Happy Monday!

I think we might be turning a corner here in our house and headed towards everyone finally being healthy **knocks on wood**. Luke is still a little bit congested, but I am beginning to think he might have a touch of allergies. His dad is allergic to cats and dust (and our house has plenty of both), and maybe he has inherited some of those allergies.

Anyways, I thought I'd jump on here real quick while both the babies are actually down for a nap at the same time and post some pics...



David is so creative when it comes to keeping the babies entertained. One day when the weather was nice, he decided to give them front row seats to the outdoors while playing in their pack-n-play. They loved it!



My DJ's...



My happy little girl...




Everyone loves mealtime around here!
(Abigail)
(Lucas)



And bath time!
(Momma & Abbeygirl)

And of course, playing with our toys!




Yesterday afternoon we loaded up the babies and headed to our Pastor's house for our Small Group's Thanksgiving Feast. The babies were soooooo good! They sat happily on our laps while we ate, and they munched on puffs & yogurt melts, and had bites of our applesauce, mashed potatoes, and ham. And even though we are in the beginning stages of separation anxiety, they did great being passed around from person to person...just smiling and cooing the whole evening! It was so fun!
Took this right before we headed out...
Yea for a smiley family =)

Oh, how He loves us

I have been up a lot in the middle of the night lately holding my ill son as he moans in a feverish pain. (Of note, so has my wonderfully helpful husband...can't leave him out) This has allowed for many middle of the night deep thought sessions.

Bear with me as I get them out of my head and down in writing.

I've been thinking about how hard it is to watch your children be in pain. It absolutely rips my heart apart. I have been thinking about the mothers -and fathers- who have chronically ill children. Or terminally ill children. The parents who have to sit and watch their children suffer day in and day out, and there is nothing they can do about it.

I can not imagine.

A few weeks ago I brought a patient and his mother into my office to schedule their future appointments/procedures. The patient was a teenager, and a quadriplegic. He was unable to move any part of his body, and unable to speak, but he wore a smile. His mother looked tired, but she wore a smile as well. I learned that two years ago her son had been attending an event with his youth group and had a heart attack. He went without oxygen for too long and although he was brought back to life, his brain and body suffered permanent damage. Turns out he had a heart defect from birth that there was no way of knowing about until the heart attack occurred. After they left my office, I had to close my door and just cry for awhile. My heart was so broken for them. I can not fathom how hard it must be for their family. So many things...but what would haunt me the most as the mother is knowing that your son is most likely going to out live you. Who is going to care for your helpless child like you would? Oh what faith - what trust - a question like that requires.

I know, we are never safer than when we are in our Father's Hands, and that is precisely where His children reside, but still...how hard.


I have also been thinking about my own children. Their hurts. Their futures. I pray constantly for protection over them, that God would keep them safe from those that wish to do them harm. At one point I was praying against a particular situation and I heard God ask me "do you want them to always be comfortable, or do you want them to do great things for Me?"

I wish that I was so super-Spiritual that I could sit here and tell you that I instantly said "do great things for you Lord!" but the truth is I hesitated a bit. In all honesty a part of me wishes my children could only ever experience comfort.

But that wouldn't be doing them any favors.


After all, it's rain that makes the grass green.


I think about their futures and the things they are likely to face...broken hearts, hurt feelings, illnesses, injury, accidents, failures, bullying, deceit, frustration, dishonesty, defiance, name calling, and on and on and on...

But, if I trust in Him and His promise to make all things work together for good for those who love Him, than I have to let my self accept that such things are not just inevitable, but purposeful.

I wish for them enough heartache that they can be compassionate to others who are hurting. I wish for them enough discomfort that they can not only appreciate comforts when they exist, but can genuinely want to comfort others when they are able to. I wish for them enough hard times that they know and appreciate the good times. I wish for them enough struggles and disappointments that they learn only Christ will never let them down.

I can review and see in my own life how so much good has come from heartache. Just in my years of infertility alone...so much good fruit from so many hard days. Off the top of my head - one of the things Christ revealed to me during that time was the ugly part in me that felt entitled to get to be a mother. I really thought I was a "good enough" person that I deserved it. So wrong on so many levels. I am by no means claiming He has cured me of all sense of entitlement in all areas, but I did come to a point where I realized that children are an absolute gift, and I do not deserve them. And that has made any hard moments with them a thousand times easier. I meant what I wrote the other day, even in the most difficult and frustrating times with them, I wouldn't trade it. I don't deserve even my salvation, let alone my two beautiful babies.


And on to salvation. What a gift. A Father who let His Son hurt. A Father who let His Son be broken - in every sense of the word - for us. For you and for me. A Father who allowed this brokenness and heartache, all the while knowing that the very people He was allowing this for would turn our backs to Him day in and day out. He knew we would curse Him. He knew we would reject Him. He knew we would deny Him. He knew this and still sent His Son to the cross.

And not just the cross. I don't know how many of you out there have seen The Passion, but those who have may agree with me in the sense of relief I felt when Jesus was finally making His way to the cross. At least I knew then it was almost over. The DAY of torture He had endured was almost unbearable for me to even watch through a movie. And God, the Father, watched. Watched it all, knowing at any point He had the power to intervene.

And yet, He didn't. He allowed the suffering to continue. All because He loves me. All because He loves Luke and Abbey and David. And all of us. So very much.


Lately I have watched my son suffer even the slightest illness, and my heart has ached for him. And that small thing has stunned me anew at how much God must love me.

We're just so busy...

After two days of (low) fevers and night wake ups every hour, a trip to the pediatrician today confirmed little Luke is indeed still ill. Poor baby has strep throat. Ugh. There is a chance his Momma has it too...we are waiting for his culture to grow and will go from there regarding treating me. He is on an antibiotic and a rotation of baby Tylenol and Ibuprofen. And lots and lots of snuggles.
We wouldn't hate it if you kept us in your prayers again this week =)

But, other than being ill, we've been pretty busy doing other things, like...

Exploring our toys...

...and playing our bongo drums...

...and falling asleep in our swing...

...and practicing our standing...

...and taking naps on Daddy...



...and playing together...



...and sitting up like big kids...



...and trying our first finger foods...



...and taking more naps on Daddy...


As you can see, being 7 months old is very hard work.

Relaxed and Thankful

David and I had someone very wise recommend to us that we each take 3 hours off a week to get away by ourselves and do something we enjoy. We have found 3 hours a week to be a goal too lofty at this particular season in our lives, but we have found rotating Saturdays to be an attainable one. David gets 3 hours one Saturday, I get the next, and we make sure we have a fun family outing the next one.

Yesterday was my Saturday. When earlier in the week I told David my plans (to take a book and the laptop to Starbucks, and read and surf the web uninterrupted while drinking a tasty decaf mocha), he suggested I get a massage instead.

Pshaw, I believe was my response. Like a trip to the spa is really in the budget. David then, recognizing my inability to relax and unclench lately from some stressful days right in a row, went ahead and just booked one for me.

I think I'll keep him.


So yesterday I hopped in the car and headed to a spa. I was really excited. I have been for massages a handful of times in my life now (almost all from gift certificates, if you must know), and I have a deep affection for them. This particular spa encourages you to come earlier than your appointment time so you can take full advantage of their steam room, lounge area, and soaking hot tub. I arrived a half hour before my scheduled time, put on my swimsuit, and made my way to the hot tub, which to my delight I found completely empty.

I sat there for a few minutes and willed myself to relax. One of the devil's greatest lies he tells me is to trick me into believing that by constantly thinking about or worrying about my family while I am away from them somehow supernaturally holds everything together.
It's ridiculous, I know. But it's a lie he tells me EVERY TIME I am away, and I have to make a conscious effort to remind myself if is not truth. I am not in control. I am not preventing calamity by worrying.

As I took deep breaths and my muscles relaxed in the warm water, I tried to allow myself to enjoy this and not think about the money. You can't put a price on relaxing, I'd tell myself. Yes you can, it's $70 plus tip, I'd counter to myself. Finally I forced myself to recognize that this little trip was going to cost the same whether I enjoyed it or not, so I may as well do my best to embrace it fully.

I decided to focus on giving thanks...

I gave thanks for a husband that knows me so much better than I know myself sometimes, and looks out for me in such thoughtful ways.

I gave thanks for income that allows us to splurge on things like this every once in awhile.

As I went into to change out of my suit for my massage, I saw my stretch marked-ridden stomach, I took a moment, bowed my head and gave thanks for my full term, never-needed-a-moment-in-the-NICU twins. We have been so blessed.

(Long side bar here. In that moment I remember something I had totally forgotten about before today. My postpartum hospital days were spent in a post general anesthesia and oxycodone fog, and there is A LOT that I do not remember. But today I remembered that Abbey almost had to go to the NICU for a bit. Her blood sugar was really low after the trauma of her delivery, and they were keeping a vigilant watch on it. I remember them coming in -hourly I think?- and pricking different parts of her tiny little body for blood draws to test her levels. At one point the nurse told me "we will give her one more draw, and if her levels haven't gone up by then, we will need to take her to the NICU for a bit." and I remember FREAKING OUT on the nurse and basically telling her that she was going to need to relocate all four of us then, because I had missed Abbey's birth and the first hours of her life, and even though I was still vomiting and shaking from the general and therefor couldn't really hold my babies, there was NO WAY I was letting her out of my sight now that she had finally entered it. Nope. Not happening. I remember texting friends and family (do you remember that Heather? I think I remember texting you...) and saying "they want to take Abbey away to the NICU, please pray!!!!" Thankfully, her next level was in range and she never needed to leave us. I have no idea why I remembered that today - 7 months later, but I did. And I was thankful all over again)


Anyways.

I went in and had my hour long massage, and felt myself relax limb by limb. Heavenly. I felt my breathing slow way down. I felt my shoulders drop, and wondered how long it had been since that had happened. I gave thanks again for such a thoughtful husband.

After it was over, I listened to the massage therapist give me tips and try and convince me how helpful a monthly massage would be for me. "Think of an investment in you," he offered. And while I agree that taking some time for me makes me a better momma and a better wife, monthly hour long massages are just not going to find it's way into our budget, and that is okay with me. I am just thrilled with the decadence of today.

I left the spa, and walked to my car feeling elongated and graceful. I then made my way home to my waiting family. I walked in the front door to a smiling husband, and a daughter and son, both bouncing up and down (in the exersaucer and jump-up, respectively) excited to see their Momma.

And again, I gave thanks.

Here's to relaxing.

Story time

I have loved introducing our babies to books, and luckily, they seem really interested in them! They LOVE to be read to, and love to explore books themselves.

When we are actually reading to them, we have found we need to lay them down and hold the book over them, or else they can't sit still and just keep lunging for the book =). But they will lay there for the longest time just staring at the pages and watching us as we tell them all about it.

We try and always let them play with the books before and after so they get a chance to become familiar with books too, and they seem to like it.


This makes me so happy, because through my few years of teaching preschool I learned you can't teach the desire to read. You can bribe with stickers and prizes and such, but you can't teach them to enjoy it.

I ordered these books from Amazon.com for Christmas, (thanks for the tip Julia), and I am excited to see what the babies think of them!

I know Luke and Abbey are still very young, but we are doing our best to get them and keep them interested in reading. We have lots of board books that they can explore (beat up, chew on, drool on, etc) and they love it. When they are a little older and less likely to tear at pages, we have TONS of books for them. Not only do I have a plethora of books from my teaching days, but my Aunt Carol gave each baby a big box FULL of Golden Books and a few other great story books for when they are old enough. I can't wait to watch them enjoy these bed time stories!

Momma said there'd be days like this...

Just a note of warning before I begin...if you are stopping by my blog today and are in the middle of an infertility battle, you may want to refrain from reading this post. There is a chance it's going to come across like I am not grateful for my miracles.

Please know that I am.



With that said, Wow. We have had some hard days in this house lately. When Lucas woke up and puked all over everything late Sunday night, and the thermometer read 102.5, I knew we were going to be in for a longggg night.

I was right.

It was a rough night. Luke and I maybe got 45 minutes of broken sleep all.night.long. I felt just terrible for my son, who was burning up and miserable. My heart was absolutely broken for him.

After I woke David up at 5:15am to take over for an hour so I could get some sleep, I crashed in bed. When the alarm went off at 6:30am, I wanted to cry. Instead I sat up, and begged God to grant me the grace to make it through the day.

My sister Natalie came over in the morning, and when she left for class my Mom and stepdad came over for the middle of the day. In the early afternoon Natalie came back, my Mom & Chuck went home, and then David left work early and was home by 3:30pm.

The day went well, all things considering.

Abbey was in a great mood all day, which was such a blessing. Poor Luke felt miserable all day and did not want to be put down. I was grateful for the extra set of hands to either help with Abbey while I cuddled Luke, or to hold Luke while I tended to Abbey. I could not have done it alone, and I am so grateful for family who are willing to be helpful even though it means exposing themselves to a stomach virus.

Luke's fever finally broke around 3:00pm. I was so relieved.

When David walked in the door, right away he asked if Natalie could stay for a bit longer, and when she said yes, he suggested I go take a nap. My mom had suggested that same thing multiple times during her time here, but I wanted Luke to have a parent here. I know he would have been fine with my mom, but he was so sick I just wanted him to always have the comfort of one of his parents.

I went to nap a little after 4pm and told him to wake me at 6pm so I could help with baths and nurse for bedtime.

He woke me at 6, we bathed the babies, finished their bedtime routine, I nursed them, and we put them to bed.


Shortly after, I knew I needed to head back to bed. I was so tired I was bumping into walls. I had at this point had less than 5 hours - of broken -sleep in the last 36 hours.

Right as I was saying goodnight to David, we heard Abbey fussing through the monitor.

I just burst into tears.

I started saying "I can't do it again. She can't be sick. I can't do two nights like that in a row, I just can't. It's too much. It's too hard."

Luckily, she stopped as soon as she started.

I crawled into bed with good intentions of drifting right off to sleep, only to find myself completely wound up. I was just laying there, staring at the baby monitor, bracing myself for Abbey to start crying. Then I became obsessed with what time it was. I kept watching the minutes tick by and berating myself for still being awake. I was driving myself crazy thinking "if you don't fall asleep right now, you are barely going to get any sleep before one of them wakes up to eat..." the more I thought about all this, the more pressure I felt to just fall asleep already, and in turn the more wound up I became.

I finally got out of bed and went to get the heating pad, thinking putting that under my back might help me relax and drift off to sleep. When I walked into the living room, David asked "what are you doing up?" to which I burst into tears again and said "I can't sleep. I am so tired that I can't sleep"

And then I said to him the same thing I had said to my sister earlier that day...

I never saw this.

During all those years of waiting to be a mother, I only dreamed about the good days. I only ever envisioned the happy times. I would daydream constantly about having a baby (or babies) and about how fun it would be. How fulfilling it would be. How happy I would be. How content it would make me. How perfect my life would be.

I never saw it any other way.

I never saw myself so tired I was dangerously delirious. I never saw my babies sick and miserable all night long. I never saw the days where they could not be put down for one second without crying. I never saw my husband and I arguing about how to handle sleeping issues. I never saw myself rushing through a five minute shower while one or both of my babies cried through the baby monitor. I never saw myself so sleep deprived that I had no instincts as to what is best and second guess every decision I make. I never saw having two babies with completely different sleeping patterns, and having days where they napped at totally opposite times and I literally had a baby awake at ALL times ALL day. I never saw myself feeling so incredibly exhausted all the time.

I never saw it being so damn hard.


The hard moments and days and nights never made it into my daydreams of motherhood.


It's not always hard, and even in the hardest moments - hand to God- I wouldn't trade my miracle babies for any amount of sleep, or comfort, or sanity.


There are so many good days. So many great days. So many days where having twins feels like the greatest thing in the world. But there are times it is just so very difficult, and I feel so stretched beyond my ability to give, and I guess it is just hard to reconcile that with all the fantasies I had about motherhood.

That's what is on my mind tonight.

Round Two...

Here we go again.

Last night Luke woke up at 10:30pm, and puked all.over. I mean it was like Mount Vesuvius. He also had 102 degree fever.

I called the ped's office and spoke to the advice nurse, who said it sounds like a stomach virus that just has to run it's course.

Fun stuff.

He and I slept on the couch last night.

I use the term "slept" very loosely.

He was fitful and restless all night long. Poor little guy. He was even whimpering in his sleep, bless his little heart.

I had to wake Dave up at 2:30am when Abbey woke up to nurse, so that he could hold Luke while I nursed her.

Then I had to wake him up again at 5:15am, just to take over for an hour before he needed to get ready for work. I hated to wake him since he had to work all day today and I had already woken him for 1/2 hour in the middle of the night, but I was so tired I knew it was reaching the point where it would be dangerous for me to be with both babies all day if I didn't get some sleep.

I got back up at 6:30am so Dave could get ready for work.

My sister Natalie is here to help this morning, and my Mom is coming for the afternoon.

I am thankful for my helpful family.

Please keep us in your prayers again today!

Thank you!!