Dirty Laundry everywhere. Haven’t been able to keep up. Jack and Fiona, diaper blow outs, four days, change their cloths. Hate the piles everywhere. Wash, Fold, Put Away, Sort, Give Away, Buy, Too Big, Too Small, Too Much, Too Many. Little Tikes, V-Tech. Balls and Bottles. On the floor, cheerios, banana, drops of milk, crust of sweet potatoes, the dirty tray with burnt sweet potato, more dishes in the sink. Time to purge. The kitchen counter is grimy, it makes me irritated. A housewife has a right to vent. “How can I make you happy?” My Mantra. As they whine now, “What in the world is wrong with you guys?” I say. “What, I don’t understand?” Ok, it is the plastic container of Mentos Jack got, Fiona wants. Take it away from both babies, both cry, both get over it. They need a few cuddles, now they are playing. Sun shining, a beautiful Sunday. Not scared of getting sick anymore, time to get out of here. Time to go on some adventures, Three bandits. The Bandits don’t want me to write today. Plop, cry. The dead giveaway of a fake fall.
Tag: babies
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Astrovirus, is that what we got? Maybe. My stomach still hurts, but I need to eat. The babies and Alan are asleep, 6:00 A.M., still dark. Jack and Fiona get sick first. Since Wednesday it’s been a stinky wet diarrhea, throw up, cycles of laundry on sanitary, rubbing backs and changing dirty Pajamas. Thursday night I got sick and so did Alan. I woke up in the middle of the night with terrible stomach pains. I won’t go into detail about the following events. I’ll just say Benghan Bhartha. I decide to check on Jack and Fiona. I walk into the hallway and smell that awful smell. The night before, 10PM, I asked Alan “Did you fart?” He said no. I said “I’m serious, did you fart?” “NO” he said. I needed to check the babies, and yes Diaper Blow Outs! I smell the same smell again, 3 Am. I just threw up myself. The smell is hard to handle. I take Fiona up first, she’s miserable. I change her diaper and PJ’S. Next Jack, he’s soaking wet, the diarrhea, everywhere. I feel like I’m going to puke again. I manage to get off all his clothes and give him a bath. I try to put on his diaper and PJ’s but I really feel like I’m gonna puke. I call for Daddy to help. This is not a good situation. I can handle caretaking of the sick household, I’m actually a pro at handling baby puke now. The first time I wasn’t that great. I was freaked out, but this time it’s like I’m a trained professional. But when I found myself sick too I felt frightened. How will I take care of the babies? I have no one to lean on. I started thinking about people who lived during the Spanish Flu, did babies just die in their cribs while their parents were immobilized from sickness? Yesterday I had to get up, feeling weak, a pounding head ache, make the bottles, clean up throw up, change diarrhea diapers, give love and support to Jack and Fiona because they felt awful. Alan is sick too so I need to have compassion for him as well and he can’t help me with the babies. There is no one to take care of me. I am at the top of the care giving ladder now. They all look to me for health, love, cuddling, food, comfort. I don’t have a mom or grandparents. I’m the wise old woman at the top of the mountain. Luckily I’m feeling better today. It’s supposed to be Alan’s morning with the babies, my “sleep in” morning, but I was awake so I’m letting him sleep in. He had to work all day yesterday through the sickness so he really does need a “sick day.” I’m strong. I just went down and retrieved my little angels. Jack had a bit of diarrhea but both babies are feeling better and starving! Time for bottles.
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One year ago we were at Tahoe Forest Hospital, the night had been long. Jack nestled on my chest, I could hear the fluid in his lungs as he breathed. Fiona on Alan’s chest hooked up to an oxygen monitor, she had a lot more fluid. Malissa was in the next room recovering from a traumatic delivery. Although if you asked her she probably wouldn’t describe it like that. I can’t wait to see her, I ask the nurse is she OK? How is she feeling? The nurse, says she is fine and she is pumping to get the colostrum. Yesterday Malissa and Tom came to visit us. She walked in the door, gentle and sweet, we hug. Her husband has the same relaxed vibe. Jack and Fiona welcome the visitors. I will tell them they were carried for nine months in Malissa’s belly when they are old enough to understand. People always ask me, “isn’t is weird to let Malissa see the babies?” It’s not, we are very comfortable with the situation. She texted me this after they left: “Thanks Alan and Jenny! These are the times that make being a surrogate that much more rewarding. To see two healthy, happy, beautifully growing little kids and two happy wonderful parents. I couldn’t of asked for more. You are both doing an amazing job with your babies. Love you all! Thank you for sharing your family with us.” Malissa, Tom, and their kids feel like family to me. I love them. As Tom and Malissa left and walked down the stairs we saw him rub her back comforting her. Back in the kitchen Alan and I hug. We think how lucky we are to have found Malissa. While we were pregnant I read a lot on the internet about surrogacy, and was upset by how many people made comments about how if a woman can’t have a baby naturally that should be the end of it. People talked about how it was wrong to use a gestational carrier. I let that confuse me, I felt ashamed and didn’t tell anyone what I was doing, just a few of my closest friends. Malissa was always proud from the beginning. Her whole community was rooting for us. They supported her the whole way, cooking her meals and helping out however they could. I envy her close knit community. It’s a beautiful thing. It took ten years for my husband and me to have babies. Every new step we took that failed I was ready to quit. But we kept going, through fertility treatments, miscarriage, finally after two surrogates that didn’t work out we met Malissa. It didn’t work the first time and I was devastated. But we all decided we had to try one last time, and this was REALLY the last time. This is how Jack and Fiona came to us.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 