Growing Two Hearts

The Plan

When you and your partner first start talking about starting a family, it’s often fun to think about “how cool it would be if we had twins.” It was like that for Matt and me, at least. In the early stages of thinking about growing our family tree four years ago, we would fantasize about what our kids would be like, what we’d have to do to ‘not raise a troublemaker,’ and yes, the fun, crazy beauty it would be to have twins.

Well, without twins on either side of our family, and fortunately being able to conceive naturally, the chances of this were slim to none, and it never crossed our minds again.

Fast forward to eleven months ago. Our first, perfect (non-troublemaker) son had just turned two, and the talks started again about adding another branch to our tree. Being the ‘planners’ and goal-oriented people that we are, we decided we had to move first, as we were outgrowing our home. We planned to pack up and move to a nearby home with an extra bedroom and basement before we could possibly start trying again.

So that’s what we did. We moved 12 minutes down the road to a beautiful forever home with one extra bedroom, a basement, a generous amount of land to play on, and an infinite number of possibilities and ideas about what the future could hold as Matt and I grow old here.

Cool, step one. Done. Next up, baby-making time! With our luck last time of conceiving very early on, Matt was confident it would happen again. And with my fertile window just a couple of days after our move, along with him starting a new business, he wanted to wait just a month. So I reluctantly went along with it… What was a month in the long run, anyway?

Ah. Well, it turns out that month was everything. As hoped (and Matt anticipated), we were so blessed to get pregnant on the first try, sharing the news with our immediate family just in time for Christmas and getting excited about what Christmases to come would be like filled with another set of footsteps running down the hall.

The Blueberry

The day after Christmas, we got the greatest surprise of all. After heading to the OB to confirm what our at-home tests had said, we told our son that we were going to the doctor because mama had a ‘blueberry’ in her belly, as that was the gestational size at five weeks pregnant, and not to get his hopes up.

The doctor stood there at the ultrasound machine not talking for what seemed like forever, which, as you can imagine, got all my nerves going. Was there no heartbeat? Were our tests wrong? Why wasn’t she talking? Our son—being the inquisitive little boy that he is—stared at the screen and broke the silence with, “Where’s the blueberry, mama?”

“Well, there might be two blueberries,” the doctor stated before I could try and make something up while she interpreted what she was seeing.

Matt and I shot confused and shocked looks at each other. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” my husband responded quickly. Mind you, this was the first ultrasound he had ever seen, as he wasn’t allowed in any during the previous pregnancy due to COVID.

The doctor confirmed that there were, in fact, two eggs and sacs, and that while it was still early and we should take it with a grain of salt, we were pregnant WITH TWINS.

What?!? They don’t run in our family; we didn’t need any fertility help. How could this possibly be? Remember when I said before you start a family you fantasize about what life would be like with twins? Well, it never, ever, ever crossed our minds again. In our planned-out family, we had just purchased a home and forecasted memories and milestones with four of us. This was the last thing we expected.

The Pregnancy

Well, here we are nearly ten months later, and our family grew by 66% last week.

The pregnancy overall went as well as I could have ever asked for. I had no complications, maintained a healthy lifestyle, was still able to lift and exercise into the final month, and had relatively low weight gain for twins. Most importantly, the babies were healthy. They stayed within 6% bodyweight of each other, didn’t have any anatomical concerns, and had consistently good heart rates, practice breathing, and levels of fluid.

With that said, I compared everything to my first pregnancy, where I didn’t start showing until 7.5 months pregnant, bounced back with losing 19 of the 23 pounds I gained within the first week, and was able to do everything I typically did physically all the way up until the day I went into labor.

Throughout the pregnancy, especially towards the end, the hardest part for me was showing any sign of weakness, mostly to my son. I wanted to be super mom. I wanted to be able to play, run, and lift everything with and for him. Having to limit and modify any of those things could bring me to tears, as he selflessly, empathetically would change what he wanted to do so I could still participate.

Moreover, I worried about him emotionally. After three years of being the only child, the only grandchild—on both sides—how would he handle this? He already had separation difficulties since he was seven months old. He had a few setbacks a couple of months ago where it was difficult even leaving him with his favorite people (grandparents) because he ‘needed mama’. How was I going to balance his needs with the physically demanding double needs of twins?

We prepared him endlessly about the plan, and talked about him being such a good big brother and all the things he’d teach them and play with them. Like a champ, he jumped right in, kissing my belly and talking to ‘the brothers’ about how he’d teach them baseball and basketball and tell them about the intricacies and differences between his cars and trucks he was playing with. He’d make sure our dog was gentle to my stomach and made me erupt with pride in how he was already handling it all, in theory. The day came, and ‘the brothers’ would be here soon. We packed the bags and car and waved goodbye to our home as we knew it, joking about the chaos, food, stinky laundry, and boy house that would be in the coming years.

The Delivery

As for the delivery itself, we ended up opting for a C-section. It was not what I had initially intended, and I was upset to find out it didn’t seem my practice was as equipped for twins as I thought, nor did it need to be. For reference, my last delivery was vaginal; however, I had three nights of contractions and three visits to the hospital after hours of contractions being four minutes apart, but I wasn’t dilating. It took having a muscle relaxer on the third visit to finally start to move things along, and our son was born another 20 hours later.

Knowing that background, and that most OBs don’t let pregnancies with twins go past 38 weeks, I had two even greater fears than a C-section—a failed induction where the contractions come on but I’m not dilating, resulting in both the pain of natural delivery as well as an emergency C-section, or even worse… an induction resulting in a natural delivery, but something happens on the second delivery leading to a section for baby B. Both a vaginal and C-section recovery?!?!? Oh, no thank you.

So after much research, debate, frustration, and tears, we opted for the scheduled C-section still with the open mind and hope that I could go naturally before, but if not by the date, we would take a little bit of control in knowing the date, the length of time it would take, and just know that I would need to take it easy for a longer recovery after.

By making that decision, I wasn’t awfully worried about my body or the babies, but again was most upset by knowing I wouldn’t be able to do all that I wanted, and would appear weak to my son. The worst part being that I wouldn’t be able to lift and hold him for an extended period of time to ensure the incision as well as layers of stomach muscle heal. As an additional reference point, the biggest frustration I had with my first delivery was that I had to wait six weeks to work out when I felt fine after a week and a half and was chomping at the bit to move my body both for physical and mental release.

The surgery went really well—aside from having roller veins that took over an hour to get an IV in and finding out that I have a sensitivity to opiates leaving me dizzy, fatigued, and slightly nauseous for 12 hours after the spinal block. The boys arrived with their distinct cries just a minute apart, and Matt and I each held one, basking in love and tears as they sewed me back together.

The New beginning

After the first day of no drinking, eating, or moving, I was excited and anxious for our son to come the next day and hug him, introducing him to his brothers. That sweet, sweet boy let no one down as he confidently walked in the hospital door saying, “I came to see you, mama!” and gently said hi to his brothers. When they would cry, he would say, “I’m right here, brothers” to console them, and even mentioned an “I love the brothers” on day one.

Nights in the hospital were all but relaxing as the babies were kept in the room with us alongside multiple nurses coming to check on them and me all hours of the night, in addition to their incongruent wakings and cries. Each day and night became a little less attention from staff, and it was time to go home and assimilate to our new normal, and squeeze our little boy and fluffernutter doodle pants.

Three days after surgery, most importantly… I showered! Scary but surprisingly not painful, and I was more mobile than I anticipated. Side note—the OB used Dermabond rather than any external stitches or staples (still 4 layers of internal stitches), so my incision just looked like an eyeliner mark on my stomach. No dressing, no butterflies, just skin with a little glue. Honestly, it was very impressive, which each nurse and doctor continued to be shocked by, so I had a little relief each shift to hear that.

The Home

Home. A flight of stairs up no matter what entrance to get inside. Yikes. One step at a time, and completely doable. Through focusing on breathing and slow motions, this also was not as bad as I had anticipated. For those curious, the worst part about a C-section is the going from laying to sitting, and sitting to standing. Even more so if you have been in that position for an extended period of time. Once you start moving, it gets easier. And movement is extremely important to start to mobilize your body, prevent blood clots, activate your bowels, and help prevent gas pockets (I started getting one in my shoulder—ouch).

We settled down, Matt brought in all the goods and bags that we brought with us, and we eagerly awaited the return of our pup and little boy. Both left no disappointment in the joy and abundance of love when they walked in making our home complete.

This first week has been a week of figuring it out, trying to keep normalcy for our son, being sensitive to all of our feelings and needs, and remembering first and foremost that we (my husband and I) are a team. Even if we are tired, which we are, we are on the same side. If we get upset or feel a certain way, we keep it directed at the thing and don’t pivot the frustration towards each other.

The Best Part

The best part of this first week? Our little boy. He truly has been the greatest blessing. As I sit here typing and pumping, I am brought to tears at the way his little heart and head have navigated this all.

He makes the challenging parts a bit lighter as we need to keep a slightly better face on for him. With that said, he has been the biggest comfort when mama does cry in noting that “I can make you happy, mama. Take a deep breath, mama. Take a sip of water, mama. I will make you happy, mama, with a big hug and a kiss.” Can you even handle the sweetness?!?!

On the other hand, he makes the joyful parts 10x more joyful by adding his commentary, his empathy, his playfulness, and a new set of eyes to all things that are happening. He loves his brothers and continues to say that he can’t wait to play with them even though they are giving him nothing back. He reiterates, “I’m still right here, brothers,” when they cry.

The Dads

I also want to take a moment to recognize the dads during this process. Yes, pregnancy and delivery and postpartum are much more traumatic and dramatic for the mother, but it’s not easy for the father either. Matt held my hand and heart through it all. He continued to empower me to feel strong and do what I felt called to do but also reminded me to slow down. He cared for the babies, for me, and carried all of his worries and stresses inside. He is now navigating a new normal of no sleep, lifting all the things that I can’t, two new little loves, and trying to grow his business, as owning and starting a budding business doesn’t allow for a typical paternity leave.

The Abundance of Love

I don’t know what I did to be so blessed with the best husband, pup, son, and now these healthy beautiful little peanuts, but I will continue to count these blessings and hold each moment close. Yes, there are hard moments, yes, I am still in pain, but the joy and love and fullness outweigh it all tenfold.

While my tummy shrinks, my heart grows. While I have no idea what time, or day, to be honest, it is, I do know my purpose in this world is growing these little hearts. While my head might be slightly scatterbrained as my body and hormones and reality all realign, each moment is intentional. Intentional to love, to be present, to heal, to be aware of what is needed in that moment and that moment only.

I know the challenges will be plentiful over the next weeks and days. But I also know how fast they all went the first time around. I can feel the nostalgia of those first snuggles, the first smiles, the first grabs and recognition, the awful moments that turned to laughter, and the sleepless nights that led to core-bonding cuddles. I look forward to those milestones and memories we planned for, but I don’t wish to rush them in any way. I look forward to the next few minutes, hours, and days that I have in being intentional, navigating, and growing these hearts, this family, and this life.