Friday, December 16, 2016

Year Two

I can't believe my babies are TWO today. They will officially be two at 9:38 and 9:39 pm tonight (so, about 25 minutes from the moment I began typing this blog)

If I close my eyes and let the room around me grow quiet, I can put myself back to that day. It's not sunshine and rainbows, it was a pretty traumatic day for me (you can read their birth story if you go back to my December 2014 blog post). I try not to think about it too much, which is why I won't be writing any of those details in this post.

We went to an indoor aquarium at the Mall of America today. It was ridiculously overpriced, but worth it to see the excitement in their eyes as they watched the various types of fish, sharks, and turtles swim above us as we walked through tunnel after tunnel of sea life. We walked around the mall for a while and had some lunch. Then we went and had some dinner with my parents. That was pretty much it.

I forgot to order their cake, so I had E just pick up a generic one from Walmart, because mama ain't got time to make a cake. I'm not Betty fricken Crocker. Also, I don't own a cake pan. So, there's that too. It would have been more expensive to buy the cake mix and a cake pan that it was to just buy a ready made cake and have the "bakery" at Walmart write their names on it. Its just cake. They're two. Its fine. They ate it (way past their was hilarious watching them eat cake while exhausted).

Now they're in bed. My official two year old twins. How? Why? Its not quite their birth time yet as I close out this post. I think I'll go sit in their room as the clock hits 9:38 and 9:39.

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Ramblings of a Stay at Home Mom of Twins

Intro: Hi! I've taken a break from this blog to heal and work on my ppd/ppa but its time to come back. Writing is healing for me, humor is healing for me. So I hope I can help you laugh if you need it. Welcome back to my blog if you remember me! Welcome to my new followers who've wondered where I've been!

So, lets be honest. Staying home with almost two year old twins is...interesting. I mean, I love my babies. I fought like hell for three years to conceive them. But there are some days I just wish I could have a nanny so I can take a nap or shower. I go an embarrassing amount of time between showers. Don't judge me, ya'll. This is real life. I'm a hot mess express 99% of the time, and I'm good with that. I don't want my kids growing up thinking I'm perfect. I want them to see the mess so they know that life is so much more than a spotless kitchen and a full face of makeup. All that matters is the time I spend with them playing, laughing, coloring, dancing like crazy people to Hairspray, and tromping in the fresh snow in the backyard.

These two crazies are my life. They're hilarious. I mean, look at this photo of them with Santa last weekend. My kids are awesome. Hopefully they'll win us a $100 gift card again this year.

Last year's winning photo:

So, I will end this post with that. I'm sure my rambling probably isn't as entertaining to you as it is to me. 

xoxo Heather

Thursday, December 31, 2015

Well, hey. Things are going ok...kind of.

On Friday the 18th I had my gallbladder removed. It wasn't an emergency situation, but had I waited another day, it would have been. So I've been healing from that and trying to take care of the twinados.

Things were really looking up for me when it came to my ppd/ppa, but unfortunately that trip to the hospital triggered a lot of my anxieties and it feels like I took 50 steps back. It sucks, especially because it wasn't even the same hospital. 

The first thing that triggered it was the IV. It took six tries, three nurses, and finally the anathesiologist to get it in. The smell messed with me. The moment that alcohol pad was opened everything came flooding back. Then the walk down to the operating room. Then sitting on the table and confirming who I am and why I'm there. Then laying down and having those boots put on that help with circulation. I had to wear those damn boots on hospital bed rest for a week straight. I hate those stupid boots.

It was really hard. The recovery and being on the same pain meds from my c-section was awful. I finally started feeling like myself a couple days ago. Because of the surgery I couldn't go to therapy last week or this week and just found out I have to cancel next week because Evan has to work on the day I was scheduled. Who knows when I'll see her again at this point. I'm struggling. I don't want to feel like this anymore. 

Christmas didn't even feel like a Christmas. It wasn't exciting. At. All.

Being a stay at home mom is lonley. It's too cold to go out and just the thought of packing them up makes me exhausted. I know I'm making it harder on myself by not going out, but I just don't have the energy. I just don't. 

Monday, November 30, 2015

December 1st

Tomorrow is the day. It will be one year since everything started to go down hill with my pregnancy.

I'm trying so, so hard not to think about it, but its all starting to come back.

One year ago on December 1st I was taken by ambulance from one hospital to another with a Level 3 Nicu. I was terrified. They were preparing me for what could have been my babies birth day.

Luckily, it wasn't. And I am so thankful that they were able to be in me for two weeks longer.

I am so tired of obsessing over this.

It wasn't the end of the world, Heather. Everything turned out ok. Not great, not how you wanted, but they were healthy and better off being born on the 16th.

I just need to keep telling myself that its ok to cry for a few minutes, but then I need to move on. I just want this obsession with the days leading up to their birth to be a distant memory, not one that is constantly in the back of my mind.

Wednesday, November 18, 2015


I'm working really hard on forgiving myself right now. Therapy has been incredibly helpful, and I've only had three sessions. She is helping me to let go of everything bad that has happened in regards to the time leading up to their birth, their actual birth, and my postpartum depression.

Today we talked about the moment that lead to them coming early. It's hard to think about and work through, but its healthy for me to get it out, cry, and move on. This is going to be long.

December 1, 2014.

I was at work and let my supervisor know that I had an appointment with my OB at 1:30 (my usual weekly one) and would need to leave at noon so I could make sure I was there on time (45 minute drive into the cities). It was about 11:30am when I had a feeling that I wasn't going to be back at work after my appointment. Something in my gut just made me feel that. I packed up a few things from my desk that I knew I wouldn't want to leave there for four months if I ended up not coming back that day, and left.

I checked in at the counter, went to the restroom, peed in a cup as usual, and went back to the waiting room to wait for Emmy to take me back. We did the usual weight and blood pressure. Weight was good. Blood pressure was not. 160/90. A few minutes later, Dr. H came in the room and told me he was sending me to the hospital down the street to be monitored. All I could think of in that moment was, "I haven't eaten anything since 8am...I'm starving!" (I was planning on getting Chipotle on my way back to work). Then worry filled my gut. He told me it was going to be ok, he just wanted to have a few hours of blood pressure numbers measured.

I got to Woodwinds, went up to labor and delivery, got checked in, and instead of bringing me to the monitoring room like the last time, they admitted me into a delivery room. I freaked out a little at that point. This is not where I wanted to deliver! They don't have a nicu! I need to call Evan! I need to call my mom! Crap! I forgot to call my supervisor to let her know that I wont be back in today!

I changed into a gown and they hooked me up to the bp cuff, contraction monitor, and put the babies on the monitor also. Five minutes into being monitored, I started to have contractions. They came about every two minutes for a while, then died down. It was then decided that I would be put on a mag drip and be given a steroid shot to help develop the babies lungs just in case I had to deliver.

Four hours later, in comes Dr. H. He has decided to transfer me to St. John's (has a level 3 nicu). Evan finally got to Woodwinds a few minutes before Dr. H told me I was transferring. I am the first to admit that I am naive when it comes to stuff like this. I'm totally thinking, "Ok, so get this IV out of me, and I'll meet you there in twenty minutes...after I grab a burger or something from McDonald's because I'M STARVING!" Buuuut, that's not how hospital transfers work. I then learn that I am being transferred via ambulance. Yay! My first ambulance ride!

I am transferred to St. John's and am put in Room 1. I later found out why I was put in this room. This wing of the Maternity Care Center is for women with high risk pregnancies. The nicu entrance was less than ten feet from my door. Had I known that when I was brought it, I probably would have freaked out a little.

After I was hooked up to all of the monitors and had the mag drip started again, I begged for food. They had peanut butter toast and turkey sandwiches. I said, "Yes please!" my nurse asked me which one..."Both..." she laughed and said she would be right back. Best damn turkey sandwich of my life, people! It was just a slab of turkey on two pieces of bread with the option of yellow mustard or mayo. I chose mustard, because why not? If there would have been Grey Poupon, I could have made that a five star meal!

After about 7 or 8 days, I was sent home on strict bed rest. Netflix and I were the best of friends for a week. Then everything went downhill...but that's for another post for another day when I feel like I can handle it.

Now, about that forgiveness.

My body had not been nice to me. First I had to battle it to get pregnant and inject and ingest a lot of hormones. Then once I was pregnant, I had to fight it to keep my babies in. I was angry at my body. No. I was PISSED OFF at my body for betraying me. After all of the medications I was given to keep my babies cooking longer, it betrayed me and still made me deliver them premature. My stupid body made it so I couldn't hold my babies for ten hours after they were born. My body made Quinn need respiratory support the moment she was born. My body made my babies be in the nicu because it couldn't keep its shit together and just hold on for three more weeks!

I'm still working on it. Logically I know that none of this is my fault. Delivering them early was not my fault, it wasn't my body's fault. Things just happen. There was nothing I could do to prevent it. Babies come early all the time. Hell, twins come early all the time! I'm no different! I just need to be able to forgive myself. Forgiving myself is going to be hard. One year anniversaries of all of this happening are coming up in the next few weeks. I am thankful to be in therapy so I can work through these things. I'm glad I have this outlet again to get these things out so I can look back and see how far I've come. I am hoping that kind of reliving all of this is going to help me to move on so I can just enjoy my babies and not think about the trauma I went through to get them here.

Tuesday, November 17, 2015


I made a dumb decision today. I went to Target with my 11 month olds and it was pouring rain. Do you have any idea how hard it is to wrangle two 11 month olds into a wet shopping cart? It sucks. We finally got inside. I grabbed a well deserved sugar free cinnamon dolce latte from Starbucks, and we proceeded with our shopping. But, of course, not without a meltdown from Thing 1 (Isaac). I get a pumpkin and banana pouch out for him and he's good to go. Then Miss Thing 2 (Quinn) decided she was sooo over being in the buggy bench and proceeded to try and flip out of it (she failed), so I gave her a pouch too. Then they both finished and proceeded to cry. And right there in Target, I cried too. I was so over it. So freaking tired from battling a gallstone attack in the middle of the night, so over dealing with trying to get them into the cart in the pouring rain. Just over. It. We needed formula, more pouches, over night diapers, and I felt that the pharmacy should have just given me a Xanax. My two prescriptions were in the cart screaming. I had proof I needed it. 

We finally finished our shopping and of course the rain started to come down harder the moment we walked outside. At this point I decided to run with the cart and get them packed up as fast as I could. They were having none of this. I just stood there and bawled while they cried as I strapped them into the seats of doom. I finally got into the car and was completely exhausted. I just wanted to snap my fingers and be home and already inside. Today may have been our last outing with just the babies and I. I'm imagining it being -10° out and trying to do this by myself. It just doesn't seem doable. So, no more outings without Evan, or meltdowns will happen. 

Tuesday, November 10, 2015


I had my first therapy session for ppd two weeks ago. It went really well. I cried. A lot. Really hard. And I felt so much better by the end of my session. I have another appointment this Thursday and will continue to see my therapist weekly until further notice. I don't really know how or when I am going to feel better, but that's why I'm getting help, right?

It's hard to be raw and open about this. I get reactions from friends that are not very helpful...when I told someone that I was starting therapy for ppd their response was, "Oh, you're still going through that? I thought you'd be over it by now." For real. Someone who I am incredibly close and trusting of my feelings said that to me. Yeah, I'm almost 11 months postpartum. And I am still struggling with postpartum depression. Is there a set timeline that my brain is just supposed to *click* and I'll "be over it"? I haven't responded to this person yet, and I'm not really sure how to. I will talk to my therapist about it on Thursday.

I still feel terrible almost daily. I still think about their birth almost daily when I have a moment of silence (when I'm driving, taking a shower, or even when watching tv). I think about how things should have gone and how I can't go back to that moment and re-do. I wanted skin to skin with my babies. I didn't get that until six hours later in the nicu. I got to see them for less than five minutes before they took them to the nicu. By the time I was able to hold them, I felt like I had lost something. I wanted so badly to have them on me right away, but being early, there was nothing I could do about it. I am trying to work on not blaming myself for any of the things that led to them being premature, but its really hard. As someone on the outside, you see that I went on strict hospital bed rest for a week and strict bed rest at home until labor started back up again. I did everything I should have to keep them in longer, but my body just wouldn't allow it. It is hard to forgive my body for what It has done to me. *loss mentioned* It killed my baby in 2011 and it made my twins come early and have to be in isolettes with tubes and wires all over them, it didn't let me produce milk for my preemie babies, it just sucks. My body sucks.