And (w)here's the other one

I love you too. Now, go jump on your dad.

…earlier than expected

on August 17, 2014

Well, hello there. For those of you who have been here before, I apologize for my extended absence: I was on holiday in Rome, spending my millions on pink diamonds and the construction of rehabilitation centers aimed at reintroducing colorblind dolphins back into the wild. Or I have just been chasing around two one-and-a-half year olds that seem to have endless amounts of energy pumping through their veins (too bad that juice can’t be tapped and sold in stores). For those of you who are new to this page, whether you are here on purpose or you simply stumbled upon the site by mistake, currently bumbling your way through this paragraph attempting to find the exit, just follow the sentences down to the bottom of the page, and there you will find your escape. Who knows, you may actually enjoy the ride.
First things first, I’m no longer pregnant! I gave that up about 18 months ago in exchange for having my children live on the outside of my body. This way they would have to eat their own food and would no longer have the luxury of using my bladder as a speed bag. Actually, it was all their idea. I was, like any benevolent and understanding mother, willing to fulfill the terms of our agreement and allow them to stay until spring no matter how uncomfortable it made me, but they decided to break the lease (or my water rather) a few months early.
It was January 22, 2013 (a far cry from the April 11th due date we had been focusing on). It was like most other nights around that time: I was sprawled out on the couch, incapable of getting comfortable and Andrew was playing a video game (one I actually enjoyed watching, so it was cool). He was deep within the mitts of dragon slaying when I felt two tiny little “pops” come from deep within my loins. I immediately thought I had peed… like a lot of pee. I flashed on the time when I was in the sixth grade, and I had just gotten a new puppy for my birthday. She was all mine and all my responsibility. I was to walk her and feed her and, most importantly, clean up after her before my mother ever found out that there was any kind of a mess that needed cleaning up after in the first place. One night, this little puppy came running into my room whimpering and trying to jump onto my bed, pulling at my blankets and doing her best to get my attention. I woke up, put my feet down on the carpet, and found myself standing in a puddle. I thought to myself “Ahh… You peed.” I them moved my foot around further and felt that the puddle was quite large. “Man, you peed a lot.” In the end, neither of these cases turned out to be an abnormal amount of urine, but rather just a large amount of water. The first time was from a broken pipe and the second was from a broken placenta. Somehow drawing insight from this random memory helped me to realize I wasn’t actually peeing on the carpet like a naughty puppy, but rather I was in labor. That was 9:05pm.
Needless to say, both Andrew and I were a little unnerved by the whole ordeal. I mean, we were expecting three more months of living the wild and single life. You know, the kind of life where you get to sleep in past five in the morning and can stay awake past seven at night. We didn’t even have a go-bag yet. Well, we had the bag, but we were so not ready to actually go. For the most part, we were running on nothing more than adrenaline and fear: however, I was also relying on inappropriate humor to guide me into motherhood.
Once I got off the phone with the lady in Labor and Delivery (a conversation where I really only made vowel sounds) and Andrew filled the bag with all necessary and appropriate items (two onsies and a robe), we loaded up into the car and drove the practiced rout to the hospital. We checked it at 9:45pm
One thing that I haven’t mentioned, and I’m sure that every mother out there is going to hate me for saying, is I never felt any contractions. I had what is called a silent labor. It was awesome! Though, having not felt any real pain or discomfort, I didn’t really know just how far along into the whole process I actually was. At least not until the doctor was checking me for transport to another hospital. I was only 28 weeks along and Kaiser doesn’t deliver babies that early. Well, not usually.
Dr. Razi (who just so happened to be my OB/gyn and was luckily working rounds that night): Well, there is going to be babies born tonight, but you are going to have to go down to community.
Me: Ok. Sounds good. Can I at least get some cab fair?
Dr. Razi: (he just chuckles, as he has become quite familiar with my humor by this time) We will see what we can do. Let me just check your dilation.
Me: Awesome…
Dr. Razi: (after a few seconds of uncomfortable probing) Well, never mind. You are dilated to a six and these babies are coming now.
At about 10:39 that same night, Andrew was running down a dimly lit hallway with a bright eyed nurse urging him to hurry, and I was laying on an operating table under some blindingly bright spot lights reveling in just how “easy” this whole labor thing was and how I must be “missing something.” Granted, by this time I was paralyzed from the waist down and feeling all nice and cozy in my warm sheets. At 10:40, Andrew came barging through the door just in time to see Dr. Razi cut me open and start pulling bloody humans from by body. It was magical.
Me (to Andrew): Are they cute? (As I couldn’t see anything beyond the blue sheet I was being hidden behind. I attempted to catch a glimpse of the goings-on through the reflection in staff members’ face shields, but failed to see anything comprehensible.)
Andrew: Uhhh…
Me: Are they gooey?
Andrew: They’re kinda gooey.
Well folks, its 18 months later and, guess what, they’re still gooey (that’s one thing I don’t really expect to change anytime soon). They’re incredible, and I can’t believe just how lucky I am to have such an amazing family. They are smart, adorable, funny, generous, thoughtful little boys. They are also pains in my ass, but they are great kids. They are definitely their daddy’s boys, and just when I feel my heart swell with this weird sense of motherly pride in one of my boys, I turn my heard and think, “And here’s the other one.”
Exhaustedly,
Jeni

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