am calling them "chubby" because according to their ultrasound on Tuesday they are weighing in at 7lb 7oz and 7lb 12oz. Those are good weights for singletons, never mind twins. I am carrying around 15lbs of people in my tummy - wrap your mind around that one!

I washed and packed a couple "newborn" sized outfits because I started doubting that the "preemie" outfits I have packed will fit them. Now we have options. I like options.

Anyway... back to my challenge. Anson & Ayla, your mama challenges you to take charge of the situation and make your appearance in this world before Monday. If you choose to keep being stubborn and hiding out inside, you will be unpleasantly surprised when the Doctor induces me on Monday. There's still time for it to be your decision, so act quickly!

I Think I'll Just Stay Pregnant Forever

I'm creeping up on 38 weeks pregnant with 2 babies each weighing over 6.5 lbs according to ultrasound estimates. That's 13 pounds of baby moving around inside me. I don't think our Thanksgiving turkey was even that big. (Of course I'd have to ask my mom-in-law since I didn't cook it!)

I have been so fortunate during this pregnancy that I have been healthy, felt fairly good and had a minimum of side-effects. I truly believe that Tim has had a hand in that - looking out for me every way he knows how just like always. Since he couldn't run to the store and get me ice cream and pickles, I haven't had cravings. Because he wasn't here to fluff my pillows, I didn't get too exhausted. In my first trimester it was Tim who was nauseous so I didn't have to be.

Maybe if my hands and feet weren't so swollen I'd be willing to just stay pregnant, but I am anxious to peel off the special support socks and comfortably wear shoes. I'd love to see my ankle bones again, and I miss wearing my real wedding ring. I've had to wear a substitute in a larger size for a while now and I miss staring at my actual ring.

For the last few weeks, I have been asking, bribing and begging the babies to be born. I've tried everything within my comfort zone to nudge the process along with no results. Instead every ultrasound and non-stress test is met with the same result: the babies are doing great in there and I am doing a fine job growing them. We'll schedule another appointment for next week. Ugh.

I keep reminding myself how easy they are to care for when they are inside me. How uncomplicated it is to make a quick run to Target for cereal. How restful my restless nights will seem in retrospect once they arrive and how life will be forever altered - in the best of ways - so, so soon. So don't rush it. Just be patient.

Still, I think almost every moment of the day about how much I want to meet them and hold them. And patience is not something I am known for.

But don't tell the babies. I'm trying reverse psychology now, so:

AYLA & ANSON, JUST STAY INSIDE. WE'VE ALL CHANGED OUR MINDS AND WE ARE NOT READY FOR YOU JUST YET.

Let's see how that works.....

Discussing Maternity Photographs (Part 2)

One horrible aspect of losing the love of your life is not just the loss itself, it is also the loss of all that you thought would be - all those future dreams you dreamed together. All the things you talked about and planned and daydreamed of are snatched away from you along with the already unbearable emptiness of laying in bed alone, driving in the car alone and talking to your spouse who can never respond with words. You are left with a lot of "what could have been" and "we were supposed to". It hurts. Some days it is sheer misery.

Shortly after Tim passed, I was contacted by one of the great photographers who worked on our engagement pictures. She made an incredibly kind offer to me: she offered to take some maternity photos of me or some newborn photos of the babies once they arrive.

I thought about her offer and replied that I would love some pictures of the babies. I just couldn't wrap my mind around maternity photos without Tim. I had spent too much time envisioning how our maternity pictures would look, and I knew they couldn't be anything like I wanted without him. Pictures of the babies, however, would always be beautiful, and our loss would not be so blatant in them.

Many weeks passed when I heard again from our photographer friend. She wanted to talk to me about something: Maternity Pictures. I explained to her why I was so apprehensive. In turn, she shared with me, too. She shared a piece of her life about losing her dad too soon, what an incredible man he was and how, in the months following his death, her mom had some photos taken that helped her heal in a small way. She brought ideas to the table about how we could use some of Tim's things to symbolically include him in the pictures, so that he would be there and I would not be alone.

Many thanks to Stephanie from StepOnMe Photography. I would never have done this without your encouragement. It meant a lot to me, to our family, and I know it will be so special for the kids when they are older. I am so glad she was able to capture these images. There were also a lot of fun images and laughter, despite the somberness of some moments.

Discussing Maternity Photographs

I love photographs.

In high school, I remember going with a friend to the photo lab so that he could work on a project over our lunch break. That day something happened inside me. I fell in love with the process of creating everlasting images.

The following semester, I signed up for a photography class. By the next semester, I was taking photography for half my school day, I was living and breathing film and the beautiful chemical smell of the darkroom. It was the first thing for which I received so many accolades, compliments and awards. I was finally good at something. People were noticing me. I had a talent.

Over the years, I have almost stopped taking artistic photographs - now my photos are nothing more than good snapshots, but I still have a love for good photography, particularly portraits.

Throughout Tim's and my relationship, I have taken a lot of photos. Those pictures capture our memories, our time together, our adventures, our falling in love. Moments of happiness frozen in time. Tim and I had some great engagement pictures done. When we were married, the photographer and the food were the 2 most important things about the wedding to us.

I had always thought that when we were pregnant, we would have maternity photos taken. I had looked at them with envy - the dad looking lovingly at mom's belly full of their upcoming baby. I had seen friends post them on Facebook, I had seen them all over the internet and even in picture frames on so-worker's desks. It was a happy thought: that would be us some day.

....TO BE CONTINUED.....

We Are The First Losers

Well, it's looking like Brittany and I will be the first losers in the friendly family competition betting on the date of the babies' arrival.

Our chosen date is today, December 29th. It is now going on 3pm and I must say that is does not feel like there will be any action in the next 9 hours. The good news is that this was not a monetary bet and we still end up with 2 wonderful babies at the end, regardless of our losing status.

On Christmas night I did go to the hospital after about 6 hours of very consistent "different feeling" contractions and unusually low movement from Miss Ayla. They hooked me up to some monitors to "look" at the contractions and check on the kids, checked for dilation (none) and decided it was best to give me a contraction stopping shot and send me on my way.

Since then things have been relatively un-exciting aside from the kids getting really rowdy yesterday. That was entertaining for me and for my Mom & Dad who were marveling at how they could see the huge movements in my belly across the room.
Dad: "Oh my gosh! Did you see that?"
Me: "No, but I felt it - it's in my tummy, remember? Ha!"

I'm on orders to "take it easy" and spend most of my time on the couch. I am also to be watching my sodium, wear very sexy compression socks and I'll be starting an iron supplement today because my hemoglobin is a tiny bit low. All in all I am holding up marvelously for a lady growing 2 babies.

Breathe In, Breathe Out....

This was my third week having 2 doctor visits per week. On Tuesdays we go to my OB's office for a BPP Test. There an ultrasound is done to make sure the babies are moving around appropriately, that the amniotic fluid is intact and that the kids are practicing their breathing.

This week, the ultrasound tech at my usual office was off for the day, so I went to another of their offices. It was a little closer, a lot newer and the waiting room had better magazines. Let's just say they are lucky I love the staff at my usual office or a permanent switch may have happened.

The BPP went perfectly. Both babies were super cooperative and anxious to show off their skills. Anson had himself wedged in there in such a way that we couldn't really see his head, much less his little face. Ayla, however, was very visible, which is unusual for her. The tech clicked on her little face and zoomed in. Clicked again, and there was my pretty little girl in 3D. I had no idea her machine had that capability and the tears just started flowing. She took several photos for me as we watched Ayla practicing breathing and sucking. 

                                          Ayla at 34 weeks (Are those Mama's chubby cheeks?)

I was lucky enough to get to see Anson in 3D a some time ago, but Ayla was hiding that day and I've often wondered what it would have been like to get a sneak peek of them both.  

                                           Anson at 24 weeks (Looks like Daddy's movie star chin!)

Some great mysteries still remain and I'm so excited to meet them in person and watch them grow up into the amazing people I know they will be. 

Due Date

In the past I have worried myself about due dates a lot. When are my library books due? When was that movie due back at Blockbuster? (Damn, another late fee... I'll pay it next time.) When is my report due? When is that project due?

Now, I am confronted with another kind of due date, and it is a little subjective. When we found out we were pregnant, Tim and I were told that our due date was January 30th.

A "normal" pregnancy lasts 40 weeks. A "normal" pregnancy is one baby growing inside one lady. As you know, this is not a "normal" pregnancy.

Twins are considered full term at 37 weeks instead of 40 weeks. Because of this, we decided to calculate backward and start telling people our "twin due date" of January 8th. We were concerned that if we kept sharing the January 30th date and the babies were born at 36 or 37 weeks, people would be worried about the kids because they were "premature" when in actuality they would be considered full-term twins.

As that date approaches, I can tell you I am ready. Their room has all the things a nursery should have. Their car seats have been safely installed in my car by a Chandler Fire Captain who seemed very wise. I have a hospital bag packed, several family members, friends and neighbors on speed-dial and a list of people to text when they arrive. I am not scared, maybe because I can not justify fear after seeing how brave Tim was with all he went through, and I know he will be there with me. I just want to meet our son and our daughter, hold them in my arms and kiss their sweet faces.

I'm thinking less about the "due date" and more about how full I feel and how their movements are reflecting their beginning to feel constricted. I'm simultaneously exhausted and giddy with anticipation. 

All I Want For Christmas

I've never been much into presents and that whole side of Christmas. I much more enjoy getting together with family and friends and preparing a big, glorious meal to piling un-needed gifts into the car and going home at the end of the day. I like the decorating part. All the old, symbolic ornaments telling the story of my life as I hang them on the tree. I don't like cheesy Christmas music, but I love Silent Night and I love Mannheim Steamroller.

My ornaments start the year I was born - my mom gave me all my ornaments that she collected and documented over the years, so there's everything from "baby's first Christmas" to a picture from Tim's and my wedding somehow painted onto porcelain. Tim's ornaments are different. Mostly the round ball kind from Target. Maybe just a sign of being a guy, maybe a sign of starting over one too many times and leaving things behind. Last year his mom gave us a special ornament from his childhood. A little handmade ice skate with a paperclip as the blade - from when Tim played ice hockey as a kid. I looked forward to it having a prominent place on our tree this year. Looked forward to continuing to add a special new ornament every year transforming the tree into yet another symbol of our beautiful life together.

I just can't do it. Can't get the tree down, can't open up all the little boxes and hang up all the pretty ornaments. Can't know that I'm wiping off Tim's fingerprints as I touch every decoration. Can't look at the sparkling lights and remember how happy we were last year - how Tim and Brittany and I laughed so hard we cried while we decorated. The contrast is too much for me to handle. God, we were so nieve. I was anyway. I thought we had lots of time. I want to be back in that moment so badly.

My Dad helped me put up some lights on the outside of the house. The ultimate symbolism for how I feel this season: keeping up appearances on the outside as to make everyone else comfortable, but shattered and devastated on the inside. I put some pine cones in a bowl on the table and threw some red pillows on the couch. That's all I can manage.

I'm trying to fill the emptiness by helping my ladies volunteer group collect gifts for a family we have adopted. By sending police themed lego sets to the children's hospital. It's probably good that I'm pregnant or I would probably be drinking a lot in a feeble attempt to drown my sadness. Not the healthiest coping mechanism.

As for Christmas music, you can try to avoid it. You can never turn to that station that plays all Christmas tunes all the time all season (since when? Halloween?). The thing is that all stations will sneak one in from time to time. And every store is piping them in overhead. I've been trying to tune them out even more than I usually do because there are some you expect to hurt like the Christmas Shoes one, but even the cutesy ones hurt so much. I've been reduced to sobs twice by "All I Want For Christmas Is You".

I feel like Scrooge, but I just want this holiday season to be over. I just want Christmas to pass so I can hold my little babies in my arms and be strong for them.

Weighing In

I had an appointment with the OB the end of last week.... just your standard stuff, which in the case if a twin pregnancy includes a lot of ultrasounds. I know I've said it before, but I just love seeing the babies on the screen. I feel like I have a glimpse of their personalities from all the time we have logged getting ultrasounds.

The high point of my appointment was learning that I passed my 3-hour glucose test. There was some concern after I failed the 1-hour test that I may have gestational diabetes. Thankfully that is not the case. Big sign of relief there.

The babies get measured by an ultrasound tech... their heads, abdomens, arm and leg bones are measured to help the Drs come up with a prediction of their current weights. At 29.5 weeks, Anson weighed in at 3lb 4oz and Ayla at 3lb 2oz. Pretty impressive, especially for twins.

They look happy and healthy inside me. Anson woke from a nap while we were watching and yawned a couple times. Ayla was just being her usual sweet self and cooperated with being measured. I'm getting more and more prepared and more and more excited to meet these two face to face.

Dear Mr. Hicks

Nobody really likes your "uterine contractions not resulting in childbirth now known as Braxton Hicks contractions". Might I suggest that if anyone out there discovers, invents or names something, maybe you should shy away from naming it after yourself unless it is pleasant. I'm just saying, I'm pretty sure no ladies out there are naming their sons Braxton after this guy.

When I go to my OB this week and they ask me again if I have been having any contractions, I get to say "yes". What I'm having are just little Braxton Hicks contractions that aren't doing any harm. They are typically spread out throughout the day, follow no pattern and never exceed 4 an hour. They don't hurt, I just feel "different" and then all of a sudden my whole abdomen is hard like there is a tortoise shell over it. I wonder if the babies feel strange when this happens.

Our next appointment is an ultrasound to measure the babies and make sure they are still growing on track and similar in size. Thus far, Anson has been a tiny bit bigger all along, and the babies have both been growing a few days ahead of their expected schedule. I predict that they are withing 4-6oz of each other at birth.

Pregnancy: The Pros and Cons

PROS:
Three for one admission! Everywhere!
Feeling the babies playing inside me.
Growing little Tim&Autumn babies :-)
The excitement and anticipation of their arrival.
Strangers smiling at me and opening doors for me.
Knowing nobody's judging me for not ordering a salad.
So many people waiting to love the babies.
New clothes.
Those "expectant mother" parking places.
Watching my tummy expand and knowing that means the babies are growing and healthy.
People wanting to help me with things they think are strenuous.

CONS:
Running into things with the ever-expanding tummy.
All of a sudden my shoes are too small. Like all of them!
So sleeeeepy......
Wait, they come out of me HOW??????
Picking car seats is hard work!
Poor feet. Poor, poor feet.
Wearing a seatbelt makes me feel like I have to pee.
Whose boobs are those?
I miss sleeping on my tummy.
People not letting me do things myself.
Getting out of breath so easily.