Our family is growing...

by 4 feet!

And no, we aren't having another set of twins....

We are getting a dog!  Actually, the plan was to get a dog, but it turns out that we are getting a puppy.

For the last few weeks I've been scouring the local shelters for an adult medium sized non-terrier, non-pitbull mix, but I've been unsuccessful.  Then a friend told me about someone she knew who had some cocker spaniel puppies who needed good homes.  She sent me a few pics and I was hooked!!

Meet McGarrett! (Can you tell we are Hawaii 5.0 fans?)

We bring him home on May 25th.  What a perfect way to start off the boys' summer break.

P.S. I'm pretty sure all this cuteness combined with the hassle of puppy potty training should sufficiently quell any baby-pains I might be having now that my "babies" are turning 5 years old in June and starting kindergarten in the fall.

To Boob or Not To Boob (Guest Blogger)

I have talked before on my blog about the hardship I experienced trying to breastfeed, and the guilt and judgment I felt/still feel for not being successful.  So, I asked my best friend (who blogs at A Jane of All Trades, Master of None), to do a guest blog on why she chose not to breastfeed.  So with that, let's welcome a wonderful woman, teacher, mother, and BFF!....

Ever since I was pregnant with my first daughter I have been plagued with the question, “Are you going to breast feed?” 

The first time someone asked me, I was barely pregnant and I was a little taken aback by this question.  I didn’t know people readily asked this question and I didn’t know it was anyone’s business.  I know I had never ever thought to ask another woman this question.

Then another person asked me. 

WHAT!?  Is this normal?

Then another person asked.

Each time I was asked, I responded with “We’re going to try.”  It seemed like the right answer and it usually stopped any further questions that concerned what my child would eat and where she would get it from. 

Deep down though, I knew I was really struggling with the thought of breastfeeding.  I knew all the health benefits.  I knew it would save us money.  I knew I would lose the weight faster, but honestly it creeped me out.

And before you judge, let me explain.  My mom had me at 17 and her number one goal in life was to make sure that NEVER happened to me.  From the time I was 12, I was told “I don’t care if you have sex, but he and you better be protected.” 

I felt like I heard this every day of my life...

And you would think with talk like that, sexuality and your body would be an open discussion in our house.  No.  It was actually quite the opposite. 

Some examples: I was not allowed to walk around in t-shirts because of my brothers.  My mom mortified me by telling her friends when I got my first period.  I once had a friend (around 13) who didn’t wear underwear to bed, and when I asked my parents about this, they practically chastised the girl and her parents.  If I wore an outfit that was maybe tight or slightly inappropriate, my aunt told me I deserved to be raped.

By the time I was actually at the age of being sexual, sex was cold for me.  I associated sex with teenage pregnancy, and I associated my body with something that needed to be secret.  To this day, I will do everything to make sure no one sees me naked.  Even my husband didn’t actually see me naked for a good while after we were already having sex.

Fast forward to January 2007.  I was 3 months out from being a mom and I still had no idea what I was going to do about breast feeding.  I had gone from “I will try” to “maybe I’ll just pump.” 

Then I visited my friend after right after delivering her baby.  While I was there it was feeding time, and she fed him without hesitation right there in front of my friend and me.  She didn’t cover herself, and honestly, she didn’t need to.  But it was in that moment that I knew I was not going to be able to do it.  I knew that I was so uncomfortable in my own skin that breastfeeding would not be possible. 

I am not disgusted by others that breastfeed.  I’m not anti-breastfeeding.  I hate that society accepts Brittney’s cleavage spilling out, but then want women to breastfeed in a restaurant bathroom.

What I disagree with is the constant judgment that I faced (and still face now with my second child).  Worse yet, I hate the judgment that women who really did try face.  And ladies, it is not the men who judge us...it is other women. Women are so mean.

And we call ourselves a sisterhood?  Really? 

Each and every mother will be faced with a point where she will know all the disadvantages and advantages of her actions, and will make the decision to do what is right for her. 

And they can call her selfish.  And they say she is a bad mother.  And they launch campaign after campaign that puts her down for her choice.  But in the end, it is her decision.  And just as I don’t want the government making decisions about my body, I don’t want my "sisterhood" deeming me unfit because of MY decisions about my body.

With my second daughter, who was born just a month ago, I have learned to say “breastfeeding didn’t work for us,” when asked if I am breast feeding.  What I really want to say though is "What did you feed your kid last night?  Was it the best possible choice?  Could you have done something else?"  Just so they get how inappropriate and not their business their question is.

Five years late, I can say that my first born is very healthy.  She has the occasional ear infection, but honestly we really only have to go to the doctor about twice a year.  She is incredibly bright and inquisitive.  And her weight is exactly on point for her height and age.  She is all of those things that the breastfeeding campaigns promise you your formula fed baby won't be.

And so maybe I didn’t lose that baby weight, but I’m okay with that.

Hormonal Decisions (Guest Blogger)

A friend of mine named Sarah, who blogs at I Love Nail Polish (you should check her out!), told me a while back about unexpected complications she'd had from having her tubes tied after her second child.  I had never heard of these complications before, so I thought it would be interesting to have her write a guest blog about her experience.  Like I said in yesterday, everybody and every body is different, what works well for some might not work well for others, and vice versa.  The key is to make informed decisions for yourself.  So with that, let's welcome Sarah!....

It’s a Girl!

With that announcement I knew Adam and I would need to discuss permanent birth control. Prior to my pregnancy with Bryce I was on “the pill” for about 7 years. Afterward, I had the Mirena IUD for 3. At my 20 week ultrasound, we learned our second child would be a girl, thus (for us) completing our little family. At my next OB/GYN appointment, Adam and I talked briefly with the doc that this baby would be our last. The OB/GYN practice I was using had several practitioners; each patient was required to have an appointment with each doctor. At every appointment we explained to each doctor that this would be our last baby. One doctor suggested the Essure procedure. Essure is a permanent birth control procedure that works with your body to create a natural barrier to prevent pregnancy. To find out more about Essure, ask your OB/GYN and visit www.essure.com.

For me the cons of Essure were:

• It would mean an additional OB/GYN visit.
• Additional cost, as it was not approved by my insurance.
• I’d never heard of it before and it looked strange. (I wasn’t exactly excited to have inserted into my vagina what looked a whole lot like mattress springs, just on a smaller scale.)

The other choice in permanent birth control was a tubal ligation (AKA having my tubes tied). So, that was that. I honestly didn’t ask a whole lot of questions, with only two options tubal ligation seemed to me to be the “only” choice.

Courtesy of theprickcushion.com

What I understood about having my tubes tied was

• It’s 99% effective.
• It could be done immediately after giving birth to Maggie.
• It is covered 100% by insurance.
• It is “permanent,” unless one decided to have a reversal.
• It is the most common form of birth control among married women.

What I didn’t know, but found out later

• Post tubal ligation syndrome is more prevalent than the medical community will admit.
• Afterward, most women need some kind of hormonal support, in the way of hormone replacement therapy or birth control pills.
• Many women experience emotional changes so severe their mood can only be improved with anti depressant treatment.

My personal experience is not one of regret because I am no longer able to have children; the regret stems from not educating myself or exploring other options. It turns out that tubal ligation is more costly and has more complications than a vasectomy. Looking back, continuing use of the Mirena may have been a good solution until we thoroughly researched all of our options. Since having the tubal ligation in May of 2009 my body has gone into what my doc is calling “early menopause.” At the age of 32 it was the last thing I thought I’d be experiencing. My OB/GYN recommended hormone replacement or I could try taking birth control pills to see if they helped. I wasn’t going to take birth control pills; why should I pay for more birth control and put anymore hormones into my system? Instead, I suffer terrible night sweats and hot flashes so severe they send my coworkers searching for sweaters to escape the frigid temps in my office. Post Tubal Ligation Syndrome (PTS) is not something I ever heard or read about prior to my own experience. PTS results from a rapid decline in estrogen levels due from the blood supply being damaged to the ovaries during the TL surgery.

Symptoms of PTS are:

1. Eptopic pregnancy or pregnancy-I was unaware of the number of women who experience these following a TL.

1a.Hot flashes, flushes, night sweats and/or cold flashes, clammy feeling, chills

2. Bouts of rapid heart beat

3. Irritability

4. Mood swings, sudden tears (I’ve been on Zoloft since my pregnancy, without it, I am mush)

5. Trouble sleeping through the night (with or without night sweats)

6. Irregular periods; shorter, lighter periods; heavier periods, flooding; phantom periods, shorter cycles, longer cycles

7. Loss of libido (not having this)

8. Dry vagina (or this)

8a.Itchy vagina-at time raw like, can radiated from whole area, with absence of yeast infections. (or this)

8b. Color change in vaginal area. (color gets darker - purple/black) (or this)

9. Crashing fatigue (sometimes)

10.Anxiety, feeling ill at ease (for real)

11.Feelings of dread, apprehension, doom (again without the Zoloft I’m a wreck)

12.Difficulty concentrating, disorientation, mental confusion (seriously!)

13.Disturbing memory lapses (yeppers)

14.Incontinence, especially upon sneezing, laughing; urge incontinence (hmmm, this is particularly bothersome)

14a.Prolapse of uterus do to rapid decress in estrogen levels.

15.Itchy, crawly skin (not experiencing this)

16.Aching, sore joints, muscles and tendons

17.Increased tension in muscles

18.Breast tenderness (not this one either)

18a. Decrease in breast mass (definitely no trouble here)

19.Headache change: increase or decrease

20.Gastrointestinal distress, indigestion, flatulence, gas pain, nausea (yep, had to have my first colonscopy due to blood in my stool and vomiting blood)

21.Sudden bouts of bloat --sucks

22.Depression (Zoloft, 200 mg PO QD)

23.Exacerbation of existing conditions --??

24.Increase in allergies --yes

25.Weight gain (everything “except Weight Watchers” makes me gain weight..primarily food is the culprit though)

26.Hair loss or thinning, head, pubic, or whole body; increase in facial hair (…ewe glad I’m not experiencing this)

27.Dizziness, light-headedness, episodes of loss of balance –yep this is scary

28.Changes in body odor –I don’t think so

29.Electric "shock" or "stabbing" sensation under the skin. --nah

30.Tingling in the extremities, --nah

31.Gum problems, increased bleeding --nah

32.Burning tongue, burning roof of mouth, bad taste in mouth, change in breath odor --nah

33.Osteoporosis (after several years)

34.Changes in fingernails: softer, crack or break easier –nah

If those life changing symptoms aren’t enough to scare a person out of having a tubal ligation I’m not sure what would be. However, the beauty of living in the U.S. is that women are able to make these decisions for ourselves. And we do have options. It’s too late for my hormonal mess, but do yourself (and your spouse) a favor and do a lot of research, ask other women, talk to your doctor(s) and explore every option available.

Motorcycles & vaginas

I would never give anyone motorcyle advice.

I don't own a motorcycle, nor have I ever driven one.  I have, however, ridden on a few.

But having ridden shotgun (does this apply to riding passenger on motorcyles too?) a time or two does not make me an expert.   If I started spouting out my opinion on how to take care of your motorcycle, you would tell me to shut-the-front-door.  And you'd have every right, because unless I owned a motorcycle myself, I really can't know what I'm talking about.

So, to all the men out there, please keep your opinions on child birth to yourself.  You do not have a vagina.  Sure, you may have ridden one a time or two, but until you actually have one, you really have no idea.

A man I know posted a link to an article about the pros and cons of using epidurals during child birth.  He's a nice guy, and I know his intentions weren't malicious (his wife is pregnant).  But I just couldn't help myself to reply "So I take it when you get pregnant, you will not use an epidural."  Because c'mon guy, how can you truly have an opinion on natural child birth vs. medicated child birth if you NEVER HAVE TO GO THROUGH CHILD BIRTH!

Heck, I know quite a few women who have said they wouldn't use drugs when they gave birth, but once they were a few centimeters dilated and the waves of contractions were coming right on top of each other after hours and hours of labor, they changed their tune.  I just don't think anyone, man or woman, knows what they'll do until they get there.

And honestly, I don't even have much opinion on the subject myself.  Yes, I have a vagina, but I had one pregnancy and my doctor started preparing me for my planned c-section right about the same time I found out I was having twins.  To me, my opinion is: You know your pain threshold.  You know whether you like to tough out sicknesses or take the meds.  You know YOUR body.  If you want the epidural, get the freaking epidural.  If you'd rather go au natural, then bonne chance ma soeur. À chacun son goût.

But remember this, you don't get a medal for not using drugs.  At the end of it all, you just get a baby, just like every other women...vaginal or c-section, epidural or sans epidural...the result is the same.  Do what you need to do to get that baby out safely and into your arms.  And let other mothers worry about their own vaginas.

Peace.

The F-Word

Dedicated to the women of the world that think "the real 'F' word is formula":

Like many expectant moms, I read plenty about how to best care for my babies. And in my reading and  research, I decided that breast was best and that because of that I would be nursing my twins for at least the first year of their life (I'd play it by ear from there...).

I ordered an EZ-2-Nurse pillow, specifically designed for nursing twins, a breast pump, and 0 bottles.  We moved to a rental house less than 1 mile from my office, so I could nurse after going back to work.

Thing 1 and Thing 2 were born 35 w 2 d.  So they were a little early, but not much (36 weeks is considered full term for twins).  They weighed 5 lb 13 oz and 5 lb 7 oz.

The first thing the hospital staff did when the boys were born was put in a feeding tube through their nose.  Apparently this was standard for babies this small.  Their first feeding was formula.  I actually was kind of pissed that they didn't consult me for any of this.  But the nurses kept insisting on the importance of bringing up their body weight.

Before I ever put the babies to breast, I used a pump.  I squeezed out the most minuscule amount of colostrum.  This went straight into their feeding tubes.

The nurses literally weighed the boys with a super scale before and after each attempt to nurse, and if they didn't gain enough ounces, they would then feed them through the nose tube.  (No sucking necessary.)

A friend of mine recently had a premature baby here at the hospital where we live now and instead of a nose tube, they made the baby suck on her finger while she slowly fed through a syringe on the side...teaching the baby he had to suck to get a full belly.  I wish we'd done that with my boys.  Because I feel like the nose tube made them lazy!  They didn't need to suck hard to get a full belly, so why bother working so hard at breast time if afterwards you'd get rewarded anyway?  (By the way, the staff is coming off very unsupportive, but this isn't true.  They all cheered me on at my insistence to nurse. They wanted me to succeed, but they also had a job to make sure the boys were as well taken care of medically as possible.)

I held out not giving my boys a bottle for 11 days!!

The doctor wouldn't sent them home from the hospital until they were over 6 lbs and feeding on their own (no nose tube).  And after 11 days of traveling back and forth to the hospital every day...I finally broke down and gave them bottles, because I just wanted to bring them home!  # 1 I'd been in that hospital for 12 weeks on strict medically prescribed bedrest.  #2 the hospital was a 30 min drive from our house, so every day I was getting up and commuting (even though I wasn't supposed to drive after my c-section) to the hospital in time to be there for the 7:30 am feeding.  Then I would pump.  Then take a nap in a room with one of the boys on my chest doing Kangaroo care.  Then feed. Then pump. Then nap with the other baby.  Then feed. Then pump. Then nap. All day. When Superman got off work, he'd meet me up at the hospital for dinner.  We'd stay there until the boys' 9:30 feeding and then drive home for the night.  (I wanted to stay at the hospital and try feeding through the night too, but the nurses insisted I needed rest.  They said that the stress and exhaustion might be part of the problem with my milk supply.)  After almost two weeks of this, I broke down and said "take out the feeding tube and just give them a bottle."

When we left that day, I took one of the hospital grade pumps home with me. If I couldn't get the boys to latch, I'd at least pump and feed them my own milk.  Heck, I could do that for at least 6 months right?

We also took home a supplemental nursing system to use with it, because I was trying to get the boys to suck at the breast to encourage production...but it was not practical for me being at home all alone with twins and I just couldn't get it to work the way it was supposed to.

As I've explained before, my supply was pitiful. My milk never fully came in. I never (ever) had "let down".  I drank Mother's Milk tea. I took Fenugeek supplements. I drank liters and liters of water. I did kangaroo care. I pumped every 2 hours, on the dot. But still I barely made enough to feed one baby, let alone two.

Then, after 8 weeks of pumping and supplementing with formula (or really I should say after 8 weeks of feeding formula and supplementing with breast milk), my supply finally gave up.  And so did I.

So I'm here to say "Don't you dare compare formula to a four-letter word!"  Formula is what kept my babies from starving when my breasts didn't do as nature intended.  Would I have preferred to feed my children 100% breastmilk, sure I would have. Because as one wise mother has said: "Breast is best, but formula isn’t toxic. In fact, its pretty damn good."

Maybe I'm too sensitive

Maybe I'm too sensitive, but man I get tired of all of the breast-feeding nazis out there.  Every day I feel like I see something about how my children are going to be dumber, fatter, sicker, slower, uglier, and more cancer ridden because they were formula fed.  Actually, I'm just surprised they didn't die from SIDS since I was so uncaring enough not to breast feed them until they were old enough to chew filet mignon.

Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating.  A little.

But c'mon you breast feeding proponents.  Enough already.  We get it.  Breast is best.

Really, do you think there is a person out there that still doesn't understand that breast milk is the optimum choice for a baby's nutrition?  That it is biologically engineered to feed that baby.  We get it.  We all get it.

Do you think people who smoke really don't know it will cause lung cancer?

People who don't breastfeed don't not do it because they don't understand those facts...  They don't do it because their milk doesn't come in, or the baby doesn't latch right, or how about this: they just don't want to.

I have a good friend who didn't breast feed because she just thought it sounded gross.  She is very private about her body and her personal parts and didn't want a) a baby sucking on it or b) to have to breastfeed in public etc.  So she chose to bottle feed with formula.  She didn't put her baby to the breast even once.  Not even to try.  Immediately after labor she began working to dry up her swollen breasts.

Meanwhile, my milk never fully came in.  Try as I might.  I drank Mother's Milk tea.  I took Fenugeek supplements.  I drank liters and liters of water.  I did kangaroo care.  I pumped every 2 hours, on the dot.  I barely made enough to feed one baby, let alone two.  I wanted to breast feed so bad it hurt.  Literally.

I had planned to do it for a year.  We even moved within a mile of my work so that I could go home to nurse once I went back to work.  

But my children would have starved if it hadn't been for formula.  In more ways than one.  Because not only did my milk never fully come in (I never once had "let down" or "engorgement"), but also, my boys never learned to latch on.  Lactation consultant after lactation consultant, even one that specialized in preemies, couldn't help me get those boys to successfully hook up to the tap.

But I was so adamant to give my boys "the best" that I kept trying.  I was like the Little Engine That Could trying so hard to climb that mountain.  Being weighed down by weak breasts, lazy feeding babies,  post-bedrest recovery, and post-partum feelings of failure because I couldn't do this simple thing that nature had designed for my body to do.

After weeks and weeks of torturing myself...  pumping every 2-3 hours, losing sleep, crying rivers of tears each time my babies wouldn't latch or I pumped just 2 ounces, I finally considered giving up.  Superman was beyond relieved when I mentioned it.  He had been wanting me to stop trying weeks ago, but knew he couldn't suggest it.

I called a cousin of mine who I knew had gone through the same thing and eventually given up.  She's a great mom to two beautiful healthy kids.  She had quit after her breasts had failed her with her son, and had such a bad experience that she decided not to try with her daughter.  After several phone calls and hours of consoling, I knew she was right when she told me that I wasn't a bad mother for wanting to quit, that in fact, I would become a better mother after quitting because I would be able to enjoy my babies more.  Feeding time would become joyful, rather than dreaded.  I would hold my babies and smile and laugh while they ate, instead of live in constant anxiety and sadness each time feeding didn't go well.

The final straw was the morning I had pumped and pumped for 40 minutes and gotten less than an ounce.  While cleaning my pump, I accidentally spilled my milk.  And oh did I cry over spilled milk.  I had a full blown hysterical collapse.  My milk was more precious than gold to me at that point.  I was working so hard to produce even the slightest drops for my pre-mature infants...and now it was just a tiny whitish puddle on my kitchen floor.

As I was sitting on the floor sobbing and wiping my eyes, I knew.  My phone calls to my cousin weren't about looking for advice.  They were about looking for permission.  Asking permission from someone I knew to be a good mom that it was okay to quit.  I wanted to quit.

So I did.

I called the hospital and arranged for them to come get my rented hospital grade pump.

Then I called my husband and asked him to bring me home a bottle of wine.

Thing 1 and Thing 2 were 8 weeks old.

And guess what?  They didn't didn't die.  Niether did my friend's who chose not to try.  They aren't dumber, fatter, sicker, slower, or uglier than my breast fed friends' kids.  In fact, all three of the kids are incredibly bright, healthy, perfect size for their ages, and good-looking four year olds.  And we are both great moms, if I may say so myself.  We both make the best choices possible for our kids.  We put our childrens' health and happiness first.

I wonder if all of the breast-feeding propaganda bothers her like it does me.  Maybe I'm overly sensitive because I did try so hard and still failed.  To me, even four years later, it still feels like having salt rubbed over my wounds.  Like I'm being judged by people who don't even know me or my story.  Like I'm being marked as a bad mom by some imaginary Scarlett F.

It's funny, because I don't feel this way about my c-section.  Not in the least.  Would I have preferred a traditional delivery?  Sure.  But once my doctor said the c-section would be best having twins, I trusted her, accepted it, and moved on.

I don't know if it's because the c-sections vs. vaginal delivery rhetoric isn't as prevalent, or if I just don't notice it because I've never had one ounce of remorse, regret, or guilt, like I have known some other c-section mothers to have.  My babies needed to be born, and my doctor and I made an educated decision on the safest way to bring them into the world.  End of story.

Maybe it's because I feel like with my c-section I was in control.  I made the ultimate decision.  Where with the breast feeding, it seems like the decision was made for me (by my body).

So if you are a breast-feeding mommy.  Good for you!  I hope you feel lucky and blessed that you are being honored with the ability to provide and bond with your baby this way.  And if you are a struggling breast-feeding mommy, know that you have to follow your heart.  Maybe the answer is to stick with it and it will get better, but if you need to stop, it will be okay too.  I promise there are many more factors to having great kids than whether or not you breast feed.  And if you chose not to breast feed, while I may not understand it, I can respect that it is your choice.  And I'm sure your children will turn out great too.  'Cause like Superman always says "Some of my favorite people in the world were formula fed babies."  (That would be him and me. :)

Happy Father's Day Superman

I recently posted this article about Fathers on my facebook page, commenting how I'm so glad that both Superman and my own father are the good kind of fathers.  The kind that have made being active with their kids a priority in their lives.  A father who is actually an equal parent and an equal spouse, doing housework and laundry because it is a household responsibility, not claiming it's woman's work.  (On the same token, I have been known to roll up my sleeves and mow the lawn and take out the trash and grab my tool box to fix a faulty light switch or replace a toilet, because it's not men's work.)

I thought: How sad that this needs to be written in 2011.  It seems like such a 1950s idea of woman as caretaker and man as standoffish provider.  But sadly, I do personally know couples where the mother does do it all while the father works.  And when he comes home he needs his "me time" to unwind from working.  And then spends hours and hours of golfing on the weekends.  For some of them it works (and good for them, who am I to judge), but for most of them...it doesn't.  The women feel over burdened and unappreciated.  And they are sad to see their children who idolize their daddies, getting so little of his time or attention.  And they fume when the absentee fathers suggest having "just one more" baby.  One of my friends even secretly had her tubes tied during her c-section, and as far as I know STILL hasn't told her husband, because he wanted more kids and she didn't.  And some of these women eventually became so tired of being single mothers that they eventually left their husbands to be actual single mothers.

I wouldn't say that I'm lucky Superman turned out to be a good dad, because I always knew he would be.  In fact, that is part of why I fell in love with him.  Part of why I knew I wanted to marry him. We met when we were both working for a non-profit organization that provided care and job opportunities for adults with physical and mental disabilities.  Watching the care, patience, and compassion he had for a population most people are afraid of, I could see the kind of father he would one day be.  And throughout our dating, as I got to know him better and better, I just became more sure of this.

Because remember ladies, we don't live in a patriarchal society with archaic arranged marriages.  We CHOOSE our mates.  We CHOOSE who we want to procreate with.  Who we want to share our genes with and our lives.

In fact, when I first met Superman, I was actually dating someone else.  This guy was fun, funny, interesting, and he adored me (who wouldn't love that?).  I knew he wanted to marry me.  I knew he wanted to have kids with me.  But the thing was, as fun as he was to date...I knew he was not the guy I wanted to be the father of my children.  First of all, he had a son.  And honestly, as much as I liked the guy, I thought he was a pretty lousy father.  True, there are some other factors why I knew he wasn't the one that I won't go into here, but the bottom line was even without any of those other factors, seeing him father his son, I knew I would not be having kids with him.

But I guess maybe I was lucky.

Lucky that Superman didn't change. Some women I know have married men who maybe they thought would be great dads, but somewhere along the line they made their careers a priority over parenting.

Lucky that he turned out to be an even better dad than I ever hope or imagined.

When I found out I was pregnant, we immediately started discussing whether or not we could afford for one of us to stay home.  Even from the beginning, it wasn't how I would stay home.  It was which one of us.  Prior to getting pregnant, we had never discussed how to handle child care.  Which in hindsight was a mistake.  However, as luck would have it we both were in 100% agreeance that we didn't want to put a baby in daycare, and that we would find a way to make sure that, at least for the first year, one of us would stay home to raise it.

Because we had just moved to a new state for my job, and Superman didn't even have a full time job yet (did I mention the pregnancy was unplanned?), he volunteered to stay home.

Then we found out we were having twins.

He didn't bat an eye.  In fact, once he found out we were having twin boys, he seemed pretty excited for his "guy time".

After one year, we both agreed that the arrangement was working so well that he would go ahead and stay home another year.  At the end of year two, we decided to go for another!  For three years, he was the primary caregiver, before we decided it was time for the boys to head to pre-school, and for Superman to re-enter the outside-of-home-workforce again.  I was both happy (for the boys starting a new chapter of their lives and for Superman getting a chance to work among peers again) and sad (because for three years I never had to worry about my children's care and happiness).

But you would not believe how many comments I heard from other women (mothers and non-mothers) saying "I would never let anyone else raise my children".  Excuse me?  I didn't drop them off with some stranger, they were at home with their father.  What makes you think that you have more of a right to raise your children than he does?  What makes you think you'd even be better at it?

Honestly, are there things I probably would have done differently (like more scheduled activities and taking the kids on playdates), but I say probably because I realize some things are easier said than done.  What I think I would have done and what I actually would have done might be two wholly different things...

But I can tell you what they did learn from their daddy that they most likely wouldn't have learned from me (at least not as well):

Patience.  I am much more hot-headed and quick to temper than my calm-demeanored husband; I love that they seem to have acquired his personality.  After all, if I hadn't thought he was pretty great, I wouldn't have married him.

A love for music.  Sure, I love to sing along with the radio, but by three years old, my boys already knew how to keep a beat on drums and hold a guitar the right way as they lip synced to old school 80s rock songs, thanks to hours and hours of home jam sessions.  I swear to you they can tell the difference between Girls, Girls, Girls, Crazy Train, I Love Rock n' Roll, and Jump by just the first two bars of the song.

A love for the outdoors.  Even on the hottest of days, when I would have hidden away in the security of the air conditioning, Superman would venture outside with the boys and find something fun to do.  Whether it was splashing around in the wading pool, looking for bugs, or just taking a short walk.

How to be active.  Superman is an avid runner, and loves being active.  He would take the boys on really long walks, all around our little town.  Often walking them up to my work to visit me during the day.  Now 4 years old, Thing 1 and Thing 2 really show the benefits of being raised by someone so active.  (Not to say that I'm a lazy-ass, but let's just say I find doing a craft project more fun than taking a 5 mile walk pushing a double stroller.)

I could go on.  But, my point is...yes, we are different parents.  But neither one of us is the inherently better parent based on whether we sit or stand when we pee.  We both have our strengths and our weaknesses.  And I like to think that as co-parents we compliment one another well and have raised two amazingly awesome kids because of it.

I think it is time to stop accepting that fathers are some kind of second rate parents.  Quit describing a dad spending time with his kids as "babysitting" or "giving mom a break", he is just doing what he is supposed to be doing...being a parent!  Quit having such low expectations of what a father looks like.  EXPECT a father to be a parent.  A real parent.

And don't accept this "I work hard all day" as an excuse for not parenting nonsense.  Guess what?  For three years I was the working parent with the 9-5 job, yet I somehow managed to come home, change my clothes, and go play with my kids...and my husband (because that is important too).  In fact, everyday I would make sure to 1. notice and give Superman a compliment about the house, 2. give him a rest from the kids (stay-at-homes need this "me time" much more than working parents I think), 3. cook dinner, and we alternated days for who gave the evening bath.  Was it tiring?  Of course.  But who ever said being a parent would be easy?

I'm happy to say that its summertime again, and school is out.  Which means my husband has left his Clark Kent job as high school teacher to resume his role of Superman stay-at-home-dad.  So, for the next 2.5 months, I can rest easing knowing Thing 1 and Thing 2 will be having the summer fun of their lives!

And honestly, I'm pretty jealous.  Because who wouldn't want to spend all day hanging out with this guy --->?

Grateful

It's amazing what we stumble on while surfing the internet.  Today I clicked on a link on CNN.com on the story of a Toledo woman who was implanted with the wrong embryos and some where along the way ended up on a website called Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep, which is an organization that provides free photography services to woman who have lost a baby.

I read a few of these incredibly touching and sad stories, and was overwhelmed with feelings.  Sadness.  Sympathy.  Anger.  Guilt.

But most of all, I kept thinking how lucky I was to have somehow ended up with not just one, but two healthy children.

And while I cursed so much of the process at the time, I can look back now and appreciate how many wonderful things aligned just right to make their life possible.

It was an unplanned pregnancy.  I wasn't taking any vitamins or supplements or folic acid.  But luckily I discovered I was pregnant very early on and was able to immediately be put under a doctor's care.

I had recently moved to Ohio and hadn't even found an OBGYN yet.  I picked Dr. Miracle out of an insurance directory.  I believe I owe my sons lives to this amazing doctor.

We discovered it was twins very early on (7 weeks).  Dr. Miracle scheduled an ultrasound right away "just in case," even though most woman I know don't have their first ultrasound until 12 weeks.

Dr. Miracle just so happened to have completed a residency with a Maternal Fetal Medicine specialist who specialized in multiple pregnancies.  So the first thing she did was begin monitoring me for incompetent cervix, which she knew I was at higher risk for carrying multiples, by ordering a vaginal ultra sound every two weeks.

When the MFM in Toledo saw the initial "funneling" (first signs of an incompetent cervix) he was actually willing to wait another week to see if we needed to operate.  Dr. Miracle was more aggressive.  She called me at work that afternoon and I'll never forget her words: "He is the specialist. But I'm telling you, if it was my babies and my body, I'd be in the hospital having that cerclage done tonight."  And I was.  And I did.

From there, I did everything she told me to do.  Everything.  She told me to stay on bedrest for one week.  Lay in bed all day.  Only get up to go to the bathroom and for one short 5 minute shower a night.  Have Superman time me.

After one week, I went in for my check up and there was more bad news.  The cerclage was holding, but the funneling was worse, my cervix was opened all the way down to the sutures now.  Instead of going back to work and continuing the rest of my pregnancy normally, I would be on bedrest (or what I like to call "bed arrest") for the remainder of my pregnancy.  I was 20 weeks along.

Everyday before leaving for work, Superman would fix up a cooler of meals and snacks for me and put it on my bedside.  I watched a lot of tv, surfed a lot of internet, did a lot of crossword puzzles, cross stitching, crocheting, reading...you name it.  We were new to the area, so during four weeks of bed arrest I had six non-Superman visitors.  My in-laws came once, my aunt and uncle from Indiana came once, one work colleague came, and one of my friends from home who was traveling through NW Ohio on a business trip.  I was bored out of mind.  But I stayed in that bed.

After three weeks of weekly check ups, the prognosis wasn't good.  My cervix was dangerously thin and open.  Dr. Miracle said it could no longer take the pressure of traveling 10 minutes for my weekly check ups.  She was concerned the cerclage would rip (I could have hemorrhaged) and/or that the amniotic sac would break (pre-mature delivery).  She wanted me in the hospital for the remainder of my pregnancy.  I was 23 weeks along

I was still allowed up to go to the bathroom, but my daily showers which had been changed to every other day showers were now changed again to weekly showers.  I would be a button press and five feet away from emergency medical care.  My room was the closest to the nurses' station on the maternity ward.  I was ordered to spend my days lying in the trendelenburg position, with my feet up and head down.  I was put on medication to hold off contractions, since they would have an averse affect on my cervix.  I was given a steroid shot to help develop the boys lungs in the likely case they were born pre-mature.

Once a week, I was wheeled down to the ultrasound tech (not in a wheelchair mind you, in my bed).  Every week my cervix measurements got smaller and smaller.  Every week we held our breath, crossed our fingers, and said our prayers that my cervix could hold out just one more week.

As my cervix continued to shrink, my restrictions grew.  Soon there were no more showers.  Soon I was on a bedpan.

Right around 28 weeks, what the medical community deems "viability," I had a brief resurgence in my cervical measurements.  We were elated.  Until I got the letter from my insurance company saying it no longer considered my hospital stay to be necessary medical treatment.  They argued that because my cervix was getting better, I didn't need to be in the hospital.  Dr. Miracle told us not to worry.  She explained to the bureaucrats that my cervix was getting better because the treatment WAS WORKING.  Then, in language they understood she asked if they'd rather pay for an extended minimally invasive stay of the mother or for the extended intensive care stay of two incredibly premature babies.  They decided my care, being considerably less expensive was the better investment.

Unfortunately, the resurgence didn't last long.  And soon I was back to agonizing over premature delivery and what possible long term complications my sons would have if they beat the odds and survived.

At 30 weeks, Dr. Miracle told me if I made it to 35 weeks and the boys measured at least 5 lbs each, she'd plan the cesarean.  (Any thoughts I'd had about trying a vaginal delivery were by this point long gone out the window.  I'd have been much too weak.)

The nurses made me a tear off countdown clock.  We started a "birthdate" pool.

My cervix was shrinking.  I was put on an IV for dehydration.  I was depressed.  I was lonely (my only regular vistor was Superman, but even he worked, so my time with him was limited to 6 pm -10 pm during the week).  I was pale.  I was weak.  I slept a lot.

At 33 weeks, the boys were both measuring almost 5 lbs by ultrasound, so Dr. Miracle, Superman, and I set a delivery date: June 11.  We called our parents and friends.

(Sidenote: My sister wanted me to change the date to June 13, so they'd share her birthday.  I told her she was crazy after 16 weeks of bedrest to ask me to wait even one more day.  In hindsight, though I haven't told her, I wish I'd waited.  But at the time I was not mentally or emotionally prepared to do that.)

All of the days in the birthdate pool passed....33 weeks and 5 days, 34 weeks and 1 day, 34 weeks and 3 days...  my stubborn little cervix literally beat every single date that anyone had guessed.  Including Superman's.  Including mine.

My parents came.

Superman's parents came.

June 11th came.

And at 11 am, I was wheeled into the Operating Room.

At 11:36 am, Thing 1 was born weighing 5lbs 13 oz and 18.5 inches long.  Scoring a perfect 10 on the Apgar scale.

At 11:38 am, Thing 2 was born weighting 5 lbs 7 oz and 18.25 inches long.  Scoring a 10 on the Apgar scale.

16 weeks filled with worry, anxiety, tears, and uncertainty.  Every second worth it.  I felt, and still feel, like the luckiest woman in the world.

Six weeks later, during my final post-delivery check up with Dr. Miracle, she admitted that even she didn't think I'd make it to 35 weeks.  She thought when I was admitted to the hospital, I'd be lucky to make it another 2 or 3 weeks tops.

I don't know why fate smiled down on me and my boys, but I'm really really grateful.

To cut or not to cut

This week, CNN.com had an article detailing why a woman and her husband decided not to circumcise their son, which made me think back to when we made the choice for our sons...

Of course we've all heard for decades about the health benefits of circumcision: it's been thought to be more sanitary and help prevent the spread of infections and sexually transmitted diseases like AIDS.

But right before we had Thing 1 and Thing 2, the medical opinion pendulum started swinging, and some doctors were speaking out that there aren't any clear medical benefits to circumcision.  How confusing for soon-to-be-parents.  Do you believe the old research?  Or the new research?

As I've pointed out before, just because someone wears scrubs to work does not mean they know what is best for your child.  So, Superman and I decided to ignore the conflicting medical data all together and weigh our own personal thoughts and opinions on whether to cut or not.

1. Like father, like son.  A few weeks back, Thing 1 and Thing 2 were in the bathtub with Superman, and Thing 1 was particularly interested in daddy's pee-pee.  From the other room, I could hear Superman saying things like ""Don't touch daddy's pee-pee please."  When he got out of the bath, Thing 1 ran into my bedroom and said "mommy, daddy has a big pee-pee."  Yes, honey.  "Mommy, I want a big pee-pee like daddy."  Superman, without missing a beat says "you'll get yours one day, kid."

It is normal for kids to want to be like their parents.  And I think it is natural for kids to be curious about their parents' bodies.  Thing 1 and Thing 2 don't care about having a big pee-pee to impress future lovers, they just want to look like their daddy.  Superman is circumcised, so it seemed to us that it would make the most sense if they boys were circumcised, too.

2. Boys will be boys.  Whether you like it or not, the majority of boys in this country are circumcised.  which means during gym class, the boys will be undressing with other boys, most of whom will be circumcised.  Superman said he vividly remembers the one kid in his class who wasn't circumcised being teased, and he didn't want the same future for our boys

Now, this is a pretty liberal college town, so I honestly think that wouldn't have been a factor.  In fact, one of their good friends isn't circumcised, and he is the one who asked them what happened to their skin!

So here is the naked truth.  Here is my main reason for circumcising the boys...

3. Hoods are ugly.  Okay, let's face it.  The one-eyed snake monster is not the prettiest piece of human anatomy in the first place, but put a turtleneck on it and it's down right science fiction looking.  The woman in the article had never seen one in person before, but I've dated my share of European men, and I can say with confidence that as a woman I much prefer the naked version.  (Sorry dad if you are reading this)

I've heard people talk about decreased sensitivity, blah, blah, blah.  But like I said, I have had partners on both sides of the aisle, and they all seemed to have similar experiences.  I certainly wouldn't say uncircumcised men were more sexual or experienced heightened sexual experiences.  So yes, I did it for cosmetic reasons.

I will say, I had the unfortunate experience of witnessing part of the circumcision.  The doctor was performing the procedure in the nursery while I happened to be coming in to store my pumped milk, and I heard one of my babies crying.  It was the first time I'd heard them cry really hard.  And of course it made me cry, too.  But I never regretted my decision.  They were over the pain quickly.  They healed nicely.  And now they have perfect little pee-pees!

The Economics of Parenting Twins

I just read a funny and accurate blog on the economics of having twins: Freakonomics

I've been meaning for a while to write a blog on "What parents expecting twins really need".  For instance, two high chairs YES, two Jumperoos NO.  It's on my things to blog about list, but I just haven't gotten around to writing it.

This guy succinctly mentions issues of the costs of having twins.  (Hint: It's not two for the price of one!)  Here are my quick comments on his article.

Feedings.  Superman and I split midnight feedings.  We couldn't just take turns like other bottle feeding parents.  Two babies equals two constantly sleep deprived parents.  And actually, I'd like to point out that I had it worse than him, because as soon as the feeding was over, we changed their diapers and put them back in their crib, then he went back to sleep.  I got to stay up for another 30 minutes of pumping and 15 minutes of clean up from said pumping.

P.S. When you are sleep walking during pumping, and you accidentally spill that milk that you are working so darn hard to make...you bring new meaning to the phrase cry like a baby.  I think Superman thought I'd fatally wounded myself.  And in a way, I felt like I had.

Thing 1 and Thing 2 at 3 weeks old in
second-hand bouncy seats from my cousin 

Infancy Costs. Most people have one baby at a time.  Which means they have one crib that is used for multiple children at different times.  But we had to get two of almost everything, since there were no hand me downs to be passed on.  The worst was the cost of buying things that you knew they'd only use for a few months and then outgrow.  We loved thrift stores and took any hand-me downs people would give us.  I didn't care if their high chairs matched, as long as they were cheap and/or free!

We were so lucky that I had a cousin who had twin boys two years before us.  They passed on a ton of stuff and I couldn't have been happier!  We "paid it forward" by passing on a ton of stuff as well.

P.S. People who won't take hand me downs for gently used items that the baby will outgrow in two seconds are freaking stupid!

P.P.S. I want to smack people who already have a blue high chair for their son and then go get a pink one when they have a girl. Hint: that baby doesn't freaking care what color their high chair is!  Use the dang-on blue high chair and put that extra money into their college account!!  Sheesh!

Diapers.  We chose to do cloth diapers for several reasons.  1. It is better for the environment.  2.  They are healthier for the kids (have you ever seen the toxic crap that spills out of a diaper that explodes when it gets too saturated?!)  3.  They are supposed to make potty training easier, since the kids feel more uncomfortable than disposables that are super absorbent.  And 4. They are cheaper.  Except, again, most people buy their $300 worth of Fuzzy Bunz in a few different sizes and that lasts them through as many kids as they have.  We on the other hand, had to buy twice the amount of diapers.  So in the end, I'm not sure just how much money we really saved.  I'm sure we saved some, but not as much as we would have if we'd used $300 for two different babies at staggered times.

Child care costs.  Babies cost more than toddlers.  Diapered toddlers cost more than potty trained toddlers.  People say "wow, it was great you could afford for Superman to stay home with the boys for three years."  The truth is, two babies in child care would have eaten up almost all of Superman's teacher salary.  He would have basically been working to pay someone else to take care of our kids.  As it is, we pay $1200-1500 a month (depending on whether it is 4 weeks or 5 weeks) to have two potty trained kids in preschool now.  People gasp when they hear that and say "Wow, I pay half that."  Duh, you have half the kids in school as us.

The good news: once they start kindergarten in a year, we will feel rich!  In the end, we end up paying the same.  The difference is we have to do a more condensed version, where other people get to spread theirs out a bit.

Sleep.  Again, thanks to the awesomeness of having a cousin pave the way for us in the world of parenting twins, we knew from day one the importance of getting them on a schedule.  I really don't know why anyone would be against sleep training.  Rested parents are happy parents.  Happy parents equal happy babies.  It's common sense to me.  But I read so many negative opinions about methods like Ferber and Babywise (both of which we used with great success!).  My boys were sleep trained as babies and are STILL amazing sleepers.  I read peoples' Facebook posts about their kids getting up at 5 am, even on weekends, and I thank my stars that my boys would sleep in until 9 am everyday if we'd let them (and on weekends we do!).  My only problem with their sleep is getting them up early enough in the morning.  Sometimes I feel like I have teenagers already!

And not only do they sleep late, but they go to bed great.  We have followed the rules of following schedules and being consistent.  So they know that bedtime is 8 pm.  There is no fighting, crying, or having to do super nanny methods to keep them in their beds.  It's 8 pm, they go to bed.  Boom.  We read them a few books, turn off all but one reading light, and they read quietly in bed until they fall asleep.  99% of the time, this is our night time routine.  I can't imagine doing it those other ways... how exhausting.

Built in playmate.  This one is huge.  I can say that this is by far the #1 reason why I'm glad we had twins.  I can remember even when they were 9 months old, seeing how much easier it was with two for keeping them entertained.  I'd put one in the Jumperoo and one in the exersaucer and set them facing one another while I did dishes and made dinner.  They'd laugh and entertain one another the whole time.  Meanwhile my friends with just one baby would complain about how hard it was to get anything done, because their baby wanted their attention.

I also think this is why we were successful at keeping them away from tv for almost two years.  If we'd had just one baby, I'm sure we would have given in and used the digital babysitter much much sooner than we did.

College.  Honestly, this is like the child care issue.  Sure, it's gonna suck to have two kids going in to school at the same time.  However, once it is done, it will be done.  And unlike with the surprise of having twins, we have 18 years to get ready for that expense.  And honestly, if we end up not having enough to send them...there are always school loans.  Hey, if it was good enough for me...

I take that back.  I freaking despise my school loans.  We'd better have saved enough by then!

In Summary.  All of you people who say "Ah, I always wanted twins."  Bet you didn't think about all of this, did ya?  You just thought about the cute factor of having two itty bitty babies dressed in the same outfit.  The truth is, there are definitely draw backs.

But then again, I only had to be pregnant once.  Only had to go through one delivery.  Only had to go through breastfeeding once.  Bottles once.  Night feedings once.  Diapers once.  Potty training once.

And once the boys outgrow equipment, clothes, toys, etc, there is no need to store them in the basement or attic for the next one.  We have a garage sale, or donate them to a friend or organization.  It's Hasta La Vista Baby!

Get them on a schedule!

Two more common questions we got a lot when the boys were babies: "How do you do it?" and "When one cries, does he wake the other?"

My answer might not be popular among some types of parents, in fact it might be considered down right terrible, but I don't care...it worked for us.  The answer: Babywise.

When I was pregnant, my cousin's wife gave us a book that I think saved our life and probably our marriage:  On Becoming Babywise.  The method, in short, is half scheduling and half feeding on demand, mixed with a method of training the babies to sleep, similar to the Ferber method.

Demand feeding mothers think that you absolutely have to feed the baby every time it's hungry, even if it is every hour on the hour.

Schedulers, on the other hand, say you firmly dictate when the baby is fed.

Babywise uses a window method.  For instance, a six week old baby might have a window of 2-3 hours.  Which means that from the time the baby starts eating, you can feed it again the next time it's hungry as long as it's been at least two hours.  If three hours passes and it hasn't awoken to eat, you go ahead and wake it to feed it.  The time of the window depends on age (although they do allow for other factors, such as weight and prematurity).

Also, you always put the baby down awake, so that it learns to put itself to sleep.  This means, you don't put the baby down right after a feeding, when they are sleepy.  Instead, you stimulate it and keep it awake (again for a certain amount of time depending on age) and then put it down awake.  If it cries, you use a modified Cry-It-Out method very similar to Ferberizing.  You NEVER rock a baby to sleep.

It sounds like a lot of work.  And at first, it is, because you have to keep track of times.  But I'm telling you, if you have two babies, and you ever want to get a good night sleep again...you have to get them sleeping!  And the best part about Babywise is that it boasts teaching your baby to sleep through the night.  And it absolutely worked for us.  Thing1 and Thing2 were sleeping 11 pm through 6 am by 8 weeks old.  Happy momma!

But, the effects lasted way past infancy.  My boys are still fantastic about going to bed.  My friends always seem jealous when we "put them to bed" and it takes less than 5 minutes.  It's because from a very young age we have had a routine and have had clear expectations about bedtime.

We aren't perfect parents by any means.  But the one thing that I strongly feel we've gotten right is their sleeping.  And to me, children who are good sleepers make for happier parents!

So, I thank the woman who passed on this secret to me.  I am thankful I can learn from her trial and error (she did not use Babywise for her first child and she said she nearly died of exhaustion).  And, maybe me passing on our good experience will help another mother out there!