Nolan: A Birth Story

I feel like I need to preface this by saying that I can't help but compare every aspect of Nolan's - a singleton's - birth with that of having twins. I never really thought of Caden and Brooklyn's birth as being difficult before. Though things (of course) didn't go as "planned" with the twins, everything was fine in the end. However the entire experience, top to bottom, of a twin pregnancy, labor, birth, and the days that followed cannot compare to that of a singleton, at least my singleton, Nolan. While I knew that the experience of having twins was different, more difficult, I really had no idea just how much so until now.

I was continually amazed at the peace, the rest, the laidback pace of it all this time around. Obviously having a planned c-section helped. Yet while we were in the hospital with Caden and Brooklyn, there was always something happening. If one didn't need to feed, the other did, followed by a nurse needing to see me, or Caden, or Brooklyn, or both, or all of us. Someone needed to be taken away for a hearing test, the other needed a day under the Bili light, it was time for my meds, their meds, a new IV, a meal (which I never ate uninterrupted), the lactation consultant stopped by, etc., etc., etc......meaning that my room was a constant hub of activity.

But last week, I actually had downtime with Nolan. Time for cuddles just because I wanted cuddles, a meal or a snack when I wanted to eat a meal or a snack. Tyson looked at me at one point and said, "I'm actually kind of bored".  Let me assure you, at no point during our stay in the hospital with Caden and Brooklyn were we ever, ever bored.

All this to say that this time around, everything seemed to be actually...enjoyable. I was present, in the moment, and mentally and physically able to appreciate the experience. I can even articulate it better now, with a (mostly) clear head of just what all happened.

This is how we met Nolan.

I awoke the morning of February 22nd fully aware and prepared (well...as much as possible) for what the day was to bring. And I did prepare: I had the luxury being able to shower, do my hair and makeup, and finish packing for our hospital stay. It was calm, and besides the packing, more or less like any other morning. From the get-go, this was nothing like two years and two days before, when I spent the night in labor, ended with a c-section, and all after over 24 hours with no sleep. I was rested, ready, and, heck, even clean.

I can't stress enough how calm it all was. I had time to play with Caden and Brooklyn before we left for the hospital at 9:30. We played choo-choos and puzzles, cuddled, and snapped one last photo of us as a family of four before it was time to go. Which Caden and Brooklyn took completely in stride. When I told them that "Mommy and daddy are going to go bye-bye now to go have the baby. We'll see you later!" Brooklyn calmly turned to me, waved, and said, "Bye-bye mommy." (If she only knew...)

Tyson and I drove to the hospital and it was somewhat surreal...yet so ordinary. Driving there in the car felt like any of a million other times we've driven in the car together...and yet - come on - we're going to the hospital to meet out baby! The two just didn't seem to go together.

My family (mom, dad, brother) was already in the waiting area when we arrived, and we chatted for a bit before I checked in. I really can't emphasize how ordinary this all felt. Like it should have felt big and emotional and monumental -today is the day!- but it just didn't. Not yet. And certainly not like the urgency of arriving at the hospital for Caden and Brooklyn's birth.

After signing some paperwork, Tyson came back with me as I was prepped; gowned, given an IV, blood drawn, baby monitored, etc. All this took only about an hour, which meant we had to wait another hour before they were actually ready for my scheduled OR time of noon. Which, to be completely honest, was plain old boring. I didn't have anything to do and so...we waited. My family all came back to say hi one more time, but I basically sat in a tiny room with no windows, hooked up to an IV, in an extremely flattering hospital gown. Just waiting. Again, Caden and Brooklyn's birth was anything but boring.

Then things started happening - really happening. The anticipation began to build. At exactly five minutes to noon, doctors, nurses, anesthesiologists, all began entering my room to introduce themselves and let me know what their role would be during the delivery. No sooner did people start coming into my room than they stopped, and it was time. I kissed Tyson good-bye for the moment and walked (Yes walked.  It seemed somewhat anticlimactic.) into the OR.

This is where things got really real. I knew that Tyson would be joining me again soon, and everyone on my team was truly wonderful, but there's something about being in a cold OR, up on the table, quite literally bare-assed naked to the world as my epidural was administered, without anyone I knew...it's lonely. I can't say I was scared exactly (it helped having gone through this once before), but anytime I felt anxious I kept thinking, rushing forward, to the moment that Tyson would walk through those doors to join me. I received the epidural, and was splayed with arms wide open across the table as the activity continued. It is sort of nerve-wracking, and yet calming, to observe the activity going on around you, all to bring your baby into the world. Last time, and even more now, I was struck by how formal and disciplined and organized it all was...everyone has their job and their spot to stand and their task to perform at just the right time.  The drape was hung...they announced my name and the procedure and some other formalities...my team was getting ready to start...I had a sudden and momentary panic that Tyson wouldn't make it in time (hadn't they left to get him ages ago?), when he walked through the door. I felt calm again.

Calm and nauseous. The nausea hit almost immediately as they, well, cut me open. There's this weird sort of disconnect as you hear a scissors and other instruments going to work, and know full well what is happening...and yet not be able to feel a thing besides some general pulling and tugging.

It was only minutes, but it felt like ages as I lay there waiting for baby's arrival.  Finally I knew -this is it! - as there was one last, long, huge tug, and baby was free. "It's a boy!" Tyson announced to me, and despite the mask I knew he had the same wide, crinkle-eyed grin just like when Caden and Brooklyn were born, and baby was no longer an "it" but a he. HE was here, our little Nolan, at 12:25 pm. (Fun fact, the hospital plays a little lullaby stanza whenever a baby is born, so at 12:25 my family heard the lullaby in the lobby and knew that "their" baby had made its appearance.) They held him up over the sheet, pink and wet and wrinkled and crying, so that I could see him - him! - for the very first time. His nose, that cute little scrunched-up prominent nose, and a swath of dark hair make up my very first memory of him.

Tyson, all gowned up, rushed over to the warming table where they cleaned, warmed (that OR was COLD), weighed (6 pounds 14 ounces), measured (20.5 inches long), and swaddled him before placing him in Tyson's arms. (Also: Apgar scores of 8 and 9.  #mommybrag.) I didn't take my eyes off of him, even though my neck was cramping as I strained to see Nolan off to my left. My anesthesiologist tried to get me to turn my head to relieve some of the cramping, but I could only last a few seconds before straining to see him again.

At last, though I'm sure it was only minutes, the nurse asked if I wanted to do some skin-to-skin with him. Um...do people actually refuse this?!?  They laid him across my chest where he fit and snuggled right in.  I know I keep comparing this time to how it was last time, but I didn't get to do this with Caden and Brooklyn, who were immediately rushed to the NICU due to an infection. Nolan and I cuddled while they finished putting me back together, and then we rode up the elevator, to our recovery room, which is also where we spent the rest of our hospital stay.

I got over an hour of Nolan and me time. I didn't know that giving birth could be like this. Last time I was so lonely in recovery...Tyson went to see our babies in the NICU (which I wanted him to do, but didn't mean that I felt any less alone), while I recovered in a room by myself just off the OR. But now...I got to cuddle Nolan to my heart's content, as Tyson was in and out to announce the news to our families.  I can't get over how peaceful, how relaxing this time was, despite the lack of feeling in my legs, having fluids pumped into me, tubes and wires snaking their way around my bed, and a nurse hovering nearby to check my vitals every 15 minutes.  I didn't get time to just be and appreciate Caden and Brooklyn. I got Nolan all to myself from the start, and I truly did feel more attached to him because of it.  I certainly loved Caden and Brooklyn and felt strongly protective of them, but looking back now, after this experience, I didn't quite have a bond with them right away like I felt with Nolan.  He was just so fiercely MINE.

The next part that I really remember, that I was really looking forward to, was introducing Caden and Brooklyn to their baby brother. Tyson collected them from the lobby and walked them upstairs to my room. They rushed in, Brooklyn complete with a stuffed puppy to give to baby brother under her arm, but stopped suddenly before they got to my bed. Their eyes were both huge. I'm sure they didn't know what to think. There was mommy in a strange bed wearing strange things and holding a baby. Brooklyn just stared and stared, but Caden was concerned. He pointed to the IV in my hand and said, in a small concerned voice, "Mommy?", and rushed forward, all protective, as if to rip it off of me. I felt so bad, and tried to reassure him that I was okay. They got over the worst of their shock within a minute or so, and took turns on the bed cuddling with "baby". "Cuddling" mostly involved attempts to literally tackle him with their hugs, squish him and me as they tried to kiss his lips, and repeatedly shove the stuffed puppy in his face as they tried to show it to him.

Later, Tyson's mom was holding Nolan while Caden and Brooklyn were out of the room. When they returned Brooklyn immediately rushed over to grandma saying "Mommy baby! Mommy baby!" and tried to rip poor Nolan out of her hands to give him back to me. She was clearly protective of this little brother, and as far as she was concerned it was mommy's baby, and no one else's.

Fine by me. I was more and more in love with this little guy every time I held and looked at him. He was just so perfect. He hardly made a sound, except when he was legitimately upset (hungry, naked, we dared to disturb him for a diaper change), and was content to just cuddle and sleep.

The following morning we woke up to a perfect fluffy snowfall - Christmas snow. It was so peaceful and beautiful as I watched from my bed, with Nolan just next to me in his hospital crib. And the rest of our hospital stay continued to have this calm over it.  I truly cannot explain or overstate the difference between the calm this past week vs. the constant activity of Caden and Brooklyn's birth.  

I didn't know it could be like this.

I assumed all births, twins or no, were somewhat busy and chaotic, even in the days that followed. This hospital time was like a mini mommy vacation. A strange vacation, where you don't get to sleep through the night or even all that late in the morning, and maybe the meals aren't quite up to par, but a vacation nonetheless. And this time I had hours at a time with Nolan all by myself, which I absolutely reveled in, and now have stored up in my memory forever.  He became more and more mine the more we spent time together, just him and me.

My Nolan.

I can't believe it's been a week.  I'm not usually so sentimental, but chalk it up to postpartum hormones that I keep tearing up while typing this, and wanting to go back to that peaceful hospital cocoon that we will never have back ever again.  Instead we'll soak up new memories here at home, as a newly formed family of five.

And there is this feeling, that of course - of course - it was a boy all along.  It was Nolan all this time.  How could he have been anyone else?

Nolan Photo Dump

Nolan's birth story to come...but for now I couldn't resist dumping here some of the three hojillion photos I've taken over the past five days, crappy cell phone pics and all...

{Ready to go to the hospial.}

{aka Last pic as a family of four.}

{aka Caden and Brooklyn have no idea what's about to hit them.}

{Let's do this.}

{Hello world!}

{Proud daddy.}

{Probably the least flattering but most cuddly moment.}

{On the way to meet little brother.}

 

{Pro tip for taking a family photo with two toddlers and a newborn: I got nothin.}

{Intent on tackling "baby" with hugs and kisses.}

{Brothers.}

{Woke up the following morning to the most beautiful snowfall...like Christmas snow.}

{I could enjoy it since I was confined to the hospital and didn't have to actually deal with it.}

{Still relieved that it melted by afternoon, though.}

{Sibling visit number two.}

{Not sure what was more exciting to this two-year old; baby brother or the cabinets just his size to hide and play in.}

{The sweetest good-bye kiss.}

{Baby brother might have trumped the cabinets after all.}

{Still waiting on those pro tips for taking pics with two toddlers and a newborn...}

{Quiet time on day three for Nolan and mommy meant a chance for some photo-taking.}

{Those lips, tho.}

{Sibling visit day three.}

{Trying to share the Daniel Tiger app with Nolan.}

{Sharing technology?  Now THAT'S brotherly love.}

{Time to go home!}

{Snuggled up...home at last.}

{Not sure where all that dark hair came from.  Assuming it stays we now have a regular Triumvirate: a brunette, a redhead, and a blondie.}

{Found out after our home visit with a nurse just a few hours ago that this little guy has already gained four ounces since coming home just yesterday, putting him almost back up to birthweight.  Keep it up, little man.}

And, just for fun...

Nolan ready to come home...

...vs. almost exactly two years ago.  #timeflies

Post (Second Birthday and Last as a Family of Four!!!) Weekend

{banana cake making}

{banana cake decorating}

{ALL the sprinkles!!!!!!!1!!!1!!)

(afternoon coloring marathon}

{post-coloring selfies}

{birthday trip to zoo}

{human toddlers meet baby giraffe}

{"ROARS" (aka lions) }

{this is actually the best photo of mommy + birthday twins at the zoo}

{no, really, it's the least blurry}
{seriously}

{birthday bikes!}

{need just ONE MORE INCH to be able to ride (erm...scoot?) solo}

{okay, sometimes the best photos are blurry}

{birthday candles x 2}

{and finally...birthday cake!}

{sprinkles and all}

{my sprinkle layer was the same thickness as my frosting layer}

{it was still delicious}

The Second Year is Also Hard

After finding out we were expecting twins, so many people told us that if we survived the first year, we'd be in the clear.

Once they were born, it seemed that every other week another set of twin parents would tell us, "Hang in there, the first year is hard, but it gets better."

When we celebrated their first birthday, Tyson and I were continually congratulated for having survived.  I'm not sure who got more attention and congratulations on their first birthday...Caden and Brooklyn or Tyson and me!

But the day after their first birthday came and went, and the next week, and month, and so on.  It didn't really seem to be getting any easier, exactly.  Taking care of twins, who were rapidly developing and transitioning from infants to full-blown toddlers...well, it still seems pretty darn hard.

Everyone seemed to gloss over the fact that the second year...is also hard.

What's Worse

• Dealing with two evermore independent toddlers.  Having two young toddlers the same age makes it seem like someone always needs to be played with, taught, monitored, and (gulp) disciplined.  I feel like I am constantly reminding them how to share, to be patient (both them and me), and how to behave and act.  They are really starting to be full-fledged little people, full of personality and independence. 
• Yet as independent as they are, they are still so needy.  Two sets of shoes, jackets, and hats to assist with (to varying degrees, depending on the day's mood and amount they want to "I do!").  Two sets of food to prepare and cut up (and don't forget that Caden likes to eat his strawberries whole but Brooklyn prefers hers sliced.  Caden can eat pears all day long, but Brooklyn won't touch them, and Caden won't eat anything resembling a traditional sandwich, but if you toast the bread and give him the same toppings, open-faced, he will gobble it up.)  There are two little bodies to bathe, two sets of teeth to brush, and always, always, always toys to be put away.
• Toddlers the same age...who are also siblings.  While they are actually pretty good at sharing - certainly more so than most other toddlers I've seen - they also have to deal with always having another two-year old around who is playing with the toy they want to play with, reading the book they want to read, or sitting in the spot they want to sit.  And since they both have the same ability in communicating their frustration (aka whines, screams, total toddler meltdowns on the floor), this can cause me to feel like a referee for full days at a time.

Admittedly, there are a lot of things that are better during this second year.  I certainly don't want to go back to the twin infant stage.  Tyson and I will admit no small sigh of relief to be expecting ONE baby this time.

What's Better

• SLEEP.   The first year - especially those first few months - are mostly a blur. Taking care of two babies round the clock, and trying to survive on such a small amount of sleep was no picnic.  Nursing two babies during the night - 3-4 times those first months, 1-2 times a night later that year - meant any and all sleep was interrupted.  And those numbers are just feedings - that's not to mention any other nighttime wakings.  It's hard to function without a long, full stretch of sleep.  (Isn't sleep deprivation actually used as a form of torture?!?)  Now most nights are uninterrupted, or interrupted minimally.  I no longer go to bed wondering if I'm just going to be woken up in an hour by a hungry baby or two.
• Schedules that sync.  Since Caden and Brooklyn were on different, and frequently opposite, nap schedules for the first 9-10 months, most of that first year meant I was never, ever without a baby nearby.  Now that their schedules are in sync and consistent, naptime actually means I get some free time during the day.  Even cleaning bathrooms and catching up on laundry can feel like a break without toddlers around!
• Independent play.  While they squabble with each other just like any other pair of siblings, I also see them play more and more with each other every single week.  They've started making up games together and can actually be relied upon to play together for longer and longer periods of time.  Not routinely, but still.  For all the fights that need to be broken up, there is also the advantage of having a built-in playmate.
• Mealtime.  I was not one to mourn the passing of breastfeeding.  Two self-feeding toddlers is an amazing thing.  They can eat and use utensils by themselves, and while sometimes it seems all I do in a day is prepare, serve, or clean up after yet another meal or snack, it pales in comparison to two babies who nursed every two hours.

The takeaway is this: the second year is still hard.  It's just a different kind of hard.  What made the first year so difficult was pure sleep deprivation.  Tyson and I agree that the bare tasks of taking care of two infants weren't in and of themselves so difficult: nursing, bathing, changing diapers.  But with a lack of sleep even the simplest of tasks can seem Herculean.

The second year brings sleep (blessed, blessed sleep), but requires much more supervision. Caden and Brooklyn are at a point where they don't need such constant monitoring, but from about 12-18 months of age, (12 months not so coincidentally being about the time they learned to walk) they did need almost constant attention, whether at home, at the park, or while on a playdate.

We need to acknowledge that with everything "easier" is just replaced with something else that is hard.  Toddlers who can walk into the store - instead of being wrangled around in two infant carseats - is quite literally less of a burden.  The carseats are just replaced by holding two hands through the parking lot, meaning my hands are still full.  Independent play frees up some of my time, but still needs to be monitored to minimize attacks on each other and our home.  Self-feeding frees up even more of my time, but also requires just as much supervision to ensure that food is actually eaten, and not just thrown on the floor, at each other, or shoved experimentally into a cup of milk.

Even if the second year is still hard, I wouldn't trade it or go back for anything.  Watching two little people develop their own personalities and abilities at the same time is an amazing thing to witness on a daily basis.  But for all the twin parents out there in their first year: hold on.  It's still hard.  A good hard.  But hard.  Continue to invest in caffeine. And chocolate.  Godspeed.

Enjoying This Week

With baby's arrival scheduled for Monday (!!!) I am absolutely enjoying these last moments as a family of four.  I propped my exhausted, stretched-out, 9-months pregnant self on the couch last night and just took in the fun that my three favorite people had together, working on a puzzle, running around, and just generally being silly the way only (almost) two-year olds and their "I-can-still-act-like-a-two-year-old" daddy can.  As excited as we are for baby's arrival, I can't help but think of how I'll also miss the routines and life we've built with these two little people.

Also enjoying this "last" week:

• The ability to move around easily.  Now that I know what to expect from a c-section recovery, a 9-month preggo belly actually seems manageable.
• The relative ease of leaving the house with two toddlers in tow, who can walk, (sort of) follow directions, and (somewhat) dress themselves.
• Driving.  Because I just remembered somewhat recently that a c-section recovery also means no driving for several weeks.  *sigh*
• Sleep.  Nighttime bathroom trips not withstanding, a full night of uninterrupted sleep is a luxury that I probably won't have again for the next several months to a year.
• Me time.  I might have incredibly active twin toddlers, but at least their nap and bedtimes sync up.  Adding an infant on a completely different schedule is going to be an entirely different ballgame.
• Not planning my wardrobe around what's easiest to nurse in.  'Nuff said.