The Twin Terrors (Maybe)
The arrival date for the twins is fast approaching. Every sunset moves us one day closer to January 15th, their medical due date of 40 weeks. Every time Ellie comes home, her targeted delivery date moves up. Soon after learning about the twins, she hoped to last until Christmas. When she learned that her OB would deliver them via c-section anytime she wanted after 36 weeks, December 18th started looking pretty good. Now that the twins are chunking up and starting to beat up each other, and mommy, 34 weeks doesn’t sound too bad because that’s when most preemies escape the NICU, and really just keeping them out of the NICU has been her goal all along. Soon I expect her to rationalize a November delivery.* Shortly afterwards she’ll start declaring that yesterday would have been the perfect day to deliver.
Of course she has every right in the world to want the twins out of her body. She’s undergoing an incredible burden with the nausea, the heartburn, the perpetual exhaustion, and the less than fully sympathetic husband. Personally, if Ellie’s physical well-being and mental sanity weren’t a factor, I’d want the twins to gestate as long as possible. The magic number for a fetus to be considered fully developed is 36 weeks; I remember hearing that 99.9% of fetuses (feti?) are fully developed by that time. I’d still feel more comfortable waiting until 40 weeks if possible to bring the twins into the world. I’d hate to think that one of the twins fell into the .1% group and needed those extra four weeks to do something essential like grow a finger.
Then there’s the prospect of caring for the twins. I’d love to claim that I’m one of those super parents who cherishes every second spent bonding with their children, but I’m not. I’ve already decided that my mantra for surviving the first few months and beyond is “I’m never going to have to do this again.” The way I see it, the sooner they pop out, the sooner I have to start waking up at 1am, 3am, 5am, and 7am to feed them. In this sense, I’d like them to gestate for as long as possible, like until Memorial Day (the fifth trimester), at which time they should be sleeping through the night.
The prospect for caring for twins frightens me. If they’re like Abbie, who was (is) a very demanding baby, we’re in trouble. Some babies love their swing; some babies love their bouncing chair; some babies love their pacifier; some babies love lying in their crib watching their mobile spin. Abbie tolerated none of those things. At birth, she had two preferred activities: Eating (as much and as often as possible), and sleeping (as little as possible**). If she wasn’t doing one of those two activities, she was crying. After a few days she accepted being carried as an activity. From that point forward, woe is you if you tried breaking physical contact with her while she was awake.
She never did accept her swing, bouncer, or pacifier as appropriate substitutes for seeing the world from daddy’s arms. I wonder how I’m going to cope if we have two infants who demand to be carried at all times plus an 18-month-old who enjoys a frequent carrying and is willing to bite to get it. My only hope is that Abbie enjoys entertaining a newborn, building a block tower for him, playing peek-a-boo with him, showing him where the dog food is. That way they keep each other occupied so I can concentrate on preventing twin #2 from crying. Until Abbie discovers that she can get my undivided attention by sitting on twin #1 until he cries. Then she’ll get carried very quickly, right into her crib for a time-out. I can’t wait.
* “I’m so tired and sick that the NICU can take better care of them than my womb can.”
** That’s not fair, she actually slept an average amount for a newborn. When a newborn spends every waking second eating or crying, you sure wish she’d sleep more though.
Of course she has every right in the world to want the twins out of her body. She’s undergoing an incredible burden with the nausea, the heartburn, the perpetual exhaustion, and the less than fully sympathetic husband. Personally, if Ellie’s physical well-being and mental sanity weren’t a factor, I’d want the twins to gestate as long as possible. The magic number for a fetus to be considered fully developed is 36 weeks; I remember hearing that 99.9% of fetuses (feti?) are fully developed by that time. I’d still feel more comfortable waiting until 40 weeks if possible to bring the twins into the world. I’d hate to think that one of the twins fell into the .1% group and needed those extra four weeks to do something essential like grow a finger.
Then there’s the prospect of caring for the twins. I’d love to claim that I’m one of those super parents who cherishes every second spent bonding with their children, but I’m not. I’ve already decided that my mantra for surviving the first few months and beyond is “I’m never going to have to do this again.” The way I see it, the sooner they pop out, the sooner I have to start waking up at 1am, 3am, 5am, and 7am to feed them. In this sense, I’d like them to gestate for as long as possible, like until Memorial Day (the fifth trimester), at which time they should be sleeping through the night.
The prospect for caring for twins frightens me. If they’re like Abbie, who was (is) a very demanding baby, we’re in trouble. Some babies love their swing; some babies love their bouncing chair; some babies love their pacifier; some babies love lying in their crib watching their mobile spin. Abbie tolerated none of those things. At birth, she had two preferred activities: Eating (as much and as often as possible), and sleeping (as little as possible**). If she wasn’t doing one of those two activities, she was crying. After a few days she accepted being carried as an activity. From that point forward, woe is you if you tried breaking physical contact with her while she was awake.
She never did accept her swing, bouncer, or pacifier as appropriate substitutes for seeing the world from daddy’s arms. I wonder how I’m going to cope if we have two infants who demand to be carried at all times plus an 18-month-old who enjoys a frequent carrying and is willing to bite to get it. My only hope is that Abbie enjoys entertaining a newborn, building a block tower for him, playing peek-a-boo with him, showing him where the dog food is. That way they keep each other occupied so I can concentrate on preventing twin #2 from crying. Until Abbie discovers that she can get my undivided attention by sitting on twin #1 until he cries. Then she’ll get carried very quickly, right into her crib for a time-out. I can’t wait.
* “I’m so tired and sick that the NICU can take better care of them than my womb can.”
** That’s not fair, she actually slept an average amount for a newborn. When a newborn spends every waking second eating or crying, you sure wish she’d sleep more though.
posted by Matt at
9:52 PM
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