Oh where oh where has Rebecca gone?

Hello!

Um, it's been a while.  Like nearly two years since my last "mini" update.  Where I'm pretty sure I said I had a longer post brewing.  And, of course, that got too overwhelming and so I did nothing.

So...since I know that I love seeing former bloggy friends pop up in my reader, I thought I'd give you all an update!

And, since when my former friends do pop up I often have to read through to try to remember who they are, let's start with a review so you can remember who I am!

Rebecca
-- 3 years of IF with a miscarriage at 12 weeks in there somewhere;

-- lots of cyst-filled treatment cycles with no real specific diagnosis

-- one incredibly lucky IVF cycle with a BFP on the 3 year anniversary of our TTC

-- twin boys D and S born at 31 weeks after a stressful pregnancy that included lots of bleeding, lots of contractions, a not-great cervix and some bed rest

-- 50-ish days in the NICU

OK, now that that's out of the way, let's see where we are, now:

-- D and S turned 4 on Wednesday.  FOUR.  That is insane, yes?  They're just such "kids" now.  It's amazing.  I love, love, love how much they have grown and matured.  They can make me CRAZY sometimes, but it really is so amazing to see them become "real" kids.


-- I'm doing pretty good.  Life is stressful and exhausting but good overall.  We bought a house, renovated a house, sold a house, rented a house, bought another house, became landlords, had an emergency move and keep living out of boxes (not all in this order) in a 2 year period.  We are currently stable where we are living and it is much better but we're still living out of boxes.  Once the semester ends (finals are next week!) we will hopefully be able to really "move in."

-- My husband and I both have been dealing with autoimmune issues and other generally annoying health problems.  We're getting older, I guess.  I'm 41, now.  Started this whole crazy thing when I was 33.  Man.

(they're going to be in a wedding this summer)

-- The boys are doing really well.  Developmentally, everything has been great.  We're dealing with lots of food allergies, environmental allergies and both are in glasses, but none of that seems to be prematurity related (the glasses to some degree).  Guess they just hit the genetic lottery!


Loving being a mom of two pre-schoolers!



OK, gonna hit "post" before I decide I need to tell you more of my life story!!  Love to you all!!!

#MicroblogMondays: Still alive edition

Contrary to what you may have thought, I'm still alive.

S and D are 2 1/2 (I know, right?!) and awesome.

I'm "working on" a longer post.  I'll post it one of these days...really.

Life is chaotic, busy and exhausting... but good. :)

(S is the one with longer hair.  Sorry for the blur...)

A NICU story I never told

As the year has gone by, the NICU experience has started to feel farther and farther away.  At the same time, though, the entire 7 weeks is etched in my memory.  I feel like I have almost total recall of every moment of every day we were there.  It's like super-reality.

There is one day in particular, though, that remains incredibly fresh.  

About two weeks after the boys were born, I wrote:

There have been some crazy moments. One that was absolutely insane and that I'm not ready to talk about, yet.

I fully intended to write about it, eventually.  But, then, the whole "we had to give our son CPR" event happened and it just kind of fell out of my mind.

But, over time, it doesn't feel as overwhelming and I'm ready to share.

Ladies (and gentlemen?), I present to you 

You think I did WHAT when I was pregnant?

When the boys had been in the NICU for about 1 1/2 weeks, my husband went home for a few nights to make a vain attempt to work on the nursery.  (We live 90 miles from the city the boys were in and had been staying in the Ronald McDonald House.)  I'd been home Sunday night for the first time since the boys were born to go to a follow-up OB appointment Monday morning.  I was back at the hospital by Monday afternoon.  My husband was planning on heading back down to be with us Tuesday afternoon.

On Tuesday morning, I was in the NICU alone.  I was sitting in between the boys' isolettes grading (grades were due that Friday and I had a giant stack of exams and lab reports) when the social worker came by and asked to speak to me privately.  The only connection we'd had with her was that she was the one who referred us to the Ronald McDonald House and helped us get the order for the rental breast pump set up.  I thought she was going to fuss at me because we'd left the RMH for one night -- you're not allowed to be gone for more than 24 hours without checking out and back in again.  We'd confirmed with one worker that it was OK to be gone overnight so I could go to my doctor's appointment.  He said it was fine as long as we were back less than 24 hours later and that is why they changed the rule from "can't leave overnight" to "can't leave for more than 24 hours."  But, the other worker there seemed to be very short with me when I got back (about 20 hours later).  So, I was ready for the social worker to say something about the RMH.  

She pulled me into the lactation room and said "I have to tell you that we performed drug tests on your sons and D tested positive for marijuana. S tested negative but only barely so."

WHAT?!  EXCUSE ME?  I was so floored and beyond flabbergasted that I could barely speak.  This may have been the very last thing of which I could possibly imagine someone accusing me.  I kept saying "how on earth is that possible?  I've NEVER used marijuana in my entire life.  Not even when I was in college.  I can't even remember the last time I walked by college kids smoking pot.  I haven't even smelled pot in 10 years."  (I am, it must be noted, a goody-goody rule follower.  When I told my mother about this incident she laughed and said "SERIOUSLY?  My goody-two-shoes daughter?  Are you kidding me?")

I kept trying to figure out how to look her in the eye so she wouldn't think I was lying.  I was afraid I was making it worse by babbling.  I kept saying it must be a false positive.  There must be some combination of drugs that my MFM put me on that triggered the test.  I started naming every drug I had taken.  I was beyond shocked.  I kept saying "test me, do anything you want.  Do you want hair?  Urine?  Blood?"  She kept looking at me without saying a word while I blathered on.

She said "well, we have to contact the state Department of Family Services and they will be contacting you to conduct a home visit.  We can order a re-test if you want us to."

I still just kept going on about how this wasn't possible.  I don't know what she was thinking.  

I fled the room in tears, grabbed my stuff while hiding my face and barely saying goodbye to the boys and called my husband from the parking lot.  He didn't answer the phone and I think I left a message that said something like "They think I smoked pot while I was pregnant.  They're putting us on a list of unfit parents.  What if they take the boys?"

(Now, mind you, it's only pot and they really wouldn't have "taken" the boys.  I, truly, am not against marijuana and believe in controlled legalization.  I just, personally, have never used it.  And, even if I did, I can't BEGIN to imagine doing so while pregnant.  But, I was more than a little worried that we would utterly FAIL a home visit from the state regardless of the obvious lack of drugs -- we were in no way prepared for babies in our house at that time.  I'd been on limited activity and then bed rest for most of my pregnancy and our house was a disaster area.  The babies' room wasn't even vaguely ready for children.  I was feeling very vulnerable and paranoid.)

Luckily he got the message quickly and, after I explained it to him, he was furious.  I told him I couldn't go back upstairs so I drove back to the RMH, which required me to go about a mile on the highway mind you, in the midst of a major "ugly cry."  Here I was, about 10 days postpartum, living in a musty dorm room far away from home, completely on my own some days, barely holding on emotionally, finally feeling slightly less unstable and weepy while dealing with having my babies in the NICU when someone accuses me of this and tells me we're going to be put on a state list of drug abusing parents.  I fell apart.

I snuck into the RMH and hid in our room crying and Googling every possible thing I could think of that might have triggered the test and looking up analytical methods for the determination of THC in chemistry journals.  I was so paranoid and anxious that I was using the "Incognito window" on my iPad afraid that someone might collect it for evidence and think I was trying to figure out how to hide what I'd "really" been doing.

Meanwhile, as he drove down the highway, my husband called our MFM (the high risk pregnancy specialist who'd spent the past 7 months trying everything he had to keep me pregnant for as long as possible) who was about as furious as we were.  Unfortunately, because we hadn't been able to get in touch with him the day the boys were born, they'd ended up in a hospital where he doesn't have privileges, so he couldn't do anything about it.  He told my husband to demand to speak to the head of pathology.

I continued to hide upstairs at the RMH.  I was utterly humiliated.  I kept thinking "these wonderful nurses and doctors I've been working with have known about this since last week.  They think I smoked pot when I was pregnant.  What must they think of me?!"  I couldn't even go back to the hospital.  I didn't want to show my face. 

My husband got to the hospital, finally, and confronted the social worker.  He told her "I want you to know that I may yell but I'm not angry at you I'm just furious about the situation."  She told him "we're not trying to take your kids away" and "it's not a big deal" but she didn't seem to understand that this was an enormous deal to us.  We were not going to be put on a state list and sent to the DFS for something we didn't do.  He said to her "let me explain how we got here.  We've been trying to get pregnant for 3 years.  We spent the equivalent of my salary last year to get pregnant.  My wife has been driving back and forth to doctors' offices 90 miles each way two or three times a week for two years.  She's had multiple invasive procedures.  We spent the last 7 months working with a specialist.  She was on bed rest for four weeks.  She hasn't even had caffeine for 2 years.  This accusation is BEYOND absurd.  We will not be falsely accused of this."

She said "well, we'll test again, but know that we already tested twice.  We were waiting to inform you before we contacted the state, but we need to do so soon."  

He called me and I told him I just couldn't come to the hospital I was so upset and embarrassed.  So, he went back to her and told her that I wouldn't even come into the hospital to see my children and that was not OK.  She needed to expedite the test.  And, if it came back positive again, we'd be demanding to talk to the head of pathology and discussing the test results with him.  We'd be contacting a lawyer.

(It would be helpful to mention here that my husband has a Ph.D. in statistics and is a certified quality control engineer.  I have a Ph.D. in analytical chemistry and specialize in the analysis of trace organic contaminants.  We were already armed with questions about the methods they'd used in their analysis and how recently they'd calibrated their instrumentation.)

The social worker left and my husband went to find the nurse.  I'd been sitting chatting with her all day long about the boys and life and random things.  When he told her how upset I was and how ridiculous this was she said "yeah, I saw that in the file and thought it was bizarre" and they were both getting teary-eyed by the end of the conversation because she was so upset that I was so upset.  He talked to the doctor on call who said "Oh, it's no big deal.  You wouldn't believe the things people test positive for in here for real."   He once again explained to her how ridiculous this was.  

Meanwhile, the social worker came back upstairs and said that the third test was "barely negative" just like S's was.  She said that the pathologist was willing to call it negative and not contact the state -- despite the fact that he was pretty sure that it was positive. I think the social worker went to bat for us with him and I think they realized that we were going to sue the hospital and that they were going to lose.  

So, my husband called me and I came back over.  My anxiety levels were through the roof but I did it.  I still felt horrible knowing that half the nurses probably saw, at one point, D's positive test.  (The nurses work on 12 hour shifts 3 days a week so we'd seen about a dozen of them at that point.)  I was afraid that they then didn't see the note that it was negative. And, even so, which would they believe?

It was a four hour ordeal.  It went from "what the hell are we going to do?" to "eh, whatever" in four hours. 

So, yeah, in the end, they didn't report us to the state.  I don't know what triggered the test.  Google searches showed about three things the MFM had me on to stop labor and deal with reflux that some people claim give positive tests for THC. (I still want to know what kind of test they were doing -- some screening tests could lead to false positives which lead to more specific tests that should really only detect actual THC.  We never got a chance to ask which they were doing -- I wouldn't think they'd make the accusation without the specific test, but I'm not sure.) Part of my search found a research publication about a hospital that had suddenly had a huge increase in positive screening tests for marijuana that turned out to be triggered by a soap they were using on newborns (a month or two later, this article led to a Yahoo! news announcement that everyone who knew about the test sent to us -- maybe 10 or 12 times?!)  Was this what happened in our case?  Wouldn't they have had lots of reports if that was the case?  Did the hospital where the boys were born use the soap and then this other hospital did the test and it was just bad luck?  I have no idea.

Our MFM (who also had been searching everything he could and found the soap article and called me about it a few minutes after everything was "cleared up") was very angry about the whole thing.  He had a very good point -- it's great that this worked out OK for us.  But, people listen to us.  We have "status."  Why were they even testing for this?  Marijuana doesn't cause premature birth.  (They claimed they test every baby born before 34 weeks for a multitude of drugs -- I think I may have signed something saying they could test while I was in labor.  Because, you know, I had nothing to hide and they kept sticking things in front of me to sign and I was on magnesium sulfate and could barely hold a pen.)  What about the 18 year old who barely makes ends meet who gets a false positive?  Everyone just assumes she's lying and she wouldn't be able to fight it.  And, suddenly her ability to parent her child is being questioned and she's on a state list. 

As minor as this whole thing was in the end and as quickly as it was resolved, it changed me.  It changed how I looked at the other parents in the NICU.  I feel horrible to admit that I sometimes felt superior to those parents.  The average parental age in the NICU seemed to be about 20.  We were closer in age to some of the grandparents than the parents.  About 80 % of the parents were smokers (they were always outside smoking and the elevator to the NICU always reeked -- one time I stepped outside to warm up and get some air and one of the dads asked me for a cigarette and looked shocked when I said I didn't smoke).  I admit that I judged them.  I stopped.  They were going through just as much as we were and just wanted to take their children home.

My husband and friends find the whole thing funny at this point.  They regularly make jokes about it.  "Oh, you would think that, we know what you did when you were pregnant!" or "Oh, I know you really were trying to hide that joint, weren't you?"  "Heh heh" I say as I cringe inside.  It makes me anxious.  The accusation makes me feel like I really do have something to hide.  I can't bring myself to really laugh at it.

So, there you go.  A story I meant to tell. 

One year later...

Yesterday we realized it was a momentous occasion:

A tale of two June 13ths -- 2012 and 2013

The boys have now been home for one year! 
 
It's crazy and amazing, but D and S turned one year old on April 27th!  And, we're just two weeks away from being "one year" adjusted age -- not really sure the adjusted part matters a whole lot at this point, but the date feels pretty momentous to hit, nonetheless. 

(We didn't do anything too big for their birthdays.  We're just not big party people.  Just cake with my parents on the day of their birthday and a party with my husband's family a few weekends ago.)

I'll save you the "where does the time go" shtick because I know I sound like a broken record...

I still have moments where I look at the boys and then look at my husband and say "Wow.  Do you know that we're the parents of twins?"  It's just kind of unfathomable.  It's a "forest for the trees" kind of thing.  I have to step back sometimes and realize what our lives look like to really "get" it.  I had the same sorts of feelings when we were in the throes of IF and IVF.  Living it day-to-day it seemed to be just what life was.  But, stepping back and thinking about it, I still can't believe that we actually did IVF.  I think back to my childhood when I first heard of it and I never would have believed that it was something that I would use in the future.

I don't know what I'm blathering on about.  It just all seems kind of amazing and so big sometimes.

Anyway, here we are.  The boys are a year old.  We're the parents of toddlers.  They're starting to seem like such "kids," now.


In an attempt to be SLIGHTLY more concise, I'm going to do this sorta bullet-style:

Let's start with S


(This whole "identify your children by a letter" thing is starting to annoy me. I'm considering new names for the boys... stay tuned.)

S...

• is about 19 pounds and 29 inches.  He's around the 11th percentile for weight and height for his adjusted age.  He actually looks pretty proportional.  
• is a great nighttime sleeper.  He's been sleeping from 7:30 pm to 6 or so am for several months, now.  His brother wakes him up sometimes but he falls right back to sleep.
• is becoming a pretty decent napper.  Usually two naps a day.  Sometimes they're 45 minutes each.  Sometimes at least one is 2 hours.  So lovely when that happens.
• is a good eater, but...
• has a cow's milk allergy.  Removing dairy made a huge difference to all the rashes he was getting.  But, they're coming back, again, and we can't figure out what's causing it.  He didn't show a reaction to soy at the allergist before, but I'm afraid he might be developing one.  Because it often goes along with the fact that he...
• is allergic to peanuts.  I really don't know how he managed to get sensitized to peanuts already as we haven't given him any.  But, there it is.  He'll likely grow out of the dairy allergy but probably not the peanut one.  We're de-peanuting the house and have an epi-pen with us at all times.  We have no idea how strong his reaction might be.
• still has zero teeth but is still trying his darndest to chew.  
• is still working on a sippy cup -- he doesn't quite get the concept of gravity...
• is wearing 12 month onesies (for length) but some 6 month pants.  Long, skinny torso and short legs.  
• is so incredibly sweet.  Loves to play with his brother.  And by "play with" I mean "steal toys from."  Gets angry sometimes but usually is incredibly snuggly and happy.
• crawls and cruises and stands independently and LOVES to walk holding our hands or his stroller.  He's taken a few independent steps here and there but he's not a fan.  
• loves his blankie.
• says "mama" and "dada" and "MUM" when he wants to eat (from the rice cracker mum-mums he adores).  
• signs "milk" for milk (and water and sometimes just for food in general -- we're working on it) and waves bye-bye.
• passes things to us and loves to put his toys in the box and "dip" his food in our hands
• loves to turn the pages of his books..
• shakes his head "no."
• loves watching the cat through the window (oh, yeah, he's allergic to her, too...)
• figured out how to climb on the sofa by himself.
• loves being held upside down.
• turns on and off the music player and dances.
• is amazing.

I could go on and on.  I'll stop now.



Now, it's D's turn


D...

• is about 18 pounds and 29 inches.  He's around the 5th percentile or so for weight and 11th for height for his adjusted age.  (I had these more precisely before but I'm too lazy to look them back up...)  The extra pound his brother has on him is pretty obvious.  D looks pretty skinny without a shirt on.  We're trying to bulk him up.
• has slept through the night maybe three times.  Sigh.  But, he's at least finally starting to get a little more predictable as to when he wakes up.  Usually either at 11:30 or 1 am.  My husband is in charge of him at that point (I get up with them at 6 while he sleeps in until 8:30 or 9) and can only get him to go back down with milk.  I'd say we need to break him of that habit (he'll often go back down for me without milk) but he will drink a lot at that time of the night and we really do need to work on his weight, so... eh, it works.
• is hit or miss when it comes to naps.  Two or three naps a day usually 45 minutes long with very, very rare 1 1/2 hour to 2 hour naps thrown in.  
• is a good eater.  Loves avocado (good calorie and fat source).  Pretty much eats anything we throw at him.
• has three teeth and is working on number four.  We call him "toothy joe."  I have no idea why.
• is working on using a sippy cup.  He's slowly starting to figure out how gravity works. 
• is wearing 12 month onesies (again, for length, some of them are hilariously wide on him) and 6 month pants for the waist size.
• is an amazingly happy baby.  When he does get sad, though, he gets SO upset.  But, calms pretty easily. 
• HATES when his brother takes his toys.
• LOVES his blankie (I mean LOVES).  When I ask him "where's your blankie?" he'll look around the room and find it and then go snuggle with it on the floor.  SO cute.  (The boys' blankies are a bunch of cloth diapers that we used to use for spit rags.  Luckily they don't seem to care which one they use as we have about 60 and can keep them in constant laundry rotation...)
• says "mama" and "dada" and "MUM" and something approximating "kitkat" (for the cat) and will sometimes answer the question "what does a pig say?" by grunting.
• waves "bye bye."
• crawls and cruises and stands and walks independently! -- he's even figured out how to step up onto the workout mat from the floor and keep his balance on his own.  Crazy.
• loves all things with wheels.
• loves books -- will sit and stare at them and turn the pages and turn them over and over looking at the pictures and, of course, chew them. 
• got his first cat scratch.  
• probably didn't learn his lesson about not grabbing the kitty's tail...
• is amazing.

There's just so much more that I could say.  But I won't.  That's enough, really.

Anyway, I'm going to stop there as I've been trying to post this for about a month and a half, now, and this is getting ridiculous!!

Time goes by -- so quickly

(So, I started this post three weeks ago -- when the boys had just turned eleven months.  Aaaaaaandddd, this is the first time I've had a chance to come back to it -- three weeks later.  But, I'm going to leave the references like they are [with some sidebars...] and you should know that we're now just ONE  WEEK from the boys' first birthday.  Craziness.)

I feel like I'm stuck in a permanent case of "where does the time go?" lately.  D and S turned 11 months yesterday [or, three weeks ago if you will...].  That means that we are ONE MONTH [yeah, one week] away from their first birthday!  Seriously?  That really blows me away.  I don't know how this has happened.  It makes me happy and sad all at once.  Much more happy than sad.  While I sometimes miss the little quiet, sleepy snuggly bugs that they were, I absolutely LOVE the toddlers that they're starting to become.  I feel like now I can start to picture them as they grow up and become kids rather than feeling like we are stuck in the land of babies.  Not that the land of babies is a bad place to be -- it's just fun to see them in "the future."

So, at 11 months [and three quarters] or 9 months [and three quarters] adjusted, let's see where we are.

Let's start with me.  Why not?  I'm doing OK.  I've been back at work part time (most afternoons) as I work on projects for my sabbatical.  It's going...OK.  I'm looking forward to the summer where we'll have more consistent childcare and I'll be able to get some more things done.  I LOVE being with the boys but I also really do enjoy my work and miss it.  When I think of not being with the boys during the day, though, it also makes me very sad to think of what I'll miss with them.  Working parenthood is a tough thing.

I'm starting to wean off the pump. I plan on winding down until the boys' first birthday.  Why have I kept going?  I guess I'm just stubborn and have a tendency to obsess once I get going with something.  It has been something that worked for our family.  I think the boys' prematurity has been one of the main reasons it was possible.  Getting into the habit while they were still in the hospital and I didn't have any other "baby" responsibilities made it possible for us.  Having a supportive husband made it possible.  Being off work (and then part time) made it possible.  Figuring out how to play on the floor with the babies while attached to the pump made it possible.  I wish I could say things like "breastfeeding was such a wonderful bonding experience with my children" but I can't.  I think back to the times I did nurse and it makes me smile wistfully.  (I actually tried to get S to nurse the other day when he was fussy and he thought I was nuts.)  But, I can say that every bottle I produced and every time I watched the boys eat, I thought "I did that for them" and it made me happy.  Was it crazy?  Possibly.  But, it was what I needed to do.  And, for our family, it worked.

Someone said to me recently that she didn't think she could be so "selfless" as to do all this pumping.  It's funny, because it made me realize that, in many ways, this has been one of the most selfISH things I've ever done.  Yes, I'm doing it for my children, but doing it has taken time away from my house, my life -- I won't say my children, though, because that was paramount to me.  If it ever felt like it was taking time from them, then I would have stopped.  I just had to find ways to integrate it with our lives. But, yeah, my house suffered.  Time to cook or clean definitely suffered.  So much of it has been to make ME feel better about not being able to nurse and make ME feel less guilty about the boys' prematurity.  I know they would have been fine with formula.  But, pumping has made me feel better.  So, yeah, an incredibly selfish selfless act on my part.

[The weaning is going pretty well, so far, although my nipples are taking a beating -- pumping less frequently has definitely made them more sensitive.  I had some incredibly high moments of anxiety as I started to decrease the number of times I pump a day and the length of pumping sessions -- I can't decide if it was a hormonal thing or just watching volumes I'd worked so hard to increase go down.  I'm down to one pump a day, now, and about 1/4 the volume I had before. I'm planning on phasing it out completely this coming week.  It's kind of been a crazy thing.]

And, you know what?  I was originally going to do a detailed "review" (that's not the right word but I'm at a loss for a better one...) of D and S but I'll never finish it right now.  So, I think I'll wait until their first birthday.  Or, more likely, I'll try to find some time here and there over the next few weeks to get something written that will, eventually, hopefully, be posted before they are actually 12 months adjusted age (in late June...)

So, to tide you over, here are a couple of pictures! (And, yes, we are Iowa State fans around here...)

D, in a rare non-smiley moment

S, chewing anything he can get his hands on

Working together?  Sure...

Identity, identity...

My husband and I have a new set of "couple friends" who we've never met. Well, sort of. They are the friends of another set of couple friends.  (That's just confusing.)  Anyway, we knew some months ago that they were expecting twins.  Somehow, though, it wasn't until about two weeks ago that my DH reached out to the wife of the pair.  Turns out she was already 38 weeks pregnant and had been hanging around, waiting for the babies after having taken the semester off since everyone said "they'll come early."  My DH offered us up for advice, recommendations, etc., and she wrote back with questions.  We invited them over and joked that they'd likely end up not making it on the day we'd planned because she'd go into labor...which, is, of course, exactly what happened two days before our "date"! 

So, we still haven't met them but my DH and K (the mom) have been e-mailing back and forth.  I think she's using him as a sounding board and my DH loves to be able to share his expertise.  (Where I'd feel like I was imposing, he's always into sharing.)  I feel like I've gotten to know her, too, even though we've never even e-mailed much less spoken.  So, yeah, it's kind of a weird situation at the moment.  But, we're giving them a few hand-me-down things that we're going to drop off at some point along with a few "Twin Tested Toys" and I'm hoping that we'll have a great new set of twin parent friends that our kids can also get to know as they're all bigger (and the 10 month difference becomes less meaningful). 

After the parents come back up from the underwater feeling of the first few months of newborn twins, that is.

What does this have to do with "identity"? I've been trying to decide what has had the most impact on how I feel as a mother -- mom after infertility, mom of twins, mom of preemies, working mom, older mom, etc. 

I mean, obviously, all of those things are true and have influenced me.  But, I feel like one stands out from the rest -- mom of preemies.  How these kids came about is huge -- IF, IVF, years of anxiety.  And, the fact that there are two of them is huge -- holy crap on a cracker is it insane (happy, but insane).  But, the preemie thing and the NICU experience are things that, even at 10 months old, I think about every day. 

When we talk to other parents of preemies, there's an instant understanding.  We had dinner with a woman whose daughter was born somewhere in the 26 week range -- nearly 40 years ago.  (She was told by a nurse not to expect her to talk or develop normally.  Yeah, the daughter has an Ivy League Ph.D.  Take that obnoxious nurse.)  We bonded completely with the parents and talked about changes in the NICU experience, etc.  And, it's happened SO many times in the last 10 months.  From colleagues who came to see us at the NICU to share their experiences with their kids who are now 15, 18, 24, 30, even 50 to friends and family who have come out of the woodwork talking about their fears of RSV and developmental worries, etc., that we never knew. 

(And, we're so lucky that our boys were only in the NICU for 50 days and had so few medical issues other than just needing to grow out of the breathing problems -- 50 days seems like a long time but we've known so many who were there for 100 days or longer.  It's hard to imagine.)

It's all come home recently, though, while we (and by "we" I mean "my husband") talk to K about her twins.  Yeah, she and her husband are overwhelmed and exhausted.  Yeah, she's trying to figure out if tandem nursing will work and how to work in "shifts" to get through the night.  And, the "twin thing" will always be a big connection there.  But, I hadn't realized how much of our "twin thing" is really our "twin preemie thing." 

She actually got to room in with her babies.  They were allowed to co-bed them (our particular NICU was against that sort of thing and we rarely were able to get the boys together until we took them home).  Family and friends got to visit her in the hospital with her babies.  They brought the babies home when she checked out.  Her babies weren't taken away from her not to be seen again for 36 hours.  She didn't have to wait three days before holding her children for the first time.  She didn't have to wait for a month before trying to nurse her babies.  She didn't spend weeks pumping alone in the dark in a musty smelling dorm room playing a video on her phone of her son crying over and over again and burying her nose in blankets the nurse had wrapped the babies in for a few hours in a desperate attempt to trigger some sort of pheromone response that would increase her milk supply and make her feel like a mother.

I'm not claiming "whoa is me" here or "look what I've been through."  It's just that I've realized that our experience was just SO different.  I know it sounds funny to say it, but I hadn't totally realized that.

While I think about my infertility and IVF and injections and doctor's appointments and all the months of trying and anxiety and depression occasionally, mostly it is as a wistful background thought that is dashed when I look at the boys.  But, I can't stop thinking about the early bleeding and stressful pregnancy and premature labor and the days in the NICU and giving S CPR and dealing with apnea monitors and feeding the boys with the lights on at 3 am so we could see if they turned blue and blowing on their faces to remind them to breathe while they were eating. 

It's not like I obsess over these things -- though I'll admit I've been known to do so.  It's just that I feel like all of those things have had such an influence on who I am as a mom -- sometimes positive, sometimes negative.  We missed out on some things.  When people describe the sweet bonding feeling of feeding their newborns, I remember the first time I was alone with S after he was released from the hospital the second time while my DH was visiting D at the NICU.  I actually had to stop and breathe for him every few minutes while I was feeding him since he kept forgetting.  I hadn't yet learned how to work with him during a meal so that he wouldn't get to the point where he'd completely stop.  Every meal took an act of courage on my part and ended in tears.  I was scared to death.


It's hard to forget that, you know?  When people wonder why we seem overprotective of the boys right now -- we don't really take them out much and we are keeping the hand sanitizer companies in business -- we think "it's RSV season and we are NOT going back to the hospital."  They kind of roll their eyes but I've already seen both of my children struggle to breathe.  I don't want to do it again.

When I'm stressed about developmental milestones and weight gain people say "all babies are different" but I can't help wonder what I could have done to keep the boys "in" longer and give them a better chance. 

When people say "wow, can't believe you're still pumping, that's kind of crazy" I know that it is something I NEED to do for myself and the boys.  Sometimes I feel like some of the disconnect I had from the boys when they were in the hospital is still there.  Feeding them something from my own body -- even if it isn't directly from my body -- makes me feel like the connection is still there.

Don't get me wrong -- the boys are doing really well.  They're mostly on track for their adjusted age.  They're doing the things they're supposed to do. They're a bit small but healthy.  Other than the helmets, they don't look any different from normal kids.  If you saw them out and about you wouldn't have any idea they came so early.  By all accounts, their prematurity will likely have minimal influence on them as they grow up. 

But, me?  It's had a huge impact on me.

The boys at 1 day and 10 months -- D on top, S on bottom

Thank you

Phew.

Thank you all so much for your incredibly well thought out replies to my question.   Seriously, you all rock.  It's funny, it made me somewhat uncomfortable.  Normally when I post I eagerly check my e-mail to see what people have had to say and await comments.  This time, I was truly nervous about reading your replies and winced a bit each time I saw a message pop up.  And, even reading through some of them made me uncomfortable.  Not because any of you said anything offensive or "wrong" or whatever.  But, because your responses have made me think more deeply about my "issues" and why I respond to things the way I do.  It makes me realize that I hold tight to some control that is a little silly and only doing myself harm in the end.

I have to say that a big part of the reason I posted my question on Sunday was that I wanted to forgive and try to move forward with H but I was afraid that I was being foolish for doing so. So, hearing so many responses to talk to her and give her another chance made me feel much better. There was a point where I was certain that all I would hear was people saying "you're crazy for letting her back in your house" and I was almost afraid to pose the question assuming others would jump down my throat.

To be clear, while the whole situation concerned us, we realize that the infraction itself was pretty minor.  What bothered us the most was her specifically ignoring our instructions ("the babies are down for the night, we're working on sleep training so, if they cry, wait a few minutes and then go in to soothe them and walk away") and then blatantly lying to us when we came back and asked her how it went ("they were fine, D had a moment where he cried out but he fell back asleep without my even going in the room"). That sets a scary precedent. How can I ever know that she's telling me the truth about what went on with the kids while I was gone?

As many mentioned, it is clear that H loves the boys and loves spending time with them. She would never do anything to put them in harm's way. And, they never were in danger or being exploited.

But, yeah, we've talked with her and she was mortified. And incredibly upset that she had broken our trust. Now, I still tend to feel a bit wary of the whole thing because, really, shouldn't she have realized that she was breaking our trust at the time? But, I will chalk it up to her just being young and inexperienced and likely in a sad place and not thinking things through completely. My husband did the "confrontation" part while I was upstairs pumping and H was obviously upset. She then voluntarily apologized to me and was in tears while she did it talking about how much she loves the boys and how sorry she is and how she would never hurt them.  It does not appear anyone else was there.  I still don't know how she got them to look at the camera -- maybe I should ask her for tips?

I do believe that she was sorry and just didn't realize how important it is that we can trust that she'll do what we ask and will tell us the truth. We're giving her another chance and she is grateful and I feel better.

I will forgive this but I will not be likely to forget it.  It will still take a while for me to be completely comfortable again. But, I do still trust that she will take good care of the boys. 

We did wait until we'd put a little distance between the event.  As my husband said, if we'd come back early and walked in on her that way, she'd likely have been kicked out immediately. 

It brings up an interesting point about privacy and Facebook and the differences in how we "old folk" feel about social media and how "young people today" do. (I'm being facetious -- I know that how people feel about sharing on social media is not entirely a generational difference.) I mean, obviously, I share pictures with you of the boys -- somewhat warily. But, they are not identified by name (their names were out there once but, for the most part, removed, and never by last name). If you really wanted to, you could figure out who I am and who they are.  But, I don't think you'd come by the information accidentally.  And, actually, my husband and I don't really post pictures of them on Facebook -- he just posted two pictures of them a few days ago for the first time since they were born along with a wedding picture as an "oh, yeah, look what I've been up to for the last four and a half years" thing. We're just not FB "sharers." 

We have been talking with the babysitters about social media and the boys.  We hadn't had THE talk with them before -- our mistake as it was something we'd been meaning to do but hadn't managed to do somehow.  It should obviously have been something we were more upfront with them about.  So, that's why we realize we can't be too angry with her about the posting part of the incident. 

As for the trust issues and the rest of it all...  I just don't know.  I know that my problems with having people over or letting people "in" are big ones for me that I need to let go of.  It's part of the reason that I've felt so very lonely lately.  My closest friends here have moved away and my "close" long-distance friends and I have grown apart.  I don't seem to have anyone "on deck" to replace them and can't figure out how to find new friends.  It's all been magnified since I've been off work -- all of my social interactions seemed to happen with people at work. 

Staying at home can be a very lonely time.  My husband often goes back to work in the evenings before I go to bed so he can make sure his classes are ready for the next day.  He doesn't understand that the reason I want him to stay home is because I've spent the entire day playing with babies and I just want to have a conversation where the other person isn't saying "a-da" or "mmm-mmmum" in response to everything I say.  Sometimes I stay up later than I should after he's back for the night just so I can interact with him. 

That sounds kind of pitiful.  It makes it sound like I'm dependent on him and like he is trying to get away from me or something.  I don't think that's true it's just been a big change since the boys have come.  Way-back-when we both used to get home pretty late from work, hang out in the evenings while I graded or prepped until I went to bed around 10 or 11 and then he'd bike back to work until midnight or 1 (he's a night owl but hates to work at home and we live 4 blocks away) to make sure he was ready for class the next day.  So, he's really just trying to adjust his schedule so he can be home with me and the boys as much as possible (home around 5) then go back to work after 7 or 8 and then be back in time so that I can go to bed at a normal time for me and he can be "on call" with the boys until going to bed at a normal time for him.  I do miss our alone times, though.

Anyway, I hope that as the boys get older we start to interact with more people in town.  We're not religious (and, specifically, I'm not Christian and that's really the only religious community option around here) so we haven't met people through church.  I've never been big on "mommy groups" although I feel like, at some point, I'm going to have to bite the bullet and join one. 

OK, so I got totally off topic there.  Well, not really as it is all related.  Sort of.  In a way. 

Apparently it's just something I needed to talk about.

Anyway, thank you all again.  You made me feel better about my decision and you made me think about uncomfortable things that need some of my attention.  That's a good thing.