One of Those Lame Catch-up Posts

I sucked at posting this week, but I had a really really good excuse.

Last Thursday, my husband told me he was going to Lowe’s to get a replacement light fixture for our bathroom. About an hour later, he called me and said he was lying – he was not at Lowe’s, but was instead on his way to get me a surprise and would be home in a while. An hour and a half later, he shows up with my best friend from California waiting for me outside. Surprise, indeed. Here’s the video of my shocked reaction. (For the record, I didn’t actually know she was coming, despite what I’m saying in the video.)

News from the baby front: The girls are rockin’. We had a visit to the pediatrician last Monday. Both babies have regained their birth weight plus some: Elise is now 7 pounds 1 ounce (up from 6 lb 3 oz last visit and 6 lb 13 oz at birth), while Althea is at 6 pounds 6 ounces (up from 5 lb 7 oz last visit, 6 lb 1 oz at birth). They’ve also gotten a little taller and their heads have grown a half inch each. The doctor wants me to supplement some vitamin drops for them, since breast milk is apparently low in vitamin D and iron. 

Nursing is getting so easy these days. That first week after the girls were born, I was pretty sure I was going to give up on breast feeding. I’m so glad I stuck with it. Just like everyone told me, breast feeding DOES get easier and it is SO worth it. When we first started, by far the most frustrating thing was that they’d fall asleep three minutes into it, making each feeding take close to an hour at times. Add the time for changing diapers, soothing, swaddling and setting back down to sleep, and we’re talking an hour and a half each session. If the babies eat every 2.5 – 3 hours, you can do the math to figure out that this was not a happy time for me.

It took a good 10 or 14 days, but the girls can now stay awake an entire feeding. If I have someone to help me, I can tandem feed every time in 10 – 15 minutes. Chris and I now have it down to a science for the night feedings:

1. Babies start stirring. I mumble to Chris to turn on the light.
2. Chris changes two diapers while I get set up to feed. Girls are now awake.
3. Chris brings the babies to the boobies. 
4. Babies feed for 10 – 15 minutes straight. 
5. Mom and Dad each burp a baby.
6. Swaddle Master Dad swaddles the hell out of each baby.
7. Girls get put back in bassinet. Sleep. Repeat.

This routine takes 30 – 40 minutes. Now THIS feels doable.

Also, they are staying awake more often during the day. After the 9-ish a.m. feeding, we all roll out of bed and the girls will quietly eat their hands and stare wide-eyed at something or other for a couple of hours. They then doze most of the afternoon and have more awake time in the evening. They’re making a lot more eye contact and are more aware of their surroundings and of who we are.

This evening, I was holding Althea and she grasped my thumb with both hands and stuck it in her mouth. Yeah, my kids are freakin’ geniuses.

One more thing: We got the pathology report back from the examination of the placenta and the girls are, indeed, identical. 

On the mama front, I ended up going in to see Dr. Amazing on Friday. You see, I was feeling pretty good the first two weeks after the delivery. But out of nowhere, I started having really awful pain in my nethers. Delayed Onset Vagina Pain, I guess. After I told him what was going on, he put my feet in the stirrups, plopped down on the stool between my legs and said, “Okay, let me see if I left my watch in here.” Boy, do I miss him.

He did a thorough poking-around of my ladybits before announcing that I have a “Golden Vagina,” my cervix is “in New Jersey” (his actual words) and everything is as it should be. Mega Motrin and the occasional Percocet are on the menu until the pain goes away.

As for the rest of me . . . Well, let me say that these last 20 pounds aren’t going down without a fight. My maternity pants are sliding off me, but I can’t get my pre-pregnancy jeans past my flabby ass.

Also, nursing bras suck. The ones I have come up really high on the chest and a couple of mine are racer-back style, so I can’t wear any regular tops anymore. I guess it doesn’t matter too much, seeing that I spend most of my time topless on the couch with two babies sucking on my boobs.

Random-yet-related thought: I find it odd that when I had what was, in retrospect, a decent body, I was self-conscious to the point that I was sometimes embarrassed to be naked in front of my own husband. Now that my stomach is distended and sliced up with stretch marks, my skin is sagging and loose, I have dark circles under my eyes, and my boobs look like something straight out of National Geographic, I don’t give a flying fuck who sees me naked.

Here’s a cute picture for making it this far.