As a warm summer breeze comes through the living room window, I can't help to feel so incredibly blessed. I not only have one, but two, absolutely gorgeous babies napping peacefully in front of me. After waiting almost thirteen years for our prayers to be answered, I still have moments where I can't believe I'm actually a mom to twins. About five years ago I had a dream that I was walking through town holding hands with boy/girl twins. At the time, I thought I'd be lucky if even half of that dream came true! What are the chances that we'd not only have twins, but that we would be blessed with one of each!!
Sure I have my moments where I think "What in the hell were we thinking having two?", but that usually only happens at 3:00am when they are both screaming and won't go back to sleep or when they both have an evening meltdown about 15 minutes before their daddy should be home from work. However, the pure joy that they bring me far outweighs the overwhelming stress of those meltdowns.
Growing up in California, I never imagined being able to be a "Stay at Home Mom." My mom worked full time and still found enough hours in the day to cook, clean and make it to every volleyball, basketball and softball game. I watched her do it, so I figured when the time came, that's what I would do. I have got to tell you, I have a new found respect for moms that work forty hours a week and still find the time to be a full time mom as well! Every time I find myself wanting to bitch about not getting an extra load of laundry done, I just remind myself that I'm lucky I was able to wash a load in the middle of the day and not at 11:00 at night.
I've always been a people person and for the first six years of living in Oregon, I worked as a barista so I was constantly around people. I think that is what has been the hardest thing for me to adapt to now as a mom. My priorities are different. I used to be able to plan on going to lunch with my girlfriends at noon and I knew if I started to get ready at eleven, I could still make the twenty minute drive into town with no problem. Now, on the rare, maybe once a week occasion where I drag the two car seats and stroller into town to enjoy some adult time, I have to start getting ready to go two hours earlier. And that's IF I was able to get a shower before my husband left for work. I've had to miss graduation parties because one of the babies hadn't pooped for days and had a clogged tear duct, I've pretty much been late to every appointment (I used to always be at least ten minutes early) and I forget what it feels like to sleep for eight uninterrupted hours. And while I could sit here and think about all the things I'm missing, I find myself so incredibly at peace with this new life and wouldn't change it for the world!!
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Forever and Ever, Amen
When you hear that a loved one has a terminal disease, it hits you like a ton of bricks. But then the doctors say some people have lived with this rare form of Lymphoma for as long as 7 years so you become overly optimistic and think that your loved one with be included in those studies.
My grandpa has always been a strong man. A mans man. So when our family heard last fall that he had this rare form of Lymphoma, it hit us all like a runaway Mack truck. Our family flocked to be by his side for Thanksgiving. We all sat around the holiday turkey and ham and prayed. We prayed for him to beat the odds and live to see many more Thanksgivings. As the evening wore on, I sat down next to this incredible man and made him promise me one thing, that he would live to see the twins I was carrying. He looked me in the face, squeezed my hand and said he would.
Months passed and it appeared that the chemo was working and while he had his rough days, he remained positive. At one point the doctor even told him he could have a glass or two of red wine on non-chemo weeks. I found myself reflecting on my childhood with grandpa.
My earliest memory is of a stuffed Koala Bear that he bought me at a flea market. I'm not sure why this one stuffed animal sticks out so vividly in my mind, but I remember kissing it's hard plastic nose and hugging it tight as we walked back to the truck that day. Then there was Christmas. Year after year, I remember him walking around their house with a large black garbage bag threatening to throw away any toys that were left laying around. Most would think he was kidding, he wasn't!
We spent countless hours fishing together. I would climb into the back of his Ford Bronco II and head to the lake when I was a little girl. In my early teens, we would venture out to the "Marijuana Hole" together to fish one of the best spots on the river. Back then I wasn't that into fishing, but it was more about spending the quality time with him. I think he knew that I had it in me to hang with the guys when it came to a line and reel. Years later, he was with me when I caught my first Salmon on the Trinity River in my twenties and he was there when I pulled up my first crab pot on the Coquille River. He instilled a love for the outdoors in me that I will never be able to thank him enough for.
He taught me that love can stand the test of time. He had a bollo tie hanging from the rear view mirror of that Bronco. On that tie were the Snap, Crackle and Pop elves from the Rice Krispy box. There was a story about him having one very similar to that when grandma and he were dating and I believe sometime in the 70s she was able to find him another one. I watched those little elves sway back and forth while singing along to Harry Belafonte on our way to Trinity countless times. If he caught me slacking and not singing along, he would rewind the song. Then we would listen to Randy Travis' "Forever and Ever, Amen." Listening to that song with my grandparents in the front seat, showed me that you can find your happily ever after. From early on, whether he knew it or not, he had showed me that I would find that one special one to grow old with just like he had back when he was 15 years old.
The day I got married, he presented me and my husband two custom fishing poles, also known in our family as Razz Rods. On those hand wrapped rods, one read "Forever" and the other, "And Ever, Amen." That night, June 15, 2002, we danced to The Judds' song "Grandpa". That day was an amazing day, but dancing with that man is one of my fondest memories from that night.
As I held his hand during his final days, all these memories came flooding back to me. Here was a man that raised four boys, watched over a dozen grand kids grow up and even lived to meet 10 great grand children. I sat there 48 hours before he passed with my twins, that we had all waited so long for and he just told me over and over again how amazing and beautiful they were. The day he passed he opened his eyes and saw my precious little girl sitting on his bed. he then reached out for her and held her hand. At that moment, he didn't have to say a word. I knew he was thinking back to the day I was born and he had lived to see me not only have a beautiful little boy, but also a gorgeous little girl. That night, as he took his final breath, he was surrounded by most of his family and he was able to move into his new life knowing he was and always will be loved by many. Rest in peace grandpa. I love you, forever and ever, Amen.
My grandpa has always been a strong man. A mans man. So when our family heard last fall that he had this rare form of Lymphoma, it hit us all like a runaway Mack truck. Our family flocked to be by his side for Thanksgiving. We all sat around the holiday turkey and ham and prayed. We prayed for him to beat the odds and live to see many more Thanksgivings. As the evening wore on, I sat down next to this incredible man and made him promise me one thing, that he would live to see the twins I was carrying. He looked me in the face, squeezed my hand and said he would.
Months passed and it appeared that the chemo was working and while he had his rough days, he remained positive. At one point the doctor even told him he could have a glass or two of red wine on non-chemo weeks. I found myself reflecting on my childhood with grandpa.
My earliest memory is of a stuffed Koala Bear that he bought me at a flea market. I'm not sure why this one stuffed animal sticks out so vividly in my mind, but I remember kissing it's hard plastic nose and hugging it tight as we walked back to the truck that day. Then there was Christmas. Year after year, I remember him walking around their house with a large black garbage bag threatening to throw away any toys that were left laying around. Most would think he was kidding, he wasn't!
We spent countless hours fishing together. I would climb into the back of his Ford Bronco II and head to the lake when I was a little girl. In my early teens, we would venture out to the "Marijuana Hole" together to fish one of the best spots on the river. Back then I wasn't that into fishing, but it was more about spending the quality time with him. I think he knew that I had it in me to hang with the guys when it came to a line and reel. Years later, he was with me when I caught my first Salmon on the Trinity River in my twenties and he was there when I pulled up my first crab pot on the Coquille River. He instilled a love for the outdoors in me that I will never be able to thank him enough for.
He taught me that love can stand the test of time. He had a bollo tie hanging from the rear view mirror of that Bronco. On that tie were the Snap, Crackle and Pop elves from the Rice Krispy box. There was a story about him having one very similar to that when grandma and he were dating and I believe sometime in the 70s she was able to find him another one. I watched those little elves sway back and forth while singing along to Harry Belafonte on our way to Trinity countless times. If he caught me slacking and not singing along, he would rewind the song. Then we would listen to Randy Travis' "Forever and Ever, Amen." Listening to that song with my grandparents in the front seat, showed me that you can find your happily ever after. From early on, whether he knew it or not, he had showed me that I would find that one special one to grow old with just like he had back when he was 15 years old.
The day I got married, he presented me and my husband two custom fishing poles, also known in our family as Razz Rods. On those hand wrapped rods, one read "Forever" and the other, "And Ever, Amen." That night, June 15, 2002, we danced to The Judds' song "Grandpa". That day was an amazing day, but dancing with that man is one of my fondest memories from that night.
As I held his hand during his final days, all these memories came flooding back to me. Here was a man that raised four boys, watched over a dozen grand kids grow up and even lived to meet 10 great grand children. I sat there 48 hours before he passed with my twins, that we had all waited so long for and he just told me over and over again how amazing and beautiful they were. The day he passed he opened his eyes and saw my precious little girl sitting on his bed. he then reached out for her and held her hand. At that moment, he didn't have to say a word. I knew he was thinking back to the day I was born and he had lived to see me not only have a beautiful little boy, but also a gorgeous little girl. That night, as he took his final breath, he was surrounded by most of his family and he was able to move into his new life knowing he was and always will be loved by many. Rest in peace grandpa. I love you, forever and ever, Amen.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Week Number Four
Let me just start by saying, domestic diva I am not! Cleaning has never been one of my strong suits, I'm not great with crafts (though I try) and I have about 5 no fail recipes that I rotate through. I think I have some sort of mental block when it comes to starting laundry and seeing it through to putting it away. For some reason the dishes get put away but the silverware sits in it's little basket a couple hours longer and I have a bag full of wine corks sitting in the cupboard that I have the best of intentions on doing "something" with.
Now that I've made that clear, I can say that "napping when they nap" is just not an option for me. Maybe it's the guilt of my husband working 50 hours a week and not wanting him to feel like he has to cook or fold laundry when he gets home or maybe it's the fact that I feel like it's my duty as a stay at home wife and mom to make sure those things are done as much as possible. I'm not saying that I have dinner on the table every night waiting for him, after all, there are definitely nights where the twins want me to do nothing but hold them. But what I am saying is, when I get an hour or two to myself, the last thing on my mind is sleeping. The first thought is usually, oh I better go to the bathroom right now while I have a chance to do so without holding a newborn. Second is usually, oh I guess I should probably eat something or at least get some water to drink. Sure a nap sounds nice but when the sun is shining and there's things that need to be done (or a blog that needs to be written LOL), I can't bring myself to do it.
We have been parents for four weeks now and I'm still trying to figure out how in the world I'm going to carry two babies once Peyton catches up to her brother in size. Then there's the car seats and all I can think is boy, who needs the gym and dumb bells. All I need to do is strap Lukas into his seat and do curls with him. We've had good nights where we get six hours of sleep (in two three hour stretches) and there's been nights where one of us gets three if we are lucky. Those three hour nights are tough, but I wouldn't trade them for anything in this world. When I start to get frustrated because one is crying and I have fed, burped, rocked and changed diapers and I don't know what else to do, all I have to do is remember how long we have waited and everything we went through to get this far and it makes those sleepless, fussy nights all worth it.
It's usually around 2:30 in the morning when both of them are crying that my husband looks at me and says, "Oh let's put in two" referring to the day we did our embryo transfer and the doctor asking if we wanted to transfer one or two. That day our doctor said they had two beautiful embryos picked out and asked if we wanted to transfer one or two. Jake looked at me and said "One?" I looked at him and the only thing going through my mind was, "What if we only do one and it doesn't take? I would constantly wonder if we had transferred two if at least one of them would have taken. And if they both take, then hey that's okay I can handle twins." So I looked back at him and said, "Two." The doctor then agreed that he thought two was a good idea. Jake smiled at me and said, "Ok, two it is." He likes to jokingly give me crap about that now when we are both laying there sleep deprived. But he will also be the first one to tell you that he can't imagine life without the both of them now.
At this point, they are four weeks old and all I can think is how blessed I am with these two precious and perfect babies. Sure the shoulder and back of my shirt are covered in spit up right now (no joke), but there's nowhere else I'd rather be. Okay, that's not true, I'd rather be on the beach in Mexico with spit up on my shirt, but my recliner in Oregon will have to do for the time being!
Now that I've made that clear, I can say that "napping when they nap" is just not an option for me. Maybe it's the guilt of my husband working 50 hours a week and not wanting him to feel like he has to cook or fold laundry when he gets home or maybe it's the fact that I feel like it's my duty as a stay at home wife and mom to make sure those things are done as much as possible. I'm not saying that I have dinner on the table every night waiting for him, after all, there are definitely nights where the twins want me to do nothing but hold them. But what I am saying is, when I get an hour or two to myself, the last thing on my mind is sleeping. The first thought is usually, oh I better go to the bathroom right now while I have a chance to do so without holding a newborn. Second is usually, oh I guess I should probably eat something or at least get some water to drink. Sure a nap sounds nice but when the sun is shining and there's things that need to be done (or a blog that needs to be written LOL), I can't bring myself to do it.
We have been parents for four weeks now and I'm still trying to figure out how in the world I'm going to carry two babies once Peyton catches up to her brother in size. Then there's the car seats and all I can think is boy, who needs the gym and dumb bells. All I need to do is strap Lukas into his seat and do curls with him. We've had good nights where we get six hours of sleep (in two three hour stretches) and there's been nights where one of us gets three if we are lucky. Those three hour nights are tough, but I wouldn't trade them for anything in this world. When I start to get frustrated because one is crying and I have fed, burped, rocked and changed diapers and I don't know what else to do, all I have to do is remember how long we have waited and everything we went through to get this far and it makes those sleepless, fussy nights all worth it.
It's usually around 2:30 in the morning when both of them are crying that my husband looks at me and says, "Oh let's put in two" referring to the day we did our embryo transfer and the doctor asking if we wanted to transfer one or two. That day our doctor said they had two beautiful embryos picked out and asked if we wanted to transfer one or two. Jake looked at me and said "One?" I looked at him and the only thing going through my mind was, "What if we only do one and it doesn't take? I would constantly wonder if we had transferred two if at least one of them would have taken. And if they both take, then hey that's okay I can handle twins." So I looked back at him and said, "Two." The doctor then agreed that he thought two was a good idea. Jake smiled at me and said, "Ok, two it is." He likes to jokingly give me crap about that now when we are both laying there sleep deprived. But he will also be the first one to tell you that he can't imagine life without the both of them now.
At this point, they are four weeks old and all I can think is how blessed I am with these two precious and perfect babies. Sure the shoulder and back of my shirt are covered in spit up right now (no joke), but there's nowhere else I'd rather be. Okay, that's not true, I'd rather be on the beach in Mexico with spit up on my shirt, but my recliner in Oregon will have to do for the time being!
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