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!