I don't like shhhushing...

When I was still in the hospital recovering from the birth of the twins I had two "roommates" since I was there a little longer than most. My first roomie was great -- quiet, we small talked but didn't feel obligated to carry on conversations, it was good.

But she went home and a new woman moved in and well, she was annoying.

Actually, it was her husband who was annoying. He was a serial shhh-er.

Like shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhing so loud when their baby cried.

No, louder than you just imagined.

I told my hubs that we are not shhhing our children. And it was hard because it's kind of like a natural instinct to shhh...softly that is.

So instead of shhhing we sang the New York Lottery song that had a lot of shhh sounds. You know the one that goes, "You're so sweet, so sweet, you're so Sammy Sosa."

OK, those aren't the words -- exactly -- but I would sing it with the Sammy Sosa part because I couldn't make out the real words and well, it works with the sssss sound needed for a non-shhh shhh if you sing it with a lisp.

It makes me feel better than to shhh my kids, which feels rude and mean. I don't like to be shhhhed. Why would I shhhhush my babies?!

But! It turns out that shhhhing is recommended because it mimics the sound in the womb, which can be a white noise shhhhing sound like a vacuum cleaner.

Go figure.

I'm still sticking to Shhhhammy Shhhhosa.

Happy happy holidays!

Love,
Penelope & Hunter

Things they don't tell you about having a baby...

I did my reading, had a doula, hell, I work for a website and blog about pregnancy...but was I prepared for birth? Um...yes and no.

Yes because I felt educated. I knew what kind of birth I wanted to have, but also knew that sometimes things happen that can change that. If you read my other post, you know that my severe preeclampsia with HELLP syndrome prevented me from having a natural vaginal birth.

But no because, well...there are things that can happen along the way that people don't talk about.

Of course, I want to talk about them...

--The first time you stand up after birth, no matter how you deliver, there will be a massive gush of blood that will splatter all over the hospital floor. But you won't care that much because at this point so many people have seen your vagina and you may have even pooped when pushing out baby.

--Your pregnant belly doesn't magically disappear even though you've given birth. I looked about six months pregnant for about a week after having my twins. Now, three weeks later, I look about two months along. Or just like I drank too many beers and ate too many burgers.

--You will bleed for weeks after birth. And then it turns yellowish.

--Your belly button will never be the same. (And if you had a belly button piercing from 1992, it will look even worse.)

--Your baby may have a hairy face or unusually hairy arms or back. It's called lanugo and it's common in preemies and goes away after a couple of months.

--You will most likely have hemorrhoids even if you had a c-section and that first time you go number two might be traumatic. Like cannot sit down traumatic.

--Everyone will see your boobs when you breastfeed and you really don't care. Unless it's your father-in-law.

--If you had a c-section, you will secretly hate the women in the hospital who gave birth vaginally and you will be able to tell who they are because they are much more mobile and they recover faster.

--That c-section incision spot will feel numb...possibly for years and years. My friend told me it took her scar area ten years to have feeling again.

--Oh and even though you so want to shave the hair down there, you will be scared to because of the incision. But it doesn't matter because you can't have sex for six weeks anyway.

But like all moms will say, it's all worth it. And it really is.

My first two weeks as a mom

I had plans of writing what happened each day from the time my twins were born. But that hasn't happened. Recovery, sneaking in naps, and a hazy blur of days turning into nights into day again has kept me from jotting anything down.

Here I am, a little over two weeks into motherhood and I have a little time. Though Penelope is stirring...not sure how much time I actually have.

Days 1 through 5, I was in the hospital. A flurry of blood pressure checks, being poked with needles, learning how to get out of bed after a c-section, learning how to breastfeed, learning which twin is which. It was exhausting and scary and beautiful.

My mom stayed with us for the first week to help us out. Hans and I decided to sleep on the pull out bed in the living room so I didn't have to go upstairs to our bedroom (you should avoid stairs when recovering from a c-section).

When my mom folded up the bed on my second day home while I was in the shower, I cried. I wanted to shower, then lay back down. I didn't mean to make her feel bad, but it just brought me to tears. Lots of tears.

I cried every day for the next six days in the shower. It was my time to be alone, to let out my frustrations of taking long too heal, my jiggly belly hurting with each sob.

I felt pathetic.

I cried right before a 3am feeding when I tried to sit up and felt an intense burning above my incision.

I cried after a sneeze from the pain.

I cried and cried and cried.

I wasn't sad about being a mom...I was sad about not being able to be 100 percent mom because I was still recovering.

Two weeks in and the crying has eased. My showers are happier, the swelling in my legs and feet has gone down.

I did cry yesterday when looking into my son's eyes, but that was a happy cry. A I can't believe I am so blessed kind of cry.

It gets better each day.

My birth story: Preeclampsia HELLP Syndrome is scary

I never thought the story of the birth of my twins would be life threatening. Life altering, yes. Well, actually I have to admit, I have thought about my own mortality much more than I ever have. The thought of dying during childbirth did cross my mind. More than twice.

Maybe it comes with venturing into mom territory. But I've wondered what would happen if I died. Who would be mom to my twins? What would my husband do? It's far too painful to think about for more than a few seconds.

Ouch. See?

During some intense contractions in the hospital on December 1st, everything was going fine. We even listened to the entire four hours of my delivery soundtrack.

My doula was there, I was doing my breathing, staying calm, but then I started sweating, had blurry vision, and felt dizzy. Something was wrong.



The nurse checked my blood pressure...it was dangerously high. She tested my urine and we learned I had severe preeclampsia with HELLP syndrome -- which can be fatal and comes on during labor.

I was so out of it, even before I was given any drugs, that Hans, my husband, asked if I understood what was happening.



My sister was in the room and crying. My doula wiped tears from her eyes. Hans had fear on his face.

A mother dose of magnesium sulfate was administered to prevent me from having a stroke or seizure. A Foley catheter was put in.

C-section. We needed to get the babies out as soon as possible.

Anesthesiologist was called in. He wasn't aware of the situation yet. Was casual. Told my nurse, the woman whose quick thinking helped stabilize me, that I would have to wait. I heard whispers, but my sister heard the nurse explaining my condition. I was tended to immediately.

Was I going to die?

My parents arrived, confused over what was happening. My sister led them out to the waiting room to explain.

Tears. Gasps. Worry.

I was out of my body, floating, not feeling, calm, yet quietly panicking.

I remember being wheeled to the OR. I remember the lidocaine sting, the epidural. Arms strapped Jesus Christ style, needles everywhere, the sheet going up, oxygen in nose, lots of people in the room, my husband arriving in scrubs, the numbness taking over almost everything, but I was still so anxiously awaiting to hear my babies cry.

It was night and we were near windows. With the bright lights in the OR, I could see the doctors working on me from the reflection. I felt tugging and saw bright red masses taken out of my body. My organs.

Hubs saw them too and he knew I was looking. "Look at me, look at me," he said, trying to keep me calm.

I was crying a quiet cry, tiny puddles in my ears.

My doctor asked me if I worked out, saying my abs were strong. It made me smile and calmed me. Things must be going well.

At 10:05pm, Penelope Jolene was born. I heard her little voice. I started breathing heavier. At 10:07pm Hunter Johan was born. I heard him, too. Daddy held them and showed them to me, let me kiss their cheeks.



Twins were healthy and that moment was the happiest one of my life.

Then I started throwing up.

Hans had left the room to tell everyone the babies were born and I remember feeling so alone. So helpless, almost lifeless, not being able to feel anything from my chest down, arms still strapped, the magnesium sulfate making everything fuzzy. I was so happy, but couldn't emote.

I wanted to hold my babies, but couldn't move.

The doctors finished sewing me up and I was moved to a post-op room and the intense shivering from the epidural began. Uncontrollable shakes, yet I was sweating. I could barely see.

The drugs made it hard for me to talk. The babies were in a bassinet next to me, but I couldn't hold them.



I was poked for 30 minutes while the nurses looked for a vein to test my blood.

With my husband at my side, my sister, doula, mother, father visited, but it was all a blur.

I was kept in an observation room off the OR for two days. Even though I delivered the babies, the risks of severe preeclampsia HELLP syndrome were there for me, so the drugs kept coming.

I would nod out mid-sentence. I felt like I was inside myself. I felt dead. Couldn't be present. Couldn't be mom yet. I was so sad. I wanted that amazing post-birth bonding with my babies but that just couldn't happen.

Those two days were an eternity.

When I moved into recovery with the other new moms, things slowly started to become more clear. They reduced my magnesium dosage, but my blood pressure and levels were still high so I was still hooked up to an IV.

I cried a lot. Nurses and doctors visited me often, taking blood, urine, checking my blood pressure, reflexes, vision. They made me aware of my long road to recovery not just from the c-section, but the preeclampsia HELLP, plus the time it takes for all drugs to exit my system.

My feet and legs were swollen before, but they swelled even more -- from just above my knee down to my toes, the sight of them was frightening. It made it hard to walk.

But I could do this...I had two healthy babies, both around 4 pounds 11 ounces, and my body could handle this more than their tiny little bodies could.

I had to be patient. And I am still trying to be as I continue to recover.

Oh and I'm not thinking about my death (as much) anymore. It's these little lives...so beautiful and sweet, who take those thoughts away.

I am a mother.

Dear twins,

I am in early labor and realized I never wrote my letters to my babies in the womb.

I think I have just enough time to squeeze these notes in now.

Dear little girl,
You are Baby A, you will be my first born, my little girl with pigtails, maybe you'll ask me about shaving your legs someday, maybe even tell me about your first crush.

When you were in my womb, you were a wild child. You love to kick and punch, I felt you hiccup and you are the one who is so ready to come out. You've already dropped into my pelvis and you've left your brother very little room. You've stretched your body out on my left side and we know you have hair -- we saw it on the ultrasound.

Because of how you've been in the womb, once you are born I see you as a natural leader, persistent if not slightly impatient...just like your dad.


Dear little boy,
You are my Baby B, you made your grandpa G so happy that you will carry on the family name, my little boy with skinned knees who might wipe off my kisses someday, but I'll understand.

In my womb, you were kind enough to give up most of the room to your sister. You have curled your body in a little ball and love to stick your little butt way up into my ribs. You've lived on the right side of my body and love to squirm around and kick a lot.

I think you are going to be a heartbreaker, but the best kind. The one that everyone loves, a polite and sweet and kind boy who will grow into a total gentleman.

I cannot wait to meet you both, to learn from you, to teach you things, to hold your hand when you want me to and to pretend I don't know you when you get to that age. Oh and I remember when I was that age.

I can go on and on but I actually can't. You'll see how I'm a emotional one and I'll be the mom crying when you take your first steps, lose your first tooth, head off to school, and know it's because I love you.

Let's have a good delivery, OK? I'll try to meditate and stay calm, maybe you both can do the same. Pinky promise?

Love,
Mom