Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Thoughts Meandering

I don’t know why but lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the miscarriage that I had in October 2006.  Time passes so quickly – it’s hard to believe it was so long ago.  It was almost exactly two years ago that I got pregnant that time, for the first time.  And almost exactly two years ago that my grandmother died, and I didn’t go to the funeral because I was spotting and my doctor didn’t want me on a plane, but then the pregnancy stuck around and everything was fine, and I made it to a  heartbeat and I was told I had a 95% chance of carrying to term, and I graduated from ye old fertility clinic, and I had appointments with the normal, boring OB/GYN like a normal pregnant woman, not a crusty old infertile.  And then I hit 12 weeks, and SURELY I was golden.  I mean, sure, I was still spotting, but everyone said that was NO BIG DEAL.

But the spotting yielded to gushing and mind numbing cramping and the cramping yielded to contractions and then a nightmare ER visit, and a blur to a D&C with my amazing OB/GYN. 

And that nightmare?  I can live with that.  I can.  I honestly don’t sit around thinking about due dates and the singleton that wasn’t, for without that miscarriage, my triplets wouldn’t be here.  I do think about the day of the miscarriage, but I don’t think so much about it as a baby that was lost as a day of trauma that I survived.

Except for one thing.

The thing that really gets to me?  That I just can’t seem to get over?  The thing that’s just eating away at me for some ridiculous reason?  The so-called "products of conception" were mishandled in the emergency room.  And I can handle not knowing if there was a genetic reason for the miscarriage.  I can handle not knowing if there was a weird trisomy or monosomy or whatnot. 

But (and I’m not certain why), I really wish I knew if it was a boy or a girl.  I cannot for the life of me figure out why this would help me put some closure on the whole matter, but I just *know* that it would.

Two years is an awfully long time for something so stupid to haunt me, don’t you think?

Chaos

Hey, someday when I happen to have more sleep and more time on my
hands, remind me to tell you how the events of this week all managed to
converge in such a way that I happened to end up with my grandfather
staying with us for a week (and his little dog, too!), my
mother-in-law’s damn cat in my house, and 13 people for dinner tonight.

Really.
It’s quite a funny (and aggravating) story.  Did I mention I have four
kids?  And that I’m allergic to dogs?  And cats?  And that we already
have 2 cats of our own?

I think my house is beginning to look a bit like a clown car.

Photographic Proof

Img_2142

No, really!  I DO have a life!  I have proof!  Here’s a picture of me having a good time with my friend Jo at the Indigo Girls Concert last Thursday.

See?  I really can have a good time, even when I’m away from the kidderoonies.  Truthfully, I spent most of my time there daydreaming about what my kids were doing, and I’m not sure if that’s sweet or pathetic, but that’s me now, right? 

Suffice it to say, a good time was had by all, and it was nice to have a night out with the girls.  Maybe I won’t wait until next year’s Indigo Girls Concert to have another night out.   We’ll see.  My next goal is to have another "date night" with Seth, but hopefully this one won’t be quite the disaster of the last one

Lots of people tell me I should just get up and go out, but I just don’t work that way.  I honestly don’t WANT to leave them with someone else.  I worked hard to get to where I am in my parent status, and I’d much rather be homebound for a few years than leave them in the company of others.  I don’t yearn for time away.  While I enjoyed the concert, I spent nearly the entire time thinking of my four children.  Believe me, I’m not desperate to be away from them.  I know that my time will come soon enough.   I know that in a blink of an eye, I will wonder where this time went.   

Some Notes

  • I think I am getting mastitis again.  Ugh.  This would be episode number 4.
  • My doctor thinks I have premenstrual dysphoric disorder.  I’m pretty sure the shoe fits. This is ridiculous.  Before I had the babies, I never got my period, never ovulated.  Now I’m breastfeeding three babies.  THREE.  I should have a "get out of PMS free" card, and do I have one?  No.  Instead, I get PMS on crack.  She’d give me Sarafem, but isn’t overly keen on doing so while I’m nursing without buy-in from my pediatrician.  I’m not overly keen on talking to my pediatrician about this, and Seth’s minimal research on the subject has led me to suspect that I may be better off waiting the few months that are left until they’re not nursing anymore. I dunno.
  • J’s medication seems to be doing a brilliant job.  Brilliant.
  • The babies?  Still cute.
  • My family (including inlaws)?  Completely screwed up.
  • Too tired for a real post. 

What? I have a life?

Don’t get me wrong, I love my life.  I am happy with my life and all the blessings in it.  I will gladly give up ever going out and I will happily stay in every night and stare at my gorgeous, thriving, healthy babies every night.  I will willingly collapse in bed, exhausted, at the end of each day, without a single thought to going out and doing anything else with my night, or spend my evenings doing laundry, dishes, making lunches, filling out paperwork for J’s school, sweeping the floor around the highchairs, washing bottles, or making baby food.  But I’m also not a martyr, so when the opportunity comes around for me to go out and do something fun, well, I’m certainly not going to turn it down.

Every year, my friend Jo and I go to see the Indigo Girls at Wolftrap.  Except, well, last year I was in pre-term labor and less than a month away from delivering the triplets, so I had to give up my ticket, which, yes, I’d purchased in vain hope of being able to go, but … well, not so much.  ANYWAY, the point is, last night, after I fed the babies dinner, nursed them one last time, put them in PJs and tucked them into their cribs, Jo and I went went to the concert, and it was a bunch of fun, and I have pictures to prove it… except…  I can’t get them off my camera!  I got home late last night, and I tried to get them off my camera, and… nothing.  My computer won’t recognize the USB device!  And so I tried Seth’s computer, but it won’t either, so it’s clearly a problem with the camera, not the computer, but WHAT could have happened?  Gah! 

Well, no matter, I had such a good time.  We got there early enough to hang out with another couple friends who had lawn seats, have a glass of wine and some yummy strawberries, talk, listen to the opening act, and just… be.  Then we headed down to our seats in the Pavillion and, boy, did we have GOOD seats!  Yay for Jo getting us the best seats so far!  🙂 

Lately, you know, I’ve been feeling really overwhelmed.  And it’s not the babies. It’s not J. It’s not motherhood, you see.  Motherhood is perfect.  The babies are amazing.  J is awesome.  It’s the rest of my life.  It’s fitting everything ELSE in.  It’s getting everything else to revolve around the four most important things in my life that’s overwhelming.  It’s hard to explain.  And I don’t feel this way all the time, it’s cyclical (more on this in another post), but it’s suffocating when it happens.  Still, in those couple of hours, all was right with the world.  Not a single moment went by that I wasn’t thinking of my beautiful blessings tucked in at home, but that is as it should be.  I am so grateful for the ways in which they enrich my life, the way they have filled the empty corners of my soul. 

The average number of teeth per baby is now:  4.

Sam has sprouted 2 more teeth!  He HAD been waking up in the middle of the night a bit more than usual (which is to say, he used to sleep through the night, and then, mysteriously, he wasn’t sleeping through the night anymore), but I guess with everything else going on we hadn’t put 2 and 2 together and calculated the likelihood of getting 4… 

And today we noticed that he has six, count ’em, SIX teeth!  Two on the bottom, and FOUR on the top!   

This might explain why he keeps chewing on me (ouch!), but hopefully that will end soon…

Update!  Abby now has six teeth also!  So now the average number of teeth per baby is, um, this math is a little harder, hang on… carry the two, subtract one, divide by three…4.666666666667!  Hey, um, how do you have two thirds of a tooth?  Ellie, bless her, is a total slacker with two teeth.  🙂  This may explain why Abby’s been chewing on everything in sight and a bit on the cranky side…

Update Again!  Ellie is cutting a third tooth as of 7/17/07 at 7:46am!  Without a single complaint!  (I told you she’s my good one!)  So now the math is a lot easier and we have an average of 5 teeth per baby!  Holy shmoly, things are about to get interesting around here!

If you're looking for the exciting adventures of Chez Perky, J, and the Triplets… please head over to the real home of Chez Perky

Thanks!

About

This is an example of a WordPress page, you could edit this to put information about yourself or your site so readers know where you are coming from. You can create as many pages like this one or sub-pages as you like and manage all of your content inside of WordPress.

A Pox On Your House

Last Wednesday, we rushed home from work, fed the babies an hour early, changed them into PJs and … packed them up and took them off to the NICU.  Weird, I know, but not to worry, they weren’t sick.  We were there for a "NICU Social" for current NICU parents and NICU "Graduates".  We were invited back by the new NICU Social Worker, and though I’d debated whether it was wise to go to an event from 5:30-7:30pm (the babies’ bedtime is 6:30/7pmish), we decided that it was worth a try. 

The babies did really, really well.  We arrived early and went up to the NICU to show the babies off and they got oogled at before we went down to the conference room where the social was being held.  There were a lot of families there, including about 5 current NICU families and maybe a dozen NICU "Graduate" families.  We were the only triplets, there were a set of twins, and the rest were singletons.  I think the gestational ages ranged from 25 weeks to 35 weeks.  The graduates ranged from a couple months old to 3 years old, so we were by no means the youngest ones there. 

There were a lot of NICU nurses that came down to spend some time with all the yummy babies, and they were so impressed with the triplets  and how well they’re doing.  The babies spent their time crawling all over the tables and showing off all their tricks.  When Sam got fussy, I nursed him and Seth held the girls who both fell asleep in his lap.  If I hadn’t been nursing Sam at the time, I would have taken a picture, because it was truly precious.

All in all, it was a wonderful opportunity to talk to some current NICU parents and tell that that there IS life on the other side, to talk to a set of new twin parents and let them know that life DOES get easier, and to show off our beautiful, thriving, and healthy babies.  I’m so proud of how far we’ve come.  We also got an opportunity to make suggestions for future outreach opportunities, for how the NICU staff can approach parents in the future to better serve them, and also to volunteer for planning committees for outreach programs in the future.  I was so pleased to be at this event.  The nurse educator who was there now knows that I’m on the board of the local Parents of Multiples Club and that she can direct any twin/triplet/quad parents in the NICU to me for support/help/questions, and she knows that I want to be involved with additional outreach projects in the future.  All in all, it was a good night.

But the next day… I got a call.

My nanny called me and said, "I think Abby has chicken pox."

"What?  Wait, Wha!!?"
"I think Abby has Chicken Pox"
"Chicken Pox?"
"Yes, I think she has Chicken Pox."

Now, you may not remember, but this is decidedly not good.  Because I am not immune to chicken pox.  I have had chicken pox twice, I have had the chicken pox vaccine twice, I am still not immune to chicken pox.  How do I know?   Because Ye Old Fertility Clinic drew a Varicella Titer as part of my Infectious Disease bloodwork way back before dinosaurs walked the earth and made me sign a big gigantic waiver in order to proceed with treatment.  I promised never to sue them if I got pregnant and ended up with chicken pox while pregnant.  I figured the odds of getting pregnant were pretty slim and the odds of getting chicken pox were pretty slim, so the odds of both happening at once were really tiny, so I was pretty safe in signing that waiver.  As it turned out, I did get pregnant (twice, though as we know, one of those times didn’t work out), but nevertheless, I did not get chicken pox, so my bet still paid off in the end.

I.  Freaked.  Out. 

Not only was I worried for me, but I was worried about all the babies we’d exposed the night before and the parents of babies in the NICU and…  Oh boy.  I know I couldn’t have known, but sheesh, this was decidedly NOT GOOD.

I rushed home, took a look, and breathed a sigh of relief.   Though my beautiful baby girl was clearly unhappy, running a fever, and out of sorts, she did NOT have chicken pox!  She very definitely had Hand Foot Mouth Disease!  And I knew *just* where it had come from.  A week and a half earlier, we had visited Jess, Jon and their Five Little Monkeys, and the next day, Jess told me that she was really sorry, but her five little monkeys had the coxsackie virus!  Whoops!  We thought we were in the clear, since none of our kiddos had turned up with it by then, but I guess not.  A pediatrician friend of mine down the street came up to confirm the diagnosis and after she did, I called my pediatrician just to let him know and make sure that he didn’t want to see it for himself.  He gave me the run down, told me to expect 2-4 days of misery, and told me to treat the symptoms (e.g. fever) as best I could, but otherwise said to hang in there as the others got it, whcih they likely would. 

Poor Abby had a fever all the way until Sunday!  Poor baby!  😦  But, fortunately, none of the other babies managed to get her virus.  Amazing!  I did have to talk to the NICU social worker to give her a heads up about the virus, but at least I didn’t have to tell her that there was a chicken pox scare… that would have been MUCH worse!  But life is good again, and everyone is healthy.    Hooray.   

Baby M is out of surgery.  Surgery went "very well."  That’s all I know, but that news is as good as any news I could ask for.

Triplet B is doing better.  She does not appear to have aspirated at all and is stable.  Seth visited her and her parents this afternoon and they’re doing okay.  They expect to be in the hospital through Sunday, just as a precaution, but for now, all is well.

Here’s more specific information on Triplet B (hereafter known as Brooke, since it’s now public information):  http://www.clagetttriplets.com/clagett_triplets/2008/07/a-scary-night.html

Bailey got a blood infection from her infected central line.  She’s on antibiotics and starting to feel better.  Hopefully this, too, shall pass.