Juliet

Last Tuesday, I was 39 weeks and 1 day pregnant. Once again I felt like a whale, but in comparing pictures of me then vs. when I was 38 weeks with the twins, I literally think I was about half the size this time around. That morning I woke up, disappointed that I was still pregnant. Like so many of the nights before, I'd woken up in the middle of the night with a few strong and steady contractions, only to fall back asleep and wake up contraction-free. I had an appointment with my midwife that day, where the plan was to sweep my membranes and hopefully bring on labor.

I didn't think I'd be in any hurry. When I first found out I was pregnant, I was ready to have the baby stay inside of me as long as possible. Because every day the baby was inside of me meant that Charlie and Caroline would be one day older. And hopefully one day easier to care for. But then 38 and 39 weeks rolled along and I was beyond ready to not be a whale anymore. I longed to be able to roll around on the floor and rough house with my kids like I used to. And I desperately wanted to meet my baby. To know if the little tenant in my tummy was a boy or a girl, and to know whether he or she would be another white haired beauty or not.

And then there was this military training. A few days before, Forrest and I found out that he had a required military training at Camp Williams on March 6, 7 and 8. He would be gone day and night for those three days. And I was due March 9. I was absolutely terrified that I would go into labor while he was away and out of reach. So Forrest and I talked about it and decided that we would talk to my midwife about breaking my water early in the week, before his training so that there would be no chance of him missing the birth of our sweet little one.

So back to Tuesday. I woke up that morning and got myself and the twins ready for the day. Forrest went off to work. I drove to Salt Lake and dropped the kids off at a friend's house, then went in to my appointment. The midwife came in and swept my membranes (it hurt - I didn't expect it to hurt), then we began discussing my concerns and our options. She called over to the hospital and found an opening for me to go in for an induction the next day, Wednesday, March 4.

I didn't want to be induced. I had been having a fair amount of contractions and was reasonably dilated already, so breaking my water wasn't a big deal, but I still didn't want to have to be induced. I had decided I wanted a natural, un-medicated birth, and I hear inductions usually make that a little more difficult. But given the time constraints and my overwhelming desire to have Forrest present at the birth, I nervously agreed to be scheduled for Wednesday morning.

It's a strange thing, knowing what day your baby will arrive. Knowing that that day was our last as a little family of four. Knowing that my next few hours with the twins before I put them down to sleep would be my last with them as my only children. After I picked them up from my friend's house, I didn't just want to go home. I wanted to make some memories and have fun with my sweet Charlie and Caroline. So we went to a mall and walked around for a while and got a Jamba Juice.

Forrest met us at home where we bundled the kids up in their snowsuits for the first (and probably only) time this winter and went outside to play in the snow. They thought it was wonderful and so did I. Then we went and picked up some dinner, ate at home together, gave the twins a bath and kissed them goodnight. With my pregnancy hormones at their peak I cried and cried, knowing that the next day they wouldn't be my little babies anymore. Of course they will always be my babies, but I hate knowing how fast they will have to grow up now.

You know when you have something important the next day and you know you need to sleep, but you just can't? That was one of those nights. Forrest and I talked, watched TV, added some last minute things to our hospital bags, and went to bed well after midnight. And we were to check-in at the hospital at 9 AM. The next morning my mother-in-law came over to take care of the twins and we drove to the hospital.

Checked in at 9:30. Water broken at noon. Contractions started almost immediately. Then slowed. We walked, and walked, and walked. My mom came. Then my dad came. And my mother-in-law came. Forrest was there, and my nurse was there, and my midwife was there. I spent hours walking the halls with Forrest, pausing every 2-3 minutes to breathe through a contraction. I spent hours on a birthing ball, rolling my hips in a figure 8. All the while I was feeling pretty strong. I was hungry, yes, and tired, yes, but I was able to talk and laugh and join in conversations. And at every check, it was apparent that I was progressing pretty slowly. Finally around 8 PM, we decided to start some Pitocin to help increase the frequency of the contractions. After that, I wasn't much for conversation. I vaguely remember what was going on around me, but all I could do was breath and groan from the pain of the contractions and try to remember the end product.

My midwife was amazing. She was perfect and even though I hated it at the time, she knew exactly what to do to help me get closer to delivering. Sometime around 10 PM, she had me kneel up on the bed. It was completely agonizing and after only a few contractions of that, I remember yelling out that I needed to push. After some changing of position and a little confusion (at least it was confusing to me - the pain made everything so hazy), she checked me and told me I could start pushing. The time was finally here. It was nearly 10:30 PM and I had been in labor for over 10 hours.

And I thought the pain of the contractions was bad. Pushing was completely unbearable. I can't even describe the pain. It was like every fiber of my body was on fire. And I honestly and truly felt like I wanted to die. I remember telling Forrest that and he just smiled and said "no, you don't." And then suddenly, after 6 minutes, the pain was completely gone and there was a perfect little dark haired miracle laying on my chest. Forrest took a look and called out "It's a girl!" and we were all thrilled. We knew right away we would call her Juliet. Juliet Rose. She is the most perfect thing I've ever seen, just like her brother and sister.

Her birth was without a doubt the most difficult thing I've ever done. I have gained a whole new level of respect for anyone who has ever gone through that. I don't know if I will do it again, but it was a beautiful experience and I'm so glad to have gone through it.

Now that she's here, life is a whole new level of crazy. Today I sat in a chair nursing baby J. I was holding her with one arm, using that elbow to shield her head from the toys Charlie kept bring to put in my lap, and holding Caroline on my lap to read her a story with my other arm. The twins love her so much, but they are still learning how to control their impulses. They constantly want to touch her nose and poke her eyes and kiss her head. Caroline is obsessed with sharing things with Juliet - particularly her food. I can't put her anywhere close to the ground when the twinados are awake, but it is a wonderful kind of crazy and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

As for me, I feel fantastic. The recovery from a natural child birth has been a breeze compared to recovering after the twins. I am looking forward to being able to run again, hopefully soon. And life is good. So, so good.

Cake Smash

Let's pretend I wrote this post a month and a half ago, when my babies turned one.

The past year has gone by so incredibly fast. It seems like just yesterday we were waiting (not so) patiently for our little bundles of joy to arrive. I remember the hour-long drive to the hospital, knowing that the end of our child-free life was there. I remember the first night in the hospital, and the blur of sleepless nights that became the next five weeks. I remember their first smiles, first coos, first time rolling over. All like it was yesterday. And now my little bundles are 1.

I'm not particularly talented when it comes to throwing parties. I've never been good at decorations, themes etc. So we kept it simple. We had a small family party at my mom and dad's house with Minnie and Mickey Mouse cakes made by my super talented sister, Ashley. That was the second cake smash we had done. The first was after family pictures when they were 11 months old. But both cake smashes went about like this:

Charlie - mmm, that looks fun, I wonder what it feels like?

Caroline - I don't know what that is but it looks scary.

Charlie - wow it's really fun to squish in-between my fingers. I wonder if it tastes good?

Caroline - well it must be safe since Charlie is touching it.

Charlie - this is the best thing I have ever tasted! I think I'll shovel handfuls into my mouth as fast as possible. 

Caroline - (slowly poking her finger in) I'm not so sure about this.

Charlie - do you think they'll take it away before I eat the entire thing?

Caroline - (through tears) mom my finger is dirty!

I'm not kidding. Caroline barely even tasted it. And Charlie couldn't get enough. My mom took his Mickey cake away after he ate more than half of it. I am thoroughly convinced that if we had let him, he would have licked the plate clean. 

Silly kids. They are so different, and their little personalities crack me up. Here is a little of what they are up to lately:

Caroline is obsessed with ambulances. She walks around all day singing "wee oh wee oh wee oh." She loves to read books and her new favorite activity is bring a book to me, plopping down on my lap and then turning the pages while she jabbers nonsense and pretends to read the story to me. She likes most any food, but lately she has really been loving peaches, bell peppers, strawberries and pears. She is getting really good at expressing herself by pointing to what she wants and saying "want some!" which really sounds like "ant some." She really loves her shoes, and she associates putting shoes on with going outside. So she brings me a pair and says "shoe!" and then sits on my lap so I can put them on her. She also really likes to hold her shoes so half of the time after I put them on she takes on off and walks around the house with only one shoe on so she can carry the other one. She loves naptime and when I say "are you ready for a nap?" she runs into her room, grabs her blankie and tries to climb into her crib. She also loves giving things to people - she brings Charlie his blankie from his crib every morning after breakfast, and she picks up little tiny things on the floor and hands them to people. She loves waving at everything and gets really excited when people wave back. She has a spunky little personality that I love with all my heart.

Charlie has two favorite words: "no" and "ball." He thinks the word "no" is hilarious which makes it really hard to try and discipline him or keep him away from things. And he loves balls, particularly the ones that flash colorful lights when you bounce them. He knows how they works and he is really good at throwing them on the ground to make the lights come on. He has started trying to stack blocks together and when he is working on it he holds them up so close to his eyes and examines them thoroughly. I love the way he looks when he is concentrating so hard and figuring something out. He loves climbing on anything and everything, and although he knows how to get down safely, he prefers to dive head first. Both he and Caroline learned how to get down the stairs last week and now I can't keep them away. Charlie gets so excited to go up and down the stairs. His favorite game is to crawl up the stairs when he's not supposed to and crack up while I chase him. He starts laughing before he even gets to the stairs. I love his little sense of humor and that he is always laughing. Always. He loves playing peek-a-boo, loves swinging doors back and forth, and loves pulling every single book off of our entertainment center. He is so happy and content and he brings me so much joy.

In other news, we are counting down the 20 days left until I get to go to Missouri to bring Forrest back home. Yep, you read that right, 2-0. We're almost in the teens people! I'm a little excited if you can't tell. I am 17 weeks along, and my ultrasound is scheduled for the week after Forrest gets home. We've decided to keep the gender of our baby a SURPRISE since we already have a boy and a girl. Ah! I get so excited just thinking about it and wondering what our little miracle will be. The next three weeks will probably drag, but the time will pass. And then Forrest will be home and all will be right in my world again. 

How He Works

When I was on the track team in college, I clearly remember making it to the half-way point in some incredibly difficult workouts and, despite our sheer exhaustion, a few of us bursting into an off-key rendition of Bon Jovi's "Livin on a Prayer." And that's how I'm feeling today - halfway there and living on a prayer. Forrest has been gone for 5 weeks, and in 35 days we get to see him again, hooray!

You know those days when you wake up early, feeling well-rested and refreshed, and everything goes right for you that day? Well today was not one of those days. I'm finally into my second trimester and I had been feeling much better lately. And then last night happened. It was a rough one filled with a lot of sickness and very little sleep (by me, not the babes. They did great). When I finally dragged myself out of bed I thought the day would be better, because it usually is. But it wasn't. What do you eat when you can't keep anything down? Usually my go-to is ice cream (I know - don't tell my midwife), but even that wasn't working today.

Enter amazing heaven-sent mother-in-law. She kindly checks on me often, and when she discovered I wasn't feeling well today she arrived with a full meal on hand, complete with still-warm-from-the-oven cookies. I couldn't eat much of it, but it was so kind and thoughtful and took the stress off of me to make dinner for the babes. And then as if that wasn't enough, she continued to wash my dishes, clean my kitchen, and pick up the living room. I know, she's incredible.

I am continually in awe of how in-tune with the Spirit people are. I had multiple offers for help today (many of which I gratefully accepted) and had some fresh bread delivered by a neighbor. It is such a testament to me that our Heavenly Father is aware of each of us and what we need, and he works to meet our needs through other people. I am so grateful for those people who have acted when I was in need, even when I wasn't aware of what I needed myself. People are good. And our Father in Heaven is so loving.

One time when I was a teenager, our family piled into my dad's car to make the 13 mile trek home from my grandparents' house. There were more of us than there were seatbelts, so my parents sat in the front and all the girls (I think there were only 4 of us) loaded into the back seat. It was a slightly foggy evening, but everything else seemed normal. The first half of the drive was quite uneventful. And by uneventful I mean that someone probably had their bum pinched, another likely suffered an attack from the tickle monster, and there may even have been a "full-moon" sighting. But let's stick to the facts. Four girls in the back seat makes for a fun time. As we rounded the corner into our little hometown, Ashley suddenly pushed Carlia's head down, opened and closed the car door quickly, and shouted, "Oh no, Carlia fell out of the car!" We all laughed, and my dad jokingly slammed on the brakes. I mean slammed on the brakes hard. So hard that my mom started giving him a hard time. And then the fog in front of us cleared, and less than 10 feet from where our car had skidded to a stop stood a giant black-as-night cow. Right in the middle of the road. There is absolutely no way that my dad could have or would have seen it if we had continued driving. The car went silent, and right then and there I became very aware that our Heavenly Father is aware of us, and that He works in mysterious ways.

I think the way the Spirit speaks to us is different from person to person and from situation to situation. In this case, Ashley and my dad may have been acting on impressions that they thought were silly at the time. But they didn't seem so silly as we sat looking at that cow that could have caused some serious harm to, if not killed, my family. I believe that as we live our lives in line with our Savior, our thoughts and the promptings of the Spirit become one. I am so grateful for those who have listened to their thoughts and the whispers and impressions of the Spirit to reach out to my little family when we've been in need. My point? Act. Always act. Even if the impression seems silly or you are afraid of what people will think. No bad can ever come of sending a text message, making a phone call, visiting a friend or taking a dinner. So go and do.

When the Unexpected Happens

We think we have a plan for our lives. Then a giant obstacle gets in your way and changes everything. It leaves you on a completely different road than you'd planned, but soon you adjust to this new path and get settled into a groove again. If you're lucky, you get to stay in that groove for a while. But some people aren't that way. And I'm one of those people.

In my previous post about infertility, I mentioned how hard it was to cope with not being able to have children. The twins were an absolute miracle, and I thank my Father in Heaven for them every single day. After going through IVF, I dreaded the day that I would have to do it again. Of course it was worth it - but it was so so hard. Emotionally and physically. I crossed my fingers and hoped and prayed that somehow, someway, I would never have to do it again. But I knew they were false hopes. Infertility is a part of my life now, so I need to accept that and realize that this is my new normal. Most people don't have to pay $15,000 for their children. But I do. 

I'd accepted this new normal and was moving on in my own merry way, leading a crazy life filled with my two crazy 11 month old munchkins. And then all of the sudden, in one moment, that normal became not so normal. That was the moment I got a positive pregnancy test. The first of my entire life. (The nurse called me the first time. I never actually took a test). I was completely shocked. And speechless. And dumbfounded. I couldn't stop shaking. And smiling. You always hear about those people who try for so long and then either adopt or do infertility, then without even trying or knowing they get pregnant out of the blue. I'd heard about them. But I never in a million years thought I'd be one of them. 

There are a myriad of different thoughts that run through my head. More emotions that actual thoughts, really. Excitement. Relief. Terror. Shock. Joy. Inadequacy. Gratitude. Fear. They are all there. But the most present emotion is shear happiness. Words cannot express how happy I am to have this baby. This baby that is every bit as much of a miracle as Charlie and Caroline are. 

Like I said, I still have fear and doubts. I mean, I'm going to have 3 kids 18 months and under. Do we get a 3rd crib? 3rd high hair? Or do my twins just have to grow up super fast? Do we need to move? Is it at all possible to potty train before 18 months old? How am I going to handle 3 kids in diapers? I could keep going. But I won't.

My point is, the bad feelings are there. The fear and the doubts and the insecurities. But I choose not to focus on them. I choose to recognize that this baby is a complete miracle and a blessing sent straight from heaven, rather than thinking "why me?".

I don't know why we had to go through infertility. Maybe Forrest and I needed to learn patience. Or maybe Charlie needed Caroline right by his side to help him weather the storms that are sure to come his way. We'll never know. Either way, even with this miracle baby, it's likely we will have to cope with infertility again at some point. But for now I will just be grateful. Grateful to have my three little miracles.