I came across a post 3 years ago on the last day I was 29. It went like this: “Last day of my 20’s. Spent most of it cleaning, organizing and getting rid of physical clutter. (As well as walking and caring for the babes) I hope to bring with me this energy into my 30’s and apply it to all parts of my life.”
And I kept thinking about the decluttering. Now granted I attempt to do this often, as one does when they’re neurodivergent—it seems rather hard for us to figure out our systems; our brains work against ourselves to actually find the energy to finally create habit. My mother likes to poke fun at me with my constant rearranging and need to get rid of things, because she’ll look at me with “again?” And yes, again. I kept thinking to myself about the decluttering, and how many times I had to REALLY clean my room, and how many times I REALLY had to minimize things. Yet it always felt, I was here…again. Again I had had to acknowledge that item was not solving anything, that item was in fact a waste of money, that, an item is not actually your style and you really just got caught up in creating a costume for yourself. I am probably being hard on myself, but I always feel this sense of failure when I have to admit I need to declutter (again). For I should have learned my lesson by now? Thankfully I have my support system here to help me know how to declutter now. People who protect me and love me. When I was learning about 2024 I was told it was going to be a transformative year. I looked at the start of this calendar year with such a vision of what I thought it was going to be and it quickly changed. It was a hard first few months, but with the solar eclipse so close to MY personal “calendar year” I felt the doors closing and others opening. Declutter. Just as it helps the living space feel comfortable and right, so does it help with the energy we have for others. This year, 33, I plan to honor myself and my family. Thank you to the people who have shown up for me, and continue to show up for me—I love and care for you more than you know. Happy Birthday to me ~
0 Comments
I do not find it weird that I come to find myself coming back to this page at the same season almost 3 years later. I’ve always been inspired, and felt the energy in Aries season. Is it because of my sun sign? Maybe. Or maybe my guides have finally lead me back to finding a way to resolve.
I got some advice from one of my uncles a few a months ago when I called to catch up. During our phone call I was vulnerable about what was happening within interpersonal relationships. He suggested that I start writing—to which I felt HOW, how do I even have the time to do so with everything that I (we) have to do on a daily basis. (Having non speaking children has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but also it has been so eye opening, and self reflective in so many ways—I would not have learned all the things I needed about myself without knowing my sons) So, here I am—at this blog page. Again in April 2024. Here’s hoping I can try and use this space to write, to reflect like I used to, to find musings and analogies to the lessons I stumble upon in life. Also, I thank you in advance for reading. Thank you for if you’ve stayed with me during the years I’ve had my sons, it is not been easy to keep connections and we’ve lost relationships we thought would have stayed around much longer. It’s hard for us to have the energy to keep up, so again I thank you, if you’ve been able to stay connected and love our sons, even if it’s from a distance. We feel your love. April 2020 was a strange one to say the least--
It was the first birthday where I had to grieve the loss of a very good friend while taking care of babies just shy of a year old within a pandemic. It was strange because my birthday ended up being just like every other day, we couldn’t really go out (no one could), we couldn’t have family over to help with the boys. My parents were still in NJ and it was going to be until January 2021 that they would finally come down for good. April will always be now a weird month for me—astrologically speaking it’s near the new year since Aries season preoccupies most of it. There should be a sense of rebirth and new and energy. I have to say most of my life I have felt that energy, however I am a person who never forgets a date and now April holds a date that will always bring some kind of sadness, and it’s very close to when I “should” want to feel uplifted. This is all just a jumble of my thoughts but I know I need to take all this as a lesson in duality and balance—light, dark, life, death, beginning & ending. As September, NICU awareness month, comes to an end I feel it to be fitting to finally write my and my sons’ birth story.
To be honest it’s hard to pick where their birth began as their pregnancy was complicated and in a way our first surgery caused their birth to happen. Around their 22nd week we had to undergo TTTS surgery; the doctors at John’s Hopkins had to laparoscopically go into my uterus and cauterize the shared vessels on their placenta. Statistically when this surgery is done the placenta only can sustain itself for another 10 weeks. I didn’t want to become part of that statistic but I had no control over the outcome. I forget which week our MFM decided for me to come in twice a week to check in on all of us but during my 32nd week I was in for my biweekly visit. I had a bad feeling the day before because a) I was going to be alone b) it was at the office in Midlothian, an office that was almost 30 minutes away instead of 15 and c) I was not seeing my regular MFM doctor, a woman I had grown very comfortable with and who was very good at keeping my anxiety at bay. SO while at this visit I was telling the doctor how I was experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions but they weren’t all the time etc etc and I wasn’t too worried. The MFM looked at my stomach and said “Sweetie, your uterus is contracting right now. Is that painful?” Which I responded “Well actually this is pretty uncomfortable..more so than the other times my stomach looked like this....” I was sent immediately to the hospital. I had to drive myself 30 minutes to the hospital knowing something wasn’t quite right at 32 weeks. All I kept telling myself was “I KNEW SOMETHING WAS GOING TO GO WRONG TODAY.” I made it to my hospital where my husband was able to meet me and turned out I was dilated and my uterus was going through contractions. They admitted me for preterm labor. I got Magnesium to stop the contractions and had the fetal monitors strapped to the boys. The worst part of all this was that I couldn’t get out of bed so I couldn’t do anything to help alleviate the pain. I had to stay for 3 nights that week and the first night I had to be all by myself because someone had to be with Daisy, our fur baby. I cried that night at one point because I could still feel contractions and my biggest worry was that I would be alone and would go into labor or I would be alone and there would be some kind of emergency surgery. My nurse was so sweet and did her best to calm me and told me I wasn’t alone and that she would be there for anything I needed. My parents rushed down to help us out with Daisy so my husband didn’t have to run back and forth to the house and could be by my side. After almost all contractions stopped I was transferred to the postpartum wing for some quiet. This was when we realized I was in a bit of a catch 22. Sometimes when a women’s bladder is TOO full it pushes on the uterus and it can cause contractions. However, if a woman is dehydrated it can ALSO cause contractions. I was stuck in the middle of how much water can I drink to not be dehydrated but also not fill my bladder up too much. Needless to say it was a bit annoying 😅. With this information I was allowed to go home when my uterus was only contracting due to water issues. I was able to make my other biweekly appointment later that week. Everything seemed fine at that appointment until we left the appointment. There was one thing that was slightly off (to be honest I can’t remember what is was) so after we were told I was good to go my MFM said “HOLD ON I’d like everything to be perfect! Send her back to the hospital”. I wasn’t going through contractions but there was something that needed to be monitored with the babies so I spent about 4-5 hours in a hospital bed. A doctor who had checked on me during my first visit as nicely as she could told me to expect these babies sooner than my 35 week induction. I still tried to stay positive when we were going home. That weekend (Friday and Saturday) my back was killing me because my uterus was contracted most of the time. We both thought it was because of EVERYTHING I just went through—I was checked multiple time for dilation which irritates a women’s uterus. So we thought not much of my uncomfortableness. We also tried to not be alarmed by the difference of fluids and such because well again when you check dilatation it changes the natural course. That Sunday morning however I had a gut feeling that what I was seeing wasn’t “normal” and my doula said if you feel that something is wrong go to the hospital to make sure—SO again we were off the to hospital. On the ride there I told my husband “They’re coming today.” He dropped me off and I waddled up to L&D where I could feel myself leaking. The nurses saw my distress and were fantastic at smiling and just helping me get to the room. When my husband finally made it up my water completely broke and I started freaking out because I knew they’d be in the NICU no matter what since I was only 33 weeks and 3 days. I still had hope that maybe I would deliver so I told them to put my IV’s on my arm in a spot that wouldn’t be bothersome. During this time though the doctor came in and was noticing that Harrison’s heartbeat kept dropping and he was in distress. At first they thought it was my position and had me lay on my side but the distressing information kept happening. This was when we were told they had to rush my to the OR for an emergency cesarean. This was not even close to how I wanted my pregnancy to end. I had surrendered to the idea of a planned cesarean at some point; where we would be able to do skin to skin, delay a bath and coed cut etc. But emergency I wasn’t sure what was about to happen to me. Luckily one of my fellow doula trainees was working at that time and held my hand and promised me everything was going to be okay. I just had a feeling that somehow the universe was working the way it was suppose to with that coincidence. I was rolled to the OR signed the release and was put under. The next thing I knew I was waking up back in the L&D room, and my husband was sitting there holding his coffee. I had no babies to hold. I had no memory of them coming into this world. We both didn’t even know what they looked like—we just knew they were in the NICU and they were “born” in about 7-8 minutes. I cried. I cried a lot. I knew they wouldn’t be home with us for at least a month. They wouldn’t be in my arms on my first mother’s day. However, we heard they were doing great, and what happened was my placenta ruptured as the statistics said it would and Harrison swallowed some blood and that’s why he decided to get out. When I was ready hey rolled me into the NICU to see them. I first was able to see Harrison. He was so small yet so big to me; he held my finger with a tight grip and I knew he was a fighter. Then I got to see Julian and he was this little chunk. We visited them every day till they came home. It was amazing to hear how well they did with each visit, and it was amazing to see them get more and more conscious. It is true that what matters most is that they were and are healthy babies, but I still mourn the birth I wished to have—where I labor and breathe and get to see them enter this world. There is a pain that is hard to explain when people come to the hospital room and all you have is yourself to show. Yes people are glad to see you but you know you don’t have what they came to see; your baby or babies. Luckily that time feels so far away, and my boys are just SO happy when they get the proper naps 😂 The first three months of your baby’s life has been given a new name in regards to how it affects the mother. The mama community as well as the medical community regard it as the 4th trimester since there are MANY changes still happening to the body. It’s weird to think that 12 weeks have passed since the early arrival of my sons. There are days where I think back and can’t believe ALL that has truly happened. I sometimes “forget” that they were not home for almost a month. I “forgot” all the different sleeping arrangements Kevin and I tried till we landed on our current one with our nighttime routine. I think my mind is making everything feel like a distant memory.
Over the past 12 weeks I’ve been blessed with a lot of help. I’ve had help from my mother, mother-in-law and the most help from my husband. I’m truly blessed to have a husband who tells me “all you have to do is ask”. He helps with the night feedings as well as the poopy diapers when he isn’t on call for work. He knows when I can’t physically go on and even though he’s tired too, he taps me on the shoulder so I can sit and collect myself. My mother has also been a HUGE blessing and to be honest I don’t know how I would last each day without her. (I lasted one week because of my mother-in-law stepped in—we still miss you helping out and cooking for us!) I try to say “thank you” every time my mom leaves for the day because between Daisy needing to “go outside” anytime the boys cried I would be a hot mess. It’s been amazing watching my sons almost double in size from their birth weights as well as see them engage with the world around them. Parenthood is no joke and parenthood of multiples is a whole other animal. However, I say to myself and to others that the universe must have thought we could handle it or else they wouldn’t be here. There are times where I’ve said they’ve “broken Mommy”. There have been many times where I feel frustrated on another level or have cried uncontrollably (this I blame on the lack of 4-5 hours of sleep). Recently I’ve been asking them (what feels like constantly) “WHAT DO YOU WANT?” The problem is, is that the last few weeks they’ve BOTH developed so much. They stopped napping and they both want attention at the same time but separately. They are twins but they are two individuals. As their mother there are times where it feels like I’m failing one or both. With two infants at once there is always one that isn’t getting all the attention they deserve and it breaks your heart as their mother. This too shall pass, as everything does. I know I can’t wait till “things get easier” but I also I know I’m going to miss them this small. I’m going to miss being able to plop them in one spot and not worry about them moving when my back is turned. I’m going to miss the sounds and I will even miss the cries. When things get too hard I try to play “All Things Must Pass” by George Harrison in my mind because I don’t think there’ll ever be a truer song about life. I also have to try and I say out loud “you can do this, you can do this” because there are some moments where it feels like I can’t. So many things are different since having both babies home, but some things stay the same. The things that stay the same are the love for my husband, my love for coffee (and the need for multiple cups), and waking up early for morning pets with our Daisy Baby.
25 days postpartum.
I’m still trying to find comfort in this new body. My back hurts in multiple places all due to lack of strength in my core. My legs are sore from finally getting used to walking more quickly. My incision is numb to the touch. There are so many things I still cannot do that I could do before these babies and even during pregnancy. It makes me miss things that were as much as I am happy to have the things that are now: my sons. I feel emotionally uncomfortable at times due to the size of my breasts. I feel self-conscious because I am not used to them being the way they are now. Some (most) tops aren’t fitting well, and I feel boxy and that I look much older. (Many people will say “no You don’t” but it doesn’t stop what I am feeling) i remember a quote along the lines of being uncomfortable and it being part of the growing process. I know I need to see all of this as a way to grow and become the mother I am suppose to be, but I always have to acknowledge the feelings first. I will start to remind myself to say “what is this teaching me?” Rather than “why is this happening to me?” “How is everything?”
It’s one of those questions that should be easy to answer. Unfortunately I’m not a person who likes to say “everything’s fine” when things really aren’t. The boys are fine though; they’re doing really well by their doctors’ and their nurses’ standards. I tell everyone that “they’re doing as well as they can be for their age and weight”. They really are happy when we see them, however I don’t know if they’re happy all day since I can’t see them every moment of every day yet. Sometimes I sit at home and I don’t really feel like a mom. I’m on the couch with Daisy but when I’m not pumping or noticing my scar and soft belly I’m doing what I did before May 5th. “How are you doing?” It’s the hardest question to answer right now because I feel as if I’m experiencing imposter syndrome because everyone tells me I’m a mom, but I only feel like a mom when I’m in the NICU holding one of my babies. It’s sad at times but I’m still happier than I used to be; when my dysthymia was unchecked. I wouldn’t even say I have the “baby blues”. I acknowledge these odd feelings and go through all my yogic teachings. The main thing is that this is temporary and they will be home. The next thing is that there is nothing I can do to change the circumstance, no amount of sadness will make the boys come home, no amount of anger will make them develop faster. The only thing I have as a tool is patience and understanding time. Today was suppose to be 34 weeks for our babies, instead it is 5 days of their life and 5 days postpartum for Mommy.
I will give part of their birth story here but I need more time to write that all down. Sunday driving to the hospital to check if my water had broken I knew the babies were coming Earthside. I just knew it. I wasn’t happy though. I felt like “God damn it, it’s still too soon. It’s too early.” However I knew there was nothing to be done, for some reason they, or at least one of them wanted to come out. I thought I might be able to labor, but when my water broke as I literally walked into labor and delivery I started feeling scared. I think it was due to me being scared and knowing what it all meant: the NICU time, the non-normal delivery etc. Sadly Baby A’s (now known as Harrison) heart rate dropped and wouldn’t come back up so emergency and necessary action needed to be taken. I awoke to no babies with me but to my husband’s face. I had to surrender to everything that just happened to me; after I was wheeled into the NICU and saw Harrison for the first time I knew I knew I had to surrender for them. So I as I look at my body now it’s odd because I don’t hate it. I REALLY thought I would hate it and be very upset, but I’m not. I kind of look at it and think “it is what it is”. I’ll have scar, I might have the pooch but with yoga practice I hope to just build the strength back up. If I have the pooch I hope that I continue to think of the fact that “well I carried two babies. My body did its job” I have to work within myself to work on not letting other people’s opinions (society) affect me—but I have a feeling that kids keep you in the present moment the most! |
Ava Elise
Archives
November 2024
Categories |