Holy KitKats my friends! And also their cousin, Holy Cannoli. This has been the very best week of my life and I am not even sure where to begin so we will dial it back and start at the beginning of where I believe we left off…

The day before Babygate(s) 2.0 Gates turned the big 35, or as he likes to put it – the year where you start rounding up to 40. My parents arrived as scheduled to take over on Olivia duty for us that evening and I somehow unscrambled my brain enough to remember to get him some cake and pick out a balloon for him with Olivia. Whilst pawing through my closet that day trying to find a sports bra that I decided suddenly was ESSENTIAL to baby birthing time I also stumbled upon the presents I had purchased for him months ago when I was nesting and organized enough to have a thought bigger than trying to think of what the name for that thing is that is a cheese but is in a plastic wrapping and comes in like a tube and you peel it to eat it like a banana… (string cheese, btw). SCORE! So I even had gifts to give him for his big day like a proper and normal wife and not the water balloon heffalump that had been globbing around our house for weeks.

Since doc had stripped my membranes earlier that day (a fun way of saying she jammed her finger into my business and peeled the amniotic fluid sac away from my uterine wall) I was starting to have contractions and feel a bit more demonic than usual by the time the evening rolled around but I was determined to take Papa Bear out for one last hurrah and to also eat the hell out of the fried chicken dinner special at Maxie’s, his celebratory restaurant of choice.

Mission accomplished. Although with ever bite I took I had kind of a sick feeling about the fact that I would be pooping anything that went in out in front of a room full of strangers the next day, I still had to do some damage on this bad boy. We rounded out the evening by losing about 100 diapers worth of shekels at Potowotomi but it didn’t matter because we were seriously giddy about what we had to look forward to the next day. We went home, we kinda slept, and then it was go time.

We checked into the labor and delivery unit and after chatting with the nurses found out that the absolute rockstar of a nurse who had helped deliver Olivia was just starting her shift and so we got to have her again! I can’t tell you what it felt like to have that familiar face pop into our room and get us excited to do this whole thing over again. Blah blah blah, yea “I don’t believe in signs” but HELLO what other kinds of signs am I waiting for? The universe is delivering, baby! A quick check of the ol’ undercarriage revealed the processes of babying was already well underway so all that was started was a little drip of Pitocin and the waiting game began.

 

Guess what, Pitocin quickly turned that face into this one:

And within 8 hours of the drip starting and contractions so forceful that amniotic fluid shot out like Old Faithful with every squeeze, I started to feel an indescribable pressure in my pelvical region that I knew wasn’t just the fried chicken dinner about to make its reappearance and said to the nurse that I knew we were starting crunch time and she called for our doc, who took a quick feel yonder, and quickly announced that the time was nigh. And so the games began! Often with twins, but especially with twins and some underlying potential health problems like my preeclampsia, they deliver the babies in the OR, just in case of complications. Let me tell you, being wheeled into that room under the giant lights and with about 20 auxiliary people standing by was one of THE most surreal moments of my life. I kept looking at Gates like WTF is happening, but he looked like this –

– and so I kept second guessing myself about if that was even him or some other random dude with a mask. They hauled my giant tree trunk legs up into some stirrupy contraptions on the operating table and they said PUSH IT and so I did. Baby A glooped out of me after a few minutes of pushing and I swear my heart stopped when Gates announced it was a boy. I had been so sure we were having a boy and a girl I don’t know why I felt so absolutely shocked in the moment but when all we’ve known is a little girl, the reality of penis somehow caught me by surprise so when he showed his scrinched up little face and his bright red weird looking anteater genitalia to me my heart just busted into a million pieces.

 

#bonding #baby #skintoskin But then they rudely swipe the squishy new friend right off you and start yelling at you to push AGAIN and it’s like jeeze calm down but then a few pushes and 9 minutes later we had ANOTHER new little slug to love on with Baby B. A little girl! But I knew it all along, so as they pulled her furry little head out of my furry little head and Gates announced it was a girl I was like, well OBVIOUSLY. I don’t remember much from the actual delivery itself, except for the fact that I was more overwhelmed with love and gratitude and a feeling of gratefulness unlike any other that all I could do was cry and shake and squeeze the babies any time they let me hold them, all slimy and fresh and squishy. HOW DID WE MAKE THEM? How did we get so lucky that we made it full term and that they were healthy and perfect, and that the NICU staff waiting just in case in the room had nothing to do but check vitals and twiddle their thumbs? Absolutely miraculous.

Once babies were deemed to be stable we got wheeled out together to a recovery room. I was informed that I didn’t even tear a smidge with either delivery which just goes to show you how well those vagina exercises I had been doing religiously worked like a charm. Kidding, I did nothing, I obviously just have a giant vagina. Although healthy enough, babies did have some issues with blood sugar, temp regulation, and minor breathing issues, so honestly those first few minutes of life with 2 new littles are a blur of our families visiting while also doing skin to skin and giving stimulation to the little bugs. During it all we both kept looking at eachother and wondering about names. I had spent the last few weeks of my pregnancy as excited as a kid at Christmas thinking to myself “I can’t wait to see what their names are!” since we had not decided on any names whatsoever, but then feeling deflated quickly every time I remembered that SHOOT we actually have to name them, WHAT ARE WE GOING TO NAME THEM, but as soon as they were born we very quickly knew that these little guys were supposed to be Spencer and Sasha. And with Lawrence as a middle name for the little guy after my dad, and Laurel, which is a  long time family name on my Mom’s side as a middle for Sasha, the two final members of the Gates clan officially joined the ranks. Birth stats: Spencer weighed in at 5 lbs 6 oz and 19 inches, and little porkchop Sasha was 5 lbs 4 oz and 19.5 inches. We have no idea about official birth time or anything else relevant because it seems like that was all missed in documentation in their medical records. Oops!.

Big sister Olivia loved her new status and seeing her meet and snuggle her new brother and sister will be forever etched in my memory as one of the happiest moments of my life.

 

Eventually, blood sugars stabilized and temps regulated and everyone started breathing properly and our families cleared out and Gates and I took a deep breath in and looked at each other and knew exactly what to do next – order a giant pizza and crack a beer. Cheers, baby. We spent the next few days in newborn hospital bliss, and spent Thanksgiving being acutely aware of being actually thankful. We may have eaten chicken strips and french fries in lieu of turkey and mashed potatoes, and waved goodbye to our son to have his pickle trimmed on such a blessed holiday but I’m still going to call it my favorite Thanksgiving to date. And that day our two little turkeys took to tandem feeding like sow pigs, what more could you even ask for?

And then… it was time to go home! Spence needed suction for the same little amniotic fluid gagging situation Olivia had at birth and was having some issues with reflux, and both of the babes were having slow weight gain, but they checked all the major boxes and so we were freed! Not trying to be cocky, but having done this once before, we were totally feeling cocky. And still kind of are.

 

We’ve got them on the same feeding schedule, even though that usually means stripping at least one of them naked and poking at them until they arouse long enough to chow, we are absolutely crushing the tandem feeds and also maneuvering two babies at once, we’ve been grocery shopping, bar hopping, survived aggressive “love” from big sister, been out to lunch, had visitors, slept more at night than we ever did with newborn Olivia, learned to point little penises south in the diaper, sucked down bottles, took to pacifiers like champs, and honestly have had an amazingly seamless transition to life with 3 under 3.

 

But none of that would be possible without some shout outs.

First up – NANA. My parents came down the week of delivery and my mom stayed on for our first week home and she has taken on both 100% responsibility for Olivia and yet somehow also has endless energy for nuzzling and snuggling bebes. Without her here with us I don’t even want to think about what the day to day and night to night may have looked like. Probably very bad. Muchas tears. We will forever be grateful for how easy this has been.

Second up – husbands. (Or significant others, or partners, or birthing support people, etc, whatever your preference, we’re thankful). You guys have to watch us go through the absolute grodiest, bloodiest, gooshiest, mushiest, most moist, smelly, plumpest,  vulnerable time in our lives – where fluids of every kind and color just shoot out in front of our faces and large, unidentifiable chunks of stuff just sort of plop out wherever they please, and hemorrhoids and sweat and gas and other disgusting things and smells just seep out of every crevice of our bodies without our permission and are unable to be controlled and yet somehow you still look at us like we are a nice marbled steak and not the half rotten hunk of ground beef that we feel like. Thank you for accepting it all without question and for supporting us through pregnancy and birthing and beyond in the only ways that you know how. I can’t imagine having to stand back and watch this whole process from a distance without feeling extremely alarmed and also disgusted. So thank you from the bottom of my heart for loving me and taking care of me, no matter how many mystery liquids and solids are smeared on me. The good ones deserve some credit for being more than sperm donors.

So here we are! The new normal. So far the babies do nothing, and I mean nothing, but sleep all day. They crank a little at night but we are still getting some solid blocks of sleep. They both are on the naughty list for weight gain with Spencer stuck at 4 pounds 13 oz and Sasha at 5 pounds even, but they are otherwise absolutely perfect and are proving to be sturdy little bugs that can weather surprise rogue Peppa figurines to the noggin and snooze without a care in the world with the construction noise of basement renovation and also incessant dog barking every time a passerby even glances towards our house without even a squeak of annoyance. Maybe things will take a major turn next week when my mom clears out and we have to be grown ups without a real grown up present… so I guess stay tuned? Because right now everything is going way too smoothly… And we are digging it.

Ready for picture overload? If not, avert your eyes.

 

Here’s a couple of 1 week before and afters for you:

 

AHHHHH the difference a week can make. Full arms, empty ankles. Bliss.

The aliens have awoken. Be not afraid.

Also: