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They’re Here!

I’m thrilled to be able to announce the arrival of Luke Edward Ireton and Bennet Woods Ireton on Friday, July 23 at 7:54 and 8:01 a.m., respectively.

Luke weighed 5 pounds, 9 ounces and was 18.3 inches long. Ben weighed 6 pounds, 8 ounces and was 20 inches long.

Luke is doing well in the Special Care Nursery at Group Health hospital where he was born. He is in an isolette and has a feeding tube and several monitors, but he is healthy and will, we hope, be home in a week to ten days.

Ben has had a rough start in life: he was ambulanced to Children’s Hospital on Saturday morning after developing acute respiratory distress. He had two collapsed lungs, and it took the transport team and the neonatologist at Group Health several hours to stabilize him enough to get him into the transport unit and the ambulance. By the time he arrived at Children’s (a five-minute ambulance ride), his left lung had collapsed again.

When Doug and I arrived at Children’s at 3, the NICU team was inserting yet another shunt in Ben’s chest to siphon air out: his lungs kept developing small tears that allowed air to leak into his chest cavity; the air then pressed on his lungs, causing them to collapse.

By the time we met with the neonatologist, she was almost ready to recommend we take a very scary step in Ben’s care: ECMO, or what I call the scary lung machine. It’s basically an external lung that all of Ben’s blood would pass through to be oxygenated before being returned to his body. Risks include blood clots and internal bleeding, especially in the brain, that could quickly turn into hemorrhages because of the anti-clotting meds Ben would have to be on. I made some phone calls and asked people to pray that this step would not be necessary.

A few hours later, after shift change, the night shift doctor came out and said Ben was not doing well. He recommended we begin ECMO as Ben’s best chance at life. I started to shake. The doctor went to get the consent form.

He came back without it: in the past 20 minutes Ben’s condition had begun to stabilize. The doctor wanted to wait a few hours to see if Ben continued in this direction.

He did.

Though he is still in critical condition, Ben is in a much better place than he was Saturday night, and talk of ECMO has, for the moment, been suspended. In the past 24 hours, he has made huge strides in the direction of healing, and I am convinced it is because hundreds of people are praying for this baby boy. Their prayers are aiding this amazing technology, and though Ben is by no means out of danger and his situation remains precarious, he is, for now, on the path to recovery. Thanks be to God for the prayers of His people, for the technology that makes Ben’s recovery possible, and for the dedicated doctors and nurses at Children’s who are caring for Ben so vigilantly.

And many and heartfelt thanks to all of you who have prayed for the babies’ and my health these past months – and especially for Ben these past days – and to those who have helped me through these past few weeks and the past few scary days by watching Jack and Jane, cleaning my house, and bringing our family meals. May God bless you for your generosity and largeness of heart as you have blessed us.

Well, I’ve made it to 35 weeks, which is wonderful. The babies are big, which is also wonderful. And I am enormous, which is not so wonderful. In fact, despite having done the whole newborn thing twice before, I am actually praying for an early delivery. Tomorrow sounds about right.

Even though I know the first few weeks are going to be brutal beyond words, and the first few months won’t be a whole lot better, I’m so uncomfortable and heavy and sleep-deprived already that I can see glimmers of freedom in the postpartum period.

Here, then, in no particular order, are some of the things I’m looking forward to:

Not having this 55-pound beach ball protruding from my abdomen.

Sleeping on my back. Oh, I can hardly wait.

Having usable stomach muscles again.

Not having pain in my sacrum every time I change position.

Being able to pee sitting down. (It’s sad but true: I must squat over the toilet because one of the babies rests his head right on my bladder and nothing comes out if I’m sitting. Given how large my belly is, you can imagine the kind of aim I have. I pity the poor, blessed souls who come to clean my bathroom every week. Of course, they probably think it’s Jack’s mess, and I’m not about to set them straight.)

No more itching!

Being able to walk instead of waddle.

Being able to see my feet when I’m standing on them.

Hot, hot, hot showers.

Breastfeeding (oh please oh please oh please let us be able to breastfeed).

Wearing clothes that fit. (I’ve outgrown all my pregnancy clothes because, really, who is ever 10 months pregnant? They just don’t make them for women as big as I am.)

Calling the twins by real names instead of “Baby A” and “Baby B” (though Doug gets around this by calling them Brendan and Brandon or Sean and Shawn).

Seeing their faces for the first time.

Holding them skin-to-skin.

Being able to let other people hold them.

Watching Jack and Jane grow into their roles as older siblings.

And the thing I’m most looking forward to: simply not being pregnant anymore. Oh what a blessed relief that will be.

Of course, I may see all this a whole lot differently when I’m six days postpartum, bleary-eyed, sleep-deprived, and dealing with raging hormones and bleeding nipples. Then pregnancy might not look so bad after all.

Queen Bee

On Friday afternoon, at my non-stress test, the contraction monitor picked up a bunch of low-grade contractions that I couldn’t even feel. Since they were a couple minutes apart, my nurse told me to take it easy for the next few days and stay off my feet. No errands. No chores. No cooking. No cleaning.

Glorious, I thought. I can lay in bed and read and write and look at magazines.

And the first day was glorious. My husband and kids were camping, so I had the house to myself. I finished a book, started another, caught up on my blog reading, watched two episodes of Lark Rise to Candleford, and wrote a number of posts for after the babies are born when I’ll be too sleep-deprived and hormone-ridden to string a coherent sentence together.

But by Sunday morning, I was so stir-crazy that I went to the first service at my church. When left to my own devices, I never go to the first service. It requires getting up and getting ready by 8:30, and I’d rather lay in bed and read or journal. But I’d spent all day Saturday reading and journaling, and I was sick of being in bed. So up I got, and gladly. When I got home, I was very good, and went and lay down for the rest of the day.

On Monday I started feeling contractions every seven minutes or so and spent two hours in triage being monitored. I wasn’t in labor. Hallelujah!

On Tuesday, when I went in for my non-stress test, my contractions were coming three to seven minutes apart and Baby A (that’s what they call the presenting baby, the one who will be born first) had descended into my birth canal. I spent six hours at the hospital, being monitored to make sure I wasn’t in active labor. I wasn’t. But the doc said to continue to stay off my feet.

So far this week, my mother-in-law and five friends have come to clean my house, watch my kids, cook my meals, do my dishes and laundry, and keep me company; and my parents drove up from California to stay with us in case I do go into active labor soon. I am grateful beyond words.

queen beeI am also heartily sick of being waited on hand-and-foot, like some engorged and pulsating queen bee, who lies around gestating while her drones do all the work. It’s humbling, to say the least. Sometimes it feels humiliating.

Last night, I went to a going away party for some friends, where I sat in a reclining chair with my feet up while my friends graciously brought me food and drink, made sure my kids were fed, and kept an eye on them while they played in the yard and the house. I felt very loved and cared for. I also felt like a total energy-sucking schmuck. After all, it wasn’t my party.

I am sure there is a lesson for me in all this, probably several lessons.

I’m just not sure what they are.

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