Extraordinary

For anyone else, Saturday was just that, an ordinary Saturday.

But in our house, Saturday November 24th marked one year that our sweet baby girls passed away.

And because we wanted people to remember them, we had people over. But first, we had them meet us at the cemetery. For just an hour, to pay their respects, to remind themselves how they should have called us more often to let us know they were thinking of us, to remind themselves that the babies were real and that our wild mood swings in the last year were because of something monumental.

And we shared our thoughts. We thanked them for coming, mostly relatives and very few close friends, and we explained that it meant a lot for us that they were here today. We told them that we visit the girls every single weekend. We still think about them all the time. You probably haven't seen much of us this last year, and that's because it's so difficult. We don't know how to feel, but we feel better when we're not around people who tell us to "get over it", and we missed your birthdays and other events you thought were important not because we don't care about you, but because we didn't have anything left.

Or something like that. But it was all said very nicely.

And back in February we were interviewed for a local magazine. That magazine went out of business for a spell but now it is back, and the article will be printed next year. Our dear cousin read our early copy to the crowd. It explained how we were frustrated with making other people feel comfortable with our grief. It detailed our annoyance with platitudes that start with G and end with the word "plan." It spoke of our disdain for malls and parks and anywhere outside of our home where newborns and pg women lurk. It chronicled my long days of bedrest and the babies' birth and their condition, and their death.

And the gathering sighed. They cried. They had no idea what we went through, as only a few people asked us specifically what happened. They lamented their bad behavior in the last year. They thought we wanted to be left alone.

It's true, we did.

But a simple "I'm thinking of you and I'm bringing you a funny movie" would have been nice. And inviting us to an aunt's birthday dinner and letting us know that the other cousin and new baby were coming too and letting us decide whether we would attend or not, would have been really, really over the top nice.

And mostly they understood a little bit more of where we were coming from, and thanked us for sharing our story.

And then we came back to our house for lunch.

And we went to bed happy, in a way, because we got through the first year, and we unloaded many pent up feelings to people who love us. Hopefully those who got the message will be able to be better friends and relatives to others who experience such a tragic loss.

Happy (for lack of a better word) Anniversary, Cerina and Nadia. Your Papa and I love you very much, and there are lots of people thinking of you and remembering you too. We'll never let them forget your short lives and how you changed ours.

Cerina & Nadia's 1st birthday cake

365 X 24 X 60

That's how many minutes ago our twin daughters were born. That's how many minutes I've spent thinking of them in the last year, guilty thoughts, loving thoughts, feeling resolved, feeling angry, feeling sad and broken.

23 weeks

They were born alive at 24w5d, and Cerina even let out a tiny cry. It was just so amazing to hear her voice, considering how young she was. Nadia didn't make a peep when she was delivered 3 minutes after her sister. That was to be expected.

They were rushed to the NICU via warmed elevators. Wannabe dad went with them, then joined me in the recovery room. I was there from about 2:15 a.m. then wheeled to our room at 5:30 a.m., so tired and cold. My uterus was contracting, I was told it was due to the pitocin that was used to shrink it back down.

When I woke up the next day, I couldn't believe the babies were born. My belly was only slightly smaller, and goodness I was in so much pain, and my head felt strange from the bedrest. I do remember the immense happiness peppered with trepidation. I thanked wannabe dad for being such a huge support, doing everything for me while still working on clients' projects (he designed the logo of a new pizzeria that opened in town this year) and holding us together.

He wheeled me up to the NICU at 4 p.m. I finally saw them. They were unbelievably tiny, only 12 inches, their legs the size of my fingers. They were in the same room but in separate isolettes. When I walked in I felt like I was intruding. I don't know why, they were my babies!! For a first time mom this was certainly not a good experience. I looked at them through the glass. The nurse explained the babies' surroundings and the bili-lights. Both girls had their eyes covered (I didn't see their faces until 6 days later, when they were removed from the machines, baptized, and we held them for hours) because of those lights.

Cerina

Nadia

Cerina (top) and Nadia with their Papa's loving touch

They were just beautiful. Their earlobes were unattached like their Papa's. Their nailbeds were the same shape as their Papa's. They had my nose (flat and wide :) ). They would have been good girls because we'd be strict. We wouldn't let them date until age 30 (ok, 21). They are the lights in our eyes and the fire in our hearts.

And today was the first time I didn't go the cemetery. Their birthday. What impeccable timing. I contracted a nasty, achy, congesty cold. Low grade fever of 99.3. I didn't leave the bedroom all day long. This is the first cold I've had since January and it is eating me alive!

Wannabe dad picked up balloons, potted flowers, and even a piece of cake for the girls. I'll upload a short video once I find the cable. My mom called to wish the girls a Happy Birthday, N called, and even our lovely neighbor gave us cards made by her daughters and some beautiful flowers. Now while the night hasn't yet ended, I am still expecting calls from A and M. Not too much to ask, do you think? Well, I'll cut A a lot of slack since she is hauling around two industrial-sized bowling balls from her chest (her words; isn't she hilarious?). I haven't talked to M for a few weeks so I'm not sure what's going on.

If they had called they would have heard the news directly from me: I decided to whip out the stick and pee on it this morning, because I thought it would be a lovely birthday gift.

And it was lovely, but a scary gift too.

And I realize it's waaaay too early to tell anyone, but if it doesn't work out, this wonderful community will be there to offer support.

P.S. If you know me in real life, please not a word to anyone else. Please.

Sleepless

Welcome to getting-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night no. 3!

The bewitching hour of 3 a.m.-ish, when either I get up to pee or my eyes just pop open for no reason. Awake! Awake!

I'm wondering if it has something to do with my hospital stay this time last year. A year ago right now marks the start of day 8 of my hospital bedrest. This time last year the babies were being monitored, the cold gel placed on my already sticky belly, the light from the hallway filtering through the chains on the curtain, and I was sleepless then too; not knowing how much longer I was going to be on the mag sulfate drip, or when the contractions would start up again.

It's either that or I'm pregnant (we're at 14 dpo although I couldn't confirm a high temp this morning because, well, I was up since 3 a.m.), and hormones are toying with me.

I don't dare POAS, because I don't want to jinx it. Ridiculous as that may sound to normal people, I remind myself that I am no longer normal. Either AF shows up or I'm waiting for 18 days of high temps.

And tonight (a mere 15 hours from now) there is a mass of remembrance (general loss) at the church.

And Saturday is another memorial event at another church, specifically for bereaved parents. I've heard about this one before, this time I'll be prepared with an 8x10 of the girls.

And this Sunday is the twins' birthday.

And wannabe dad has needs.

And our wine club delivery is held up with Brown because they just can't leave a box o' wine on my doorstep while I'm at work.

Could I be a little anxious?

*Edited to add:
And how could I forget this juicy tidbit!? I found a fraudulent charge on my account for ~$300, and another one for $1.26. I had to cancel the card. The very helpful rep told me about a case where a customer's account was charged for dollar & change amounts over the course of two years, the kind of amount that a busy person wouldn't question, that maybe he had purchased a stick of gum here, a condom there, a random 40-oz C.olt 45 at the 7-1-1...so keep a lookout for strangenesses going on in your accounts.

Acts

A year ago I was in the hospital, on strict bedrest, trying to keep the babies from being born. I remember it so vividly, each nurse's face, their grace (or lack of it -- one came in smelling of chocolate), their care, each of my visitors, each of the doctors and their oftentimes contradictory instructions. Yes, you can get up to pee. No, you are not to get up until the babies are born. Yes, you can have a vaginal delivery. No, I recommend a c-section. Eat. Stop eating right now.


In the end, I did everything in that damned bed for 10 days and the girls were born too early, by c-section. I have numbness 2 inches above the incision. I'm used to it, though it feels odd when I brush up against the kitchen counter or Kaleo bumps his nose against it. I still rub vitamin e oil on it after every shower, and somehow that has made me be ok with it.


I also vividly remember many of the kindnesses shown during my stay and in the aftermath. I've often complained of clueless remarks, family and friends not calling, FIL making a big deal of Father's Day and how he wasn't being properly revered by wannabe dad, yet hardly mentioned these lovely acts...

* my two girlfriends flying in from out of town to be with us on the girls' last day, plus my girlfriend and her hubby cancelling a post-Tgiving road trip, plus wannabe dad's brothers being there

*my chiropractor driving 80 minutes to adjust me, and only accepting lunch as payment (it was takeout from a mediterranean restaurant; when we pass it once in a blue moon I sigh and remember that day)

* my neighbor hitting up her friends, family, and hair clients for money to help us pay for the grave marker and other expenses

* my friend, a scrapbooking queen, helped me organize the pictures of the girls for the funeral in true scrapbooking style. I always thought scrapbooking meant giving in to the dark side, but well, there I was ear-deep in darkness.

* my college friend from another state sending money in place of her presence at the funeral

* my two former relocated co-workers who flew back to attend the funeral (from NJ and IL)

* our friends who drove 3 hours to attend the funeral

* my friend N, who was my suit of armor when I returned to the office, keeping people at a distance, monitoring my emotions, listening, crying with me

* grave marker guy who took great care in producing the marker (I won't mention cemetery lady who gave me a hard time about accommodating our wishes and wanting to add an upcharge to every non-standard item, like the babies' feet being added), although we found it odd that he showed us the stencil and the granite slab in his trunk in the parking lot of a burger joint, it turned out beautifully.

* and as if they had anything to do with it, our kitties finding us -- Moki in December, left in our attic by his crackhead mom, and Kika and Limu in July while wandering the 'burbs with their mom (Moki's sister). Thank you, pretty kitties!

* the grandparents of C, the baby boy buried next to Cerina and Nadia, who leave toys on all the babies' markers

* my friend who calls to check on us monthly, without fail, without excuses, even apologizing for calling so "often"

Lots of thanks go out to these folks, keeping us going, keeping us from going crazy, holding us in their thoughts, being present. These acts balance out the others that make us question the human race and its inability to show compassion without judgement.

There's a reason for everything. They're in a better place. God wanted them earlier. They were born because something was wrong and your health was in jeopardy.

Really? I don't believe that one fucking bit.

Beautiful

Miss L is here! I didn't pay the $5 a month to be able to get my picture messages off my phone, so the cute picture of her from her Mom will be held captive. Damn technology and my cheap ass.

She was born last Friday night, perfect as can be. I'm so glad. I'll ask if I can link to her blog once she gets a free minute to post, say, in a month.

Switch

I should be updating the books and send the necessary reports to the accountant, but...

My very dear friend of 1,000 years (ok, not that long, at least since the awkward teen years) is about to give birth any day now. Whether the little one decides to come on her own or A is induced, she is coming. As it is already 3 days past her due date, we are worried. And she is high risk.

A was also there when Cerina and Nadia were removed from the ventilators. She is a godmother to Cerina. I didn't tell her before got on the plane, nor the night before when she got into town, but after she arrived at the hospital did I finally tell her that the girls weren't going to make it. It was heartbreaking. We had looked forward to this for a long time.

Afterward, she called people to tell them, people I hadn't spoken with in a while. She called the funeral home and the cemetery. She helped me make sense of things when we got home.

Truthfully, and she knows this, I had a really hard time with her being pregnant when I first heard. Ok, up until two months ago. Who am I kidding? But right now it seems that a switch has gone off. I'm worried when she's worried. I'm happy when she's happy. She is truly an advocate for her and her baby's care, something that I wasn't but now will be. Goodness, it is difficult enough dealing with my own issues (down there) that I shouldn't add more weight to my heart. This IS a happy moment, even if it's not happening to me.

So A, I am looking forward to welcoming Miss L into the world. I love you.

Perfectly

There are fingers crossed in my house, for we had Perfectly Timed Sex.

According to the rules, we had sex the day before the temp rise. Before that, it was four days before so I'm hoping there were some slow swimmers still hangin' out.

But we've had PTS before when trying to conceive last year, 2x in 6 months. I don't have my Chart of When We Conceived the Twins with me right now (it's in the girls' scrapbook), so I don't know if we had PTS (according to the rules). But during the first u/s when I thought I was 7 weeks along, the babies measured at 9 weeks (this leads me to believe that they were born at 22 weeks instead of 24; this turns itself over in my head day after day after day).

Is it possible to ovulate without a temp rise? Do we have to resort to daily sex?

We PTS this past August, during the 60 day cycle. So here's hoping that this time it works because this whole miracle of ovulation doesn't exactly happen like clockwork my body.

We're emotionally ready, so can it please happen NOW? Somebody send a memo to the guy upstairs.
***
At long last, the Kaleo Poo Spot is open for business. Now if we could just get him to use it. He loves the cushy grass of our backyard lawn, so it will take some getting used to the little river pebbles under his paws.

If I could locate our digi-cam I would show you a picture of it. I should snap a picture of him in action. Just kidding.
***
The banana tree has sprung another baby. The other one, sadly, is still hanging in there, the little green fingers stunted in growth due to the lack of luscious humidity that a banana tree craves.

The new blossom is bigger than the last, and as we are entering the cold season poor mama tree is not going to see her babies come to life to fatten our bellies. Such is the saga in our house.
***
We are on the heels of the One Year Anniversary. One year since I was admitted to the hospital (11/8), since the girls were born (11/18), since the girls died (11/24). I am flustered as to how to commemorate the day/days. I don't know if I want people over. I'm open for suggestions. I'll make them little cupcakes for sure.
***
I've been mulling over something.

Do my thoughts resonate with you because I lost twins and you did too? Do you find my thoughts helpful because you also suffer from i/c? Do you relate to me less because you lost boy-girl twins instead of two girls? Are we on the same page because we gave birth at 24 weeks or thereabouts?

I find that I am missing out on some feelings, so to speak, because I did not have a full-term pregnancy. I cannot relate to the uncomfortableness felt at 9 months along. I am so sad at what many in our grief community have experienced with a stillbirth, and I can't relate.

I haven't been diagnosed with infertility, so I even feel bad about bitching about my irregular cycles because many couples are going through the wringer.

Yet in the end our losses, no matter how early or late or why they happened, bring us together through wires and waves and satellites, and they define us and they're bigger than us, and we're just trying to make sense of what's left. And I love that I can share anything and everything and get a virtual hug and support. At least from my regular commenters (*hint* lurkers please let me know you're out there!).
***
And I leave you with a Halloween 2007 picture, just a little bit late. We skipped it, opting to hide in the office until late in the evening. I just couldn't stand to see a cute baby in a cute costume, and there are lots of them in our neighborhood.