All I Need to Be

Most days, I just don't want to be a mother.

It's not all the time, not all day long. But truthfully, hardly a day goes by that I don't at least once, at least briefly, wish I were anywhere but here.

It's hard to put my finger on why, exactly, though a strong case could be made for the screaming, stomping, toy-throwing tantrums my 3-year-old frequently engages in. It's not the lonely, boring, isolated life as a stay-at-home mom, for I've always done quite well on my own — maybe even better than when I'm surrounded by others. It's not even the monotony of the same old jammie changing, dishwasher loading, bum wiping, sandwich making, toy cleaning, errand running, dinner cooking, never-ending daily routine that is motherhood.

It might be that the payoffs seem few and far between. It might be the jealousy I feel when my son is pure sunshine, an absolute joy and delight, for everyone but me. It might be the frustration that no matter how hard I try or what I do, ultimately my children will grow up to be who they will be, for better or worse, making my constant efforts feel like a waste of time.

But I think that most likely, it's the inexpressible weight of being needed, truly needed, every minute of every day. While my twins have been infinitely easier than I imagined, having two babies is still so very much work. Now, there are three human beings who depend on me for survival. Unless fate smiles upon us and I manage to get them all napping at the exact same time, there is not a moment in the day that I am not called upon to do something for someone, with some tasks more crucial and urgent than others. Some moms may handle this better than I, but I'm not there yet. To say it's exhausting is an understatement. It is utterly draining. Everything I am and have are given away, every single day, without fail.

And yet...

Something happens when I look into my children's eyes. Something magical.

It's so potent but so hard to describe. There's an energy, a powerful, life-affirming force that flows from my children in their peaceful, quiet moments. And when I look in their eyes, they are sending it directly into me.

When I hold my little ones and cuddle them close, they look at me and say without words, "You are everything." In them I can see such infinite love it is almost too much to take in. This love tells me that just being there, in that moment and in their lives, I am all I need to be. At the same time, it also tells me of the limitless potential I have and can yet grow to attain as their mother. It is as though God is in their eyes speaking to me, saying, "You are where I want you to be. Stay here, be present, and you will become all you ever wanted to be and more."

I wish I knew how to make that feeling last. Perhaps the answer is to cuddle them more and do dishes less. Or maybe I just need to truly believe what I see and hear when we are in that moment, to trust that this love is always there even when toys are flying and screams are plentiful — that my love is there, and that it is enough.

"To love another person is to see the face of God."

The Story of Us

Seven years ago today, this happened:

But our story goes beyond this day, March 13, 2007, when we were sealed for time and eternity. It all started when this boy met this girl...

It was Labor Day weekend, 2005. I had just joined a little website called MySpace. Don't laugh — this was the very beginning of social media, when MySpace was the cool new thing, Facebook was only for college students, and Twitter hadn't even been invented yet.

Anyway. The weekend was winding down and I was bored, so I started playing around with my profile and the website when I discovered you could search for people in your area. Up popped a picture of this skateboarding boy from South Jordan.

According to his profile, he liked just about every band I loved, and he was online right that minute. So I messaged him.

"What are you listening to?"

Five little words, that's all it took. We were off and running.

We messaged back and forth for hours, moving beyond surface stuff to the things we were working to put in our pasts: him, a cheating ex-wife, and me, a nervous breakdown that led to a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. For me, the old cliche held true: It was as if I'd known him all my life. I wanted to meet.

We exchanged phone numbers and ended our chat. It was around 1 or 2 in the morning, and although I knew we both felt a connection I suddenly wondered if he had given me his real number or blown me off. So I called him, right then and there. He answered, and we talked for another hour.

Two days later we met for our first date, dinner at the Olive Garden (a public place with tons of people where I couldn't be attacked by some random internet stranger, right?). I got there first and began the 20-minute wait alone. Just a minute or two later he walked through the door, and I instantly knew it was him. If our life was an '80s movie, it would look something like this:

I sit alone in a crowded restaurant lobby. People rush in and out the door, but when he enters I know it's him. The double doors simultaneously swing wide. Through the sun I see a silhouette, strong, confident. He walks through, as if in slow motion. Over the cacophony of patrons chatting, a hostess barking out "Johnson, party of 4," and the standard Olive Garden Rat Pack soundtrack I distinctly hear the synthesized symphonic sounds of Cutting Crew's "I Just Died In Your Arms." We make eye contract through the crowd and time stands still. In that moment we know we're going to spend the rest of our lives together.

OK, so it didn't really happen like that. What did happen was this: I only waited alone for a few minutes, but that's all it took for me to suddenly get uncharacteristically nervous. Then he walked in the doors with the sun framing his silhouette (that part did happen). He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans and threw me a casual (maybe nervous?) smile. We said hello and I told him we had about 20 minutes to wait. Then I thought to myself, "If we can't get a decent conversation going within 5 minutes, I'm gone."

And then he complimented me on my shoes. I was smitten.

We talked the night away — which, as anyone who has ever met us knows, is not surprising for us. But to me, it was. I thought, "There is no way I just met my soulmate. Not now." I was still recovering from that nervous breakdown and trying to figure out what having bipolar disorder meant for me and my future. I had just gotten out of an on-again, off-again relationship of two years — just gotten out, like two weeks before (though it was long in the making and long overdue).

Yet it was undeniable. If such a thing as love at first sight exists, it struck me when he walked through those double doors, '80s movie soundtrack and all.

We hugged at the end of the date and he said he'd call the next day. True to his word, he did. That's one thing I loved about Aaron right away: No games, no guessing. From that day on, we were pretty much inseparable.

But it wasn't all hearts and flowers and ooey-gooey love stuff. A few months later Aaron and I got in some stupid fight, and I decided I was seeing his true colors and could never be with someone like that. So I broke it off. 

But he wouldn't let me go.

He was devastated, overcome with remorse and vowing to change. After the rocky relationships in my past, I wasn't optimistic. But Aaron surpassed all of my expectations. We got back together, and it didn't take long to realize that he was it for me, that this was it — and he knew the same.

Still, we took it slow. I wanted to be sure I could be stable over the long term, not a basketcase he'd be chained to for the rest of his life (or as long as he could stand being married to me). Considering his past experience, he wasn't eager to rush to the altar, either. 

More fun ensued until a year later (or, 15 months after we first met), we got engaged. That story is just as much fun as how we first met, and it happened at the same place.

Mid-December 2006, Aaron wanted to go on a date, a special one. The day came and I ended up sick with a cold, so I tried to put it off. But my family intervened. 

"Just go," they said. "It will be fun, don't miss it. You really should go."

That's how I knew something was up. Then when he showed up at the door with flowers and wearing a tie, I was sure: Aaron was going to propose.

He took me to the same Olive Garden where we had our first date. Then he wanted to go for a walk, which I love but I knew he didn't. He took me to Murray Park, my favorite, where I grew up and spent so many happy days. It was warm for December and a light, misty rain fell. In the '80s movie of our life, "Time After Time" played softly in the background.

As we walked along he started telling me about how wonderful I am and how I've changed his life, and then he said this:

"But my life is going in a different direction now, and I can't keep stringing you along." Like the next word out of his mouth would be "goodbye."

That's when I punched him.

He started laughing, then got down on one knee and proposed. And of course I said yes.

So we got engaged...

And three months later to the day, we got married.

And our adventure continued. We bought this house:

And turned it into this house:

We traveled...

Got dressed up...

And did the things we love, together...

Then on October 16, 2010, this happened...

And a few years later, this happened...

And here we are today...

Living happily ever after.

Twin life: Connected already

I have been so eager to see the bond between my twins as they grow, but I haven't had to wait long. Beth and Sadie are just 7 weeks old, and already the twin connection is strong. 

My girls love to snuggle together, cheek to cheek, and I was reminded last week of how powerful that action is. 

The other morning after putting them back to bed, no matter what I did they fussed and fussed. Out of options, I laid them together so their faces touched -- and instantly, they calmed. Sadie even popped her binkie out and relaxed with a sigh, as of to say, "Ahh, that's what I've been asking for. Thanks, Mom. Love you, Beth."

It's not always a cure-all, unfortunately. Some days one will want to cuddle and the other not so much, but there are other pitfalls -- like yesterday, when Beth spit up ... All over Sadie's face. Luckily it didn't wake Sadie, but still. GROSS, girls. 

Even less ladylike is what my sister calls "zombie" behavior: One twin will be searching for a binkie or a bottle, but instead find her sister's head and say, "This'll do," and latch on vigorously. This does not bode well for the twin being snacked on, but since they do this in equal share, it's the law of the jungle. 

"Om nom nom!"

Another twin quirk that is slightly adorable but mostly maddening: Their cries sound exactly the same, not just in pitch and tone but cadence. When they both get going, it is a sound that defies description, but I'll try. Say you had a recording of a newborn crying, and you made a copy of that recording. Then say you put those recordings on CD and put those CDs in two separate players. If you push play on one, wait two-and-a-half seconds, then push play on the other, and then somehow magnify that sound until it resembles the cries of 10 babies, there you have it. Imagine this at 3 in the morning, muffled yet amplified through a baby monitor, you can see why we jump when one baby cries and try not to wait until both get going at a fever pitch. 

Luckily, one sister's crib crying does not wake the other. Lying side by side it seems to have no effect, but separate the two and then you have a situation -- and adorable yet slightly tragic situation. Say one baby is in the bed and the other on the changing table. If one baby starts to wail a scared or painful cry, the other will instantly become unsettled. It's like a scene from an action movie when one hero has been captured and dragged away, leaving the other hero to wail in response, "What have you done with her, you monster?!"

But so far the most unexpected manifestation of the twin connection is this:

Two babies, one pose, randomly and spontaneously yet in perfectly coordinated choreography. 

ADORABLE. And I can only assume it will get better. 

And throw big brother into the mix, and it's bound to keep melting my heart. 

A day in the life

At a doctor's appointment the other day a nurse asked how life was with twins and if I was enjoying them. I confidently and truthfully answered that, actually, the girls are a piece of cake and, yes, I am really enjoying them.

Her eyes practically popped out of her head.

"Really?" she asked, incredulously. "I have never heard anyone say that before about twins."

And she's known a lot of parents.

Nobody could have been more shocked than I that this would be our reality, just four weeks after Beth and Sadie were born. I spent months preparing for the worst, and now here we are with every best-case scenario coming to be.

But maybe that's partially why things are so good. I was completely prepared (well, as much as you can be) for life with twins. I had read books, blogs and articles covering every aspect of newborn twin parenthood I could think of. I've polled twin mom message boards and sought informed opinions and advice every step of my pregnancy. And when it came to sleep — that thing we got none of for the first nine-plus months after Evan was born — I was more than prepared. I had a game plan, as well as Plans B and C. So although I embarked hesitantly on this journey, I had done my due diligence, and I was ready.

When you're a first-time parent, you get home with the baby and think, "Now what?" Even though I expected the first few months to a year with these girls to be complete and total anarchy, at least I knew the "what." The house was ready, and not just the nursery. Our living room, kitchen, and family room are stocked with baby swings, Boppy pillows, high chairs, and baskets with diapers, wipes, burp cloths, binkies, and blankets. The swaddle blankets and white noise are at the ready, and the kitchen is stocked with bottles and all associated feeding necessities. Plans A, B, and C were waiting...

But with these calm and mellow babies, we only ever needed Plan A.

In response to my ease with having twins the nurse said, "You must have them on a really good schedule." Yep, I do. They eat every 3-4 hours, after which I try to keep them awake for another half hour to an hour, then they get put back to bed for a few hours before starting all over again. And that's it: The easiest newborn schedule you'll ever find, and also the best for babies (according to my extensive research, that is).

So, for all other twin moms or moms-to-be like me looking for an idea of what life is like with newborn twins (and a rambunctious older sibling), here's how it goes, a very detailed, step-by-step account; a day in the life:

Morning

The babies wake up between 6:30 and 7:30. If they're up early enough, Aaron helps with the first feeding before heading to work. But usually, he keeps his morning routine: Getting ready and starting the day with Evan, who gleefully informs us he gets to "wake up early with Daddy and eat a snack and watch TV." I try to finish the feeding before Evan's movie is over, then I put the girls back down to bed for a few hours. This allows me to spend the first of the day one-on-one with Evan so he's not starting out feeling neglected from the get-go. We eat breakfast and play a bit, and if he hasn't watched too much TV yet I put something else on while I go take a shower and get ready.

(The cutest couch potato)

The girls wake up again around 10 or 11, ready for a bottle. If one wakes up before the other, I try to trick the still-sleeping baby into thinking her sister is still snoozing in the crib with her, coaxing another 15 minutes of sleep so I can finish feeding the first.

(Yes, this normal-sized stuffed animal is larger than my itty bitty Beth.)

If that doesn't work, or if they're both starving at the same time, I put them in their bouncer seats and prop them with a bottle. (I find this works better than holding one and propping the other, because I'll need both hands free since they'll both at some point drop the bottle or cough or spit up or need to be burped.)

(Post-bottle chill time)

At this point I consider this their official "morning," so I open the curtains, turn on the lights, change their clothes, and talk and interact to get them awake. I find that a diaper change after a feeding is best, because it gets them really awake so they don't fall asleep again right after they eat. They'll stay awake from anywhere between a half hour to an hour-and-a-half. Unfortunately, it takes me about this long to feed and diaper both. Then they're ready to be swaddled and tucked back in bed, curtains closed and white noise on, for their first nap.

This is the time of day I struggle with Evan. He has never been good at playing by himself, and any progress we've gained went out the windows when the twins were born. So I put together a huge box full of "busy bags," little games and activities he can do while I'm busy with the babies.

(Matching letters to cards with our names on them) 

Turns out these bags only keep his attention for about 2 minutes before he's in the nursery with us, so I try to engage him while feeding and diapering two babies — which, as it seems, is not easy. Sometimes he sits by me and we read, sometimes I give him my phone to play with, sometimes I turn on music and he wanders in and out with toys. Mostly he comes barreling in demanding I put on a movie, then wails and stomps when I tell him no because he already had a movie, or he's crashing his Transformers or trucks into their crib and bouncers and I become a broken record telling him that if he can't play softly in the babies' room he has to leave. But despite his antics, he usually gives the girls soft kisses while they eat and occasionally helps me burp and wipe their faces. This sweetness is worth the weeping and wailing, I assure you. Then again, once feeding and diapering and a little chill time is over, it's time to put the girls back to sleep for another nap.

(A little face time in the crib.)

Afternoon

Next Evan and I have lunch together, then play before he goes down for a nap. Oh yes, my 3-year-old still takes naps, and yes, I am well aware of how lucky I am! He sleeps about 2 hours, and during that time the babies usually wake to eat again around 2. I love this time with just my girls and me, even though it takes Evan's entire nap to take care of them one at a time (which is why I usually race through the house tidying up after he's gone down but before they get up).

Admittedly, his post-nap time period is my least favorite part of the day. Evan and I used to break up the drudgery by going somewhere fun, or even just running an errand, but it's no small feat to get out with my three kids in tow. It's not awful, but it is exhausting. If I don't need to leave the house, we don't. So for now, we are shut-ins. If Evan is particularly needy or I haven't slept well the night before, I usually cave and put on another movie, then we snuggle or I snooze on the couch while he watches (and climbs and jumps all over the couch while I'm on it).

Between 5 and 6 the babies are hungry again, and this time I bring them down to the family room for their feeding. I prop them on either side of me on the couch in their Boppy pillows with a bottle and feed them while Evan plays nearby.

("Hey, Mom, you're doing all right." *wink*)

I used to want Aaron to help with the feeding when he got home, but instead I like that he and Evan keep their routine of playing together and wrestling before dinner. It's especially good for Evan, but to be honest it's still helpful to me so that he is occupied and isn't demanding my attention while I'm feeding the girls.

(Tools on the floor and enjoying a good, old-fashioned beat-down. Boys will be boys.)

Evening

Next up is dinner. We have been so blessed to have many meals brought to us, but now it's time to get back to the grind. For now we are having super simple meals, and that includes things that have been pre-packaged and frozen. The girls get swaddled and put back to bed while I get things ready, and the rest of us eat together at the table. Afterward we clean up and then have a little family time, sans Beth and Sadie for now, where we play together or get some chores done. Around 8 we start Evan's bedtime routine of teeth brushing, hand washing, room cleaning, jammie changing, book reading, prayer giving, lullaby singing, and sleeping.

Usually right on cue, but occasionally before, the babies are awake and crying to be fed at this point. Aaron and I take them to the family room with us and watch a movie while we feed and change the girls. This is my other favorite time of the day with them, where we get to just hold and snuggle the girls for a few hours. This is another reason we keep the babies up late: so we get to relax and just spend time with them while they're little. And another big bonus: We feed them before we go to bed around 11, delaying their first night feeding for a few hours.

Night

Here's been the biggest shock about having these babies: They sleep — a lot, and well — at night. They usually wake up between 2:30 a.m. and 3:30 a.m. to eat ... and that's it. Asleep until morning, around 7 a.m. What's more, we can put them back in their crib nearly fully awake and they'll fall back asleep on their own. This is where I know we've been especially blessed, because our first child was just the opposite. While my Plan A really helps keep these girls to this schedule, they are really just that accommodating. As I've said before, we've hit the baby jackpot! So when one of the girls cries to eat, Aaron and I both get up and we each take a baby for a diaper change and a bottle. The whole ordeal takes about 40 minutes, occasionally an hour, and then it's back to bed for everyone.

And yes, they really do sleep like this:

(Heart melting. I dare you to find something cuter.)

After reading all of this, you're probably thinking, "Wow. That's a lot of work." And it is. Oh yes, it really is. On top of it, I haven't yet dropped my tidy-house standards and I refuse to do so. Mind you, this isn't deep cleaning we're talking about; I'll admit, the bathrooms are seldom scrubbed, vacuuming only happens if there's something large and noticeable to vacuum up, and who knows when I'll next get to dusting and all that. But a cluttery, messy house makes me feel chaotic and like I'm drowning in to-do's, so tidying and keeping up with the laundry are still at the top of my list. And as if that wasn't enough, I'm even working in some editing so we can afford to keep my girls in diapers.

So yes, it is a lot of work, and at some point I'll probably need to let more things slide. But for now, this is our life. And considering the alternative — chaos and crying babies and an angry 3-year-old and me curled up on the couch weeping and wishing I were anywhere else in the world — this work is so worth the effort. I am tired, but fueled by the adrenaline of keeping life going and everything and everyone on task and taken care of. And truly, it does feel great to take care of my home and family. It really is so much more rewarding than any professional career I could hope to have.

And I keep telling myself, this phase won't last forever. My babies won't be babies for long, and since we are now officially retired from the baby-making business I want to enjoy this time in our lives while it's here. I can't do that if I know I haven't been putting all my effort into it. So when I'm getting stressed or overwhelmed or just plain tired, I tell myself to put on my game face and get to work. My children need me, and truth be told, I need this. If I'm going to reap all the miraculous benefits of being a mother and putting my family first, I need to do just that: put my family first and fully immerse myself in motherhood.

So if you need me for the next 18-plus years, that's where I'll be.

Life after twin pregnancy: The first two weeks

It has been nearly two weeks since Beth and Sadie were born, and nothing is as I expected it to be.

It is so much better.

The night before

After what felt like the world's longest pregnancy capped off by a short but depressing hospital stay where I was put on bed rest for high blood pressure, the C-section date was bumped up one week. I thought I would be totally ready to get those babies out of there, but the night before their birth — and especially the morning of — I was seized with fear.

What if I couldn't do this — manage twin newborns and a 3-year-old? What if the babies were colicky or fussy or sick or wouldn't sleep at night? What if the worst in Evan came out at once and our world was ruled by three screaming children? What if I got postpartum depression again and spent my days and nights in tears? What if I couldn't love my children enough?

I tried to keep these thoughts at bay, but I still hardly slept a wink the night before my scheduled C-section. Couple that with the fact that the babies were going nuts the night before, kicking and wrestling and rolling, and it was a restless night. So when the nurse came in at 5:30 a.m., I was practically already out the door. Aaron joined us shortly thereafter while they monitored the babies and prepped me for surgery. Neither of us said much, partly because of the early hour but more likely because we both had the same anxieties. Nevertheless, it was time to go.

The surgery

I waddled on down to the operating room (quite a victory for an about-to-burst mother of twins), where we were joined by our large medical team: the anesthesiologist, my OBGYN, several nurses, a surgical assistant, two pediatricians, and NICU staff. Ready or not, the time had come.

When I had my C-section for Evan, I was so ready. I had been in labor for 36 hours and he was stuck every which way, so we were overjoyed to be finally done and get him born. This time, I had way too much time to think about the surgery beforehand. I was pretty nervous, which may or may not have contributed to the unpleasant experience of throwing up while strapped to the operating table — not once, not twice, but four times. And twice more in recovery. Not a pleasant start to the proceedings. But once the surgery was actually underway, things got much better.

Up first was Baby A, Beth. My doctor told us she was about to be born but stopped with a laugh, saying Beth was helping deliver herself: Apparently she had reached out and grabbed onto one of the surgical tools and was pulling quite fiercely. At 7:07 a.m. weighing 4 lbs. 10 oz., Elizabeth Lindsay was born. Next up was Baby B, Sadie, who had turned during the night (again) and came out feet first. At 7:08 a.m. weighting 4 lbs. 14 oz., Sadie May was born.

Most moms of multiples say it takes weeks if not months for twins to realize there's another baby there and to acknowledge their sibling, but Beth and Sadie found each other right away.

And they have been like that since. While they're too young to understand anything that's actually going on, when lying side by side they always find each other.

We often find them in their cribs just like this, heads turned toward one another, foreheads and even cheeks touching.

The babies

This is how sweet our girls have been since day one, and now almost 2 weeks later, not much has changed.

Nothing bothers them, other than being hungry or naked and cold. And even then, they calm down right away. They need no help falling asleep or staying asleep, and they're incredibly mellow pretty much 24/7. My theory is that they have been kicked, shoved, and pushed around in the womb for their entire existence, so they're just used to being harassed. Couple this with the fact that they always have another little body nearby to comfort them, and they never get so carried away that a little cuddle doesn't calm them down in a snap.

Probably the best thing of all is that they sleep at night. Aaron and I have been keeping them up with us after Evan goes to bed, giving them awake time and a feeding just before we go to bed around 11. Other than the first night home, where they fussed from about 2 a.m. to 5 a.m., they have only woken up to eat once in the night. Yes, once. So they eat around 11 p.m., 3 or 4 a.m., and 8 or 9 a.m. Oh yeah, we've hit the new baby jackpot.

Some of you may be saying, "Yeah, they're mellow because they're newborns, and sleeping is all they do." Not so, my friends. Our first newborn did NOT sleep. He didn't do anything but scream since the day he was born, so we know what a drastic difference this is. In fact, the most surprising thing of all is the fact that these two newborns are 50 times easier than Evan not just as a baby, but still now as a 3-year-old. Other than the time it takes to feed and change two babies, they are a piece of cake. I am actually enjoying this stage that I've spent years dreading!

It doesn't hurt that the twins are as healthy as they come; poor little Evan had a rough start. It took us months until we figured out that he had acid reflux, a dairy intolerance, and a kinked neck and spine from a traumatic labor, so I don't blame him for being pissed at the start.

But despite being born at just 36 weeks gestation, the girls are remarkably healthy. The NICU staff was standing by, but everyone was shocked that the twins didn't need a single thing at birth. They had no breathing problems, no feeding issues, no jaundice, nothing. Other than being tiny, you would never know they were born an entire month earlier than most single babies.

In this picture, Beth is one week old. Had I still been pregnant they'd be at 37 weeks gestation. This shows you just how tiny they really are, chicken legs and all!

But other than being skinny minnies, they are absolutely perfect. What a rare and immense blessing!

In the end, I think this mellowness really just has to do with temperament. Evan has always been an all-or-nothing kid. When he's happy, he is HaPpY!!!!! When he's not, look out. So far, it seems like these girls don't go to the same extremes — not even close. Time will tell, as they grow out of the newborn phase and start to be their own people. But my hope is that right now while they are so easy, we'll get them on a good schedule and teach them good habits so that by the time the newborn spell wears off they'll be trained, for lack of a better word, and happy.

The recovery

Turns out I didn't need to be nervous for the surgery at all. It was no walk in the park, but the aftermath wasn't nearly as bad as after my first C-section, which was preceded by 36 hours of labor. I have been reading a bunch of blogs about recovery after a twin birth, trying to prepare myself for whatever madness may lie ahead. But once again, I got the best-case scenarios and seemed to recover in a flash.

Well, it's not like I was dancing around the hospital room. I had a lot of pain and I could only walk slowly, inch by inch, but I was up the next day. The funny thing is, recovering from a C-section pretty much felt exactly like being extremely pregnant with twins, so I was already used to that. The main difference: Every day got better, not worse.

This is me just one or two days after delivery. Not too shabby, eh?

Other than pain from the incision, the worst side effect was the swelling, which was partially from pregnancy and partially from IV fluid. Luckily, while on bed rest I got rid of most of it and probably the rest by the time I got home.

Remember this?

Down to this a week after delivery:

Also, I don't think the incision pain would have been so bad on its own, but I got a terrible cough while in the hospital. Every time I had to cough, it felt like my incision was being torn open again. That sucked, but even then the pain was manageable. By the time we left the hospital three days later I didn't need pain pills. I could walk almost at a normal speed, though in short distances only. A week after the birth we even made a little family trip to the mall. I couldn't go far, but it's a far cry from post-surgery with Evan, where I could still barely hobble a month later. 

The other amazing thing — that thing which all mothers-to-be are so anxious about — is that just 2 weeks after delivery, my belly is miraculously almost back to normal size and I am only about 10 lbs. above my pre-baby weight.

Remember this, just a week before delivery?

Bam, three weeks later.

Whenever someone tells me I look good I've been joking that all I had to do was have major surgery to remove two humans from my body. Easy peasy! 

Of course it wasn't so easy, but it is astounding to me how long ago my pregnancy feels. I never thought I'd say this in a million years, never ever ever, but ... I almost miss it. Almost. Yes, it sucked, but it was also miraculous. What an incredible thing, to grow not just one baby but two! To have them here now, so healthy and strong, makes me feel pretty amazing. I can't believe I did that! All on my own, I not only survived but I kicked twin pregnancy's butt! 

And to bounce back so quickly almost makes me feel even more amazing, but strangely it feels sad that reminders of such a long and arduous task would vanish just like that. It must be how Olympians feel after the Olympics are suddenly over. This also must be why Mother Nature is letting me keep a stomach full of stretch marks. She couldn't let me feel too hot to trot or forget that monumental accomplishment so soon.

All in all, this quick return to normalcy has done wonders for my moods, which I was very concerned about beforehand. I got terrible postpartum depression with Evan, almost immediately and for many months. I was prepared for that, but again I was pleasantly surprised at the reality.

When we got home I was suddenly overwhelmed by how much I had missed being there with my family. I was only gone a week, but that feels like a month when you have a small child. I missed the daily routine with Evan, and I know he really missed me. When I stopped to think about that I really got depressed. I felt cheated out of not only the week, but by the fact that our routine was forever changed from that day on. I was lucky to have bonded with the girls already and I loved them dearly, but depression knows no logic. I was dreading the months ahead of trying to give enough attention to all three children, fumbling my way through each day and robbing my son of the happy, content life we had thus far led. It hit me hard.

But then I had an epiphany. I thought back to each time I had a meltdown over big changes, when life charged ahead and I felt cheated of the past and unprepared for the future. At those times I felt safe and loved the place I was at, but looking back, I would never, EVER want to revisit them. My life has just gotten better and better exponentially, rocky roads notwithstanding. And though I knew a rough road may lie ahead, I also knew that whatever was beyond it would be wonderfully, gloriously fulfilling.

Since then I've had a small handful of brief weepy moments, but blessedly I've been completely content — even blissfully happy at times. These children, all three of them, are just so incredible. It is hard for me to be so in demand and so crazy busy, but the amount of love here is also truly amazing. They need me, and while that feels so draining at times, I keep telling myself that this is why I was put here on this earth: to give when I am needed, even beyond what I think I have to offer. I'm going to have to remind myself of this over and over and over throughout the years, I know. But it's worth remembering.