Love in the Afternoon

This week Hubster has been on vacation, and we have planned nothing. I actually have kind-of liked not having anything scheduled. Having Hubby around during a week with nothing scheduled feels a bit like having a nanny around. I can leave when I want to, but have to take care of the kids at some point during the day. And there are benefits to being around each other with no stress from his job.

Ahh..the benefits. Hubby's vacation has managed to occur during 'sex week'. I'm fairly certain he didn't plan it that way. Anyway, one afternoon I could tell he was in the mood, I knew I was in the mood, so I suggested putting on a video of S.'s choice, since Tot was napping, and getting busy. He was horrified, at first. He was afraid of our oldest walking in on us, and seeing something that would upset him for years to come. On a side note, when I was a kid my brother dared me to open my parents' door when it was closed one afternoon. All I can say is if you're going to have sex while the kids are awake, lock the door! I know that seems obvious, but for some people it is not. Apparently, it was not obvious to my own parents!

I told Hubby we would lock the door, put the t.v. and fan on for noise control, and be fast. Yes, our oldest is 4 1/2 and we had never done this before. What can I say? I think what made it so excellent was the thought that we could get caught. It felt like being a teenager again trying to make out on the couch while the parents were in the other room. Remember the Sex and the City episode where Miranda's new boyfriend could only have sex if they did it in public? He had to know there was a chance of getting caught to get turned on. Well, I'm certainly not that adventurous, but I will admit that there's something to that. I mean after nearly a decade of marriage, and cough, cough, more than that many years of sex together, things can get a little, well, blah.

Oh, and another benefit to vacation sex? How do I say this? Um, things take longer. While this can be frustrating for the Hubster, it is a win-win for me.

Some day when I'm dead and gone, my boys will find these posts, I print them, and will learn more about their parents than they ever wanted to know! But what I hope they learn is to never get complacent about their marriages. Be open to trying new things in all areas not just sexual ones. (Their father is getting better with that, and it certainly is nice.) Never take each other for granted. I can honestly say that my husband is my best friend, and I hope that they will be able to say thing about their wives. And after 12 years together, I am not bored being married to him. Not even a little bit.

Does Anyone Want To Guess?

My oldest is upstairs taking a nap. He never takes a nap! Can anyone guess just how crabby he is going to be when I wake him up?

Guilt, Guilt, Guilt

Poor little Tot had another asthma attack. This one is believed to have been brought on by allergies. So now he's on Singular to combat the allergies. It comes in a little pouch, and you mix the granules into food. I feel like I'm tricking the damn dogs into eating their flea meds.!

I don't know if anyone else struggles with when to call the doctor, but I do. Last night Tot was coughing repeatedly after we put him in his crib. For those who aren't familar with asthma, night coughing is a common sign. A little cough here and there is no big deal, but if it continues, it is. Well, for a bit after Hubster put him down, he was quiet. Actually, he was quiet until I finally started falling asleep. I have been having my own troubles sleeping lately. I know Hubby heard him, and I was trying to will him into getting up to check on Tot. Now, if I asked him if he heard the Tot then he would have told me to get up with him, and as I said, I was finally falling asleep. I felt like such a bad mother for feeling like I just didn't want to get up. The Tot did stop coughing, and I must have fallen asleep.

Today he was coughing on and off in the morning. I was going to go to the gym since I haven't been there in almost two weeks. That is not like me, but we were so busy last week with all of S.'s preschool activities. I debated about whether to go or not because they would have to go to the Kids' Area, which they both love, but still. Was it the right decision to make? Would it make his asthma worse? I decided that the activities he would be doing, mainly pushing cars around, would be the same ones he does at home, so it shouldn't make any difference. When I brought him in, I told the women about his asthma and how I had just given him an Albuterol treatment. I worried about him the whole time I exercised. Now I know that I needed to exercise since I haven't been feeling up to par in the old mood area as well as the physical area, but I continued to feel so guilty. I wondered if I just put my own needs in front of my son's. I continued to feel like a bad mother. I always put myself last. I know the analogy about how if there are problems on an airplane they tell the parent to put the oxygen mask on first, because if we don't we won't be able to help our children, but I have a hard time executing that plan. I didn't used to as much, but now I so do.

Well, as you probably already guessed, Tot's asthma did not get any better. Oh, no. It was worse, which of course did not help my guilt at all. Now I really don't think that being at the gym made it worse; I don't, but I still felt guilty. Then I wondered if I should call the doctor. I didn't want to unnecessarily call the doctor, as we all know what a pain in the ass it is being in a doctor's waiting room, and I also didn't want the Tot to pick up some virus there. Also, S. had his tumbling class which he looks forward to all week. I didn't want to disappoint him for nothing. I did decide to call the doctor when Tot couldn't even nap. They couldn't get me in until after S.'s tumbling, so that all worked out. And you know the outcome.

I just feel so bad for that little boy. I never had asthma, Hubby never had asthma. And as far as both of us know, no one in our families have had asthma either. Allergies, oh yes! Asthma, no. So I wonder what I could have done wrong that caused him to develop asthma. Do I not dust enough? Is it his bedding? Do I need to have the air vents cleaned out? (Oh, I'm gonna!) Does something in the carpeting bother him? Should I install hardwood floors in his room at least? Is it something that I took while I was pregnant? The list goes on, because I cannot figure this asthma thing out, and I want to fix this so badly for him. Hearing your child coughing so hard and often that he has problems breathing is so scary. A kid should not have to deal with this. I need to make this go away for him. But I can't seem to. I don't know what more to do for him. What is the right thing to do?

Happy Second Birthday, My Son

How did this happen? You turned two years old today, and to me, it feels like you were just born. Where did the time go? You are my baby, but I guess that doesn't mean you're going to stay a baby forever.

Even though you've only been here two years, it seems like forever. You're our comedian; must be a second child thing as I was the same way apparently. You have learned so much in the past year. Soon after your first birthday, you learned to walk. Now you're running everywhere! We can't get you to slow down!

You LOVE to eat! I can depend on you to eat anything I make. Every time you see me cooking, or when we're at the grocery store, you start making this 'Oh, Oh....!' sound that gets progressively louder, and causes others to laugh with you. Lately, you also make that noise when you see flowers or dogs. Man are you a dog lover! You love to give Madison a hug and a pat on the head every day. Casper is not as happy to let you pet him as Maddy is, but you don't seem to notice.

You also loved going to swim classes at our gym. The teacher said you are such a little fish, she feels you'll be swimming in no time! She used you for many of the demonstrations, even dunking your head under the water! You didn't even cry. We met your new friends Gregory and Madeline there, and we have so much fun going to the park and lunches with them. It is so great to have good friends. Us mommies get along well too:)

You are so good when we go out, but when we are at home, you let us see your temper. You definitely express your opinions! Whenever it's time to go inside, you just scream and cry. You'd stay outside all day if we let you! You'd play with your car, trucks or lawnmower and never come in if you could! You also love to be read to, and love your time time spent at tumbling class. You are always in motion. A true boy for sure!

You are your brother's best friend. He looks forward to getting you up each morning. He wants you with him everywhere he goes, and you seem to feel the same. You two seem to have your own language, and you laugh at what each other is saying or doing. I am so glad that God blessed your brother with you. I never understood the bond between brothers until I saw you two. It is simply the sweetest thing I have ever seen, and it brings tears to my eyes when I see how happy you both are to have each other. Your father and I definitely made the right decision to keep on trying to have you. (You are currently on the floor trying to take your clothes off. You want to take a shower; you love your showers!)
I feel not only blessed that God gave a brother to S., but that He gave you to us, my son. You bring a smile to my face every morning. You are an early bird, but that's okay. I don't think I can put into words just how much you have added to our lives. Just know that the world is a better place with you in it, and that there are so many of us that love you. I cherish every day I am blessed to spend with you. I love you more than you will ever be able to understand until you have your own child some day. Happy second birthday, our little miracle baby.

Is There Such a Thing As Pedicure Etiquette?

I went to get a pedicure the other day, and was really looking forward to relaxing. I was looking forward to the quiet, to soaking my feet and having my nails get painted by somebody other than myself. It started out okay. And then I heard it. This really annoying ring tone. What is up with those anyway? Then the woman next to me asked her nail tech. to actually go into her purse and get her phone out! I was hoping she would just tell the person she would call them back, but oh, no. Then she got another call, and proceeded to talk. Now this is a small room with only two chairs. Come on! I could hear the whole conversation, and it was not interesting at all. Anyway, don't you think it's rude to sit and talk on the phone during a spa appointment? I mean I'm sorry to have to tell some people this, but you're not that important. If they aren't doctors or other emergency personnel, then they can wait to talk to someone. It's not crucial, and it just ends up pissing some of us off.

Better

As the week begins to settle in, and we begin our weekly routine, my anger and sadness are slowly disappearing. I've had to remind myself that I cannot control what other people do, no matter how thoughtless and petty, but I can control how I respond to them. I don't ever think that I will say that I'm glad I never had a girl, but I will, and do, say that I am glad that I had boys. Really. The thing is that I can't imagine not having one of them. No matter how hard I try, I can't imagine one of them not being here. If I hadn't have experienced infertility or PPD, I had said that I might try for a girl. The stipulation was that I had to have had good pregnancies. Even before the experience of infertility, I wasn't sure it would be worth it to go through another pregnancy merely to 'try' for a girl, or a boy. I was raised in a two-child household and that is what feels normal to me. But with having to go through IVF, the hormones of which make my endometriosis grow at a faster rate equaling more pain, well I just don't want to. And after having experienced the hell that is PPD, well, I don't want to do that again either. I have given myself over 100 shots; my husband is a pro at giving PIO shots. We didn't enjoy it. Was it worth it? Well, yes, of course. However, my goal was to have two children, and I do. I can't go back. Infertility was too painful. It still lurks there in the back of my mind whenever I dare to feel 'normal'.

I'm choosing to see my SILs pregnancy as her blessing. I have mine. As much as I hated infertility, it did teach me to think more about other people, to emphathesize, to be a better listener. It also brought my husband and I closer together. We believe we are better parents because of all that we have been through together. I know he's got my best interests in mind; he's got my back so to speak. And I have his. My therapist recently told me that couples who have gone through situations like ours tend to be closer than those who don't. Makes sense to me. So my husband and I were given our challenges for a reason. I may not like it, it may make me want to throw something and scream, but it isn't/wasn't for nothing. I am a better person than I was before infertility, PPD and loss. So my SIL is being given twin girls for a reason too. I have questioned myself whether I would want what she has ; if given in exactly the same way. I would have to say no. I adore my husband and my boys. I am happy with my life. I wouldn't want hers just so I could have twin girls. You all know how scared I was about having twins.

Unfortunately, my ILs have proven once again why we have to keep them out of our lives. With all the time that had passed, I began to forget exactly how they were. How awful it was to have them in our lives. How they seemed to be the only thing that caused us any grief. They can say it was all us until they are blue in the face. It just doesn't matter anymore. When you make a scene in God's house, at the grandson that you say you care so much about, christening. Well, the bottom line is you don't. When you make a scene in front of our house, in front of all of our neighbors demanding to see 'your grandchildren', it's not about being there for them anymore. It's about you. It's about control. It's not about love. So I've decided that people who delight in others' pain aren't worth my time. My ILs aren't worth any of my time. Never were. They have a sad life. Happy people don't act that way. Period. Now I am going to go play with my boys. I may not be able to dress them in pink, but they sure are a lot of fun!

Some People Are Just Assholes

...and Happy Mother's Day too. I'm just going to get to the point here. Yesterday, when we got the mail, there was a pink envelope addressed, I thought to Hubby. Upon closer inspection, I saw it was addressed to Mrs. Hubby, meaning me. On the outside of the pink envelope, there was a pink sticker with the words 'It's Twin Girls!' on it in my MIL's writing. At first, I thought it was some kind of weird pre-birth announcement, because they had just found out the sex of the babies. And I wondered why my MIL was sending me anything anyway since we haven't spoken in almost two years. And in those two years, they have sent me nothing. Why now? Why now indeed. Oh, inside there was an invitation to a shower my MIL is throwing for my SIL. Now my MIL knows that I wouldn't go to the baby shower. Nope. Rather it is the passive-aggressive slap in my face.

My husband's family has wanted a girl baby since we announced we were having our first boy. And when S. was a baby, Hubby's aunt actually said to me that the next one 'better be a girl', because there are so much more things to buy for a girl. As if that were the purpose of my children's births: to give her something or someone to buy for for. And she was never able to have children. You'd think she'd be more sensitive, wouldn't you? Course, she also refused to consider adoption because 'their family doesn't adopt'. My MIL also hoped that Tot was a boy so much so that she kept telling me up until the week before his birth that she had talked with someone who's ultrasound said it was a boy, but it was a girl. I told her that we had a 4D ultrasound, and it said it was a boy. I saw the penis myself. Oh, and when I told Hubby's aunt that I thought Tot was a boy, she said, "Ohhhh, no." I then gave her a piece of my mind. How we were happy to be having any gender of child, and until the 20-week unltrasound we still couldn't get totally excited because Hubby's brother died at 1-month of age. He was missing part of his heart when he was born. It's a congenital defect, that we pray our baby doesn't have. We had to have state-of-the-art ultrasounds so that we could make sure that our baby's heart was intact. It made me red with anger, that I was basically being told that a girl a baby was worth more to them than a boy baby. Why? Why did it matter to them so much? I wanted a boy and a girl equally. I would have been just as upset about not having a boy, as I would be about not having a girl. I mainly wanted a girl so that I could have a mother-daughter relationship again. It wasn't at all about clothes and toys or anything else.

So fast forward to yesterday's mail, keeping in mind that it is the day before Mother's Day, and my mother is dead. Think about how that envelope with its 'Twin Girls' proclamation made me feel. Hubby didn't even mince words. He said it was to throw it in our faces that we never had a girl, and his sister is. (His sister has always been the 'golden child' in his family.) Like look what you never could do. Yah, that's love. He also said they are so petty. To purposely want to hurt their son and his wife is beyond sick. And what they are basically saying is that our sons aren't good enough. To them. Simply because they are boys. Hubby also says that his family believes that he will come to his senses at some point, and divorce the bitch AKA 'me', and come back to the family. So Sopranos, don't you think, and they're not even Italian!

We went to dinner, and I had a glass, or two, of wine to relax. I was sad about my mother not being around to celebrate Mother's Day with, as well as my inability to get pregnant and give a sister to my boys. S. has actually been telling us he wants a sister. I was also angry that supposed 'family' would pull this crap. When we got home, the boys were asleep; we had a sitter. I got into my oldest's bed and cuddled with him. As I lay there feeling his chest rise and fall with every breath he took, I felt such pride. How blessed I am. I wish I could slow down the time, and make my boys stop growing up so damn fast, but I can't. It wouldn't be fair to them anyway.

This morning the boys came up to my bed, and wished me a Happy Mother's Day. Hubby had them wearing matching shirts with the words 'My mommy loves me' on them. And I do. I love them for so many reasons. And I promise never to be the MIL to their wives as mine has been to me. That's my gift to them. I will love them whether they have boys or girls, or no children at all. Whether they fulfill their goals, or even if they give up. I will love them because they are my sons. My gifts from God. I could never stop loving them no matter what. My love is not conditional.

ALWAYS Follow the Directions!

You would think that as a former teacher who constantly reiterated the importance of following the damned directions, assuming they actually read said directions, that I would definitely heed my own advice. But, oh, no. Not me. You're probably wondering what the hell I'm talking about, right? I only wanted not to have to shave my legs daily. I bought Veet, the one with the 'razor less razor'. I applied the cream hair-remover all over my legs; I did not spot check for allergic reactions or irritation. After all, I don't have the time I thought. Silly, silly me. The bottoms of my legs fared much better than the tops. The tops of my legs are raw. It looked like I had hives at first. Now it looks like my legs have broken out. And it hurts, too. Did I mention that it was in the 80's all week, and it was so hot a few people even turned on their air conditioners yesterday. (Not me. I've waited too long to be able to open up my windows.) I'm not super vain, but I could just not put on a pair of shorts and walk out of the house. As it is, S. asked me what happened to my legs, and not in a sarcastic tone. He was very concerned, and wanted to know which 'lotion' did that to his mommy's legs. So, lesson learned the hard way. Always follow the directions. Or maybe you'll end up with something worse than my gross-looking legs!

Shoulds

Recently, I read several articles about the environment. I believe it was due to Earth Day or something. One article had simple steps that 'you' can do to help save the environment. I usually skip these, since they never are as easy as they claim to be, and also because they tend to make me feel bad about myself. For some reason, I chose to read this one. Ever since, I have been silently telling myself what I 'should' be doing. For example:

• I should be unplugging my cellphone charger when I'm not using it. This also applies to any small appliance not in use. Apparently, there is still some electricity going through said appliance. If I don't do this, I am damaging mother earth.
• Make sure I make it clear to the kiddies to turn off the water when they aren't using it. Like when S. is brushing his teeth and still leaves the water running. This actually does drive me nuts!
• Put all recycleables in designated receptable. I cringe every time I throw junk mail in the regular garbage can. The landfills must be full of all the paper I've thrown out. Oh, and all of the disposable diapers we've used too.

I think you get the idea. The thing of the matter is that I do this with everything in my life, not just the environment. I tell myself I 'should' never raise my voice at the kids no matter what they have done. Moms aren't supposed to yell. I tell myself I 'should' call a certain friend, who I do enjoy spending time with, but doesn't understand that it is very hard to talk on the phone while the kids are up. And every time we talk, it is a very long conversation and I do most of the listening. I tell myself I need to make sure the kids eat fruits and veggies every day at at least two meals. I mean if I don't start them eating healthy now, they are going to grow up into obese adults. That would be my fault. Think of all the health risks! And today, I told myself I 'should' be happy for my SIL, Hubby's sister, who told us only an hour ago, that not only is she having twins but she's having twin girls. And we all know how much I wanted a daughter. I should be happy for her, but I'm not. Not yet, at least.

The First R...

S. has wanted to read for the longest time, and I have finally gotten along to teaching him. He's known his letters for a long time, and now we are working on their sounds. It's taking some time, and he seemed to think that he was going to be able to read a book in only a day's time! I give him a lot of credit, though, because the boy doesn't give up. We have been working for over an hour every day. Now that may not seem like a lot, but trust me, it is. To continually go over letter sounds that he's forgotten, and then sounding out words. Wow. I'm proud of the boy, I am, but man can it get boring! And the thing is when I get bored, I'm figuring he is too. I'm figuring he's going to be ready to call it quits for the day, but he rarely is. So, I'm sure that he'll be asking to read again during Tot's nap tomorrow. And that's okay.

Did I also mention how obsessed S. is with numbers. Yep. He found my old calculator from my work days, and has been attached to it ever since. When we were at my brother's house Saturday and I couldn't find the bugger, my dad found him with three calculators in front of him. He was in heaven! I'm pretty sure I made the right decision enrolling him in his preschool's extended program next year! He'll go from 9AM-2PM three days a week. He'll be challenged, which he needs. And maybe next year he'll be able to read. No pressure, though. I've never pressured him to do anything more than he's ready to do. No matter what, I love that boy more than I can describe in mere words. My first baby boy. My buddy. My everything.

The SAHM Blahs

When I became a SAHM, I knew the pitfalls that came with the job; or so I thought. I had asked many questions from current and former SAHMs, and made mental notes so that I would never allow any of the bad stuff to happen to me. I'm laughing as I type this! My list, in no particular order, became this:

1. Always put on some form of make up before leaving the house, so that I never 'let myself go' because I'm a mom.


2. Don't only wear 'mom clothes'. Dress my age, not like a frumpy schoolmarm.


3. Don't feel like I have to ask my husband's permission to buy or do something because he 'makes the money.'


4. My husband and I are equals, so everything, including the kids and housework as well as time to ourselves, will be equally divided.


5. Remember that my job as a SAHP is as important, if not more important than the job he does all day.

I could go on and on, but I think those show the jist of what I'm talking about.

This past weekend Hubby went out of town on an all men's retreat. I was very happy that he wanted to go, as he is a very shy person. Plus, the topic was something he has been struggling with lately. However, it means that I will be 'working' 11 days without a break when this weekend rolls around. At any rate, I was in need of a break before he even left. Did I mention how I forgot it was my niece's communion on Saturday. Oh, yes. We are not Catholic, so I didn't know how big a girl's first communion is, but it was big! I had to find a gift and clothes for the boys to wear, all the day before while by myself. Then the I had to take the boys with me by myself. Luckily, my dad was there to help me, and the kids actually sat through the entire hour long mass. Both of them! Believe, me. I know the big guy was watching over me! I had tried to make sure the boys and I looked nice, and took a picture to commemorate the event. This is what I got:

Who knows what the Tot was looking at. And I'm wearing the outfit my husband told me to buy. I wanted to return it, because when am I ever going to wear it? We are more casual at our church, and it just isn't appropriate for parent-tot tumbling. I mean where do I go that warrants a silk skirt and top with, you can't see them, three inch heels?! Not comfortable!

I must admit that I pretty much only wear jeans. My mom uniform seems to be jeans and a v-neck shirt in either brown, black or gray. So much for not dressing frumpy. I also feel like my time is not my own, and if I am by myself, I am always in a hurry to get back home because someone there has something to do. Tomorrow S.'s preschool is having a special event, so there goes even the thirty minutes I spend with friends at the local bagel store eating lunch with our little ones after tumbling. Wednesday I have a MOPS administration meeting, because one day when I must hav ebeen on drugs(kidding!)I agreed to be next year's leader of the entire group. WTF was I thinking! Then on Saturday morning, there is the Vacation Bible School leaders breakfast at 8:30 AM! Oh, then Mother's Day the next day in which I am supposed to teach a Sunday School lesson that ties into Mother's Day. Yah, on the one day of the year I can barely get out of bed. So, no time for myself ever. I can't even make it to the gym.

I just feel so unattractive lately. My face broke out a month ago, and does not appear to be getting any better despite spending mucho dinero on acne products at Sephora. Does anyone have any advice or suggestions on what to do for adult acne?

But the worst thing that has happened lately is that I feel like I have to justify purchases to Hubby. Not the every day stuff. But I feel like I need to ask permission to, for example, update my bathroom. Not gut it, just update it. A new vanity, floor, lighting and paint. I'm even nervous to suggest it. This is not like me, and feeling this way pisses me off!

Does anyone feel like they are in charge of all the childcare? Hubby has a work event next week, which I need to go to with him. At any rate, guess who ended up finding a sitter? Yep, and it isn't even my thing! If it has to do with the kids, it's my thing. Hubby doesn't even realize this, I know, but I'm getting tired of it.

I'm am feeling so overwhelmed lately. So uninspired, so uncreative, so blah.

Delayed

When our IVF with the Tot was successful, we were elated. Then the RE gave us my HCG level. It was 479. Twins are in the 150 range for that particular day. He said to me,"I know what you're thinking. Twins, right?". I said,"Yes, I am. My numbers have never been that high this early." He said, "Me too. It may be twins. Come in again in two days and we'll see how it's progressing." Two days come, I give blood, and get a phone call back declaring my numbers 'very high', and that I could come in for an ultrasound that Friday.

When Hubby and I were called back to the room, the ultrasound tech. said to us, "We're going to see how many today." Huh? HOW MANY? "Like two, right?", we said. She just smiled. The doctor enters and says to us,"The embryologist and I have been wringing our hands over this one. Your numbers are very high." Like triplets high; we had three embryos tranferred. He then says,"You are too small to carry triplets. Well, let's take a look." I told him that I only felt there was one, Hubby guessed two. The doctor merely hoped we were right.

One of us was. Hubby, of course. Oh, but it can't be simple for us. It can't be that everything looks good. Oh, no. The twins were measuring a few days apart. My doctor wasn't worried. He said that sometimes twins implant on different days. He gave Twin B a 50% chance of making it. Twin A looked good. He told us in a week we'd know more.

A week later, things looked the same. No better, no worse. So much for answers. This time we had to wait two more weeks to find out. We went home with pictures of the babies, and promptly put them on the fridge. Now I wish I could tell you that I was all happy about having twins, but I wasn't. I was so happy to be pregnant, and yes I did know the risk of multiples associated with IVF, but I was also scared. Scared because I had already had one child, and knew just how hard it is to raise one infant let alone two. I was worried about the extra risks of a twin pregnancy. I was very concerned about the increased rate of postpartum in moms of multiples. Adding in my increased risk since I had developed PPD following the birth of my first child. Well, I was sure I was going to go nuts! Hubby told me not to worry, his mom would help. As if that little piece of information was going to help! I told him that she is a woman in her 60's with arthritis, you can't expect her to be able to help that much. If I would have known I was going to develop full-blown PPD the likes of which I never even experienced the last time following Tot's birth, maybe I wouldn't have worried so much! Anyway, it was a long two weeks.

Finally, the appointment came. We immediately saw two heartbeats. I thought that meant all was good. I even said,"Now we're never going to know, or we won't know until they're born." I was smiling, and felt so happy because I thought that heartbeat meant that we were going to be having two little babies. That's not what happened. My doctor explained that Twin B was still measuring far behind what it should be. He told us that if Twin B did survive that it would have major problems and that selective reduction should be made available to us. I asked myself,"Did he just say I should abort that baby?" Now I am most definitely pro-choice. Don't even get me started on the whole ruling situation last week. Anyway, I couldn't imagine aborting this baby that we had tried so hard to conceive. I worried about losing the other baby if we did 'selective reduce' this pregnancy. The best possible outcome was for me to miscarry on my own. My doctor officially released me to my OB that day, and of course I couldn't get an appointment with him for another two weeks. Is it any wonder why I went crazy after the birth of my children?

Two weeks later, we had our appointment. Our OB even did an ultrasound in the office that day. He couldn't conclusively determine anything. Luckily, the high-risk group who does 4-D ultrasounds could see me right then, and they were within walking distance. The news? The heartbeat had ceased. Twin B had died. I was 10 weeks pregnant when I finally learned that I would not be a twin mama after all. Too much drama.

You all know the rest of the story. I gave birth to the Tot in May of 2005. He weighed a respectable 8 pounds, 7 ounces, and measured 19 1/2 inches. In comparison, his brother weighed 8 pounds, 10 ounces and measured 22 inches. A little advice ladies who have not given birth yet: don't believe your doctors. Mine told me I was having 7 pound babies. They were way off.

In the weeks and months following the Tot's birth, I had been happy with the result of not having twins. I couldn't imagine it! It was so hard having two kids to take care of. I couldn't imagine three! Now, though, I have been thinking a lot about the twin we lost. I think about the three playing together. It just feels like something is missing, at times. Yesterday, I opened up the envelope where I keep all of the ultrasounds from that pregnancy. I looked at the petri dish where our embryos grew. I looked at all of the ultrasound pictures. I looked at the first picture of the twins with the letters 'A' and 'B' beside each one. I looked at the babies both inside my uterus. Then I looked at that ultrasound picture were you could tell that Twin B wasn't going to make it. I could see the huge difference in size, and that they were two weeks apart. So sad.

I guess I'll always wonder what could have been. Maybe even what should have been. I'll always have a little anger at all that we went through. But then I look at my little boys. My two little miracle babies. Sure, I lost two babies, but I also gave birth to two babies. And for that, I'll always be grateful.