A babies story. Part 2.

We found out at about 12 weeks that we had a condition called a placenta previa.  Under normal circumstances, it's very common and usually takes care of itself in the first trimester.  But, of course, because we were having twins, and because things I do rarely seem to be normal, ours hadn't improved and by 25 weeks, the doctors seemed concerned that it wouldn't.  They warned us against going on our annual summer trip to New England and the cottage in Canada but I suppose we were naive and really had no idea just how serious the condition was so we went anyway.  I did do the necessary research beforehand and located NICUs along the way just in case.  It was a wonderful trip...

Wilderness 101, PA

Bender loves hotel rooms

27 weeks in CT

Picnicking in MA

Watching the rain outside our cabin in CT

Rock designs on the deck in Canada

Front porch sittin

Amazing beach this year

Bailey soaks up sand like a sponge

I walked every day, slept a ton, ate ice cream every night, enjoyed good company and fell in love with being pregnant and seemingly weightless in the water.  I felt great.

Week 27.  It was early August and we had just gotten back from our trip the week before.  It was a normal evening and we went to bed early.  I got up at some point in the early morning (or late night - depending on where you are in life) and had our first "episode".  I'm going to refer to them as this because it's less graphic and I just don't want to say it.  It's my blog, so there.  We rushed to the hospital and spent about 18 hours checked in.  I can remember the room and how it was set up.  We met "Linda's house of pain" and got my first adrenaline shot.  I don't even drink caffeine so those shots, although pretty great at slowing contractions, sucked.  I got my first experience with the fetal monitors and how they itched and Dave had to sleep on a pull out metal pillow they referred to as a cot.  I was put on limited activity and sent home to rest. 

We made it another 2 weeks and after coming home from work with a stray dog, we had our second episode.  Strike two.  They were only giving us three before they would have to deliver the babies for my own protection so having only made it two weeks, we were worried.  They kept us for 6 days this time and when we finally did go home, it was on bed rest with almost no activity.  I really thought at first that I was going to be the worst bed rest person ever but I realized a few days in that it was the only time I had slowed down enough to actually enjoy and spend serious quality time with my pregnancy and finally get to know these babies... as much as you can through skin, organs, and about 30 pounds of fluid retention anyways.  So I read, slept, watched the first five seasons of Greys Anatomy, counted contractions during the "witching hour", sat outside when it wasn't 100 degrees, and tried not to panic at the thought of what might be right around the corner and far too early. 

I was also growing tired of being in public anyways and answering the many repetitive and very personal questions that seem to come with a pregnant belly.  I've never been good at being the center of attention and very much enjoy my anonymity when I can get it.  As a mother of twins, and starting to look like it, you become a walking spectacle.  I should have had an XL t-shirt that said:  "Yes, I'm aware of how large I am (but thanks for that).  I'm having twins.  Yes, I'm sure there are two (the eight limbs kicking me all night is kind of a tip off.  Plus, we've seen this amazing little thing called an ultrasound as proof).  Yes, we know the sexes, it's a boy and a girl.  *Smile*  I know, it's the perfect family.  No, we didn't try for twins (whatever that means).  Yes, we conceived them naturally and without drugs (seriously?!).  No, they don't run in our family.  Sure, you can touch my belly but only if I can touch yours.  Yes, I'm aware of how hard it's going to be (once again, thanks for that though).  Yes, I'm trying to sleep extra now (mostly because people like YOU keep telling me just how much sleep I'm not going to get when they arrive).  Yes, I know I'll need help (but I'd like you to know, I'm not retarded).  Yes, we're very excited.

So long, ankles.

A gardening project that would have to wait.

Feet up.  Strict prescription of boredom.

30 weeks, front yard.

My amazing husband organized a group online risk game.  I won.  Though I'm pretty sure people let me have it once I said the game was giving me contractions.  :)

32 weeks. 

Grotesquely large.

A lot of people have asked me if the episodes were painful.  I really don't think they were.  I had some pretty serious contractions but I think I was so worried and amped up every time that I didn't notice any pain.  Just worry.  I remember setting mini goals in half weeks and celebrating the milestones.  That's what it had come to.  Our goal of course was 38 weeks but from the way everyone was talking, we were lucky to get every day we did. 

We made it to 32 and a half when the third episode came and, just as they had warned, it was the worst.  It was so scary.  We grabbed our already packed bag (we were pros by this point) and I remember shaking and trying so hard to stay calm.  Luckily they were able to get everything under control once again, but this time there was no going home.  So we did the best we could to make ourselves comfortable and settle in for an unknown set of time and an even more uncertain outcome.  The new hospital helped a lot.  I loved our nurses too and Dave was incredible.  There are few more humbling experiences than peeing in a bucket or wearing mesh hospital grade booty shorts and his largest t-shirt but he took it all in stride, remaining calm, asking questions, and staying with me every night.

In hindsight, I'm really glad I didn't know just how serious it all was.  That they had put us in the room directly across from the OR on purpose.  That by making us stay in the hospital, it really meant that being 25 minutes away was too far for our safety.  That we had only the most seasoned nurses assigned to us.  That when they said every day mattered to our babies' lives, it really did.  In some cases, ignorance really is bliss.   

Soooo itchy.  Sleep was elusive.

See?  No sleep.  Or much showering.  Gross.

The day before we delivered.

  September 22nd.  About 34 weeks.  I spent the day as I did every other that week, taking meds, watching the monitors, staying distracted, and dreading every trip to the bucket.  That evening, around 9pm we snuggled into bed together and started watching Any Given Sunday, a favorite movie of ours.  Dave was out of the room for the final episode and I remember calling to him in a panic, him running to get nurses and then getting my clothes taken off, monitors hooked up, doctors coming in and out, and consent forms to sign.  It all happened so fast.  I think the whole thing started at 10:15pm and the babies were born shortly after 11pm.

They wheeled us to the OR and decided, thank goodness, that general anesthesia wasn't necessary.  I remember feeling so heavy and large as they moved me from the cot to the table and smelling cigarette smoke on someone nearby.  It was so hot in there.  Dave came in dressed in scrubs and started talking to me about the day we met and other wonderfully distracting details from our life.  When the babies came out ("we've got fat babies here!"), they brought them over to say hello before whisking them off for... whatever it is they do.  That moment was surreal.  I remember thinking that I should feel this amazing connection to them, like you've heard so many other mothers say.  Like when you're standing at the altar on your wedding day and you want to feel like it's only the two of you but all you can really feel are the dozens of eyes watching you in your most intimate moment.  It's very surreal.

They finished working on me and I went into recovery, waiting for word that the babies were doing ok.  I remember my nose itching and talking to the nurse about something... I have no idea what.  I think I slept a bit, it was almost 4 in the morning.  Dave came and got me and we went to see them for the first time.  They were so small.  I was getting nauseous and we were both so tired that we went to our new room and tried to sleep before waking up and starting to spread the news of our babies' birth.

Rowan Michael Tevendale:  5lbs. 1oz.  Born 11:06pm.

Avery Rooke Tevendale:  4lbs. 13ozs.  Born 11:07pm.

Next up:  bad news and a move to the NICU.

A babies story. Part 1.

I have a feeling this might be overly positive.  Like a wound you get from your favorite trail or a loss you watch from your favorite team, time has a way of healing those negative experiences, sending you back down the same line or cheering from the couch the very next weekend.  I have to think that pregnancy is similar.  It's hard, uncomfortable, filled with self doubt and mystery, steeped in anxiety over the delivery, and completely humiliating when it comes to bodily functions.  But, like most difficult things, our minds have a way of making peace with the experience even leading us to believe that it would be something we would do again.

That's how I feel our pregnancy was.  It was amazing.  I look back on it now and the drama, bed rest, uncertainty, fear, and overall... largeness, was only a small percentage to the incredible feeling of creating life.  But we'll get to that.

Heading into the holiday season in 2010, I had just finished a pretty grueling race season and we had traveled every chance we got, in a way knowing what we had in store for 2011.  It was an amazing but sort of bittersweet summer for me.  I really felt like we were going into the next "step" ready but acknowledging that things would be very different for a while.  Leaving out the details of course, we started 'not not trying' in December.  It was really fun, and not for the obvious reasons :) but because it felt like we were hiding a secret from the rest of the world, a concept that once you're pregnant and have kids becomes annoyingly less and less possible.

It took three months.  For some reason, and I know 3 months is nothing in comparison to some, but I hadn't expected it to take any time at all and definitely wasn't prepared for the questions and insecurities that would come with something like this taking 3 months.  I remember being confused and happy with my disappointment but disappointed all the same.  By month 3, I had made peace with it and wasn't even paying attention really.  Ok, that's a lie but that month, I didn't tell Dave when we could take the test because honestly it broke my heart every time I had to tell him it would be at least another 4 long weeks.  That something we were doing wasn't working.  It was a very small glimpse into what I can only imagine is a horrible place too many women have to go in their minds when they can't have a baby right away, or at all.

The morning of March 5th, I was up at 4am to leave and volunteer at CRC's Spring Classic 5k.  I was due to find out that next day but obviously was thinking about it so I took the test.  Positive.  I remember getting weak in the knees and having to sit on the side of the tub for a few minutes.  Wake him up?  I really didn't want to throw that at him in a groggy state so I went to the race.  I had also devised a cute plan to tell him and couldn't believe it was time to put that into play.  After a very surreal morning (I remember trying not to smile as much as I wanted to), I went to Bodos and bought us breakfast.  I had gotten a onsie that had "Daddy's team 2011" on it, put it in the breakfast bag, and wrote "I love you" on the outside.  He came in from doing trail work and sat on the couch next to me.  I remember shaking as he opened it.  He said "awww" and then didn't get what I was trying to tell him.  I laughed and watched as it gradually sunk in.  "Wait.  Really?  Wow.  Are you ok?"  It was perfect.

Five weeks in and I was feeling fine.  "Our secret" was causing some nausea in the mornings but mostly just a dehydrated, sort of hangover feeling which was easily taken care of with some fruit and lots of water.  I LOVED fruit.  To the point where I could eat a whole watermelon in two days max.  I have no idea how but I got off so lucky with the sickness thing.  I'm not sure Leslie will ever let me live it down.  Week 9.  I was having some cramping and had just gone in for our first prenatal visit so the doctor ordered an ultrasound just to be sure.  She casually mentioned something like 1 in 4 pregnancies are lost "but I'm sure it's nothing".  Ok... so we had to wait a few days and then found ourselves in the dark looking at something minuscule and foreign on a screen.

Chuckle.  The technician chuckled.  I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have done that if we were miscarrying so I was totally lost as to what was going on.  "Well, I've got some news for you guys."  Oh yeah?  "You're having twins."

Long pause.

I think I laughed hysterically for ten minutes.  It was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard and I vaguely remember looking at Dave and saying "what did we do?!"  Having at last heard the heartbeat, um heartbeats, we decided to go public.  Family first.  I had of course already called Leslie.  I think she said she had to sit down.  Cam was at OCS school in the Navy.  I called him from the car, he was at chow time and told everyone around him.  Mom got worried because I think she knew what a complicated and potentially dangerous road we were about to go down - I'll always appreciate her letting me stay as positive as possible even when she knew how bad it was.  Dad, after a long pause, simply said "you're fucked."  Still makes me laugh.  We told Janet and Rick at their place, walking hand in hand down the driveway holding our ultrasound pictures.  We told Jenny and Shawn at the bike shop, signaling in a peace sign across the room that "there were two".  I got a "shut up" from Marcee, told Allison over lunch, laughing from Katherine, the sound of footsteps stopping from Liz, hugs and tears from a pregnant Mary Frances, and an "are we having two babies?" correction from Jess. 

I don't really remember anything detailed for a few weeks after that.  I got into more yoga than running, more sleep than activity.  I was incredibly fortunate that we had saved and could pay the bills on one income, I really think that had a huge part of how good I felt.  We read 'this week your baby is the size of a lemon' books and starting nesting around the house, moving Dave's office out to the shed and finally putting into play the new house construction loans.  We started having weekly dates and spent a lot of time together, quietly bonding while talking about our fears and excitements.  I loved these few months.  I felt safe and taken care of, beautiful and, other than the weekly panicked phone calls to Les, ready for the different experience that twins would certainly be.

To be continued when the Broncos aren't losing in the playoffs and my husband doesn't need some hand holding.  :)

Stars and time.

I should look at the stars more often.  I feel like I used to.  I have memories of sitting in various places I've lived or traveled and taking the time to notice the sky.  Tonight during the evening ritual we refer to as "one last potties" (our long standing attempt at making sure the big dog doesn't pee all over our kitchen while we're sleeping), I turned off my headlamp and looked up.  I actually still recognized a few of the constellations and it struck me that I haven't gazed upward at night for a long time.  Like years.  Why?

My first thought was that I don't have time.  When I was in possession of enough free time to spare looking around and not directly forward to my destination, I was younger.  I didn't have family and jobs and specific goals and houses and dependents.  Now, if I'm outside, chances are I have limited time and it's spent burning calories or getting things done.  Hard to stare glossy eyed into the abyss when you're carrying 8 bags of groceries.

Then I thought that it's not that time of year.  It's been unseasonably warm this fall and winter and although the stars seem to shine the brightest around now - probably due to the lack of tree coverage - I just don't think we're hardwired to stop and spend some bonus time outdoors in January when the mercury is usually bottoming out around 20.  It's hunker down time, and that's mostly done indoors.

I also considered that I am pretty familiar with my surroundings here.  I've lived in this area for 6 years now, not to mention my entire childhood, and when looking around, I feel pretty certain that I know what to expect.  I use phrases like "the trail next to the 'sitting tree'" or "the climb next to the red house on the pond" to describe local places.  I remember playing a game in my parents car when I was a kid, sitting in the back with my eyes closed, picturing all the turns as we drove them, knowing exactly what was outside down to what type of fence or christmas lights each house had.  There's a comfort that comes with that familiarity but also a lack of necessity to explore what else might be out there.  To look around for more.

Lastly, I settled on the fact that when I used to look up, I think I was wondering what the future would hold.  Like sitting at the ocean, staring at the stars and their vastness, I always felt most that the possibilities were endless.  A day dreamers blank canvas I guess.  Maybe once you get older, some of those possibilities are narrowed down and the need to go looking for answers isn't quite as pressing. 

Either way, I'm glad I noticed.  I'd like to think it'll make me slow down and look around a little more often but who knows. 

Life is busy.  In all the best ways.