Week In Review

Moments Where I Almost Lost My Ever Loving Mind:


Spit up for the gabillionth time on the carpet, on the clothes, on the blanket, on the bib, on me, on the face, on the arm, in the lap, in the ear, in the bed, on the changing table, on the toys, in the play saucer thingy. Times three.

Three sleeping babies turning into two sleeping babies when three babies should be sleeping for another hour and mama of said babies was planning to nap along with three sleeping babies that suddenly turned into two the second her head hit the pillow. The second.

My washing machine doing load number 5 in one day. (Okay, I don't mind this part. It's the FOLDING and PUTTING AWAY that gives me heartburn.)

Baby B reliving his glory days of waking up at 4 am for 7 days in a row.

The current state of my room. i.e. MESSY.


Moments That Saved My Mind From Being Lost:

Pack of Mambas as gifted by adoring husband. (Not a brand of cigarettes. Lovely little chewy candies that remind me of high school for some reason.)

Help at bedtime in the form of Aunt Shauna (We love you Aunt Shauna! says the babies)

Saturday morning of running errands sans passengers courtesy of Grandma D. (We love you Grandma D! says the babies)

Long showers followed by NPR on demand while continuing to procrastinate my alone time in the bathroom. (Did I brush my teeth? I don't remember. I better do it again...)

Roasted beets. (Thanks for the reminder how much I love these Kels.)

Darling husband taking shift(s) with Baby B who is reminiscing about the good old days.

Every other moment in between the ones mentioned above with three of the cutest little monsters I've ever known. These include but are not limited to: laughing (oh this sweet sound!), big eyes at favorite books, smiling during eating time, grabbing and grasping like champions of the baby ring olympics, cuddling on shoulders, watching eyes LIGHT UP when dad comes home or walks into the room, holding onto toes, grunting and wrestling with wipe package, talking or singing or whatever noise they are trying to make, big big smiles at mommy.

Find Out Anniversary

(Umm, this post is quite long. But there are pictures! And a cookie waiting for you at the end.)

One can't help but chalk up dates, milestones, anniversaries in the process of conceiving, bearing, praying over and loving triplets.

We have their birthday (of course), the day the ventilator was no more, the first day of milk fed nutrition, homecoming day, tell our friends and family day, share it on my blog day, and the day, THE DAY, when we found out our lives we're about to be changed in triplicate.

The day we found out there were three tiny sacks housing three tiny heartbeats inside me was quite significant. I can't say I was jaw dropping shocked. It sounds strange, but in some way I was kind of prepared for what the sonographer found. It's really not something I was expecting. Of course I was surprised! But there were a lot of little things that happened the past four years that kind of prepped me for this potentially heart stopping news.

I know it would be classic and sentimental to remember my exact emotions and how I felt and how I looked at Chris, but I was just, well, thankful.

I was thankful that four weeks after we first found out the IUI worked, there was still a life inside me. Then to find out there were three - gratitude beyond measure. Of course I was worried and anxious and wondered how we were going to manage. But at that moment, when we knew, my heart just felt joy.

The two doctors that helped us conceive were really quite wonderful. We felt they were thorough and competent, had been helping families realize their dreams for twenty years and even sometimes had a sense of humor. However, when one of them called to go over the details of what it meant to be having triplets, he was quite humorless and I dare say a little joyless.

The day he called, my husband and I had talked about everything you can imagine two people in love who just found out they were having three babies at once were can talk about. The nagging anxiety was there (still is, I've learned to live with it) but our conversations and day had been filled with light hearted musings and plans and aspirations of coaching a four year old soccer team. Then the doctor called.

It was a year ago, so I don't recall our conversation word for word. So I'll sum it up in bullets.

• You could lose one or all of your embryos. (We had been calling them babies.)
• One or all could be severely handicapped or have a birth defect.
• One could be in danger because of competition for nutrients.
• One or all could die in childbirth.
• The cost of three babies is alarmingly high.
• One or all could be in the NICU for a while.
• This pregnancy will be extremely hard on your body.
• You could be on bed rest the entire time.
• Raising kids until age 2 is extremely taxing, you will have three of them.
• I don't consider this a successful pregnancy. (That one hurt.)
• You are at a higher risk for developing preeclampsia and other potentially life threatening conditions related to this pregnancy.
• You are a higher risk for premature births.
• Have you ever heard of selective reduction?

Let me first say that I knew he was doing his job. Doctors are supposed to be upfront and honest and realistic. I know he wasn't calling to dish on the latest organic baby clothes, hottest new stroller or suggest baby names like Aden, Braden and Caden. So in that respect, I knew where he was coming from.

However! And I mean HOWEVER!

He didn't know.

He didn't know we had been praying almost everyday for 4 years for a family. And when that prayer was hard to utter again, we prayed for understanding. When we couldn't understand, we prayed for patience. (Warning, be extremely careful when praying for patience.) When we grew inpatient of praying for patience (yes, I know) we prayed that we would enjoy our time together without thinking about what we don't have. I think our hearts were a little prepped. But he didn't know that.

Exactly 33 minutes before everyone was born. This was about hour twenty-one of labor.

This picture was Chris' idea. He loved seeing three bands on each of us. I had not seen the kids yet at this point. He had seen them briefly in the operating room before they were whisked through the NICU window.

He didn't know we had a small army that we called our family that were going to support us. The word 'support' is weak sauce compared to what we have. If support were a landscape, we have the ocean, the Sahara, the Andes Mountains and the Grand Canyon. Every ocean and sea. Even the ones that are dead.

He didn't know that we put the Lord in charge of our lives a long time ago and whatever happened to our family was because He is our master architect. Maybe I would lose one or all. Maybe I would be on bed rest the whole time. Maybe birthing three babies wouldn't go well. But it was okay. It wasn't ours to plan.

He didn't know the millions of prayers that were sent to heaven in our behalf. He didn't know people who had never met me or my husband would pray for us and send good thoughts our way.

He didn't know I had people in my life that would sacrifice time away from their own families and lives to help keep mine together when things were unbearable. He didn't know that I would still find it hard and emotional to put into words what others did for me when things were at their worst.

He didn't know I would end up with the most amazing and caring doctor in the state of Utah who specializes in multiples. That he made sure he was there to deliver our three little miracles and made sure I was okay weeks and weeks after they were born. Who called me at his son's wrestling match because he thought he recognized my own wrestler brother from our conversations. Doctors like Dr. Draper are one of a kind. I'll always be grateful for his kind ways and happy heart.

He didn't know that we would end up in one of the most compassionate and caring NICU units in the world! He didn't know about the nurses who loved my children and did things for them I couldn't. Even some nurses that for some reason or another could not have their own babies. But they loved my three without guile or jealousy. He didn't know about the staff of occupational therapists who despite having many, many babies to help, made me feel like mine were the only ones on their schedule. He didn't know the friendships and bonds I would form with other mothers who had babies tinier and sicker than mine. Friendships formed in the midst of shared chaos and heartbreak are special. He didn't know that would happen.

Christian on day two of life. He still love to sprawl and lounge. I think he is the one who led the charge out of the cramped living quarters inside my body.

Our little Gabe 12 hours after he was born. He was on the vent in this picture. He would go back and forth between the vent and CPAP until he was about 31 1/2 weeks gestation.

Seeing my daughter Sunny for the first time. It would be close to a month before I would be able to hold her. She is on CPAP in this picture but would be on the ventilator shortly after this for a while.

He didn't know that when my heart was heavy and I couldn't find the strength or words to pray that my 2 pound babies would make it through pneumonia and a chest tube and machines to help them breath and stay alive that I would feel the prayers of those that could find the words. That my strength would come from their kind thoughts, words of hope, visits, homemade baby blankets, a clean house, shared tears, meals, little texts, a quiet vigil over my wordless fear, and love. He didn't know the power of all that love.

Getting stronger! I never knew I would love the term "room air" so much.

We both loved our cuddle time together. Even if I was in a hospital gown and she was attached to monitors.

He also didn't know that my hope was greater than my doubt. Because I learned that when you doubt, there is no room for hope. Hope was a lesson that I learned along the way of not knowing why a baby could not survive in my womb for longer than 6 weeks.

But they did survive. Chest tubes and monitors, blood transfusions a giant belly, swollen ankles, sighs accompanied with bad news from NNPs are all in the distant past.

On our one year anniversary of 'finding out' three are on the way, we are still full of joy. We have chubby babies. (Okay, chubby baby. The other two in my opinion are still on the thin side.) We have babies that laugh and cry. We have babies that roll over and grab toys. We have a happy family.

What? I needed a machine to help me breath? Really?

I had an IV in my head? No way!

I weighed how much when I was born? I don't believe it! Have you seen my cheeks?

Yes, raising three children the same age is hard. I am tired a lot. But I asked for this! (Well, I didn't order three, let's be clear. You can't do that, despite what you might hear.) I asked for a family. However that family was going to come to us, it didn't matter. So the permanent wet spot on my shoulder from drool or spit up or snot makes me smile. The constant cacophony of cries at the end of the day is like a symphony. Changing nine stinky diapers in one day is cake. (I bet there are some moms who do that anyway! Without multiples.)

So I forgave him of our conversation before it was even over! Because he didn't know. He just didn't know.

Okay, three little cookies. Thanks for caring about our family.

Tips From The Edge

I don't have time to send post cards, so I'm writing tips. Just a few. Plus, I never have stamps with me. Never. Let alone post card stamps. Seriously. Do people still send those?

Have your salt ready, because you might need more than one grain.
(Mostly this is therapy for me.)

**Warning - one mild adult sentence below referring to 'it.'**

If you ever meet a mom with more than one child and you are surprised, and you would like to know how that whole thing happened, do your best to refrain from asking said mom if her children are "natural." Because she thinks her children are indeed natural. She felt them kick and watches them grow and is otherwise very taken with the miracle of life. The opposite of natural? Robots? Cyborgs? Fantasy dolls dressed to look like babies? All babies are natural. The term you are probably looking for is "spontaneous." She might prefer that. Actually, unless you have developed some sort of relationship with this woman, just skip this question entirely. She probably doesn't want to use words like 'artificial insemination' in an aisle at Target. Which brings me another tip that might be helpful. Don't assume siblings that are the same age were conceived via in vitro. (Ah-hem! I'm talking to you, intern doc, night mine were born, making your permanent medical records. By the way, our story is here. In case you are wondering. It's cool, we're not in Target right now.)

If you skip the natural question, (it's tough, kudos to you if you do) you might have the urge to say, "you have your hands full." Go ahead and say it, but she/he (maybe you meet a papa) might have heard that one. Maybe.

But what should you say?

Feel free to use any of these: (Although I cannot guarantee a positive reaction from the other end of the conversation. These are just slightly more inventive than your typical multiple family conversation.)

"Three babies. Wow. Here is some cash for diapers."

"(whistle) Let's hope not all of them get into college, huh? Hopefully at least one of them will join a rock band. Or invent something."

"Three chore people! Lucky!"

"Your carbon footprint must be huge."

"So, what's the transportation situation? You rockin the mini? Sportin' the suburb? Rollin' in a wagon?"

"Which one has super powers?"

"So, how many times do you have to do 'it' in a night to get more than one?" (Ahh! That's too much for a family blog. Sorry. I couldn't resist.)

"Triplets. Amazing. Have they started reading each other's minds yet?"

"So who is on Team Jacob and who is on Team Edward?"

"So, what is their sign?"

"Where are the reality cameras?" -Wait!! Stop!! Make no mention of any kind of reality show. Three kids the same age is not a big deal to these reality show people. They want to see 20 kids - minimum. And the mom you meet definitely in no way, shape or form wants to be compared to Kate Gosselin. For the love of Mike, whatever you do, make no reference to this woman when talking to a mom of multiples.

Well, that should do for now. And if for some reason you have said any of the don'ts already, don't sweat it. She is probably so scatter brained from changing 24-30 diapers a day and conducting 10-24 feedings (depending on age of said multiples and it's usually 18 at our house) that she won't remember it if you do.

Because, if she were really honest with herself, she loves when people ask about her children. She and her husband probably went through a lot or waited very long to get them here and is probably very proud of her wee ones that they are so healthy and that they fought through being very very tiny. She probably had about a million people praying for her family and has lots of help getting through her day. She probably thinks it is a miracle that they smile and make eye contact and do normal, healthy baby stuff in general. Even if you find out later that she has some blog where she writes things she doesn't want people to say to her, she loves to talk about her kids. Even if it's the same question over and over. I'm just guessing anyway.

See? I told you to have your salt handy.

Our Triplet Journey; Part...Beginning?

I'm going to try to make more of an effort of posting this triplet journey. Even though time seems to be slowly passing and I feel like a beached whale or Jaba the Hut sans metal bikini princess, this whole experience really is going by quickly and before I know it, all three little pink and blue bundles will be here and no sleep will start. Which I am convinced will erase all past brain cells and memory, so I need to back up a little and tell our story.

It will probably be disjointed and possibly out of order, but if I knew someone that was having triplets, I would want to know HOW? WHO? WHEN? WHAT? WHY? HOW? HOW? So here is part of our story with a little commentary and possible soap boxishness thrown in now and then. But I always want to be honest with this process and make sure our little bean sprouts know everything and aren't ashamed of how they joined our family. But instead know they were always meant to be with us!

But first, first. I can't say out loud or in print enough how grateful I am that so many people are praying for and thinking about our babies. I tell them all the time how many people want them to get here successfully and without incident. They think that's pretty cool. Their parents do too.

So our real baby journey starts about 4 1/2 years ago as new husband and wife. Newly married, sharing our dreams and hopes and aspirations for the future, one thing we both agreed on were kids. Right away! Let's not wait! But you don't always get what you wish for. I won't dwell too much on that right now. I know some couples have waited and are still waiting longer than us. But when you are ready, one month of your cycle being closely monitored and checked for four years is an eternity.

Fast forward to a series of events that started last fall that led to a company change and serendipitous change of job location for Chris. There was a little drama involved. (Too much if you ask me - I've never been a big fan of the "d" word.) But despite that, we were headed to Connecticut for the summer where Chris would sell home security systems for 4 months.

Prior to arriving in CT, we both had an experience that we knew, we just knew that there was a doctor for us in Connecticut that would be able to help us. This is probably the most private, most sacred part of our journey. But just believe me when I say that I know I have a loving Heavenly Father that is aware of our family and knows better than me what is best for us.

Enter Dr. Doyle and Dr. Williams of Connecticut Fertility Associates! I was worried how it was going to work with Chris working all the time. But we went early for appointments and I drove myself to a few while Chris worked hard. They ran a series of tests to see if any anatomical problems were obvious that was preventing us from getting pregnant on our own. There were about 5 tests for me, 1 for Chris. (So easy to be the guy in this whole process! Seriously.) A few of the tests were incredibly painful and uncomfortable, but luckily all of them came back with no conclusive results. Meaning, they couldn't see any reason why I wasn't getting and staying pregnant. I guess it was a good and bad thing. Bad because if they found nothing, it could be an 'unexplained' case and we could go in cycles and circles with nothing working and not knowing why.

We decided on the round of treatment that we were comfortable with. We weren't ready for in-vitro. I was just getting comfortable with the idea of western medicine again after a stint of alternative therapies. There were other options before going straight to that. We had already done Clomid (a drug that assists in ovulation) several times without success and wanted to up the ante.

We chose to do IUI (sex-ed terms coming up...just warning you). Which means artificial intrauterine insemination. So, all of the necessary ingredients that are required for making a baby belonged to both of us. Except it was a doctor that put things in place instead of the two of us. Capiche? I should teach this stuff, I'm so clear in my explanations. I'm not going to lie, it's a little awkward being artificially impregnated in a doctor's office. No candles or romance. You know, making a baby is supposed to be a magical, special moment right? This just isn't possible in a clinic. Just you, your husband and a doctor. Yikes. Luckily, Dr. Doyle had a sense of humor. The actual procedure does not take long. In fact, I even said, "Is that it?" when it looked like he was cleaning up his tray. He responded, "Well, most guys don't like to hear that, but yes, that's it!" Funny guy. It helped a little with the awkwardness of it all.

One thing that would go along with this procedure was medication. I had to swallow my whole foods, granola girl attitude of herbs and natural remedy kick I was on and realize that this was a good path for us. We had been brought to this point. I couldn't not try. The drug was called Follistim and it was to be injected every day for 10-14 days during the right time of my cycle. Of course I had to do these injections myself which I was not a fan of. Seriously. It took me 20 minutes to work up the courage to do the first one. I just sat there with the needle an inch away from my skin counting to three. I think I counted to three about a hundred times. I finally worked up the courage and stuck myself. It got a little easier each time, but it was not my favorite thing.

I think it's important to note that the dose the doctor put us on was the bottom dose. He started us at the lowest dose he ever starts anyone. He felt that my tests looked good enough and I was young enough (29) to start where he did. I would also like to confess that I even forgot to do it one night thanks to an impromptu one night stay in NYC. I forgot to pack it. Oops. I had to go in every three days to test my blood levels to see how I was reacting to the medicine. Toward the end, he even cut in half my 'lowest dose'. So you can imagine EVERYONE'S shock, including the staff, that 6 weeks later, 3 little heart beats were beating inside of me.

Geez louise that seems so long ago. I was sick, sick, sick from the beginning. The night we did the procedure, still two weeks from having a positive test, I woke up with such intense nausea, I thought the doctor messed something up. That was fun. (Read sarcasm there.) Then there was the time I almost passed out in my yoga class at the Y. I didn't even get that far into the class. I just started my deep breathing, and I almost blacked out. This was during the two weeks before the positive test as well! Now, today at 26 weeks, I can feel them kick and move around and I have a devil of a time trying to roll out of bed. It's so great. (Sincere. Read no sarcasm with that last statement.)


More later? What more is there? I guess I could tell you about my lemons and necessary 2am snacks. Later...