A Remembrance, and a First Birthday

Today, January 31, 2012,  marks ONE WHOLE YEAR since I began bed rest. It also marks ONE WHOLE YEAR since Ink & Squid was born!

It’s a little surreal to read back over that first post about starting bed rest, then look at my beautiful, healthy, silly boys. I was so afraid for them, and felt so very vulnerable, but it drew me to depend so deeply on God for peace, for strength, for sanity.

That dependence isn’t something you get once and it sticks forever. When everything is dark and stormy, it’s easy to call out to God and cling to Him. But how quickly we forget the storms as soon as they calm! So today, I remember the amazing grace of God, Who brought our precious sons safely into this world.

³ Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, ⁴ who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. ⁵ For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. ⁶ If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. ⁷ And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.

1 Corinthians 1:3-7

Five Things: Pregnancy Memories

I realized yesterday that I hadn’t actually written down a lot of thoughts, memories, and things during my pregnancy. I thought, this is stuff I will never, ever forget. I’ll write it down later, when I have time. (HELLO, Delusional Pregnant Lady!) Two babies later and…. some days I don’t even remember my first name. (Not really. But close.) So this one is for me (and my boys one day):

1. I was craving: orange juice and chocolate pudding.

2. Even thinking about it made me gag: EGGS. Eesh.

3. The only TV show I could watch without almost throwing up: America’s Funniest Home Videos. Rich is just now barely okay with watching it again.

4. Pregnancy cliche I swore would never happen to me: Crying for absolutely no reason.

5. Funniest comment on my pregnant belly: A mom told her 3 year old daughter there were babies in my belly (after asking when I was due on an elevator). The little girl walked all the way around me, squinted at my belly, and said, where?

On Being Ready… Or Not.

(NOTE: I originally wrote this March 30, 2011, and apparently forgot to post it, but I think it’s still worth putting up. So I am.)

After a doctor’s appointment Monday to check out a (in my mind) little concern from over the weekend, I found myself (and my mom’s self) heading downstairs to triage. I pretty much know the ropes down there at this point, this being my third trip there and all. After checking me out upstairs, the OB I saw wanted me to be monitored for contractions and repeat a test I had done in the hospital for fetal fibronectin (FFN). In a nutshell, the FFN test, if negative, means there is above a 95% (or so, depending on who you ask) chance that you won’t go into labor in the next two weeks. If it’s positive, though, that doesn’t mean a 95% chance you WILL go into labor in the next two weeks; studies put it anywhere from a 10% to 60% chance. So when it’s negative, it’s very useful; if it’s positive, it’s still useful, just not as strong of an indicator. (That was a very long nutshell!) When I was in the hospital, they did the test and it was negative (whoo hoo!) and that was a big factor in my being discharged.

This time, though, it came back positive. And suddenly, all of my mental preparedness for babies was out the window. I thought that I was prepared for them to come at any time back when I went into the hospital. Apparently, I was not. In the five weeks (!!) that I’ve been back home, things have been very stable. My doctors are very pleased and a little surprised every time they see me. But realistically, I could have these babies any (ANY) time now.

Or not.

We just have to wait and pray. My specific prayers this morning as I was laying in bed seemed so little and trivial in comparison to all the enormous needs of others that I could be praying for, but as my mom reminded me last night, doesn’t God still want us to ask? And so, I asked. To make it to 32, 34, 36 weeks. For no C-section. For healthy babies. For no major, long-term problems for the boys. To leave the hospital at the same time as the boys. These are some of my prayers for myself and my sons, as small as some of them are in the grand scheme of the universe. They are still my prayers. As my father-in-law said, I don’t think I have ever prayed so much or so hard for anything before.

The Boys Are Here!

(Will on the left, Robert on the right)

We are so thrilled to announce the birth of our sons, William Jonathan and Robert James.

They were born Friday the 13th of May. William was born at 2:21 am, weighing 5 pounds, 11 3/4 ounces, and 18 inches long; Robert followed 27 minutes later at 2:48 am, weighing 5 pounds, 7.5 ounces and 18 inches long as well. They came home with us when we left the hospital 2 days later, and never had to go to the nursery. They are healthy, beautiful, and we are absolutely smitten!

Belly Shot

Yes, I am 28 weeks pregnant and, until today, have not taken one single “belly picture”. In the beginning, I felt too sick, then I wouldn’t remember, then bed rest, UNTIL finally my mom and mother-in-law declared that A PHOTO MUST BE HAD!

And so, the belly shot:


                 

(Also, this was the most standing I’ve done in a WHILE. Those babies are getting heavy!)

Thanks, Mom, for taking the one photo these boys will have to know that yes, I did in fact carry them in my belly.

Twenty Eight

Twenty-eight. It’s amazing how a fairly unexciting number (like, the number of days in February, except for every fourth year) has become such a massive thing for me and Rich. Like my mental shift from hoping I don’t have two 8-pound babies, YIKES to hoping they’ll be over three pounds each at birth. Like my shift to realizing there is a better-than-average chance that I’ll leave the hospital and my babies will still be there in the NICU. Like my shift from “Please, God, don’t let me go past my due date!” to “Please, God, keep those babies in as long as possible.”

Twenty-eight means a huge milestone for viability. Twenty-eight is a 95 percent chance of survival. Twenty-eight was the goal the doctors gave me when I went in to the hospital: Just make it to twenty-eight, and everything after that is a bonus. There were plenty of days we didn’t think we would make it, lots of research, so many statistics found and analyzed and recited in our heads. So many fervent prayers, from us and so, so many others.

Today, I am twenty-eight weeks pregnant. We are richly blessed.

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

Psalm 139:13-14

On Speaking Wisely (Or, How to Better Avoid Foot-In-Mouth Disease)

Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips!
Psalm 141:3 (ESV)

I noticed Something the other day as I was scanning through posts on a pregnancy forum. This Something really bothered me, in a way that it would not at all have just a few months ago, and the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve been convicted that I’ve said similar things many, many times without even thinking.

So what was this upsetting Something?

It was just a simple statement- “I’m SO TIRED of being pregnant!” I know this is understandable and relatable to so many pregnant women (including close friends, as well as myself at times), but I wanted to yell back at the screen, “HOW can you say that when I’m trying SO HARD just to stay pregnant a little bit longer? Do you know how BLESSED you are to be (however-many, full-term) weeks?” My perspective on pregnancy has changed so completely from what it was a few weeks ago, a few months ago, a few years ago.

Let me be clear for a moment, though: it isn’t that I think it is wrong to make comments like that one from some random stranger. I think that frustrations like that are real and legitimate, and if we bottled all of them up and never shared them with anyone, we would be very unhealthy people.

However, I also think that there are places to vent those frustrations (or joys!) that are wiser than others. For example, the best person to whom to gush your joyful raptures about your pregnancy is likely not the woman who is struggling with infertility or the couple who just miscarried. This isn’t limited to pregnancy, either. Griping about your irritating job/boss/coworker to someone desperately seeking any employment can be callous and unloving. I don’t say this to rain down guilt, but because I stand (Well, lay. Still on bed rest.) personally convicted of the hundred thousand ways I am unwise in my own speech, and it took the pain of someone else’s unintentionally hurtful words to make it clear to me.

There is a lot more to wise speech than avoiding gossip, or never cursing, or always remembering “please” and “thank you”. So much of wisdom is timing and audience. It is healthy and good for me to not store up all of my discouragements and irritations and bad days, as long as I am wise about with whom I’m sharing them. Can we always know who our words will unintentionally wound? No. Should we avoid saying anything at all, to protect the possible sensitivites of everyone we ever meet? No. But we should be wise with our mouths, mature in our discernment, and gentle in our speech.

Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.
Ephesians 4:29 (ESV)

I pray that the words I write on this site are an encouragement and not a detriment; that they build up, not tear down; that they are seasoned with grace and love, not barbs and daggers. A few fantastic, short verses to meditate on:

The mouth of the righteous utters wisdom, and his tongue speaks justice.
Psalm 37:30 (ESV)

Photo Lessons

Because I’m on bed rest, I’m not really able to use my camera. The couple of times I have shot any photos, Rich has to go get my camera bag, get out the camera for me (the lens I keep on it is HEAVY), wait for me to take my shots (which I can’t go anywhere to take), then put the whole thing back for me. This is pretty frustrating and discouraging for me; I feel more trapped when I want to photograph something than just about any other time.

Rich, though, is not only super helpful getting me set up with the camera on occasion, he is super curious about my camera and how to use it. This has turned in to photography lessons for him, and vicarious enjoyment of photography for me. He shot his first “real” photos today (meaning, not just snapping photos of the kitchen to practice choosing camera settings) and they are really beautiful. He is an excellent student and has a good eye for composing a shot. Plus, his photos of last night’s sunset are killer!

Wanna see?

4D Ultrasounds, Or: Why I Love My Perinatologist

I go pretty much weekly to the perinatologist at this point, and every time I go, they check both babies for growth and signs of Twin-to-Twin Transfusion, among other things. But these ultrasound technicians are seriously The Best. They try so hard to give us a good photo of each baby’s face every time- even if we just got one the week before. (We joke that these just might be the most photographed babies in-utero, ever. I’ve had probably eight or nine ultrasounds so far, which is the fun, unexpected benefit to the complications so far.)

I had my weekly “check-in” today- everything looked good and NO HOSPITAL this week, YES!- and goofy little Baby A would not roll over and show his face. So the tech took a 4D photo of his leg. You can see his whole little foot and calf muscle and everything!

Then, she looked at the photo for a second…

…rotated it…

…and there it was: Baby B’s face. Smushed right under Baby A’s foot. This is definitely in my top three pictures I have of them.

Home Again, Home Again (Jiggedy Jig)

How do you know you’re really home from the hospital? You get to cut off your bands!

This is what my husband says when we leave somewhere to head home. (I’m pretty positive it’s one of many sayings he gets from his dad, including several in German.)

But it is true- I am home again, and were I not still on strict bed rest, I would be dancing several kinds of jigs! I had another ultrasound on Monday, and things looked good enough that my OB and perinatologist decided I could go home. We also got to see The Boys again; they each weight about a pound and a half, and are both in the exact same position- breech, with their heads next to each other. They’re pretty much the most beautiful babies of all time.

Monday evening, leaving the hospital, was the first time I’d been outside in more than a week. The air felt so incredible- it was dusk, and a little cool, and we drove the whole way with the car windows down. I’ve never appreciated AIR so much! It is truly a blessing to be home (we’re staying with my sweet parents now to make things a little easier), even though we know I could still go back to the hospital. We’re thinking of this more like a wonderful vacation, whether it lasts a few days or many weeks.

According to my doctors, the goal at this point is to make it to 28 weeks (that’s in eighteen days, holy cow), and then every day (or week!) after that is a gift. Everything about this pregnancy has been such a surprise, though, that I’m almost equally anticipating 28 weeks as I am 35!