Introducing Juliana Berniece

Welcome to the world dear Juilana Berniece!  You are 2 weeks old today, and I can't begin to express how very glad we all are that you are here, safe and sound!!!

Francl family of 7!

Her Name

First, the name.  Juliana has been named for years now - we've just been waiting to meet her.  We pronounce her name "Julie-on-ah."  It means "youthful" and has been waiting in the wings since Liliana (Lily) was born.  We call her Juliana, Julie, or Jules.

Her middle name, Berniece, means "bringer of victory" and is after Berniece Grewcock, a woman dear to our family.  Berniece is a strong woman who has lived a life full of faithful support of her spouse, generosity to those less fortunate, fighting for the good, and promoting truth.  I can't think of a woman I'd rather my daughter emulate.

The Twins

The story of Juliana has to begin with the twins.  We found out we were expecting in March and found out in April that we were expecting twins!  Fear, elation, exhaustion, and excitement all mixed as we changed our expectations and anticipated the future.

In May, at 15 weeks gestation, we found out that we lost one of our twins.  We never did confirm a gender, but my mommy gut said "boy" so we named him Thomas (which means "twin") and grieved.

Waiting for Juliana

The pregnancy continued without any further complications or hiccoughs (praise the Lord!).  I was initially convinced she was coming early, so I nested early - everything was done by 36 weeks.  So then I had to come to grips with the fact that she wasn't here yet.  I worked to mentally accept that I'd be pregnant till 40 weeks.

At 37 weeks, 5 days, Wednesday, we found out I had slightly higher than normal levels of amniotic fluid.  The primary risk factor has to do with cord prolapse during delivery (a very rare but extremely dangerous thing), and extra fluid doesn't mean anything is wrong necessarily, but we started non-stress tests, just to be on the safe side.

At 38 weeks, on Friday morning, I went in for my first non-stress test, which she passed with flying colors.  My doctor was out of town, so this gave me a chance to meet Dr. Crockett, the doctor who would be on call for the weekend.  I was sure I wasn't going into labor any time soon - I would likely be pregnant for another week or so - but it was good to have met her.

That evening was an all-school concert at Lily's school.  We loaded up the kids after supper and went for the 2-hour concert.  Spencer (age 4) was getting so sleepy at one point that I handed out little bags of M&M's, thinking that would keep him awake.  He really tried, but with an M&M 1/2 way to his mouth, he fell asleep.  It was SO funny!

Spencer sleeping between M&M's.

After the concert, we chatted a bit with friends and then headed for home around 9.  We put the boys to bed, and I crawled into our bed hoping to ease my constantly-aching back.  Lily crawled in next to me to read, and Chase had just crawled in next to her to read.

Soon, I felt baby kick and thought I heard something.  I felt baby kick again and heard, "POP!"  Then a warm gush of water flowed down my leg.  It was 9:47 pm.

She's Coming Now

"Chase, my water just broke."

"What?!?!!!!"

"My water just broke."

"What do I do????!!!!????"

He dashed to the bathroom and brought back towels and a shower curtain (it was sitting on top of the towels, and was kind of a genius idea).  Then, with Lily running, bouncing off the walls, turning on lights, and opening doors ahead of him, Chase took our bags and the infant seat out to the car.  Big sister was beside herself with excitement!

I called my mom to come stay with the kids, and Chase went in to let the boys know we were leaving.  Connor was the only one still awake, so he came to my room to tell me goodbye.  I don't know that I've ever seen a grin so big on his face!

In all the excitement, I sat on the edge of my bed perched on bath towels knowing exactly what I was facing.  I HATE it when my water breaks.  Labor gets instantly horrible.  My hips and back already hurt terribly, and I hadn't had a single contraction yet.

"I think I want an epidural this time," I said to Chase.

"Really?!?" I could hear the hope in his voice.

I moved to 2 fresh towels, wrapped the shower curtain around them, slipped on flip flops and headed for the car.

On the 30 minute drive to the hospital, I kept poking my stomach to be sure baby was moving.  This was when cord prolapse could cause problems.  I had maybe 3 or 4 contractions on the drive, but the only way I knew they were happening was by feeling with my hands as my stomach got hard like a basketball.

The front-most parking spot was waiting for us when we arrived at the hospital.  Chase looked at me, "Best spot in the lot."  (He has an uncanny ability to always get good parking without even driving around looking.)

I hoisted up my shower-curtain-towel-makeshift-diaper over my soaked pajama pants and waddled my way into the hospital.  The labor and delivery floor is only floor 2, but by the time the elevator got there, I was already standing in a puddle.  As we made our way down the hallway to the nurses' station, I left a small river behind.

"I think we can confirm that you're ruptured," the nurse said.  It was about 10:30pm.  She pointed me to the room we delivered Spencer in, and we started the admission process.

I was hooked up to monitors, signed paperwork, got an IV put in, and asked for an epidural.  The nurses knew I'd never done one before, and asked a few times to confirm that was what I really wanted.  Yes.  Call the anesthesiologist.

The Epidural

He got there sometime around 11:30.  Turned out he knew some friends from my childhood, a doctor friend, and had a lake house outside of town.  We all chatted as he worked.

Chase stood in front of me, and I leaned my head into his chest as the epidural was placed.  The anesthesiologist said that it's common for dads to faint during the process, so we joked about that, and Chase made a point to look away from all that was going on.  But somehow, it didn't matter - just as the epidural was placed, I felt Chase's arms go heavy.  "Uh... I don't... I think I need to sit..." Chase said.

The nurse - who Chase assumed was there to help me if I needed anything - was actually there with a chair to help Chase in case he fainted.  He didn't actually faint, but he came soooo close!

After the epidural was in, I got settled back in bed, and my blood pressure dropped.  It took about an hour to stabilize everything, and by 1am, we settled in to wait.

The problem was, my labor basically stalled - contractions were coming only every 7-10 minutes.  By 3am we decided to try position changes to get things moving.  Chase and Anna slept while I rested and waited.

Chase on the left, Anna on the right.  If I hadn't had an
epidural, you can be sure they wouldn't have been allowed
to sleep!

Basically from 1am-6am nothing happened.  At least nothing externally.

The Internal Work

I spent the time facing fears, praying, looking my terrors in the eye and choosing to surrender it all to a God I don't understand, but who has proven time and again He is worthy of all my trust and praise.

I feared for Juliana's safety.  Cord prolapse wasn't out of the question even now.  Which might be part of the reason I was set on the epidural this time when it hadn't ever even been an option I'd considered before - I needed my medical team to be able to do anything they needed to in order to get her safely out.

I feared for Juliana's health.  We hadn't seen her face since 17 weeks because she always had her hands in front of her face.  I worried that she had a cleft palate we hadn't caught earlier, or some other something she was hiding from us.

I feared for Thomas, that he wouldn't be there.  Since we lost him at 15 weeks, there was a chance he may have "vanished" and been totally reabsorbed into his placenta.  That would mean there was nothing left of him to see, to bury, to honor.

I feared for Thomas, that he would be there.  Since we lost him at 15 weeks, there was a chance he would be totally there, just hanging out with his placenta.  That would mean I'd have to/get to see him, whatever there was of him, we'd have to figure out burial, we'd have to face whatever those uncertainties held.

I feared for me.  Could I parent a twinless twin?  Would I make it all about the twin we lost?  Would she know she belongs with us?  Would she struggle with why Thomas and not her?  How would I tell her story without making it all about Thomas?  Would I feel joy when she was born?  Would I weep?  How would I answer the questions she's bound to have throughout her life?

Fear.  That's what those hours were about - facing fear and letting it know I was not afraid.  I was ready.  I was ready to accept what would come, to surrender my need for control in a situation over which I had no control anyway, to move out of pregnancy into a new season with a new baby and all the unknowns it held.  One by one, I faced each fear and surrendered to the will of the Lord.

Juliana is Born

Around the time the nurses changed shifts (7am), I agreed to start pitocin to get my labor really going.  When my new nurse checked me at 7:30, I was still just 6cm.  The new nurse made sure I was settled, and then she bustled about the room getting things ready.  The delivery table was set up, the baby things were all out and ready.

Sylvia, my nurse, was experienced - she teaches the childbirth class that the hospital offers, and I'd met her at our refresher we took when we had Connor 5 years earlier.  As my contractions increased in frequency and intensity, she told me to let her know if I felt any downward pressure.  I felt basically nothing, so I said I'd do my best to warn her.

Around 8:30, the epidural stopped working on my front left side.  I rolled over and hit the button to "give it more juice" and was comfortably feeling nothing again within 10 minutes.  A little before 9, my nurse saw a nurse call light on in another room.  Since I was doing fine, she was going to go check on that patient, but decided to check me first.

She lifted the sheet, quickly put it down, and said calmly, "Don't move.  Don't wiggle.  Just lay still.  I'm going to go get the doctor!"  She left and came right back, "We're lucky!  Dr. Crockett was sitting at the nurses' station.  She'll be right in.

Chase was in the bathroom and Anna was dozing, but the activity that happened in the room brought them both to my bedside quickly.  Dr. Crockett came in gowning up as fast as she could.  A second nurse (for the baby) joined the team, and within a few minutes everyone was set.

I scooted to the end of the bed, and Dr. Crockett told me that on the next contraction I could give a push if I wanted to.  When the contraction started, I "breathed down" like they teach you to do, and Chase said, "Steph, you know the head's out, right?"

"Really?!?"

I gave another little push, and we had a baby, a beautiful, breathing, perfect baby girl at 9:14am.  Juliana Berniece made her way into the world gently, quietly, and almost without the professionals.  It was such a peaceful experience, and it seems to me that was in no small part due to the hours I was able to spend focusing on getting emotionally, mentally, and spiritually ready for her arrival.  That and her own gentle spirit.

Even my nurse, Sylvia, thanked me after the fact for letting her be part of such a peaceful, serene delivery.  I wasn't really sure how to respond to that, but was grateful that she honored the whole experience.

We put her on my chest right away, and she
reached her precious hand up and wrapped
it around my neck.  <3

Getting to know Daddy. (Shout out to baby's
nurse, Beth, in the background.  She's assisted
in 2 of my births, and an emergency birth of
a friend.)

Juliana Berniece Francl - 7lb, 9.5oz, 20 inches of sheer perfection.

Thomas is Born

After Juliana was born, the placental came, and we took time to look at it closely once we were settled in.  Dr. Crockett pointed out the area that was Juliana's placenta, then the area that was Thomas' - his placenta had grown next to and fuzed with her placenta.  Though there was no amniotic fluid anymore, Thomas did still have an amniotic sac covering him.  Dr. Crockett broke that membrane and we were able to see that Thomas was still there, part of his placenta.  Head, body, arms, legs, they were all there.

So the unknown was now known.  We would bring him home and bury him.

Sylvia took the placenta to the lab, personally, to ensure it was handled with the greatest care and respect.  A few days later, we were able to bring Thomas home and bury him.

All the Love

Mom brought the kids to see us as soon as they were dressed and done with breakfast.  Nolan, age 2, was the first one to walk into the room as Chase was holding Julie.  He walked right to Chase with arms outstretched, "I hold baby sister?" he asked.

Nolan (2.5 years)

Spencer (4 years)

Connor (5.5 years)

Lily (8 years)

The kids got to watch Julie's first bath, and learned about the
warmer hospitals use to keep babies warm.  It's just the best
crew I could ever hope to claim as my own.

Home

We came home on Sunday afternoon, and it's been the easiest adjustment to a new baby that I've had so far, in terms of physical demands and sibling stuff.  She's content, sleeps at night, and generally is an "easy" baby.  But then, I think all of that is simply God's grace, because there have been other things we've had to face.

Through this whole experience, there has been such a mixture of joy and sorrow, happiness and hurt, celebration and grief.  For me, those seemingly opposing things exist together, inseparable, and unending.  The intensity of the last 9 months and these first weeks will pass, and the strength of the feelings will wane over time.  But experience tells me they'll never go away entirely, and when I look back on this season, it will always be one of the most beautiful, ugly, struggles of my life.

Lies, the subconscious, love, and hope

You're alone, they whisper.

It's oh, so quiet, and the very fact that I can hear their whisper seems to confirm that what they speak is truth.

You're alone, they whisper, though there are people all around me, though I'm talking and smiling, and working with all I have to keep it together enough that no one notices.

They get more bold, You're a failure.

Tell me something I don't already know.

You should be doing more for your husband, for your kids, for your friends, for your work, for your community.

Yeah, yeah, I know.  I know!

Tears well up as they seep from my aching heart.

You can't even keep it together in public for pete's sake.  You're a failure.  You fail everyone around you.  It's probably why you lost Thomas.  Failing a husband and 5 kids is enough - you couldn't handle a 6th anyway.  You would've just failed him too.

They're lies.  Lies straight from the pit of Hell.  I've come to recognize them for what they are, but somehow that doesn't always mean that they cease their whispering.

The Subconscious

It's less than a month until our baby girl is due, and I am so very thankful.  I am so grateful for her, for the hope that we've had through this really hard season of life.  Her wiggly self is the very embodiment of joy and hope.  And I can't wait to cradle her in my arms, to snuggle her sweet self, and whisper truths in her ear like, "We've always wanted you," and, "You are just who you are supposed to be," and, "You're enough, just like you are," and, "I'll always love you no matter what may come." 

But as the day approaches (whenever that will be), I find myself in the midst, again, of an intense emotional struggle.  Consciously, I've know for months that my due date is Nov. 15.  And I've been telling people that, out loud, for months.  Yet somehow I realized this week as I hit 36 weeks, that subconsciously I was still planning for a due date between now and Nov. 1, because at some subconscious level I have believed all this time that I'm supposed to have twins.

You see, twins are full-term between 36 and 38 weeks.  Literally, God made it so twins' lungs develop quicker, and their little bodies are ready for the outside world anywhere from 2-4 weeks ahead of what it takes for singletons to be full-term.  And after 38 weeks, twins' placentas start to break down and can cease providing the support twins need.  Thus, when I found out I was having twins, I was told they would be delivered, one way or another, by Nov. 1, which is 38 weeks for me.  Two weeks less of pregnancy?  Hallelujah!

When we lost Thomas at 15 weeks, they told me that the pregnancy would now be considered a singleton pregnancy, and that everything adjusts back that way.  No extra appointments or ultrasounds were needed (unless other complications popped up, which blessedly they haven't), and my due date returned to Nov. 15, which is 40 weeks.  As if losing a twin wasn't punishment enough, I now have an additional 2 weeks of pregnancy tacked back on.  It was 20 weeks ago that the specialist told us that, so I've had 20 weeks to plan on a Nov. 15 due date.

Yet somehow, my subconscious or whatever never believed it.  And as I look around now, I see it in things like the nursery being 100% ready last week and 95% ready 2 weeks before that; hospital bags all packed and ready to go 3 weeks ago; all of my house projects (that I can complete) done, save for a last deep cleaning of bathrooms (because who really wants to do that anyway?); considerations I made weeks ago for NICU time if I delivered that early; meals tucked away in the freezer, and a lack of planning anything for November because I'd have just delivered. 

As I look back, I realize that somehow, deep down, I really believed I'd be in labor this week.  And if we still had our Thomas, I very likely would be.  Or at least I'd be seeing my doctor every few days to assess when we'd get to see the twins' sweet little faces.

I don't think there are words for how harsh the reality is that I don't actually get to live that beautiful moment.  It scrapes my soul raw when I let myself think about it.

Don't get me wrong.  I was scared stiff from the second I learned it was twins - how would they get out?  How would I handle a delivery different from the ones I've experienced before where, largely, I was in control and told people what I wanted when, and what I was going to do when. 

But damn.  What I wouldn't give to be told I don't have any control in how they come, but I'm having them both...

Love

As it is, I get to look forward to meeting our daughter, I hope, in a very similar way to how I've met all our other children.  The hell that is labor, the brink of death that is actually delivering, and the instant euphoria of cradling my child in my arms instead of my belly.  That is a road to dread longingly.

I am looking forward to it.  I even beg for it to come sometimes, though I know how hard it is.  That instant she's in my arms, those initial moments of meeting and studying each other, the first fresh hours of new and perfect and in love...  These will also be the moments I don't have that same thing with Thomas.  What will that be like? 

Praise the Lord for the wild concoction of hormones He sends coursing through the body of a woman after labor and delivery.  It's a euphoria unlike any other I've ever experienced, a high that can't be beat for me.  Will it be enough to help me joyfully face my single twin without the one we lost? 

Within a month, I guess I'll know.

Can I do labor and delivery again?  It was horrible the first time.  To quote myself the moment Lily was born, "That was the worst experience of my life!"  Then going into it the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th times, I knew what was coming, and "awful" doesn't begin to encompass how hard it is.  Will I be able to face it all again, this time with added layers of struggle and emotional angst? 

The obvious answer is yes.  It's what we do, we moms.  No child comes easily into this world, no matter how they come.  It is sacrifice.  It is submission.  It is love that gets children here.  Love and God's grace. 

So I guess I'll do it again, and wouldn't we all do it all over again if it somehow meant protecting or saving our children from some horrible hurt or death?  In a book I'm reading with my kids, a mom says, as her son is lead away to horrible punishment, "I wish it was me who was going!"  And one of my boys stopped me to ask if I would ever do that.  He was shocked when I answered without skipping a beat, "Of course." 

It's not that my son doesn't know that I love him, but somehow that story gave him new insight into exactly how much I love him and each of his siblings.  Honestly, I didn't know how much I would love my kids till I had them.  Crazy how the heart learns to love infinitely more in that moment of new parenthood.

And that's, in some ways, the struggle.  I love Thomas just that much too.  I knew him so little, but in as much as I had the privilege of knowing him, I have loved him as completely and fully as each of my other children.  When I weep for his loss, I weep because of the value of that which was lost - that of immeasurable worth. 

Hope

The days come and go, as they have since time immemorial, and I'm grateful in this hard season that they do pass.  Most are mostly good days, but every now and then I run up against one that's just almost too much to bear.  The weight of the moments and hours crush in on me, and I can barely press on.  Sometimes I don't.  My pillow dampened, my soul poured out, I simply beg the day to end.

But usually after dark days like this, the sun rises and hope is renewed with the morning's light. 

One day soon, the sun will rise on our 2nd daughter, all fresh and new.  And in that day there will be great joy and hope for her, and also the blush of sorrow for her brother who we look forward to knowing someday beyond the great divide.

I'm doing fine.

Chase comes down the stairs as I hurl the can into the trash as hard as I can.  All my pent up frustration, anger, hurt, and pain release on the innocent can.

That stupid Walmart employee who filled my order for pick up got the wrong kind of canned oranges.  I can't use these - they have ingredients that give me migranes.  I think, as if the poor soul knew and did it on purpose.

Chase passes through the kitchen and advises the kids not to come in there for a few minutes.  Meanwhile I wonder if I broke open the can when I threw it.  I hope I did.

It's the longest day of the year.  And man, does it feel like an eternity today.

But I'm not ready to talk.  I just need to hurt for a while.  Maybe forever, I'm not sure.  I just hurt.

...

People ask me how I'm feeling, how I'm doing?  And I smile and answer that I'm doing fine.

I see the question still in their eyes because they don't really believe me, so I blather on about how some moments are hard but mostly we just have so much to be grateful for.  Don't question if I answer you this way.  Truly.  I am doing fine.  We are doing fine.

99% of the time, I focus on the positives - we have so much to be grateful for, so much to be thankful for, so much to look forward to.  We live in that state of gratitude - at least I do.  I look around me and don't know how to do anything else.  A devoted spouse, 4 healthy children with another on the way, a home I prayed for years for that God gave me, and every need you can image that He's met for me.  How could I be anything but grateful?

But I knew from the second we found out we'd lost Thomas that I'd get mad.  It's one of the primary ways I process hurt.  I just do.  I've learned to soften and direct and appropriately time my anger better over the years, but hurt comes out of me as anger first.

Many of the hurtful things I know I will face are predictable, and what's bringing all this on was predictable.  I'm not surprised I'm struggling today/tonight.  I knew when I hit this point - when it was time to face these things - I would lose it.

So I do.  I lose it.  On a can of oranges.  When I thought I was alone in my kitchen.  But I got caught.

I don't mind Chase knowing.  He asks what's wrong, and I feel bad telling him - these things are no surprise to him.  They are the same things we've been over before and they are the same things we'll go over again.  Things pile up for me in these situations - it's not just Thomas, though that's a huge part of it.  It's Thomas, it's the twins, it's relationships lost, changing, evolving in ways they never would have if death and sin weren't part of this world.

I hate it.  I hate sin.  I hate my own sin.  Was it a sin to explode on that can of oranges?  I'm not sure, but it wasn't virtue.  Of that I am certain.

...

How am I doing?  I am doing fine.  Please don't question when I answer that way.  I truly am.

I am living normal life.  I am feeling well - better than I have in months.  I can be the wife, mom, friend, person that I used to be/want to be, and I am grateful for that.  I can commit to doing things again.  I can show up and have normal conversations rather than sitting in a corner working to keep my eyelids open.  I'm getting my house back under control one room and a time - one blessed room at a time.  (Bathrooms are next - pray for me.  Ha!!!)

I'm not mad at God.  I'm not questioning my faith.  My identity is not shaken because my identity was never founded in twins, or another son, or a perfect pregnancy, or any of those things.  And most of the time I don't really even hurt.  Most of the time I am just fine.

But today, tonight, I hurt.

...

I crash onto my bed in the midst of a pile of unfolded laundry as soon as the kids are down.

My stomach feels weird.  I should probably eat.  Maybe a blizzard from DQ would be good tonight?  Maybe that would ease the hurt?

No.  No it wouldn't.  Plus it's too late to go get one.

Maybe I should get out my book and read.  That will help - get my mind off of things.  It'll all look better tomorrow.

No.  I won't be able to focus on a book.  That won't help, not tonight.

Maybe I should turn on Netflix.  But I've watched everything I've wanted to watch on there.  It's not like there's anything that will keep my interest, distract my mind.

A tear rolls down my cheek.

Maybe I should call a friend - use a life line - like on Who Wants to be a Millionaire?  Friends have offered, and they offered really meaning it.  I could wake one; I could call one I know would be awake; I could call one who knows all the gory details of all of my hurts right now so I don't have to explain anything; or I could call one who knows nothing so I could rehash everything and maybe that would help?

No.  Not tonight.

I've been in this place before.  It's just another visit from this miserable mistress called grief.  It's the kind of night where it won't matter what I eat, what I do, or who I talk to - I will just hurt.

I hurt over the memory of the moment my world turned upside-down.  I hurt over plans for the future that are now never to be.  I hurt over the way my own processing affects those I love most.  I hurt over the little, daily things that hurt.  I hurt over the fact that I have been severed from something that ought not to have been taken, but it was.  I hurt over life lost.

...

I'm not naive.  These things I feel are in no way unique to me or to my situation.  And I know too that in terms of intensity now and over the years, this doesn't scratch the surface of what so many face.  A spouse buried.  A father no longer there.  A daughter taken at the height of youth.  And so many others.

I know I grieve a life, but mostly I grieve the hopes and dreams and experiences that were to come.  And that's in part what grief is - processing the loss of the future.  But I didn't have much past.  Just 6 weeks.  That's all the time we had the hope and promise of Thomas.

Now some of you, if we were talking in person, would look me carefully in the eye at this point and say, "Yes, but that doesn't negate your grief over your son."

And I respond that you are 100% right.  But I also know that the grief carried by those who have lost one with whom they have lived life is so very different.  So much more intense.  And I just want to acknowledge that.

I think of a friend who recently lost her husband of 68 years. Sixty. Eight. Years. And another who lost her husband of 1/3 that long.  And parents in our state who are planning funerals for their teenage daughters killed in an accident that was all over the news this week.  Ain't no blizzard from DQ, show on Netflix, or friend in the world who can make them feel better. 

...

I don't have a sweet wrap up this time.  I still just hurt.  But it's ok to hurt.  Sometimes (though not always) the best response is to face that mistress of grief.  Look her in the eye and just be with her.  Then sometimes, in my experience, she lets you live a bit of life, not outside of her shadow, but outside of her fierce grip.

Blessedly as days, weeks, months, and years pass, her hold lessens, her interest fades, and grief is a visitor you can control to a point.  But she never completely leaves, and there is beauty even in that, because it validates the value of the loss.

I am doing fine.  But tonight, I hurt.

Thomas Francl

This is the post I prayed I'd never write.  The one I begged would never happen.  

Let me introduce Thomas Francl:

You'll never meet him here on this earth, and nor will I ever get to snuggle his sweet self this side of Heaven.  We lost Thomas - his heart is no longer beating.

Thomas is our son, and I can't tell you how much we cherish the pictures we have of him.  I am so thankful to live today when not only do we know for sure that I was carrying twins, but also we have an image to hold on to.

Facing the Reality

Yesterday it was confirmed that we lost Thomas.  Did you know that "Thomas" means "twin?"  I've always loved the name, but my rule-following self refused to use it on a child who wasn't a twin.  This is our Thomas, one of our twins.

The crushing blow of losing him was mixed with the elation of finding out that our daughter, Thomas' twin, is thriving.  Her little heartbeat is strong.  Her measurements are all precisely on target.  Her blood flow, placenta, umbilical cord, organs, movements, everything is totally normal.  

We have lost Thomas, but we still have his sister.  The specialist tells me that this pregnancy will carry on like a standard singleton pregnancy for our little girl.  Thomas will move aside and in some ways meld into the lining that surrounds and protects his sister.  Isn't that a beautiful thing - that even in his death he becomes part of the protection for his sister.  His body will change to look simply like extra tissue that I'll deliver along with their placentas after she is born.  

Her due date is November 15.  And can I just tell you, we cannot wait for the weeks to pass and for her birthday to arrive!  We are overjoyed and celebrate her life and her health, as we also are overcome with grief and mourn the loss of Thomas' life.

But Why?

Medically, we have no answers.  It's not "unusual" for a twin to not survive.  In fact, as many as 30 percent of pregnancies that start out as twins result in a singleton delivery.  So we simply don't know - there was no medical indication for concern and no medical reason found for his death.

I was talking to a friend today about some of the other why's: "Why let us know about him for a mere 6 weeks?  Why give him and then take him so quickly?  Isn't that cruel?  Would it have been better to never have had Thomas or to at least not to have known?"  The truth is God gives good gifts.  Thomas is a good gift.  Although we only knew about his little life for 6 weeks before he was taken, that in itself is a gift.  In so far as we could, we got to KNOW him.  Fifty years ago, it's likely that we never would have even known he existed as I would've simply delivered a singleton.  

To address the question of "why take him so quickly?  Isn't that cruel?" I simply don't know.  There are so many things I don't understand in this life.  However, I know Someone who knows so very much more than I ever will. He has a perspective so different from mine, and I understand that what He does and permits is for my good.  In my mind, God permitting things that are hard for me parallels a parent taking their child to get a necessary but painful medical procedure done - we parents have all had to do this for our own kid's health and well being.  The way I see it, God does too.  I need my toddler to trust me that a shot is for his long-term benefit.  Likewise, I assume God needs me to trust Him that hard things are for a greater good that I can't yet see or understand. Therefore, I choose to trust a God I don't understand.

Don't hear me saying I won't ask "why?"  I've faced enough of life to know that that question lingers.  I wanted twins for years, prayed to have them, retired that dream, and then was given it only to have it ripped away again.  I'm crushed.  I was so very much looking forward to (and afraid of) all the challenges and blessings.  But.  

Even if...

Do you know the story of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego?  It's in Daniel 3.  It's this great story where King Nebuchadnezzar builds a huge idol and then tells everyone in the kingdom they have to bow down to it.  It sounds silly, but he took role call or had henchmen or something to tell him if people didn't follow his orders.  We know this because somebody ratted out Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego who didn't bow down to the stupid hunk of metal and gold.  

The three are dragged before the king who tells them to bow down to the idol or be thrown into the blazing furnace, because, "what god will be able to rescue you from my hand?"  (Ok, King Nebby... you have no idea what's coming next.  Something tells me you always get your way - spoiled, spoiled!)  And the three respond, "King Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter.  If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and He will deliver us from Your Majesty's hand."  

Doesn't that response just blow you away?!?  Like, what kind of faith do these three guys have?  What kind of crazy miracles have they seen?  The furnace is blazing so hot that it literally kills the guards feeding the fire.  This is no joke, and they're like, "Go ahead and throw us in, our God will save us from the fire."  It feels arrogant at this point to me, like, you three boys get to decide what God does and doesn't do?  He's just gonna rescue you from a fire cuz you stood up to a king?  Sounds to me like these three guys think they can boss God around.

But here's their next line to King Nebby, and it's the clincher for me: "But even if He does not, we want you to know, Your  Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up."  

That.  That is reality right there.  They had it.  God can do ANYTHING.  He is awesome and not bound by the laws of nature in the same way that we are.  He made the rules.  He can break them.  He can save them from the fire.

But even if He does not these three guys decide ahead of time, they will serve Him alone.  

You see, it didn't matter what the king did or didn't do.  It didn't matter if God responded to their actions the way they hoped He would or not.  They would be faithful to God, I suspect, because HE HAD BEEN FAITHFUL TO THEM.

Perhaps some of you reading this far are wondering why I'm spending a ton of time on some ancient story from some crazy religious book when I'm trying to write a post about losing Thomas.  Fair enough.  But it's because Thomas'  life, my twins, will always make me think of this story.  

My "even if..." Moment

We knew a week ago that there were problems with one of our twins.  We knew also that the God who beat death itself could heal the issues that existed.  He is Life.  He is the Great Physician.  He created us.  We have served Him faithfully.  Why would He not grant our request?  A request in line with who He is and what He does, a request that, if granted, would glorify Himself.  

From my perspective it seemed plain - God can, God does.  But from experience, and Scripture, and the lives of many who have gone before me I know that that doesn't always mean God will.

In the week we had between when we knew there were problems and when it was confirmed that we lost Thomas, I lived (to a very different degree) what Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego faced.  My God can.  And I had to make the choice of what I would do - could I live out the "even if" that they never faced, because in their case (spoiler!) God DID save them from the firey furnace?  

I can live out the "even if" they never faced, like so many who have prayed good prayers before me that weren't answered in the way they'd hoped.  Corrie Ten Boom comes to mind.  (If you've never read The Hiding Place, get it today.  It will change your life.  Talk about inspiring faith in modern times.)

So if you've read this far, here's where I'm at:  I'm crushed.  I'm in shock.  From processing grief in the past, I know I'll get angry.  I'll ask "why?"  I'll hurl myself in anguish against the reality we face - precious life lost.  But in all that, I will remain faithful to Him who has been faithful to me and again choose to trust a God I don't understand.  And right in the midst of my grief, I will be celebrating the life of a little girl we plan to meet in November.  

The Lord has taken one.  The Lord has given one.  Blessed be His name.

Dear Thomas

To my dear son who I get to continue to carry with his sister, but will never get to hold this side of Heaven, 

Your life has made such an impact - at least on me and your family.  You are so dearly loved.  You were always wanted.  You will be greatly missed.  Yet I'm so grateful you won't face the harshness of this world.  

May the story of your life chase away doubt (no "doubting Thomas" here!) and inspire faithfulness in the "even if" moments faced by those whose lives you touch.  Your family loves you so.  We look forward to seeing you one day.

Love, Mom

14 weeks, 4 days - Fears

There are always things in life to be afraid of - the fears will overwhelm you and keep you from enjoying life if you let them.  But then some fears are good - they keep you from danger and cause you to continue enjoying life.  Fear of being burned keeps you cautious around a fire.  Fear of getting in a car accident causes you to wear your seat belt and follow traffic laws.

Years ago when I prayed for twins, I didn't associate fear with the experience of having twins.  I saw in my head two beautiful babies and me (remember, this was before I had any kids) actually being kept busy, because one child at a time would be too easy.  (Ha!  Isn't that hilarious!  I was so young and naive.)

But the fear is real, and it's hit in ways I didn't imagine. 

There are the initial obvious fears - fear of losing one or both babies, fear that the doctor was wrong and there is really just one, fear that the doctor was right and there are really 2.  There are physical fears for myself - afraid of the aches and pains, afraid of the growth, afraid of the weight gain, afraid I won't be able to gain weight, afraid of bed rest.  There are fears related to the end of the pregnancy - afraid of a c-section, afraid to get an epidural because of the possible side effects (I've never had one), afraid NOT to get an epidural, afraid to deliver in an OR, afraid to deliver early, afraid of preterm labor.

I think all those fears are relatively predictable.  They can be anticipated, and twin mom blogs are rife with advice and tips and tricks to overcome, prevent, or face them.

But the fears I didn't expect, the fears that knocked my knees out from under me were the emotional and relational fears.

Fears about my older kids - I'm already spread thin with 4 kids ages 7, 5, 3, and 2.  What will it be like when I have newbornS to care for along with my wonderful team?  Emotionally, I work each day to gauge where they're at and evaluate how to meet them there and move them to the next step of maturity.  I've heard enough stories from adult children of big families that they felt lost or not seen or not met or not heard, that I know that's something I want to combat.  But.

But I'm SO tired.  My 3 year old came up to my room a few weeks ago as I was trying to wake up from 3.5 hours in bed (which meant he'd watched about 3 hours of TV that afternoon).  He said, "Mom, get up!  Come on!"  I groaned.  "Oh buddy," I said, "I just can't right now.  How about you go get a book and I'll read to you right here."  He instantly threw himself onto my bed and dissolved into tears, and I was right there with him.  This is hard. 

A 3 year old's mama is supposed to be able to get up at 4:30pm, get him a snack and turn off the stupid TV.  A 3 year old's mama is supposed to be able to carry him down the stairs and nuzzle his neck on the way and reassure him that he is the most valuable and important thing in the world.  Because he is.  A 3 year old's mama is supposed to be able to meet the needs of her 3 year old physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  But this 3 year old's mama is struggling to do any of that for him, let alone his siblings.  That day was hard.  Fears realized.

We've worked through it.  We've found ways to cope, ways to improve my energy, ways to decrease TV time (which improves behavior though not necessarily Mommy's nap time), ways to meet the kids where they are.  And they've gotten used to things like Mommy can't carry them up or down the stairs, but I will hold their hand on the way.  They've gotten used to being asked to run upstairs or down to get my phone or my drink or whatever it is I've forgotten.  They've gotten better at helping one another find lost toys, favorite blankets, and that missing sock.  They're coming along and so am I.

But I'm still afraid.  I'm afraid that I'll fail them.  Despite all my efforts, despite all my prayers, despite giving more than I have to give, I'll fail them.  And I will.  May God's grace fill in the gap.

I'm afraid for my marriage.

This is no judgement on my husband nor should it affect in any way your thoughts about his character.  Because my fears are in no way based on his behavior, actions, or character.  They're based solely on my own insecurities.  But I'm afraid for my marriage.

I was at a friend's house one day and she sent me upstairs during nap time to nap right along with the littles.  Laying there, thinking through all that was going on in that first trimester, I just lost it.  I wept ugly, big tears for a long time.  I cannot provide, I am not providing, I will not be able to provide my husband what he needs for a long time.

It's not like he married me because I was a great cook, or because he didn't like grocery shopping, or because he just wanted his house cleaned.  He had his reasons for marrying me, and now, almost 14 years later, he will have to tell you what those were and why he's still with me.  But it wasn't because I was marvelous in all those ways.

But it is true that I do those things for him - I cook, I keep food around the house, I clean, I do laundry, I care for things inside the home so that he can focus his attention outside the home.  I need him to do that - focus on work and providing for this team we keep building together. 

Except, I can't.  Keeping food in the house has been a challenge (blessings on all who have brought meals, snacks, groceries, etc! and praise the Lord for grocery pick up!), and cleaning has been almost non-existent.  Laundry gets washed (usually) before we're in dire straights, but folding... ugh.  Not only has he had to focus on new developments at his work, but he's also had to run the household while I sleep and build babies. 

A picked up house makes us both feel at peace.  You might not know it from the state my house is in normally, but I love a clean kitchen, a freshly vacuumed house, and sparkling bathrooms (who doesn't?!?).  Saying those are pipe dreams at this point feels a bit too optimistic. 

Last Saturday, Chase worked outside all day - he shoveled dirt into holes, dug a hole for a tree we're going to plant, mowed, spread grass seed in empty patches, covered the seed with topsoil, fertilized the whole lawn (we have a huge lawn!), cleaned up all the kids outside toys, and then helped me feed the kids supper.  After all that I left for a couple of hours out of the house, and came home to bathed children sweetly tucked into bed, a picked up bathroom (no dirty clothes or wet towels on the floor, kids bath toys drained and put away, counters cleaned, trash emptied), and a picked up master bedroom (which was no joke - I'd been trying to get the bedroom clean for weeks to no avail) including my laundry folded in piles on the bed.  And this is becoming the norm for the poor guy.  If it's not the yard, it's the kitchen; if it's not the laundry, it's the playroom.

Do you see why I worry that I'm going to lose my marriage?  He's running the household, working full time, taking care of me, and carrying everything.  It's so overwhelming to me and there's so little I can actually do to give back to him right now. 

No, I don't actually worry about him leaving.  That's not who he is.  That's not who we are.  But man.  Talk about sacrificial love.  And sure, you can say, "Well, you got into this together!"  Yes, we did.  But this is not what we signed up for.  This is not what we expected.  We are grateful, please don't misunderstand that, but it's not what we had planned.  It's God's grace and work in his life and heart and mine that will get us through this season, and I have no doubt that we'll come out stronger on the other end.  But man.  This is hard.

And finally, I'm afraid I'll lose my friends.

Again, this is not a judgement on the kind of friends I have!  Goodness!  They are amazing!  But there are realities to my life and future that affect friendships in a big way. 

At the moment, the biggest thing is my own exhaustion.  I didn't used to need long naps, or to sleep in each morning, or to get in bed early each night.  What that all means is that I did dishes, folded laundry, picked up, cleaned, and ran my house during some of those hours.  And during some of those hours I went to play dates, went out with friends, went to the park, and hosted things at my house. 

I not only have cut out most of the former list, but also much of the latter.  The little energy I have I feel like I spend on those easiest to access and closest to me - my family.  I try to do a little something around the house each day, and I try to connect with each member of my family.  If I accomplish those two things, I'm definitely winning.  When I can fit in a quick visit with a friend, that's a huge bonus!  I'm learning to plan those for times I need to just sit anyway - because usually I can sit at the park, a play date or whatever.  But I'm not as active in attending or planning things as I was.  Let me rephrase that - I don't plan things ever and I struggle to attend things at all.

I get energy from being with people, but it does take some level of energy to get to the point of being with people.  I'm struggling to find the energy to even get there so that I can be recharged by being with them.

And you know what, I'm becoming a worse friend.  My brain is on neutral so often that I don't manage conversation well.  I forget to ask questions.  I forget things I wanted to tell people.  I happily sit in silence next to someone I normally bear my soul to because I can't piece together a complete sentence.  And it's not that thinking about the twins is always what I'm doing.  Actually, that's rarely the case.  It's usually because I'm walking around in a responsive fog.  I'll (probably) be able to respond to what you say, but coming up with things to say takes a lot of energy and effort. 

And it's not that my friends aren't worth that energy and effort!  It's literally that I am just slow.  Maybe it would be helpful for my friends to think of me as someone with a diagnosed mental illness.  I'm just slow right now.  It's not because I don't care.  I should know that you just got back from a trip, that it was your birthday last weekend, or that you have a wedding coming up.  I just can't put all those puzzle pieces together in my head without a lot of help.  I'm like a 2 year old working on a 100 piece puzzle.  It's just really slow for me to find what goes together and make things fit right.

Dear friends, please talk about yourselves and your lives WITHOUT me having to prompt you with questions!  You're not being selfish, self-focused, or rude.  You're helping me out, because I should know to ask, but I literally just... don't very often anymore.  I will again.  I promise.  But in this season, please fill me in on your life and don't always ask about mine - it would be a huge help to me!

Fears.  For a few weeks, those weeks of shock, the fears were oppressive.  Thus I researched and researched in an effort to qualm my fears.  And it helped some, and praying helped some, and simply acknowledging my fears and stating them helped some.  They're still there, those nasty fears, but they don't keep me up at night anymore, they don't keep me in tears, or petrify me into doing nothing.  But they give me pause and caution sometimes. 

If I seem either overly confident or a lot less confident than I used to be, you can bet there is a fear somewhere behind there that I'm struggling through.  Please have grace for me in this season.  Please.  I'm so very imperfect - believe me, I know ALL my imperfections and inadequacies. 

But God made me, and He loved me enough that Jesus paid the price for my imperfections and inadequacies.  He's promised that his grace is sufficient for me, because His power is made perfect in my weakness.  So please, as you see my weakness come to the forefront, have grace for me too. 

And by the way, that is true of you too - that His power is made perfect in your weakness, whatever that may be.  And I promise to have grace for you. 

14 weeks, 3 days

I've now known I'm carrying twins for 5 weeks and 3 days.  There are so many things I want to remember, and process, so here we go.

I found out I was pregnant at 3 weeks and 2 days.  That's really early.  Like really early.  Even the early result pregnancy tests have like a 50/50 accuracy rate at that point.  The lines on the test were not faint.  And they didn't take even a minute to show up.  After taking a test first thing in the morning that day, I was elated.  This is exactly what we'd wanted!

I was so excited that I took a regular (not early-result) pregnancy test later that afternoon to confirm.  Even the normal pregnancy test didn't take any time at all to show nice, dark lines.  We were confirmed!

I always struggle with exhaustion when I'm pregnant, especially in the first trimester.  It's my #1 pregnancy complaint, and it hit with full force by 4 weeks.  That's pretty early for exhaustion to hit, but I just started napping in the afternoons and telling myself this was all normal.

It wasn't that I couldn't get out of bed or move my limbs.  It was simply that I had zero motivation to and zero energy to, so why would I?  Sure, there was 3 weeks worth of laundry spread all over our bedroom floor, but we could continue to dig through to find what we needed.

But then things started to seemed extreme.  A coworker sent me home because she found me nearly asleep on my desk.  Twice.  The next day I worked she sent me home twice.  Like once in the morning for a nap, and when I came back in the afternoon, she sent me home again.  (Bless her!  I needed the rest!)

Saturday came, and I willed myself out of bed by 9:30 so I could make our family brunch.  I climbed back into bed at 12:30 and didn't move a muscle (although I was awake the whole time with piles of laundry still lazily not folding themselves all over our room) until I drug myself out of bed at 5:30 to get supper for my family.  I remember hearing Chase playing outside with the kids - the day was sunny, there was no wind, and I wanted to want to be out with them.  But my arms and legs weighed a million pounds, and I wasn't even motivated to switch the show on Netflix.  I was stuck.

This pattern held for a couple of weeks.  I added in some extra supplements which helped some, but I called my doctor and set up an appointment to see her asap.  Instead of waiting till 12 weeks to see her (which was my previous plan), we took the team (all the kids were with us) and headed in at 9 weeks.

At 9 weeks we had our ultrasound where we found out about the twins.  Shock is the best word to describe what I remember feeling.  Total shock.  I was relieved there was nothing wrong with me or the babies.  Though I didn't really let myself hope for twins in those weeks leading up to the ultrasound when I was SO tired, there was this odd sense of a fulfilled hope or a dream I'd long ago retired turned into a reality.

I'd wanted twins, prayed for twins, hoped to have twins for years before we got pregnant with Lily.  Like so many who have "always wanted twins," I had no idea what I was really hoping and praying for.

It strikes me just now as I write this that I have often heard/read in the last 5 weeks that our bodies aren't designed to carry more than one baby at a time.  But God knew this was going to happen before the world was created, and so actually, he designed MY body to carry THESE twins.  That is the truth.  That doesn't mean that I don't/won't need extra support - I know full well I do and will continue to.  But this is no surprise to Him, and He built me knowing that this would be my situation at this moment.  He built me for this and has been preparing me for this moment.  That's reassuring.

Anyway, I didn't really think twins would happen, so seeing them on the screen that first time felt pretty surreal.  Chase just laughed.  I cried and laughed at the same time so hard that we couldn't see the ultrasound anymore because the wand was bouncing around too much.  It almost felt like an out of body experience where you're living someone else's life or observing something happening to someone else.

There was also this huge sense of relief.  Nothing was wrong with me!  Nothing was wrong with my babies!  I wasn't just old and tired and out of practice and lazy.  There was a very good reason I was feeling differently this time - more exhausted - and it wasn't all in my head.

We left the ultrasound after confirming that vaginal deliveries in GI are possible and after I'd asked WAY more questions about the delivery side of things than my doctor is used to answering at that stage of the game (I suspect).  Then commenced the three weeks of what I think I'll always remember as simply shock...

I told my mom first - we stopped at her work on the way home.  I texted some friends.  I told my boss.  I called my dad.  My in-laws stopped by that evening, and we got to tell them.  We called and texted family and friends.  The goal was to get the word out to the right people in the right order as quickly as possible.  The more people that knew, somehow the more real it felt.

Those three weeks I did what I do when there are new circumstances and I don't know what else to do - I researched.  My cousin sent me 2 books on twins, I hunted down twin mom blogs, my Pinterest feed became twin-centric, my Google searches were all twin related, and my Amazon wish list grew to contain those "necessary" twin items I would need.

I thought out how we'd do bedrooms when the babies come.  I started planning when transitions would need to happen and thinking through how I could still be a good mom to my 4 kids outside the womb if I got put on bed rest.  I researched the different kinds of bed rest and read about how I could possibly avoid it if I took care of myself rather than pushing things.

I don't know if I drove my friends crazy.  I felt both isolated because I was so tired ALL the time (most of my research was done during the odd insomnia that pregnancy exhaustion often begets), and like all I ever talked to anyone about was twins.  Mostly I was in my house barely surviving, accepting meals from friends and family who saw my inability to provide for my family, and letting my husband manage the household because I just couldn't.

And I felt so alone.  I'm pregnant like so many of my friends, but mine is different.  It's the same in that we're all part of the miracle of bringing life into the world, but it's different.

Can I just confess that as much as I dislike pregnancy generally (it's uncomfortable, it's not pleasant, it's exhausting, it makes you think you're crazy and you kind of are), I've always liked the "special-ness" that comes with it.  You're pampered just a bit.  You've got an excuse if you're late.  You've got an excuse to not eat, to eat, to drink, to slip to the bathroom, to go to bed early, to go out with your friends.  Basically I always feel like I've got a little bit more "right" to do what I want to do rather than what I "should" do.  Don't want to do the dishes, but should - they'll wait for tomorrow.  You know?

But now I'm extra special.  And I'm walking this one alone.  I'm part of the twin mom club, but all the twin moms I know have twins who are already walking, or in school, or in high school.  Their stories are wonderful to hear and their advice is invaluable.  But last time I was pregnant, I did it with some of my best friends and we were all exactly the same.  Different experiences, but the same.

This time, I'm different.  I take extra pampering.  Pampering is the wrong word - I take extra care.  I get winded going up the stairs in my house.  I need at least a 2 hour nap every day and often more.  When exhaustion hits, it's dangerous for me to push through - preterm labor is a BIG deal.  It's not much of a risk for my seasoned mom friends who are expecting right now - they can take long walks and are encouraged to in order to stay in shape.  I can't even walk 6 blocks to the park.  I can barely walk 2 blocks, and when I do, I MUST sit when I get to where I'm going and sometimes I need to lay down for a while.  And from everything I read it's best to listen to my body when it's tired and rest.  So I do.

But that also means that I feel tired, so I don't go out and do what I used to do or see who I used to see.  I don't host people in my home like I used to because I simply don't have energy to do it.  Some days coming up with the mental or emotional energy to get my kids mac n cheese is all I can muster, let alone a carefully thought out text to arrange time to spend with friends.  I'm a really strong extrovert, so feeling too tired to be around people is kind of an ugly cycle where I'm tired so I don't have energy to hang out with people, but hanging out with people is how I get much of my energy, so I miss out on that energy source and...  it can be a rough spiral.  I'm still trying to figure out daily how to get the input from friends I need without spending all the energy I have on just friends.

It's gotta feel to my husband like I've got energy for this I want to do - book club, MOPS, play dates, work, because I've reserved energy for those scheduled things - but not energy for this I actually need to do like dishes, making meals, cleaning and laundry.  It feels that way to me too.  But I can sit at book club and MOPS and play dates and work and gain energy from those gatherings.  Standing through a load of dishes or pushing the vacuum is rationed energy and so draining.  I just can't do much of it a day, and that's really frustrating for me.  Mostly because I feel lazy, though I know I'm not, and I'm doing what's best for the two babies growing in me.

Speaking of those two babies, I wonder if I'll be able to help them feel individual?  I wonder if I'll support or hinder the special bond so many twins have?  Will I be able to make it through those early days?  When they're sick, how will I cope?  What will their birth be like?  Will my need to feel in control drive me crazy if things get out of control?  I wish they were here in my arms and all the questions I have about labor, delivery, preterm labor, NICU, recovery, etc. were answered.

But then, isn't it a gift we don't know ahead of time?  We get to live in the present, experiencing today - neck pain because my neck is out, stomach a little off (but that's just normal these days), exhausted, wondering if I'll sleep tonight or be up, hoping to have energy tomorrow but grateful I'll be home if I don't.

Grateful.

At 12 weeks we went in for our next ultrasound.  I was honestly a little worried my doctor would put the wand on my stomach and say, "oops!  We were wrong.  Just one in there."  But she didn't.  The wand went onto my stomach and two little babies appeared.  They wiggled and squirmed with little arms and legs, and I breathed a sigh of relief.  We'd made it 3 more weeks, we 3.

My doctor asked me if I was coming out of the shock of having twins yet.  I admitted that I wasn't sure but thought maybe I was starting to.  Somehow, I do think that day was a turning point for me.  It was a second confirmation that this twin thing is really happening to me, and it was a chance to talk through a lot of questions I had on the medical side.

It gave me a clearer picture of how pregnancy care would be different, how delivery could and would be different, at what point different interventions are available/done, goals to think about, and timelines to think through.

Because I'd done so much research in those intervening 3 weeks, I had intelligent (at least what I thought were intelligent) questions to ask my doctor.  I had a sense of what risks we are likely to face or should be watching for.  I could lay aside so many questions because I'd found answers and no longer needed to wonder or plan for their eventualities.  I could be grateful for the number of serious risks that don't apply to my particular kind of twin pregnancy.

I think there will always be some level of shock involved with the twins.  But there is with each of my children.  I have a 7 year old, and do you know, they've let me keep her for SEVEN YEARS?!?  She's marvelous!  I can't believe someone hasn't come and tried to keep her for themselves.  Of course, I'd never let that happen, because she's mine forever.  But seriously - they just let me walk out of the hospital with her 7 years ago and I've never looked back.  That's pretty shocking!  And the same is true with each of my boys - I have no idea how to be a boy mom, except that I do it every day, three times over.  And it's wonderful, and I'm learning.

Learning.  Isn't that what we do.  We learn.  At least, that's what I do - I'm constantly learning and sharing what I'm learning.  It's gotta just drive my friends crazy.  I sound preachy to them.  (It's ok - I know I do.) But I just can't help myself!  I have information that I feel like may be good and helpful to them so I share!

It's 10:04pm.  Bedtime.  Time to see if sleep will ease this stupid headache from my neck being out and see if I can drink a bit more before bed (because getting up to visit the bathroom in the night is now my favorite).

14 weeks and 3.  We made it one more blessed day.  Praise the Lord!

"Is that TWO?!?"

In terms of joyful surprises, Friday we received the biggest joyful surprise of our lives - TWINS!

In this ultrasound, you're seeing the side of the baby in the
bottom dark area, and the top of the baby's head in the top dark area.
And it was the most shockingly wonderful thing to see in person!

It seems like everyone has lots of questions (I sure would if I were you), so here's a Q&A that will, I hope, answer some of them.

1.  (This is for any guys who may be reading this, because it's the first question they ask.  Ha!)  Are we getting a new vehicle?
Yes.  Over the coming months we will be searching for a new-to-us vehicle that will seat at least 8.  If anyone has a lead on a super clean, really great, uber dependable, non-bus-looking van, let me know.  :)

2.  So how many are in your family?
Now there are 8.  Chase, Steph, Lily, Connor, Spencer, Nolan, and the twins.

3.  (To quote Chase's grandma) So... how did this happen?
Ha!  What I told Grandma Dorothy is that we'll have to ask God when we get to the other side.  :)  But in all seriousness, we don't know.  There is no family history of twins, and we don't meet any of the common "demographics" of people who have a higher likelihood of twins.  So, I guess it's fair to say it was an act of God.

4.  When are you due?
Twins are almost always delivered by 38 weeks, and often much closer to 36 weeks.  It's not unusual for moms to go into labor any time after 34 weeks with twins.  If I make it to "full term" (that's 36-38 weeks) we will meet them sometime in the middle or end of October.

Please pray with us that they will be ready to face the outside world when they come.  That is, of course, the biggest concern with any birth.

5.  What does delivery look like?
(This one is for moms who are like me and overly curious about the birthing part of all this!)  Method of delivery depends on so many factors.  Everything from position of babies, placement of placenta, size of babies (baby A has to be bigger than baby B for a vaginal delivery), and a million other factors.  I'm grateful our hospital and my doctor does not automatically schedule a c-section for twins.  If we get to the end and meet the various requirements, we may end up doing an induced labor.  There is even the option here to deliver vaginally where baby A comes head down and baby B comes breach.  Again, SO many factors play into all this.  I'm just already praying that the Lord will prepare me to accept whatever is going to happen if, by His grace, we make it that far.

My goal is healthy babies with a healthy mom with minimal recovery time for all of us... because there will be SO much to do!!!

4.  Haven't you always wanted twins?
I did pray for twins for years before we had Lily.  I've always been fascinated by the special relationships some twins enjoy and the stories of their interactions.  That said, there's something about seeing a positive pregnancy test for the first time that makes you realize how great a responsibility one new life will be.  Since I had Lily, I haven't really "wanted" twins anymore.

It was a dream I kind of "retired" because if God was going to give me twins, he'd do that with #'s 1 & 2, right?  Especially after having 4 singletons, I had NO idea this was coming.  I know I've joked about, "Well, if we had twins, we'd know we were done."  I honestly never thought it would actually happen.

In this case, it feels like one of those situations where I asked God for something, and He said, "Wait... wait... wait... wait... NOW!"  A shocker when I least expected it.

5.  So, how did you find out?
I knew I was pregnant over a month ago, but didn't plan on going to see my doc until the first week of May.  However, I had such extreme exhaustion over a period of about 3 weeks, we decided I should go in a little earlier just to make sure there wasn't some nutritional deficiency and to confirm that everything was ok.  I had an appointment last Friday.

Chase took this picture before we headed for the
doctor's office, when we thought there were only 2
in this picture, but actually there were 3!

When my doctor walked into the ultrasound room and asked how I'd been feeling, I told her that this pregnancy has been harder than any of the others.  She responded that I'm chasing 4 other kids, but I told her that while that's true, I also don't have a 9 month old like I have had in the beginning of my last 2 pregnancies.  I said that I just felt like it was more than chasing 4 kids.  She said, "Ok, well, let's take a look."

The second that wand was on my stomach it was clear as day that there was more than one baby in there.  I looked in disbelief.  Chase did the same and (as I recall) asked, "Is that TWO?"  My doctor laughed and said, "Yep."

Then ensued the laughing, crying, unbelieving, hoping all was well, relief at explanations, and a billion questions.

6.  Did you suspect it was twins before this?
Yes and no.  I had reason to suspect based on some physical symptoms like exhaustion.  HOWEVER, all of these symptoms had other explanations as well like, "you're pregnant, so you're extra tired" or "you're probably lacking iron and other nutrients."  I'd be lying if I said I hadn't Googled at 3am "Physical symptoms if you're expecting twins."  The exhaustion is just... so intense.

But I didn't want to hope for twins.  I didn't want to actually expect them.  For one thing, I know too many twins recently born or moms pregnant with twins - the odds of my small network including one more set of twins seemed unreasonable.  And what if I hoped for twins, but found it was a singleton pregnancy?  That felt to me like I'd be disappointed in some way in who my child was created to be, and I NEVER want them to feel that, be they 9 weeks in my tummy or 90 years on this earth.

So, no.  I didn't really suspect, though that might just be because I wouldn't let myself go there.

7.  Are they identical or fraternal?
We don't know yet.  What we do know is that they each have their own amniotic sac, which is a good thing in terms of complications - the fewer things they share, in a lot of ways, the fewer the complications.

Fraternal twins result from two fertilized eggs implanting and each have their own sac and placenta.  Fraternal twins can be same gender or different, but they do not share the same DNA.

Identical twins come from the same fertilized egg splitting and they share the same DNA, so they are always same gender.  Identical twins can share the same sac and placenta; they can each have their own sac but share a placenta, or they can each have their own sac and their own placenta.   

I asked my doc if our twins shared a placenta, but I'm not sure if she didn't answer because she wasn't sure, or if I just didn't register her answer.  What I know is that they have their own sacs.  I will go in again the first week of May and be more focused, less shocked, ask more questions, and listen better.

8.  Will you find out gender?
Yes!  Of course.  We're not that patient!  We'll find out sometime in June.

9.  What did the kids say?

The kids were actually all with us for the ultrasound, which was special.  It just happened to work out that way that day.  Lily was in shock and awe with us once we explained what those pictures meant.  She's been asking for a baby to snuggle for a while now, and boy is she ever going to get snuggles!  The boys were kind of oblivious and focused more on their granola bars than anything else.

We have a lot of work to do with them over the coming months in terms of preparation.  Teaching independence, some more chores, patience, helpfulness, and grace for Mommy when she can't meet their needs when they want me to.  But the pay off at the end of all this, Lord willing we make it that far, will be worth all the effort.

10.  Are you ok?
Yes.  We're all just fine.  Nothing has actually changed since Friday morning before my appointment other than that now we know WHY I've been so exhausted.  I still sleep a LOT or just lay in bed or on the couch because I can't do much more than that sometimes.  I still feel queasy almost all the time, but I am so grateful I don't have near the morning sickness some struggle with.

I'm SO excited to be carrying twins, but I'm also really cautious about focusing only on the "Wow" moments.  We've got a really long road to get these babies ready to meet the world and only the Lord can sustain them and me.  Only the Lord knows the future, and that is a blessing.  Today, I just need to be faithful to do the next right thing, as best I can. 

Speaking of, it's nap time, so I'd best head to bed.  Blessings all.