It’s Saturday morning.  It’s storming like crazy outside.  For the first time in a month I actually have a sense of calm or peace.  I have a million things to get finished, but they can wait.  Ken is in the shower.  The babies are sleeping, hopefully for another couple of hours…  and Mr. Harvey is getting some much needed “mom time.” 

It’s amazing how it only takes a few moments of peace to ground you sometimes.

It’s been one month since we brought the babies home.  At the doctor yesterday, Oliver was 7.4lbs and 20in.  Olivia was 6.4lbs and 19in.  They are doing amazingly.  Last night for the first time they went 4 straight hours between both feedings, so we actually got a little sleep (that could be making the difference in my sanity today as well).   They are struggling a little with reflux, but after a few visits to the doctor, inclining them while sleeping, being held upright for about 30 mins after eating and taking Zantac seems to be helping them both. 

It’s amazing how quickly their individual personality traits begin to show.  How quickly they really become little people…

Olivia-Olivia is very much like me.  Difficult.  She wants things her way, all the time.  She fusses, she makes sour faces, she wrinkles her nose and forehead and grunts and stretches.  She can’t stand to be tied down or made to be still—swaddling is miserable for her.  She wants to be up, looking around, investigating the world, seeing everything she is able, pushing herself up and being the most independent child she can be at 6 weeks old.  I love that about her.  So curious, so alert, and wanting to do more than she is possibly capable.

Oliver-Oliver just, makes me smile.  He is our little man.  He is always happy, content, and peaceful.  He sleeps when is should, he eats when he is supposed to (slowly, but well).  He smiles in his sleep, and in general for no reason at all.  He stares at us—not everything around him—just us, like there is nothing else in the world.  He also thinks he should nurse 24 hours a day, everything that is in sight, including his sisters head if he can get to it or a finger or the sofa cushion, but hey—he knows what he wants.  He thinks the baby K’Tan is the greatest thing ever!  Being strapped to mom all day, where he can snuggle down and go to sleep—euphoria. 

They are both so different already, and making such incredible leaps everyday.  It’s fascinating to me how excited you get over the smallest things.  Olivia tried to put her own pacifier in her mouth last night in the car.  I, of course, called to tell my mom.  There have been so many spectacular moments already, I have a hard time even imagining what is in store for us in the coming months and years and they continue to grow and learn. 

As wonderful as this month has been—I would be lying if I acted like or said it was all roses.  It has also been, quite possibly, the most difficult month of my life.  With somewhere between very little and no sleep, the days just simply don’t have enough hours in them to accomplish everything.  Since I work for myself—I didn’t get the traditional maternity leave.  I was back to work from my hospital bed the Monday after I delivered the little ones.  So, needless to say—managing one newborn full time is exhausting.  Taking care of two, plus a full time job from home…I’ve got say, some days….feels hopeless.  The bottles (18 of them a day, 15-30min each), the diapers (about 25 of them a day), the pumping (about 2 hours a day), vitamins once a day, medicine twice a day, holding-on demand, dishes, dinner, laundry ---wash, rinse, repeat………..    Over and Over.  Then the day is over and starts again.  Forget time for putting on makeup—I’m lucky if I get a chance to shower.  At the beginning of December I hired a nanny/intern/assistant to help me out with everything.  Just having that extra set of hands a few days a week is priceless.  It’s hard.  It’s not just hard it’s physically, mentally and emotionally wearing.  

For the first time in my life, I find myself neglecting my work.  Granted it’s out of necessity, but none-the-less, it leaves me feeling like a failure in many ways.  My body is in horrible condition, with awful stretch marks, already saggy boobs, and new wider hips and rounder stomach muscles.  I find myself getting mad at or frustrated with Ken of little things or really for no reason at all other than being overwhelmed and exhausted.  I never knew that I could be so incredibly happy, and so miserable with myself at the same time. 

People talk about post partum depression, but I’m not depressed.  I’m happy.  Life is just changing and evolving, priorities are changing in a way that I can’t control and sometimes I don’t know if I was ready for—but when are you ready to give up yourself entirely and the person you have spent years trying to become. 

My work is something I have always taken extreme pride in—to give up even a little bit of that, while I am happy to do it for my babies, is still a little disheartening.  Actually, it is a lot disheartening.  It’s giving up a piece of who I am, or was.  With that, a decision was made for me this week that I have needed to make myself for sometime and haven’t had the will to do it.  So, now I am walking away from a place and work that had an oddly special place with me, and from people that I felt a strange connection—but also away from a chaos it created.  Maybe that contributes to the sense of peace I feel this morning, but it also hurts.

Another hurtful moment this month…  our “family” dog, Ruby—my Christmas gift when I was 14, had to be put down.  I don’t know that I have ever felt sadder.  Watching that, as awful as it is to say, was as bad as watching my grandparents die.  My mom had a mobile vet come to the house, rather than taking her to an office of strangers.  Without going into details—I’ll just say, it was horrible to watch one of our family go and have to make that call.  She was a dearly loved pet and will be missed greatly. 

It’s safe to say---this month has been a roller coaster, as I’m sure many more in the future, and pretty much, the rest of our lives will be.  It’s life.  It’s a beautiful mess, but the moments of pure joy with my babies, husband and family make it…happy.

I am way behind on blog posts, and, I promise, I will catch up…but this one couldn’t wait…and much more has happened since that is soon to follow.

After months of anticipation, anguish, excitement, preparation, weight gain, emotional melt downs, worry, frustration, hospital stays, thousands of dollars in medical bills, complete surprise, sheer joy…and a complete lack of patience…

We would like to welcome into the world, born 12/10/11 at 10:46PM:

 OLIVIA JAMES MEYER

            3lbs 14oz, 17 1/4in

                        &

OLIVER SCOTT MEYER

            4lbs 11oz, 18in

Never in my life have I felt so fortunate or blessed, nor have I felt such an indescribable attachment to something so small, yet so big.  It’s an overwhelming desire to protect, worry, embrace and love at any and all costs.

After a little concern Saturday morning, we called the doctor and went in to the hospital expecting only another false alarm as we have had so many of in the past few months.  Little did I know that I was actually going into labor and we would be delivering two perfect, tiny, babies, Olivia and Oliver.

I have never been so nervous about anything in my life.  Being prone to problems with anxiety already, I started having heart palpitations as soon as the anesthesiologist came in and they haven’t stopped since—it’s been a month and apparently is a permanent part of being a parent.

They gave me the epidural around 10:30 --- I started shaking and crying immediately and cried hysterically all the way into the OR-and through the surgery.  The blue curtain pulled up and I could see or feel nothing at all.  For the first time in months, I couldn’t feel them move, which was even more terrifying.  Around 10:46 I heard Olivia cry…the first breath of relief.  Seconds later, literally, I heard Oliver.  They cleaned them, weighed them, bundled them up, placed them by my head for me to see for a few seconds, then wheeled them away immediately.  Ken followed the babies down to the NICU.  Over the next 45 minutes, I was stitched up and moved to a recovery area. 

I have never felt as helpless as I did lying in the recovery “room” with a curtain drawn around me, completely alone.  Ken was with the babies, and no one was allowed in but him. 

In a matter of minutes, I was cut open, and had the two small lives that had been growing inside of me for 8 months removed from me and taken away—with no idea of their health or safety, or even the chance to really hold them.  I had no feeling in the lower half of my body; I couldn’t sit up, and was shivering uncontrollably. 

Ken finally came in, what seemed like hours later.  He brought pictures of the babies and an update.  Olivia was perfect and healthy, but was being kept in NICU because of her weight.  Oliver was healthy but was struggling with his breathing.  He was hooked up to a machine to assist him and being given oxygen.  The doctors insisted that was normal, but there isn’t much you could have said to convince me of that.

The next few days went by quickly.  The next day I was finally allowed to get out of bed and be pushed down in a wheel chair to see the little ones, and come hell or high water, I was getting down to that NICU nursery.  The epidural had some residual effects and for two days I had no feeling in my right leg—terrifying!  We weren’t sure if the feeling would come back or if it was permanent and made getting around highly difficult.  To try to get past the leg issue, (and convinced they would harm the babies if I was nursing them), I weaned myself off the motrin and morphine entirely within 48 hours. 

The next few days passed by quickly, and painfully, with most of our days spent running back and forth between the two different NICU nurseries, and my room to check in with my nurses and doctors.  Wednesday came entirely too fast.

They had my paper work ready for checkout early that morning, and had me packed up and ready to go by afternoon.  They put me in a wheel chair, pushed me through the hospital and to the car.  They loaded me up and shut the door.  Just me.  No Oliver.  No Olivia.  Ken and I pulled off, and I made the mistake of turning around to see the two empty car seats ready and waiting for our little ones.  It’s safe to say, I lost it…

Nothing can describe the feeling of carrying not one but two children for eight months, unexpectedly going to the hospital on a Saturday morning, being cut open that night and having them taken out of you and away from you, then having to pull away and leave them behind, with no idea of when they will be able to come home with you or what will happen over the coming days.  It was gut wrenching…empty, frustrating, heart breaking…

We were back at the hospital bright and early the next morning, stayed all day, and the next and the next, and the following two weeks.  They lay there so helpless and fragile with tubes and wires everywhere.  Oliver struggled with the bottle the first few days and was immediately put on a feeding tube.  He failed his first two hearing tests, and struggled to catch up.  Olivia, who started out like a rock star, slowed down drastically with her feedings and had to have a feeding tube put in after a few days.

The following week and a half was filled with sleepless nights, frustrating days, steps forward and then back, then forward, then two back.  They had to complete 8 bottle feedings per day before they were allowed to go home, which seemed like climbing a mountain for these little guys.  Who would have thought they would make the jump in just a matter of days. 

For sometime I have heard the commercials about the quality of care at Northside Hospital.  Being in marketing and PR, I have thought very little of them until I experienced it first hand.  I’m sure just as with any hospital stay, or service in general, the people make the difference. 

There are two particular nurses that we owe a tremendous thank you--- Justina and Kelly.  While all of the staff was kind and caring and genuinely concerned—if it had not been for these two, we wouldn’t have had the best gift we could have ever gotten for Christmas…our family home, together.  Justina was the night nurse who figured out how to adjust their feedings to help with Oliver’s residuals and their reflux.  This got them on the right track to increase their feedings.  Kelly---I cannot thank enough.  Before leaving town for the holidays, she made sure EVERYTHING was in order to get them home.  Tests completed, orders set, and she removed the feeding tubes to force the other nurses to attempt the bottles at every feeding.  To our surprise, a couple of days after Christmas, we received a phone call from Kelly to check in and make sure everyone was doing okay and wish us well.  Above and beyond…  People just make the difference.  They made what was a terrifying experience seem a little easier and gave us peace of mind in a very difficult situation-which is priceless.

Oliver and Olivia got to leave the hospital on December 23^rd.  After 13 days in NICU, our twins got to spend Christmas where they belonged—at home. 

There are some things that change you in a way that can’t be described—milestones, Hallmark moments so to speak…  I could keep writing for pages on end about this experience as whole and my beautiful new babies, but I could never put the feeling, the emotions, the change into words.