day in the life.... (part 2)

I give Ben an apple and load him and the twins into the car, grab my phone and keys and lock the door. We drive into town and drop J at work, stop at waitrose on the way back for 12 litres of baby milk and 4 of cows' milk.
Get home, bathe the babies, dress them, feed them again, load the dishwasher and head back into town to the GP's surgery. The twins are 16 weeks old and it's vaccination day today.
Ben frets in the car "I don't want the babies to be hurt, I don't want them to have jabs in them".
I call J and arrange that he'll take an early lunch and come with us so we swing by his office and then on to the surgery.
Ben, once we've told him that jabs give you super human bug fighting powers*, is fine.
6 needles and 2 screaming babies later we head into the centre of town to have lunch in a cafe, a treat for Ben for being good at the doctors', both babies feed again and then snooze.
From lunch we go to school, the need to arrive early and get a parking space amplified by the knowledge that I have a space ship to cart up to the car.

Everyone is very well behaved on the walk from school to car. But just as I'm loading them, C, the extra one, says in a quiet voice "I've got another nosebleed". Poor lamb, she's had then a lot recently. This one isn't too bad as they go but it still takes nearly 10 minutes, and 2 muslin cloths stained bright red to stem the flow.

I drop her at home and then take the boys back. The twins are screaming by now and need feeding again....




*"And insects mummy?"

A day in the life... (part one)

Light streams through the too pale curtains and we stir. J barely registers it, I close my eyes again and roll over, Ben though, lying between us, yawns, stretches and is awake in a heartbeat.
"Mummy I want breakfast".
I glance across at the cot where the actual babies are sleeping peacefully, and try the human equivalent of the snooze button: "Come and give mummy a cuddle, we'll get breakfast in a minute".
Like a snooze button this holds him for about 180 seconds before he starts again, more insistent.
J groans and rolls over.
I convince Ben to be quiet and take him downstairs.
Put the kettle on, register Sam already awake and watching the semi-banned Cartoon Network.
Empty the dishwasher, put bowls on the table and tea in the pot.
Make up packed lunches.
Call children to breakfast, Josiah has joined them in the sitting room.
Ben wants me to guess what he wants for breakfast, I am in no mood for quizzes.
Josiah decides quickly "Weetabix" but when I put them into the bowl and reach for the milk, shouts "No, I don't want weetabix, cheerios. No, shreddies"
Sam finally makes it to the table, I ask six times what he'd like "What is there?". I offer him the choice of cereals, or toast, or a sandwich as I do every morning, the same list, every day.
I ask again what he wants, at the 3rd time of asking he finally responds "I'm deciding!"
"Right!" I say "We don't have time for this, shreddies"
"No! Cheerios. no milk"
"Mummy this isn't my favourite spoon" says Josiah, I find his favourite, it really is much faster than trying to make him accept another, on a school day.
"Ben, where are you going?"
"I need a wee" - what is it with my family, all of them, the moment you put food on the table. "I need a wee now!"
"Well go then" his eye is caught by a toy and he stops to play "GO!"
I pour tea, make up bottles "Ben, are you done?"
"No mummy I'm in the sitting room"
"Why are you in the sitting room?"
"Because the light isn't on in the loo room"
"Well turn it on"
"I can't reach" (He can)
"Yes you can"
"Only on tiptoes"
"Well tiptoe"
"You do it mummy"
"No, Ben hurry up."
I give in and turn it on as I run upstairs with J's tea. He's in the shower.
I gather uniforms into piles and run back down.
"Ben are you done in the loo"
"Yes mummy"
"Did you flush it?"
"Yes. and washed my hands, but now my breakfast is all soggy"
I pour more cereal into another bowl and sip my own tea, chivvy the boys to eat breakfast and send them upstairs for teeth cleaning and washing.
Finally I run back up myself, J is changing one of the twins. I dive in the shower, get dressed and then change the other. Run to the top floor to make sure the boys are dressed, referee an argument about which of two identical toys belongs to which of two irate boys.
Carry the baby downstairs feed him, while J feeds his twin, nag the boys into their shoes and jackets. Fill out reading records and check book bags for missed notes.
"I need my swimming kit mummy"
"No Sam, no swimming today, there was a note"
"That was when it was sportsday today, but it isn't now because of the mud"
One of his armbands is missing. I find another but it's too small, and another, also too small, finally another, mismatched but fitting.
"And I'm Wanachi, so I can take toys"
Argh! The blasted Wanachi thing! I get it, really I do, it's great that each week one of them gets to be class monitor, to sit in a special chair, choose stories and activities and, on a Friday, take toys in to show and tell. But no one thinks of the mother (or this one at least) who will, on the way home, have 4* children walking, one double buggy with twins in, 3 book bags, 3 lunch bags, 2 swimming kit bags, 1 PE kit bag, assorted works of "art", 2 junk models, a broad bean plant in a pot and now the damn Millenium Falcon to marshall up the hill to the car.
We negotiate terms and he agrees he'll carry the toy bag.
Sarah arrives and sweeps the two big ones into her car.
I put the kettle back on. It's 8.30am.
"Mummy is it snack time, I'm hungry"....



*I haven't mis counted, I bring my friend's lovely and genuinely no trouble at all, ever, daughter home after school and in return she gets my two monsters in on time in the mornings.

Time for a clear out...

18 months ago I called for a "Big de-clutter week" and lots of friends, both flesh and blood and those who live only in my computer, joined me and we spent 7 days banishing cobwebs, mess and the accumulated "stuff" that was threatening to suffocate us.
And I think it's time we did it again.
My house is a pit so I'll start on the basics this week, but more than that I want it decluttered and organised for the summer and the new term. I'd like to come back from holiday to a fresh start where we can lay down new "rules" for the children with the framework already in place - "shoes in x basket as soon as you are through the door", kind of thing- I also need to go through all their clothes and work out what we need for Autumn/ Winter as we'll be buying over the summer an I don't want to get stuff we don't need or miss stuff we do, tbh, I could do with doing this for J and I too.
And that's just the start of it. I need to reclaim the kitchen from the creeping clutter and make the understairs cupboard a useful space.

So, are you in? We've got 3 weeks to the end of term? Make plans and prepare this week? (For me this will include the regular/ irregular in this house  getting on top of housework.
Clear the clutter next week?
Set up the new regime in week 3?

Are you with me? Are you with me? (aye aye Birdsnest!  )


My garden may need some tidying too, I can see my neighbour weeding hers and every now and then she lobs one over the wall....

Feel like I need a note from my mum....

Dear Reader,
Tilly has been neglecting you shamefully.
She promises to do better...
Love
Tilly's mum.


Where was I? I'm going to have to do a very quick catch up...

We were in hospital for 5 days.
Night 2 was hard. Neither baby would settle at all. I was exhausted, I felt like there was no one to help and that I'd really be better off at home where at least there'd be two of us.
The twins fed constantly but not terribly successfully, at least in Alex's case.
The midwives said he was hungry, they took him for a little while and then suggested giving him formula.
Now I've nothing against formula and I was fairly sure we'd end up using it as part of the feeding process at some point, but not at 30 hours old, when it's perfectly normal for milk not to be "in" yet until 3 or 4 days post birth.
I took him back from them and went back to the constant feeding. I knew I might have to give in at some point, I'd been told that a c-section could mean that full milk production could be delayed.
I fed Alex and Toby through the night, all night, and at around 36 hours old I noticed a change, they settled and slept. The constant feeding had brought the milk within 36 hours.

My iron level coming out of theatre had been 7. something, very low but not a significant drop. They decided to hold off on the transfusion.

On day 4 I felt ready to go home, the older children had been ill but were getting better. I felt ok and was getting bored, Mum was due to head back to the UK and J was exhausted with running around after everyone and trying to spend as much time as possible at the hospital.
The consultant was happy that I was doing fine but decided they needed to check my iron was rising first. I was sure it must be, I was taking 3 iron tablets a day, and drinking spatone, and no longer had two parasites leeching away all the good stuff.
It had dropped. I needed the transfusion.
They decided to give me three units of blood the next day, one it was in I would be able to go home.
The next day I had breakfast, and they got me ready for the drips etc at around 8am. Each unit would take around 3 hours to go in so I hoped to be going home by tea time.
What a frustrating day that was. I waited and waited lunchtime came and went without the blood arriving. I couldn't see any way I was going home. J was feeling poorly and suggested I wait another day or two but I was psyched up to be at home so when the blood arrived with a plan to pump the first unit over 3 hours and then the other 2 over 2 hours each I grabbed it although it was already 2pm and I wouldn't be done til around 9.
To my shame I brushed off J's concerns.
Blood feels strange going in, it's icy cold, straight from a fridge and hurts at first. As it comes up to room temperature over the hours it takes to go in you cease to notice it, but then that unit is done and a new one it put up, icy cold again.
I was still wearing the hated surgical stockings and having daily injections to prevent clots.
At 9.30 we were done and got ready to go home. J again tried to persuade me that I should stay another night, he looked exhausted and said he was feeling ill.
I'm stubborn though, and we got home at around 10.30.
J and the boys had decorated the house with flowers, banners and balloons.
He hadn't made our bed though which he'd stripped to wash the bedding and I was cross.

By next morning it was obvious in retrospect that J was poorly. He felt fluey and headachy.
By Monday his face was looking slightly swollen, I told him to make a doctor's appointment but he refused. He'd do it next day if he didn't feel better.
On Tuesday I made the appointment while he slept, his face was very swollen, something was obviously wrong, Sam and Josiah, who'd been better enough to return to school on the Monday, clearly weren't up to it on the Tuesday and stayed home.
He drove in for the appointment, I sat at home and waited for him to come back. Then he phoned, the GP was sending him to the hospital, it looked like he'd be admitted for IV antibiotics...
When the consultant saw him she confirmed th GP's diagnosis, J had erisipelas, a potentially deadly strep infection he was going nowhere but a hospital bed.

I was home with 2 nine day old babies, 3 children, one poorly, one shattered and in a post viral grump and one ridiculously energetic and a 75 year old who had reached her limits.

But hey, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right?

The Main Event... (Part Two)

I was warned that the big light above our heads could act like a mirror and that we might not want to look at it.
Of course, there's only one reaction to that...
It's not clear like a mirror though, there are ridged circles decreasing in size toward the centre and all you really see is colour as if in a kaleidescope, the blue of the scrubs, the green of the surgical sheets, flashes of silver and yes, the red and purple of blood, but it's a mixed and mingled pattern, not a clear impression.
J had his camera and I asked him to take a photo but his view and mine were not the same - either that or devoid of drugs it just doesn't look the same at all!
I heard the pop of the first membrane sac, the suction as the fluid was drained and then the first baby was drawn out, breech, entering the world bottom first and squealing.
They showed him to me above the screen and then Teresa, one of the midwives carried him to a resusitaire to be checked and wrapped.
I heard the second sac suctioned, over the screams of twin one. Then I heard the consultant say "Oh that's a foot, and here's the other!"
Twin two entered the world feet first and sooo angry. It must be an even more surreal experience for the babies, there's no build up at all, one minute they are happily floating around in a very small, warm, mostly dark, muffled place and the next they are dragged into the bright light of an operating theatre, with it's noise and bustle and the space to move and stretch and be terrified of. Twin two was not happy about it, not one little bit and was determined we should know all about it!
He was lifted over the drapes, and then again hurried off by a midwife - Sorcha - who gave him his first cuddle and attached 2 clips to his cord, for twin two, so that there could be no confusion.

J was told he could go to see the babies, and take pictures.
The consultant confirmed that we still wanted him to go ahead and tie my tubes,  and while he removed the placentas (which the midwife confirmed were intact), did that and sewed me back up J brought the twins over to see me.

It seemed to take a surprisingly short time, and then we were wheeled back out into recovery.
We started skin to skin there, and after about half an hour, maybe more, we were wheeled back up to the maternity ward.
Cuddled under my blankets with me were one little read-headed boy, and his white-blond twin, and by now, or soon after, they were Tobias and Alexander.
Toby and Alex, the latest two members of our family.

Back on the ward they were weighed and measured.
Toby tipped the scales at 6lbs 7 and Alex at 6 lbs. good weights for 37 week babies, even if there hadn't been two of them.

I'll write more about the first hours and days, (and what happened next) later on...

The Main Event... (Part One)

There's something very strange about Elective Caesarian, you get up knowing that by the end of today there will be a baby in your arms, but you have no contractions, no twinges, just this knowledge.

I was nil by mouth from ten the night before, and getting up and getting the boys dressed and breakfasted while feeling hungry and nervous was a bit wobbly.

Once they were ready and waiting for their lift to school J, Ben and I climbed into the car and drove to the hospital. We'd decided to take Ben along at this point because I needed to be at the hospital for 8am, but the section was unlikely to take pace until about 11.30 so the plan was that Ben would take me to the hospital, and leave me there, (he's much happier to leave me than to be left behind). J would drive him home, spend a bit of time with him and then come back in time for surgery.

We stopped in the car park at the hospital and J took a couple of final "bump shots"of me and the bump and Ben.
The we walked up to the ward. I was checked in, and the blood pressure tests etc started. Almost immediately we were told it was more likely to be 10.30 when I was taken to theatre, as there had been a couple of cancellations from the list.
J set off to take Ben home and come straight back. Meanwhile I changed into a gown, confirmed I had taken the Ranitidine the night before and that morning.
I was provided with surgical stockings, that were to be the bane of my life for the next few days, and shaved along and just below the bikini line.

J came back and we waited... They gave him a form to sign which told him what he was and wasn't allowed to do in theatre - basically, sit where you are told until told you can move!
Then they said they were nearly ready for me and took J off to change into scrubs.

While he was gone they came to take me down, I was given something else to take - another antacid I think - and then the bed and I were wheeled down to theatre.
There's a lot of checking of name labels and notes and so on, at this point, checking that they have the right person.
And then they transfer you to a trolley, and wheel you into anaesthetics.

I'd met the anaesthetist before and been talked through the process but again it's quite surreal.
There's a commonly held idea that all labouring women love their anaesthetists, that they are adored because they come bearing pain relief. But when you aren't actually in labour and have no pain, they simply inflict it.
I had 2 cannulas sited, one in each inner arm. Then the spinal. If you're not in labour and desperate for it there's no denying this is uncomfortable at best.
Anyway it was in. They lay me back down and it took effect.
They gave me an oxygen mask and there were a few moments' peace.

Then came the worst bit.
They wheeled me into the theatre and transferred me to the operating table/ bed. My blood pressure plummeted, I think this is quite normal, but I hadn't expected it. The room spun, I felt sick, I dragged the mask off, my whole body went into panic mode.
If I could have articulated the words "I can't do this, put me under" I would have done so.

Quickly the anaesthetist gave me something to bring my pressure back up and the world came back into focus, J joined me, I could do this after all.

"Are you ready to meet your babies?" asked the consultant.
J took my hand, "Yes" we said together....

Birth story is coming...

As soon as I've typed it out!
Sorry for a silent 2 weeks...

In brief: I had the twins, was in hospital best part of a week, had a blood transfusion, came home, husband got ill, sent him to doctor, doctor sent him to the hospital, hospital admitted him with serious infection.
He spent 3 days on an IV.
He's home, things are settling down...