6:10 AM, take out my ear plugs, hear rumblings from the nursery. Body stiff, sore, eyes still half closed. Husband sleeping. Stretch my arms overhead, one leg, two legs, both feet on the floor. Put on my pajama pants , go see babies. “Good Morning babies” I say. “How are you babies? Today?” Pick you up and hold you tight, tell you I love you, I’m happy to see you this morning babies. Take off your dirty diaper. Put a clean one on, put on your outfit. Take you upstairs for milk. Screaming and crying, no patience, no patience. Making the bottles as fast as I can. Putting on toast, making coffee. Screaming and screaming, making me nervous, making the process much harder than it should be. I hand you your bottles, you’re sitting in high chairs, quiet, it’s quiet. I make my toast, make my coffee. Read you a book. Put on Fiona’s hearing aids. Lucky, we’re lucky. We’re so, so,so, lucky. Sunday morning, beautiful morning. Babies I love you.
Category: advice for new moms of twins
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Saturday morning. Fog came in last night. The cool air feels nice. Jack and Fiona resemble children more than babies. They’ve taught me how sweet strawberries are. My studio time is short, I don’t waste moments. It suits me. The indigo watercolor, the re-purposed prints, the collage. I can feel it now. Want to paint. Need to take Billy for a walk while the babies are napping. 8:21 A.M. Mini Chunks. That’s what I’ll call it. “Jenny Hynes guide to getting it all in” The Mini Chunk System. Yesterday I forgot to leave downtime until 7:30PM. I had to clean the house for our visitors, Linda and Tracy from Early Start. I kept thinking I was almost done. Looking at the clock, 11:00, wash dishes. 11:20, wash pots, pans, bottles. 11:37, and I still have to mop the floor. No Coffee Break before Fiona’s evaluation. Felt like a real Domesticated Animal. I peel off my apron, damp and dirty from housework. 12:00 PM, babies’ dressed, clean diapers, house clean, wearing a dress, lipstick, hair pins, but no bra. Couldn’t wear a bra, too hot. Looks slutty, hippyish, I don’t know. Wouldn’t go out in public. Babies and I having a great time while the nannies away. Even though Ramona only comes two days a week it’s a big difference than no days a week. It’s nice to have my house back. It stays cleaner, (which probably means I spend too much time doing) but it feels good, the babies hardly cry at all, only whining, especially Fiona. That’s because they can’t say what they feel, want, or need. That’s my project. I need to really focus on learning sign language and teaching Fiona words and explaining how she’s feeling. The babies seem to be taking a nap now. Time for Billy.
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Something surprised Denise. I was talking about how I felt when Jack and Fiona first arrived. My in laws and my husband had a genetic “ownership” over jack and Fiona. I struggled with it. “He looks like this relative, she looks like that relative.” I felt grief over the fact that a piece of my mom wasn’t in the babies or a “Part” of me. It was like I somehow was out of the picture. I had to tell them. Tell them they were driving me crazy with that talk. Tell them to have some consideration for my feelings.
Out of nowhere Fiona starts crying. It’s 6:00 A.M. The 14 month evaluation of Fiona’s progress and development is today. We revisit our goals set at the last evaluation, I can’t remember what month that was. I am realizing that we need to work harder on communication with Fiona. To get Fiona’s attention, even with the hearing aids on we need to make eye contact. Sometimes I treat her just like Jack. But I know she’s misses a lot. If I say “Jack, do you want some water” he comes running no matter where he is or which way his head is pointed. “Fiona, Fiona, Fiona do you want water?” I need to show her the water cup, make eye contact. People always ask me, “Will it get better? (Her hearing)” When it was first diagnosed, at birth, Alan thought it was a mistake. His mother believed it would get better. She believed if she prayed it would help. Everyone said, “It seems like she can hear.” I would explain, “She can hear, she just can’t hear like us, she won’t be able to learn language or to speak properly without the use of her hearing aids or learning sign language.” Fiona’s hearing loss is permanent. It’s her unique DNA. It’s just the way she’s put together.
I feel like I’m somewhere else. It’s so hot this morning and dry. The birds are singing, the freeway humming. The babies are still sleeping. I saw a good friend yesterday, Denise. We were neighbors for years, when she moved I was devastated. Really sad. I talked to Denise about every next step along the road to baby. Denise helped me make the final decision to use a donor egg. We drank wine and looked through the profiles of all the egg donors. We picked Katherine. She was an artist like me. She had tattoos, similar eyes and a smile like me. I felt like it was the craziest decision I’ve ever had to make. It’s wild to think about how many different combinations of sperm and egg we’ve gone through. First there was mine and Alan’s, then Alan’s and Katherine’s, then C’s egg and Alan’s sperm, the winning combination. That is a lot to go through to have a baby. We also went through three wombs, first mine, I tried two of the combinations. Then the first Mellissa, then the second Malissa. I could go on! It was a long way from just sticking it in and getting pregnant!
Took Jack and Fiona to the park this morning. It was quiet and cool. They could only handle a half hour before getting too tired. Made it home, took Jack and Fiona into their nursery, sleep sac on, crib, “The Sounds of Yoga CD”, spray lavender, it’s 9:22, they are zonked! Score! Now there’s even a breeze releasing that dead heat of the early morning. The chimes are blowing, and I’ve still got the rest of my beautiful day.
