This time last year

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What a difference a year makes. This time last year we were just figuring out that I was pregnant. Of course, at that time we had no idea the journey we were in for.

Little did we know that I was pregnant with twins, let alone mono mono twins. We had no idea our next year would primarily take place in the hospital and that it would feature one of the most disastrous Christmases known to man.

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Look out, that's actually a family of five sitting there!

But, in that year we got married and moved into a house. Sure it’s rented but it still beats an apartment.

The biggest and best way to measure the year is with Buds. Last summer, he was 18 months, and now he’s almost two and a half and it’s insane how much he’s grown up. I think the kid has grown a foot and a half, but he’s gone from a baby to a little man in the blink of an eye.

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Look at those cheeks!

In a year, he has learned so much and has. never. stopped. talking. He’s always asking why and repeats every new word, like he has to taste it to get used to it. It’s so fun seeing him as a brother; patting the girls to get a burp, giving them hugs, and helping me read and sing to them.

Buds’ love of music is undeniable. He has spent the last year singing and dancing, which is hilarious. It sometimes surprises me how many songs he knows.

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Now a soccer player!

Next summer, it will be even more apparent how fast he’s grown, and the girls will be a year and a half and exploring the world as well.

Of course, I will not have aged a day.

Well that was a kick in the gut

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You know sometimes when you’re driving and you look at the car next to you and someone is crying, and you feel bad for them, but you try to imagine what’s happened. A break up? A death? Did something awful just happen or maybe they’re tears of joy? If you had seen us turn out of the hospital today, you may have wondered the same about me as I stared out the window, blinking back tears.

We were back at Sunnybrook for a follow-up appointment, and I have to admit I was nervous going in. It’s nice being back at the place that birthed all three of my gorgeous children and seeing the nurses in HRO who took care of me for so long, as well as the NICU nurses and doctors who watched over our girls, is so nice.

But, after our pediatrician told me point blank Ella was behind Raegan, I was scared what would come when the specialists took a microscope to her.

Both girls need more tummy time, but Ella is going to need more specialized care, including home visits and a referral to an orthopedic surgeon. Surgery is not for sure, but her hip movements are worrisome, and her right side is struggling, most likely since her brain damage was on the left.

People are always asking me about going back to work, and when I say I have to see about Ella, they often don’t understand. I don’t think many truly get that we almost lost her, that she almost didn’t make it, and I mean, she doesn’t look sick, it’s only when you pay close attention that you notice that she doesn’t wiggle her toes. Of course, I had noticed certain things, but when they’re pointed out to you, you feel dumb for not realizing what it meant.

I think I believed that if I willed her to be better, she would be. Yah, she had a bad ultrasound, but I told myself it didn’t mean anything. When she was sick, I mantra’d she’s not going to die, she’s not going to die 1000 times until she was better. So, I kept saying she’d be ok, and even though I knew the probabilities, I really thought I could make her better with love.

My sweet girl smiles and laughs, has rolled over, and sucks her thumb. I am always so enthralled with her and happy with how she’s doing, that I just keep hoping and willing her to get better. I can only hope that all of the exercises and appointments will make her stronger, and I get to tell her as she gets older how much of a fighter she is.

You’re gonna want to see this

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Having a toddler and a baby is hard, let alone having two babies. It’s almost impossible to ensure that everyone gets  equal attention. It was natural that Jason and Buds hung out together while I took care of the girls; the two of them are like two peas in a pod, and Jason really does make better train tracks than I do.

Naturally, it brings on massive mom guilt that I usually say things like “in a minute buddy” or “I just have to feed/change/soothe your sister.” I am doing my damndest to ensure that he gets Mama time and doesn’t feel left out. Sometimes that means sitting on the floor with a baby or two playing cars or trains. We also sing together constantly and read stories to the girls. I bring him on solo dates to the grocery store, which he actually loves, thankfully.

Still, it’s hard to make sure that with the doctor appointments and just general baby care that my sweet boy knows his Mama loves him and always wants to spend time with him.

Over the weekend, my parents and I had made plans to hit a splash pad with the kids. Saturday morning was rough as I had been up a bunch in the night and the girls were a bit fussy and needed lots of attention, so my parents picked up the kid and took him to the park. The hope was that I’d meet them there but if not, they’d bring him home.

Feeling like I’ve already missed so much, I busted my ass over there so I could watch him. As I suspected, he was hilarious; screaming and running to avoid the freezing cold water, playing with the toys, and even pointed out when a firetruck drove by.

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Avoiding the water with Papa!

For once, I didn’t miss it and I was a regular mum standing on the sidelines watching my boy. The fun continued yesterday when the whole family, including Grandma and Papa, headed to  an indoor amusement park. Buds LOVED it and it was hilarious watching him go on rides and try new things. The boy is adventurous and literally ran around til he was pink in the face.

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Train selfie!

With extra hands on deck, I even got to go on the train and carousel with my boy. The train ride was awesome as it was his third time on and he informed me when we would be going over the bridge and under the tunnel, punctuated with choo-choos throughout. On the carousel ride, he kept yelling yeehaw which made me laugh and I’m glad I got to hear it instead of hearing about it.

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Wiped.

We’re definitely going to have to always try to ensure everyone gets special time with Mama and Daddy, and having reinforcements helps. I know that he won’t be able to remember this time, but we will and I want the memories.

My uterus is none of your concern

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Within weeks, if not days, of pushing out your first kid, you’re inevitably bombarded with people asking when you’re going to have the next one. Most new mums become like deer in the headlights as they’re just trying to survive their first, let alone plan for any additional bundles of joy.

But, having twins seems to flip a switch in people, and everyone tells me “oh, twins! You’re done!” Not a question, but a statement, telling me to close up shop. I wasn’t aware that it was socially acceptable to dictate other’s reproductive plans, but what do I know?

The truth is, I’m not sure if this is it for us. Jason and I had talked about having a big family – which honestly, nowadays is anything over two – but never expected twins to fall in the mix. People are constantly telling him to get a vasectomy, which goes far beyond sharing an opinion and actually pressuring surgery. I’m only slightly surprised no one’s told me to get my tubes tied, though I expect it at some point.

The fact that we live in Canada may effect people’s views as it seems more commonplace to see a bucket of kids spilling out of a minivan and into Target in America. Religion aside, most people choose not to have big families. I mean, let’s face it, kids are freaking expensive. God only knows what tuition will be like in 16 years, and though I fully expect my kids to be geniuses who get full academic scholarships, we are saving for their future education.

So much will determine whether our family is complete or not; money, jobs, where we live, but a lot has to do with Ella’s uncertain future. We know to expect the unexpected, and if she needs a bit more attention, it’s hard to bring another kid into that situation.

I am lucky enough to have four, or even five years, before I really need to make that decision, and while my uterus is currently flashing a giant neon NO VACANCY sign, I don’t know about the future. I’ve heard that you know when your family is complete and so many of our friends have decided that, and I’m happy for them.

While I resent the remarks from strangers, I love the discussion with friends. Some get it, some look at me as if I’ve sprouted two heads. And the thing is, I was told I could never have kids, and so I made plans and imagined a life without kids. That’s changed and I’m a mama, throughout. Yes, I’m still the same sarcastic and opinionated Alyssa, but my kids are my loves and I cherish my role as their mum.

Our family may or may not be complete, but we will always resent other people telling us what to do, and you can bet we’ll teach our kids to follow their heart.

Two Close to the Heart: Baby Wearing Twins | Twiniversity

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My love of writing initially lead me to start this blog. I’m not a big talker, and writing has always been easier. I love sharing my adventures with you, and airing my frustrations as I navigate mamahood.

In my constant quest for putting myself out there via my writing, I have started blogging for Twiniversity. My first blog is about babywearing twins and the uniqueness of that.

Please feel free to check out the blog on their website, and let me know what you think!

http://twiniversity.com/2014/06/two-close-to-the-heart-baby-wearing-twins/

Is doing the best I can a parenting method?

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The other day I was walking through our neighbourhood and overheard two women talking about attachment parenting and a book they were reading about it. One of the women was saying that she was following the book word for word, while the other was struggling to make it work.

As a social worker, I’m pretty familiar with theories, in fact I had to take several classes about them when I did my Master’s. I have to say even in my work I haven’t been crazy for theories. Instead of working from the very popular cognitive behavioural or long-term therapy views, I focus my work more on narrative and empowerment models. So, needless to say, I’ve always kind of found parenting methods to be, well, bullshit.

Some hold great ideas in theory, while others are just downright insane. I’ve flipped through a few books, and honestly, usually roll my eyes. Parenting theories, for the most part, are just unrealistic, especially ones that push schedules. They capitalize on the norm, except there is no such thing as a “normal” family and to suggest there is, is just old-fashioned, and ignores how families should be special. Don’t even get me started on models that try to get all up in my relationship.

When I babywear my kids, it’s not because some theory told me to, and I’m definitely not making a statement, it’s just way simpler sometimes. I had the girls in their carrier yesterday to go to the doctor because hauling two car seats with 12 pound babies in each one up and down a couple hills is just a massive pain.

I get that for some people, they need the consistency of a schecule and a plan, and for others, parenting methods suit them well and that’s great, for them.

When Buds was teeny, I remember asking Jas if I was too laid-back a parent because I wasn’t always stressing about naps or numbers of feeds or, later, solids. It seems crazy that parenting is one time I am mostly relaxed. I don’t keep the girls in a bubble because they were preemies, and I don’t stress about them being out in public, and I suspect a lot of that has to do with the fact this is my second time around.

That’s not to say that I’m all hippie either, I recognized Braeden’s needs right away; he created his own schedule and I followed suit. I knew when to expect him to be tired, hungry, and even cranky. Of course, he continues to throw us for a loop, but that’s because, sigh, he’s growing up. I’m so glad I never was so anal about his nap schedule or him being in his crib to sleep that I missed out on things.

If someone asked me my parenting style, right now one thing comes to mind: survival.

Don’t mind me, just crying at the bank

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Today I ran into the bank, which in and of itself is weird as I usually try to do the whole ATM thing as much as possible.

Standing in line, I noticed that there were posters on the wall and one teeny, tiny diaper. Of course, I know that diaper well, it’s the micro-preemie one that the girls used when they were first born and the posters were all about Sick Kids. The bank is doing a charity drive for the hospital and they were obviously hoping that the sight of such a ridiculously small diaper would encourage people to donate. After all, most people will never come into contact with a diaper, let alone a baby, that small.

I looked at the diaper, then back at my girls, who you would never know once wore something so small. A part of me wanted to yell, “You’ve come so far, babies!” But, there was another part of me that became emotional, and I had to bite back tears. Maybe if there hadn’t been so many complications or if Ella’s future were a little more certain, I would only feel triumphant at seeing how far we’ve come. Honestly, the girls look amazing and even have chubby cheeks and thigh rolls, their beginning isn’t obvious and I’m amazed by them and so proud of them.

But, every now and then, something will take me back, make me catch my breath, and a sob will catch in my throat. Maybe that will never go away, and that’s okay as long as I keep yelling to my girls how far they’ve come.

The Gender Gap

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I have never really felt that boys need to be constantly clad in blue and girls in pink. I think the idea is old fashioned at best.

When Buds was younger, he wore boy clothes, but they weren’t covered in baseballs or emblazoned with the words “I am a boy,” still I felt it was fairly obvious that he was, in fact, a boy. Yet, people always asked if he was a girl. People will still sometimes ask, and it’s just one of those eyebrow-raising moments more than anything.

I find it funny that now that we do have two girls, people always ask me if they’re boys, or a boy and a girl, which considering they’re identical, is always interesting. The other day I had Ella in one of the kid’s old outfits, which is brown, and Raegan was in green. At the mall, a girl told me how nice it was that both boys were sleeping at the same time. I wasn’t offended but wondered what exactly made them look like boys? The fact that they weren’t wearing frilly pink dresses?

Braeden looked like Jas when he was first born, but then started to look more like me and the girls look like Jas still. Maybe that explains the assumptions? I heard once that boys who look like their mums and girls who look like their dads have good luck. Of course, that’s along the lines of wearing jewellery while preggers causes the baby to have birthmarks, but still, it’s a nice thought.

I just changed the stroller canopies to pink, not because I wanted it to be obvious that I have girls, but they’re cooler for the summer and have UV, and I thought the pink was cute. I kid you not, people still ask me if they’re a boy and a girl, so clearly the colour thing isn’t the issue. Maybe people assume that the ideal twins are boy girl so they project that idea onto everyone with twins?

I think our gender ideals are ridiculous and a waste of time. Over the weekend, Buds picked up his stuffed panda bear, rocked her like a baby, put her on her belly for tummy time, and cuddled her while she slept. There was no prompting, but he was obviously imitating what he sees on a fairly regular basis, and I thought it was adorable and sweet. I never would tell him that’s what girls do or just the mama because that’s bullshit. A good man should do all those things he did, and we should expect them to. If he is playing in such a sweet way, it’s nice to think that he’s seeing the same things at home.

So, my girls will continue to wear other colours than pink and I will continue answering that I my identical girls are actually both girls.

80 Days, Part Two

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Ella, day two in NICU

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Reagan, day two in NICU

Today officially marks the girls’ 160th day of life, and after spending 80 days in the NICU, the girls have been home 80 days.

For every day that a nurse took care of our girls, I have taken care of them. For every surgery, blood transfusion,  and head ultrasound that Ella received, my girls have had kisses from us.

For the scary talks the doctors gave us, now we’re getting giggles and smiles. For every tear that was shed, we’re getting coos and babbles.

For every night our girls were away from us, in a hospital room tucked in the corner, they have spent the same number of nights with us, at home.

It’s not always easy, in fact many times, it’s been downright hard and, sometimes, I’ve felt like a failure, but they’re home. Whenever I want I can scoop them in my arms, without wires, machines, alarms. I can, and do, sneak in and check in on them every night. We decide how they spend their day, without asking for permission.

We owe so much to the nurses and doctors and support staff who took care of our girls, and of us. We literally owe them Ella’s life, and with her fluffy mohawk hair, her laugh when she gets changed, and her easy-going attitude, you would never guess the start she had at life, and we owe that to them, too.

With all the appointments and exercises, sometimes it goes unnoticed that they’re worth it because, she’s here, she’s alive, and with different care, she may not be.

For every 80 days I had to say goodbye and leave my girls, I say goodnight instead. For every 80 days of fear and uncertainty, sadness and frustrations, we have been a family. A family without having to visit the hospital, a family without rounds, without others leading the charge. For 80 days, we’ve been a family.

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Raegan and Ella, day 80 at home (day 160)

D-a-d-d-y

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Sometimes, I envy dads. They get to be the fun one and never have to deal with the drama that accompanies motherhood. I have never once heard a dad comment on another dad’s outfit, the fact that he was having another beer, or even a parenting choice. Stories are told with laughter, not judgment, even if it involves some kind of accident or near-miss.

Jas and Braeden are two peas in a pod. The kid looks like me, but is almost a carbon copy of Jason’s personality. They laugh the same way at the same jokes and have such a strong bond. When I was home with him on mat leave, he would get so excited when Daddy came home.

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Twinsies!

It’s hard not to feel a titch jealous, considering I’m the one who cleans him up, gets him dressed, makes him food, reads the parenting magazines, takes him to the doctor, plans his parties, and all the other millions of things moms do.

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The first picture of Jason as a Dad after Braeden was born

Jas and I always joke around about who’s the favourite based on who Buds wants to play with or sit next to at the table.

Daddy is usually the first picked, but sometimes, every now and then, Braeden has a Mama moment, and Jason’s the one who gets a bit jealous.

Still, one of my favourite things is to watch through the kitchen window as Buds and Jason excitedly play together in the backyard, running around and laughing. There is no denying the bond the two have, and, honestly, I wouldn’t change it for the world.

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Two handsome men