The Lush Mommy Blog

I’m sitting in the hospital room of my two-month-old baby girl, Mamie Grace. She had heart surgery and is not doing well. Her chest is open and there are tubes filled with blood routed into and out of her heart. Right now, she can’t live without the machine that is attached to her.  Essentially, she is in a medically induced coma. Doctors say she has a 50/50 chance of survival.

This little baby has spent more time in the hospital than she has with me—I don’t even really know her yet. However, just before she was admitted to the hospital, we made a connection. She stared-- I stared back. She smiled-- I smiled back. What a nice moment we had.

I’ve been thinking about what her life means and what it means to die. When someone dies, the loved ones are sad and in pain. But, it doesn’t have to be that way, does it? I think I’ve come to some sort of understanding about life and death—if that’s possible. Here’s what I’ve come up with… life is a guest list.

When you have a party you invite all sorts of people: There are those who come and they’re the life of the party, they stay all night and leave you with some great memories. There is always a guest who says they’re going to come—you expect them and they never arrive. You’re disappointed but the party must go on. There’s a guest who comes and stays only for a short while. You’re sad to see them go but the party must go on. There’s a guest who you felt obligated to invite but, when they left, you were glad they came. There are the guests who come and you never get to talk to. While you wish you could have spent more time with them, you’re just happy you had the chance to see them. There’s a person you invited who doesn’t know anyone. You invited him because you felt bad for him. When the last guest leaves and the party is over you reflect on the night and you smile. It went by too quickly, you worked so hard to get it all together but you’re damn glad you did it.

When you host a party you invite fun, love, sadness, hope, pity, charity, longing and laughter. Life is indeed a guest list. We don’t always know how long our guests will stay, who will come, or how long the party will last.  We can only appreciate the time we had and those whose company we shared.

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When I first moved to Washington, D.C. I was 31-years-old, single and ready to conquer the world. Once I got my feet wet in the big city I went out almost every night. I would grab drinks with friends, attend some fabulous event or dine at a great new restaurant. I stayed up late and rolled into work at 9:00am—what a life! My mantra was “You can sleep when you’re dead.” But now, after 5 years of marriage, one dog, three kids, dozens of doctor visits, thousands of dirty diapers, vomiting episodes, fevers and midnight feedings, I just want someone to kill me so I can sleep!

These days sleep does not come easy. With the recent birth of our twins the birth of our first son seems like a faint memory. I do remember one time in the wee hours of the morning—it was my husband’s turn to feed our son—my husband awoke and said, “I’ll give you $100 if you take the baby.” It would have taken $1,000 to get me out of bed that morning. The lack of sleep that comes with newborns can make you so crazy you’re willing to do just about anything to get some shut-eye.

There are groups of people out there who make it their business to let you sleep—but it will cost you. I lovingly refer to them as the “Midnight Mafia.” You pay them for protection—protection from serious sleep depravation. The elite “Mafia” members come into your home in the dark of the night, take charge of your life and you pay them a lot to do it. They’re actually called "night nurses" and for a fee they will save your sanity. They take care of your baby or babies throughout the night so you can sleep. At $17 to $22 an hour they’re not cheap but when you’re dying for sleep you’ll pay anything to play dead for 8 hours.

Sleep is something many of us take for granted until we have children of course—at that point sleep becomes a luxury. But if the high price of sweet slumber means a happy family, then it may be time to pay the piper.

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I made it to 37 weeks and 6 days and just completed my last sonogram. My doctor wanted to make sure my twins could stay put for a few more days. After I left the doctor’s office I met my husband for dinner. We had just ordered some hot wings and I planned on sinking my teeth into a big, juicy burger. We were celebrating our “Last Supper” before the tidal wave of babies. Just before the food arrived my doctor called. She told me to get over to the hospital because she felt it might not be safe to wait until my scheduled induction. I was so pissed! I had been up since 2am and had not eaten much all day. She told me no food—just get to the hospital. Oh the drama!

Needless to say my babies were fine-- but once they get you into the hospital they don’t let you leave without a baby or in my case-- two. So I had yet another sleepless night, three painful IV’s, an enema and no food. Of course my husband went home and had a good night’s sleep. How nice for him.

The following day they decided it was time. My water was broken and the show was about to begin. A few powerful contractions later and my anesthesiologist arrived. Since my last epidural wore off during labor I decided to give this doctor a little piece of advice. I simply said, “If my epidural wears off again I will hunt you down.” He didn’t seem amused. Needless to say the damn thing worked!

They wheeled me into the operating room, turned on some music and I proceeded to deliver my babies while listening to the disco hit by the Bee Gees, “Staying Alive.” The spirit of John Travolta was with me! When it was time to push I pushed twice-- the doctor stopped and said, “Okay, on the third push your baby is going to come out.” My reply, “What? Are you kidding?” He was serious. On the third push-- out popped my baby girl. A few minutes later my son arrived after about 9 pushes.

The process was so quick and painless that I actually had fun. After suffering through a painful birth process with my first child this was a piece of cake. Speaking of cake, after the delivery of my twins I was so hungry that the hospital food seemed like a 5-star meal. I cleaned my plate.

That night I went to sleep with an empty belly, a full stomach and a sense of pride like I’ve never felt before. My husband? Well, he went home and had another good night’s sleep.

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I was getting my hair done today and the lady next to me started talking about my upcoming birth. She said, “Isn’t it just the most important day of you life?” I thought for a second and said, “No.” She looked a bit stunned and perplexed. That’s when I realized I was bit too honest with my hair salon stranger.

I went on to explain that I had post-partum depression with my last child and just didn’t have that glorious feeling some women talk about when their babies are born.  She still looked puzzled. It was then I realized why some mothers just “fake it.”

I’ve talked to so many women who have struggled with motherhood but yet don’t dare talk about it. I think my hair salon conversation is the perfect example of why some women are afraid to really say what they think. When you’re honest about your feelings and someone doesn’t understand you may start questioning yourself, doubting your abilities as a mother and ultimately just go along with the crowd. But how many in that crowd are doing the same thing? The fear of judgment can be powerful.

Why isn’t okay for you to just feel the way you feel? Well, when it comes to motherhood we’re facing generations of tradition. When you mess with tradition people get uncomfortable. I get it—but I can’t play along.

For the record, the most important day in my life was the day I met my husband. I replay that moment in my head all of the time. That was the beginning of what would lead to so much more... my amazing son.

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The other day I ordered a new daily planner. I chose a bright orange one thinking it was very hip and stylish. When the calendar arrived it had a wrapper with a little logo that read, “Mom Agenda.” I thought surely it’s just on the packaging. I ripped off the label and to my shock and horror the calendar is embossed with the words “Mom Agenda.” You’ve got to be kidding me? This is right up there with wearing Mom Jeans. You know, the jeans that come up to your waist and accentuate your fat roll and your butt. This calendar thing just sent me over the edge and I’m not sure why.

There’s nothing wrong with being a mom but I just don’t want to wear a label announcing it. It’s a part of me but there’s more to me than just being a mom.  I don’t need a damn sign telling the world I cook, clean, wipe butts and noses and don’t have much time to look good anymore. My goodness—you can see that written all over my face. So you see—there’s no reason to announce it to everyone when I whip out my new orange calendar.

I don’t like mini-vans, I don’t put my child’s school bumper sticker on my car, I don’t wear jewelry with my son’s name on it. I’m more of a silent mom-- one who quietly does my job and prays for the day when I can sleep again.

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I just had my 35-week check-up and discovered both my babies weigh about 6-pounds!

It seems impossible to me that I could even carry such a load. When women are pregnant with twins we hear more about the early arrivals. You never really hear much about the women who carry to term or very close to it.

I naively assumed that most twins are born early and tiny. Boy was I wrong! I actually have another two weeks before my induction-- but I’m really not sure I can make it. Then again—I’ve been saying that for weeks.

This week was a real turning point for my body. My back is going out and walking is extremely painful—I think I have a pinched-nerve or something. Regardless, it’s not going to go away anytime soon.  Other than that I’m fine—just tired.

I’ve had to have a stern talk with my husband about pitching in. He was in the kitchen the other day and noticed one of the cabinet handles was loose.  So he yelled upstairs, “Hey, one of these handles is loose.” I’m thinking to myself, “What the hell do you want me to do about it—grab a damn screw driver and fix it!” My husband is so used to me being handy-- he forgets I have 12-pounds of babies in my belly.

I think our little “talk” may have helped. This morning, although the handle is still loose, he’s taking our son to school. Oh joy!

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I hate to keep talking about my big belly but right now it's consuming me-- literally!

I feel like Poppin' Fresh. You know, that happy little Pillsbury Doughboy who giggles when you poke his stomach (I want to punch him). The only difference is, I don't giggle-- I'm more likely to cry.

Surprisingly my stomach is not that big, considering I'm carrying twins. However, my two little babies are crammed into such a small space they're really starting to threaten my sanilty. It's just unreal what is happening to my stomach. Their feet and legs continually poke out of my stomach like alien creatures-- it's actually kind of gross. The skin on my stomach is so tight it squeaks when you rub it!

I've realzed that the biggest difference between carrying twins and a single baby is the amount pressure your uterus has to endure. Not only that-- the babies can sit on your colon, your bladder or any other organ for that matter. Sometimes it's so hard to stand because you feel like they're going to fall out. Graphic I know, but seriously, it's not pleasant.

So what have I been doing to ease the pressure, the pain, the general fatigue? Nothing. Nothing at all. Everyday I do one errand, one bit of house work and then I get in bed-- guilt free. Although my house is crumbling around me as we speak-- I don't care. I'm too tired to care. I know this will be the last time for the next 18 or so years that I will have to rest. I know what's coming and it ain't gonna be pretty.

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Current Status: 35 Weeks Pregnant With Twins

This is really not the type of thing you discuss in “polite” company—but then again, nothing that happens to your body during pregnancy is very polite.

I’ve made it my mission to alert unsuspecting women about what really happens to their bodies when they get pregnant. In pregnancy books we often just get the medical explanation-- you don’t always get the real nitty gritty.

So here goes……

Pregnancy bladder is one of those things that happen to every pregnant woman—however the degree of severity ranges among women. Pregnancy bladder is basically what happens to your bladder as your baby grows. Baby gets bigger; bladder gets smaller—a lot smaller! During your third trimester the pressure from your growing baby is part of what causes the frequent need to pee. Early in pregnancy the frequent need to urinate is caused by the increase in fluids that your body is processing.

Now let’s say you’re having twins—just say goodbye to your bladder right now.  After midnight I’m up every single hour. I feel like a coo coo clock! But it’s not just the waking up at night thing that can drive you crazy. Laugh, you pee. Yell, you pee. Cough, you pee. Think too hard and I swear you’ll pee in your pants. If you’re not adequately prepared plan on a few puppy puddles.

I used to be embarrassed for those older people who had to go into the store and buy Depends diapers. Now I look at them and want to give them a fist pump and say, “I feel your pain.”

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Throughout my pregnancy I have planned to give birth to my twins vaginally. Assuming there are no other complications, I believe, as do many experts, that it’s the healthiest way to have a baby. But, I’ve discovered that many women and men view vaginal birth as archaic and unnecessary. So am I one of the last pioneers?

A friend recently asked me if my doctor was “seriously considering a vaginal birth?” He thought all women having twins automatically have c-sections. Not true. Vaginal birth with twins depends on the position of the babies, your health and the health of the babies.

Some women choose a c-section simply for convenience or the desire to avoid the after effects of vaginal birth. According to the American College of Obstetricians, the rate of c-sections has gone from 5.5% in 1970 to almost 32% in 2007. But if the rate of surgical births continues to rise, will evolution take over and ultimately change the way women are able to give birth? Sounds far-fetched, but the thought has crossed my mind.

There are plenty of reasons for the increase in c-sections, but more interesting are some of the not so talked about reasons. Consider this-- some doctors prefer to do c-sections not because they think it’s better for you, but it’s better for them. Some doctors get paid more to perform c-sections and it’s certainly easier on their hectic schedules. I believe these doctors are certainly in the minority. But there is also a legitimate concern of litigation. If something goes wrong during a vaginal birth, some doctors fear possible lawsuits. As for the patient’s role, more women are now demanding c-sections. So what was once considered to be an emergency procedure seems to be the norm.

There are plenty of women who think recovery from a c-section is no big deal while others find the long recovery period and pain to be unnecessary.  I say do what’s best for you and your baby—just know the benefits and risks of both methods.

Risks Associated with C-Section:

* Higher risk of infection

* Adhesions (painful scar tissue under the skin)

* Pulmonary embolisms (blood clots)

* Complications from the use of anesthesia

* The potential need for future cesareans, which entail additional risk

Source: ACOG

Risks Associated with Vaginal Birth:

* An increased risk for pelvic floor dysfunction

* Increased occurance of incontinence

* An increased risk of vaginal tearing

* Increased complications if baby is not in a head down position

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Current Status: 33 Weeks Pregnant With Twins

You know it’s bad when you’re watching a commercial for the “Pussycat Dolls Workout Video” and you’re tempted to order it. I’m so desperate to get my body back it’s all I can think about. My husband has created a home gym in the basement so he can be on hand when the babies are born. But here’s the thing—he’s just getting more ripped and I’m just getting more rippled and dimpled.

I’ve officially started waddling which makes walking in public a bit amusing. My husband and I went to dinner the other night and when I got up to use the restroom I had to waddle through a crowded bar filled with men in suits. An exercise I would normally have loved-- but this was different. Men looked down at my belly, looked up at me and stepped aside—not in a polite way but more to escape the oncoming monster belly.  In my head I was cussing like a sailor but just too tired to make a fuss.

The hardest part of all of this is the exhaustion. One day I’m conquering the world and the next I’m in bed for hours. I incorrectly assumed that all women who are pregnant with twins get put on bed rest—not true.  My doctor believes I’ll be able to carry my twins all the way to the finish line. Apparently my last pregnancy is a good indicator of how things might go. My son was 10 days late and weighed almost 9-pounds. So the chances of going into pre-term labor during this pregnancy are possible but less likely.

There are plenty of new things I'm discovering during my second pregnancy. I didn’t know that when you’re carrying twins most doctors don’t let you go to 40 weeks. Most will induce at 37 or 38 weeks. Twins tend to develop more problems after 37 weeks.  Technically my due date is March 6^th—so I’m taking bets as we speak.

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