Today was the first difficult day at the NICU. Maybe it was the lack of interest Ainsleigh had in nursing or Annabelle's brief drop in heart rate. Maybe it was the daily four hour total trip time for the girls' feedings at the NICU which drains the remaining energy from my healing body. Or maybe the struggle leaving my older girls every afternoon, knowing that they, mainly Caroline, wonder if I'm leaving for good, like I did for the delivery.

My heart hurts today.

In the back of my mind I know that, yes, incredible miracles took place last week. My babies are here, resiliently. They are progressing. I'm healing and back home.

But that doesn't make up for the natural nurturing instincts that come after giving birth which I'm feeling so strongly and not being able to fulfill. It only teases me and makes me feel more robotic and less as a mother to routinely "mother" under observation an hour a day, per child.

It is all I have right now. That anticipated, wonderful, and short two hours.



I'll keep it.


On a lighter note:

If the definition of fascination means being intensely interested, I believe Caroline wins the award for most fascinated sister of newborns, ever.

Not a single centimeter of skin on either Ainsleigh or Annabelle was passed by today without loving caresses, kisses, and rubbing cheeks against. At one point Caroline found her sister's hand tucked into her blankie, pulled it out, pushed up her sleeve, and begin feeling, rather gently squeezing her forearm down to her hand.

I would love to know what was going on in her three-year old brain: she was intently interested in what this little being was.

When I was pregnant, the doctors would get frustrated that my twins were always facing each other in the womb and consistently following each other whether head down or breech. They could never accurately check their anatomy or get the stats they needed.

In the NICU early this week, their breathing alarms both went off for the first and only time and were within 5 minutes of each other, although a room apart from each other. They keep amazing the nurses with consistencies between the two of them, with feedings, progression, etc.

Today, though, these babies finally got to feel each other's presence which, I am positive, they feel is lacking now. All I can say, is once they're home, they will have each other within arm's reach--always.

This last week has been a blur: water breaking, being hospitalized, C-section, recovery, babies in NICU, missing the older girls, coming home.

Coming home to home, to my little girls and husband. Coming home to familiarity and comfort, leaving another "home" where my new Loves, my Ainsleigh and Annabelle, now dwell.

Love expands, isn't dictated by numbers, and moves people to great action.


Today was my first real day "home" at my house with my family, to recover from the surgery. I took my first of daily excursions to the Harrisburg Hospital to be with the rest of my heart (and bring loads of milk!) My healing body is exhausted, but my heart is still and satisfied.



Annabelle May

The dews of heaven that reminded me of my little girls---rather "giants" as Bobby now calls them, Caroline and Johanna, that missed their Mommy and Daddy while at the hospital. So I sent Bobby home every evening to make them happy, and calm Mommy's heart.

Today we received great news. Both girls took a bottle, which means their sucking reflex has developed early. As their little bodies can handle the added stress and work to suck, especially while being out of their isolettes, their feeding tubes will eventually be removed.

I've only held each girl two times now. So to have them nuzzled close to me in an attempt to suck is more fulfilling and bonding then anything I can imagine. The instant I held them in this wonderfully familiar cradle hold, I cried--finally feeling like they were mine.

Ainsleigh Rae

The "giants", happy to see Mommy home, not so happy that they can't run, jump, elbow, and pounce on me. They have no clue what is in store for them in 2-4 weeks when two crying babies enter the stages of their lives.

Here are a few shots of Annabelle that I snapped with my iPhone today while she was being fed and changed.

In the NICU, shortly after delivery












Seconds after birth on the operating room

Ever since we found out a few months back that Nicole was carrying twins, we've been in the world of long odds. We learned that the odds of having twins are about 3 in 100 (a 3% chance). Among those 3% of pregnancies that are twins, an even smaller percentage are identical twins. About 1/3 of twins are identical. So now we're down to 1%.

Ok, among identicals there are a few ways that the twins can be arranged. Rather than trying to explain it, I'll refer you the diagram below. So the first one (di/di) is where the fetuses each have their own placenta, inner sac, and outer sac. With a 9% mortality rate, this is the safest configuration . It occurs 18-36% of the time.

The next one is mono/di, where the each fetus has its own placenta and inner sac, but they share an outer sac. This happens 60-70% of the time with identicals. This is the configuration that all of our doctors throughout the pregnancy thought we had. This setup has a 25% mortality rate, due to the dangers of twin-to-twin transfusion. So, not quite as safe as the first (di/di), but fairly safe due to the presence of a thin membrane separating the inner sacs.

Well, we found out in the middle of the cesaerean section that we were lucky enough to have the next variety (mono/mono). This configuration occurs in about 1-2% of identical twin pregnancies. So the odds of having identical twins in the same inner and outer sac are about 1 in 10,000 pregnancies, or about 0.01% (that one hundredth of one percent).

So, why all of the fuss? So what if the twins had an odd gestational configuration? Well, here's why this is significant. The kind of twins that we just had (mono/mono identicals) have a 50% mortality rate. That's right, 50/50. Luckily, I tell you this chilling fact with the comforting knowledge that our girls are perfectly fine now and show no signs of any long or short-term complications.

The potential problem with mono/mono twins is that there is no membrane that separates the fetuses and their respective umbilical cords. Because of this, there is a great risk that their umbilical cords can become entangled. I saw this first hand yesterday morning in the OR during Nicole's c-section.

Dr. Bev (short for Beverly) had already delivered Ainsleigh and was in the process of pulling out Annabelle when she exclaimed in her unmistakable Caribbean accent, "Whoa! Look at this! I can't believe it! Wow!!" I was behind the curtain with Nicole (well, her head and arms, that is) and had no idea what she was getting excited about. Then I peeked over the curtain and saw this (and snapped a photo).

Dr. Bev then said that she had never seen two umbilical cords that were so tangled. They looked like the girls had been braiding them in utero! So it was a good thing that we got them out when we did!

We also learned today that the standard protocol with mono/mono twins is to admit the mother to the hospital at 24 weeks into the pregnancy. She is then put on hospital bed rest and constantly monitored for the rest of the pregnancy. That means that Nicole would've been in the hospital since Valentines day! Knowing now how it worked out, we're glad for Nicole that they didn't catch this earlier.

This pregnancy and birth we're truly a miracle and we are grateful to the doctors, nurses, and most of all to our loving Father in Heaven for his divine providence. Against all odds, we've been blessed with 2 beautiful, healthy little girls.

Ainsleigh and Annabelle were born at 9:22 and 9:23 am this morning via c-section. They weighed in at 4lbs 4oz and 3lbs 15oz respectively. They're in the NICU and are doing very well. Mommy is recovering and is enjoying her beef broth and jell-o. More pics and info to come.












- Published from Bobby's iPhone

What if....

What if I can't do it. What if I can't be the Mommy my children know when the twins come. What if I can't be there at every moment.


Do I have what it takes for two wee ones? Do I have the physical and emotional strength to keep pressing forward? What will be left of me to give to them? Can I truly do this??


"I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you..." John 14:18


Why should I doubt now, when I have been carried through much trial throughout my life.

Nothing has changed. Jesus Christ remains my Savior, my Healer, my Friend. My experiences have changed, but they always will. With all of the inconsistencies in life, there is one constant, and in Him I will trust.

To be honest with you, I don't know how it will all work out. When and how the twins will be born, when they'll come home with me, how we'll adjust to two newborns nursing, up at night and such. How my older girls will adjust, how their needs will be met, when I'll get to bond with them...

But I know that we will fall in love with these little babies that have caused our whole world to spin these past months--they will melt our hearts and remind us why life is better enjoyed living for what is right in front of you.


This new found conviction to be faith-filled goes to you, my two little loves.