Tag Archives: babies

March 26, 2013 · 10:26 PM

Spectacular!

I have no ability to play it cool about this, so I’m just going to say it:

I’m pregnant!

WITH TWINS!

This is far and away the most spectacular thing ever to happen in my and Mike’s life, and we’re completely astounded that God would give us two. TWO!

I have never talked about it on this blog, but I have wanted twins for many years. Not just wanted, craved. I’ve never really fantasized about having a baby, but twins consistently made me feel overcome with desire. This cannot be logically explained beyond the fact of what my mother said to me upon finding out I was having them.

“This isn’t like God granted your wish to have twins. You were always going to have twins because He wanted you to — so He gave you the desire in your heart to have them long before you did.”

She’s absolutely right. There’s just no other explanation.

But let’s back up, shall we? Let’s replay the scene of Mike and Abby finding out this little tidbit of information.

We found out we were pregnant shortly after Thanksgiving, and we went into the doctor for our eight-week ultrasound about three weeks later. We answered the nurse’s standard questions of our medical history and that of our families, I got checked out for overall health, and then the OB-GYN came in.

She looked exactly like Elizabeth Banks, which made me like her right away because nothing proves you’re already a good mother than judging your doctor’s professional abilities solely on youthful good looks.

She talked to us for a little bit and then opened our chart and said, “OK, looks like you don’t have twins on either side of the family, so we’ll rule that out…”

I interrupted, “Oh but I would LOVE twins!”

“It’s true, she always has,” Mike chimed in.

She blinked at me. “Why? Oh my gosh, are you serious? Well, I won’t go into all the reasons you don’t want twins, because what if you have them and then you hate me?”

She lead us down the hall to the ultrasound room and we were clearly excited, but also nervous. As I changed into the tent-like gown, Mike held my hand and told me that if there was nothing in the ultrasound, it would be OK, and we could try again, and not to worry. I agreed completely, but told him if nothing was there I would cry a little bit, but then I’d be fine. With that healthy communication out of the way, in walked the doctor.

She turned on the monitor and proceeded to move the wand around, and said, “OK there it is,” but before she could even finish that thought she gasped and said, “OH MY GOSH THERE’S TWO.” Her eyes were enormous and she pointed to the screen where we saw two tiny glowworms with hearts that fluttered like confetti.

My mind went white hot with a rising hope so intense my only way to cope was to confirm, again, and again, and again.

“Are you serious? Are you joking? Are you serious? Are you serious? Are you kidding? Are you kidding?” I said this to her in an absolute blur, talking as fast as I could while I watched her face and the screen, back and forth looking for this to be real, because if it was, my whole life just got made.

She shook her head in disbelief and said very calmly, “I’m not kidding, I’m not kidding, look right here, those are two hearts and two babies.”

I believed, but the happiness was so extreme that my heart and brain couldn’t function on a rational level, so I started laughing, laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe, laughing with the most outrageous joy I’ve ever felt in my life.

Finally I crawled out of myself enough to think…Mike. What does he think? He didn’t want twins the way I did…and I turned to him and saw the biggest smile I have ever seen on my husband’s face. His eyes were the size of sand dollars, but it’s that smile I will always remember.

We hugged in a way that conveyed everything our overwhelmed souls couldn’t express. It was the fiercest hug we’ve ever shared.

It was as if the entire night sky had exploded in that room, every twinkling star, the wide full moon. Everything in our lives was instantly transformed, instantly ruptured into a creation more beautiful than we knew possible. My uncontrollable laughter (that was still going on) was the only way I could function as I realized my most absurd, least attainable, out-of-my-control dream was coming to life. Two lives, actually.

“You’ll have to stop laughing for a second,” the doctor said while laughing herself, “or I can’t get a photo of them.” Every time she snapped a picture, one of the twins disappeared because my stomach muscles were all over the place with belly laughs.

“I will,” I said, trying to breathe, “Just one second. You are witnessing the most surreal moment of my entire life…” and I burst out laughing again, feeling exactly like the second grader who tries to hold in laughter at the most inappropriate moment. I took stuttered breaths so she could get some good shots, and then she said she couldn’t tell yet if they were identical or fraternal, but that we’d likely know at the next appointment.

When we got back to the exam room, we were on a kind of high that happens only a handful of times in a person’s lifetime. The doctor wanted to get right down to business (“I need you to understand that breastfeeding will be your full-time job”) but Mike and I kept interrupting with new revelations.

“Oh my gosh now we really need to find out the sex — there’s two!” Mike exclaimed. “And look at her hands, she’s shaking!”

I was, I couldn’t stop. I tried to listen as she told me to add 600 calories to my daily diet, but the sheer joy in my body was crowding everything else out. I couldn’t stop thinking what that must have been like for the Lord to see us — He always knew there were two, and on this day He finally got to see us be let in on the secret. It still blows my mind.

A nurse poked her head in the room after the doctor left and said, “So! You and the Duchess!” Which was like a kiss, it was so sweet of her. She couldn’t possibly know my obsession with Kate, and yet she reminded me we were pregnant together.

We went to lunch to celebrate and couldn’t even order food, due to shock. The waitress came by four times to take our orders and we hadn’t stopped gaping at each other long enough to look at the menus. Finally Mike blurted out, “I’m sorry, but we can’t order because we just found out we’re having TWINS!” She shrieked and congratulated us and then came running back five minutes later to tell us she’d told the whole staff. We just laughed.

So here we are — 21 weeks in:

The doctor told me I would measure about four weeks ahead of a woman pregnant with a singleton (can you believe doctors have this robotic word for babies who aren’t twins?), and the bump is not disappointing.

More to come…much, much more.

29 Comments

Filed under One WORD (Current Events), The WORD (Faith), UpWORD (Beauty)

Tagged as adventure, babies, Family, Mike Reph, reph babies

December 3, 2012 · 4:03 PM

A Silver Rattle (or two) from Tiffany, Obviously

For royal watchers like me, Christmas came early this year.

Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, is pregnant! Oh, and Wills is the dad. But I’ve yet to see his name in a headline concerning his firstborn future monarch, so let’s continue.

Considering they waited over a month to share the news of their engagement, it seems surprising that they are sharing this news when she’s not yet twelve weeks along, the international standard for admitting you are knocked up.

Of course, the palace rightly assumed they couldn’t exactly check the most famous woman in the world into a London hospital without word getting out. And why was she in a hospital? Because apparently she has the worst case of morning sickness, also known as hyperemesis gravidarum. As in, she’s probably throwing up so much she needs an IV to stay hydrated. Lord have mercy.

Turns out becoming royal didn’t spare her unending nausea. I’m sure round-the-clock care helps. I’m not sure world-wide attention does, however.

Having never heard of this affliction myself, I turned to the medical expert to be consulted in all situations: Wikipedia. And wouldn’t you know? Apparently, the biggest scoop won’t be revealed by a random blogger, gossip website, or major news outlet. Let Wikipedia get the credit for diagnosing our princess: she’s having TWINS!

“The cause of HG is unknown. The leading theories state that it is an adverse reaction to the hormonal changes of pregnancy. In particular, hyperemesis gravidarum may be due to raised levels of beta HCG (human chorionic gonadotrophin) as it is more common in multiple pregnancies.” Wikipedia, “Hyperemesis Gravidarum”

At least, that’s my hope. And that of my mother. We both Wiki’d today and are drawing the same conclusions. I also think her first question is fair:

“Which one would get the throne??”

Excellent question, and one that will inevitably lead to years of bitterness or relief, depending on who gets what. I’d expect that whomever the doctor lifts out first (C-sections are almost a certainty with twins) would be next in line, but I’m not the final authority on the matter.

The most pressing concern is, of course, how she will influence maternity wear for generations to come. The ripples of jealously of her lithe preggo figure among the masses should be tampered by the guidance she provides on how to carry oneself while with child.

For comparison’s sake, please consider our previous royal baby bumps (courtesy People.com):

The Queen: crisp, no-nonsense, no frills

QUEEN ELIZABETH II photo | Queen Elizabeth II

Princess Diana: all nonsense, far, far too many frills, bows and polka dots

PRINCESS DIANA photo | Princess Diana

Fergie: yikes

SARAH FERGUSON photo | Sarah Ferguson

Kate won’t have to do much legwork here, considering her most immediate predecessors were pregnant in the unforgiving eighties.

Here she is just days ago:

Granted, this is her most eighties dress to date, but we’ll let that pass.

For now, let’s wish our favorite royal couple a healthy, puke-free pregnancy going forward, and two little heirs to greet the masses in June!

7 Comments

Filed under One WORD (Current Events)

Tagged as babies, birth, Europe, Kate and Will

April 29, 2012 · 3:18 PM

Waiting for Lillian – Part 3

For Part 1, click here. For Part 2, click here.

With the sound of Rhianna pulsing from the room, we gathered in the hallway to listen for a sign that the baby had arrived. We perked up at each voice encouraging Rachel to push, we leaned closer with each pause in sound, and we jostled for position closest to the door opening. But after a mere five minutes with no baby, we realized our patience had diminished to that of a toddler awaiting Christmas morning.

We walked back to the waiting room because we were sure this was it, but we were also sure that we’d been sure before. We were jaded. We felt like we were too smart to be tricked again into believing we’d be meeting a new family member at any moment. It was the most intense case of crying wolf any of us had experienced.

Chloe was the exception. At nine years of age, Cami and Erik’s daughter didn’t have the cynical attitude of her adult peers. She was darting between the waiting room and the delivery room as nervous as if she was the father.

That sort of energy tends to be contagious, and soon I was running into the waiting room with non-announcements like, “I can hear Phil talking!” and “There’s still music playing!”

Amidst all of the madness, Cami managed to compose a song about waiting for the baby to be born. We were in awe that her creativity was not bound by her exhaustion, as she scribbled lyrics and hummed a melody while the rest of us could barely string thoughts together. Later, she shared a song titled Worth the Waiting that beautifully captures the emotion of anticipating Baby Goodman.

Half an hour later the suspense got the best of us and we all gathered around the delivery room door again. This time it was much more exciting, as Phil led Wendy and the nurses in counting to ten as Rachel pushed. This had the effect of leading us to think that every time they said “Ten!” the baby would burst forth crying, so we’d clench up as they counted and then deflate when nothing happened after they hit double-digits.

Mike was past the point of fatigue since he’d been studying for finals throughout Rachel’s labor. He turned to walk back to the waiting room, saying, “This is not happening. I know this is another false hope. I’ll be reading. Come get me when it’s really happening.” I tried to convince him to stay but the weariness in his eyes told me it was a lost cause.

Twenty minutes later seven nurses came rushing down the hall and into Rachel’s room. This was new. This was alarming, and this was a sure sign to all of us that the baby was finally, truly going to be born.

I ran down the hall and into the waiting room to tell Mike that this was actually it, and I promised the baby would be here in minutes and he did not want to miss this. His eyes lit up just as I knew they would and we ran back to the room together.

Usher suddenly burst into song and I said this is the perfect song for the baby to be born to; “Without You” was playing and we started dancing in the hallways, wailing about how we couldn’t live without baby Goodman.

“One, two, three, four, five…” Phil was counting and yelling, “You can do it! Come on, baby!” Colleen started recording the sound on her iPhone and we pushed the door open a little further so we could hear every sound.

At 9:25PM the song changed to “Good Feeling” by Flo Rida and Phil counted one more time. Suddenly they all stopped yelling at once and we heard the tiniest, faintest cry, and the world stopped turning for what seemed like hours and we all grabbed each other as tears filled our eyes. We heard Phil say “she” and we started saying “Did he say She? It’s a girl, isn’t it!? It’s a girl!” and then Wendy opened the door and exclaimed, “It’s a girl!” and we all hollered and yelled “Lillian! Lillian is here! It’s a GIRL!” until we couldn’t think.

“And her CHEEKS! You should see her cheeks, oh my gosh wait til you see them!” she added. Then she went back in the room to take pictures. “Clair de Lune” began playing in the room, and we all sighed at what a perfect choice it was. Phil and Rachel had selected it to be played immediately after the birth so that throughout their lives when they heard that song they’d be transported back to that room, and that moment.

Phil later told me he was so emotional and swept up in Lillian’s birth that he didn’t even hear the song until a nurse commented on what a nice song it was. Then he heard it and began to sob.

Colleen, Mike, Cami and I were texting furiously, updating everyone who had been with us on this journey. I reported to Lindsay at 9:40PM that she was 8lbs 13oz, and at 9:43 she asked how Rach was but I said we hadn’t been let in yet. Looking back now, I can’t believe that we stood outside that room for twenty minutes waiting to see Lillian. It felt like two minutes.

Finally the seven nurses finished cleaning and left the room, and we were welcomed in. Mike and I walked toward the heating lamp that Lillian was laying under, and we saw Phil standing beside her. When we got closer we realized that she was clasping his finger in her hand, holding on with every ounce of her strength. She was staring right at Phil, never once looking away, and he had tears streaming down his face. We leaned over her and said, “Hello Lillian, hello baby girl. We love you so much, we love you already. Phil, she is beautiful! She is gorgeous! And she can’t take her eyes off of you! She knows your voice!” It was one of the most profound interactions I have ever seen; a man and his first-born child, so connected in her first moments of life that it appeared they were being reunited rather than introduced.

Rachel looked happy and relieved, and took Lillian in her arms and said, “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? She’s so beautiful,” and then looked at her and said, “You are good” in the softest voice, and I bit my lip to keep from crying.

Mike popped the champagne and passed out cups, and we raised our glasses to our newest family member, our lil Lil. We thanked God for her and chatted, happily, about the shock we were all feeling that she really was here. We told Rachel that she was a warrior, a mighty woman we all admired and of whom were so, so proud.

After that, the room was full. It was full of joy, of family, of relief, of love, of love of Lillian.