Real Quick...

Nothing to note, other than we are going on our first plane ride with the kids on Wednesday. Stay tuned...this could be an epic disaster....which means a wonderful blog entry.

Ten Years Past Tragedy, Six Months Of Joy

I’m not an overly political person. This isn’t to say there aren’t things I don’t care about, there are (on both sides of the so-called “liberal” and “conservative” line of demarcation). But, when it comes down to it, folks is folks and we’re all just trying to get through this thing in one piece. Furthermore, I think most politicians are out to serve themselves and kick up a decent vig to the parties who got them where they are. As a result, I don’t promote politicians. When the topic of national or world events come up and people want to get all hot and bothered by it, I tend to either keep quiet or diffuse the situation with non-partisan humor.

But as the 10^th anniversary of 9/11 approaches, I can’t help but to take a deeper look at the kind of world around my family. Ten years ago, I had just turned 30. Celebrated on a big party boat on a lake, helping Anheuser-Busch’s stock climb to historic heights. Less than a month later the world changed forever. Fast-forward to now and I find myself with newborn twins. Specifically newborn twins who will turn exactly six months on September 11. I so badly want to celebrate this day, but know that the rest of the country will be in a somber, mood of reflection and remembrance.  And so should I, I suppose. Six months is a huge benchmark, yet it falls on the ugliest day of my lifetime.

It hardly seems fair. Everyday I’m surrounded by a double-dose of love and beauty I never thought possible. These two creatures who don’t know any of the bad stuff about me, don’t know my weaknesses, simply light up when I come home from work. They grab me around my neck and squeeze. They’re now at an age where their personalities are blooming. They react to things, laugh, play, grab. Most gratifying is that they are recognizing one another and desire each other’s  company.  How could the world be that bad?

Reasons to celebrate...

But it is at times. There are bad people out there. From people who would hijack an airplane, to the guy who lets a door close when there is someone behind him with their hands full. How will I break it to these two guys who only know a miniscule atom of this world? You want these perfect creatures to only know the joys of safety and unconditional love ,not the filth and lies and sadness and evil. But they will. Not all at once, obviously. But little-by-little, the wall protecting their innocence will be chipped away. Hopefully little-by-little, anyways. And unfortunately for them, it'll bee chipped away a lot quicker than it did for me, and at the speed-of-light quicker than my parents. They are coming into a world that is drastically different than it was just ten years ago.  Perhaps if Jess and I do our jobs, that wall won’t be destroyed completely.

As 9/11 approaches we will celebrate Jackson and Logan reaching six months silently. This isn’t to say we’ll ignore our own memories of how we experienced that horrific moment. But at least for us, there will be a specific reason to embrace joy. Why let bad people ruin good?

Stroll Your Way To The Poor-House

Jess and I are looking for a new stroller. Did you know that they are expensive? You may. That means you have looked for one. I’m not going to go into a long diatribe about how fancy they’ve become. Yes, it’s a joke. Yes, it’s embarrassing. But until you have two kids and a really hard-to-maneuver, bang every doorway, knock over a few racks at the store, accidentally send an old woman to the hospital  (that may or may not have happened) box on shitty wheels, you are in no place to judge. Actually, you can judge all you want. And I can tell you to take your judgy, non-twin-havin’-ass to  Inconvenienceville (also known as Kansas).

When you have twins, the options are much more limited and the stroller companies know this. They are keenly aware of how difficult it is to push multiples around and anything that makes the task even a little more manageable will cost. I would bet large sums of Similac that an alarming percentage of people who peddle their kidneys in the underground organ market are parents of multiples.  If Chris Hanson could pull himself away from smugly asking passive-aggressive questions to pederasts in well-lit kitchens for two episodes, he might have an Emmy-winning investigative report on his hands.

The stroller we want is really, really expensive. However, it is simpler to navigate, lighter, easier to put away, and doesn’t make you want to throw it in front of a train once a day. And if you’re thinking right now, “He’s making excuses to justify what essentially is a luxury,” well you’re right. And I hate you. Don’t ever expose my shallow nature. How dare you?

Regardless, this is gonna happen. I want this stroller. Jess wants it more. So we’re saving money to buy a motorless vehicle that will cost more than my first car. Which had an engine. Not a good one. But an engine.  Though in the stroller’s defense, it will probably be a hell of a lot more reliable than my ’76 Celica, which my friends affectionately called “The Turd”. But back to the original premise, which is twin-stroller manufacturers deserve a Tabasco enema. In honor of their putrid business practices, I have comprised:

The Top Ten People With Darker Souls Than Twin Stroller CEOs

10. The bastard who tightens the public bathroom toilet paper dispenser so it always breaks off after 1.5 sheets. 

9. Commissioner of the “National Puppy-Kicking League”.

8. Clowns. There’s something going on there, I just know it.

7. The Black Jack dealers they bring in when everybody at the table is winning and having fun.

6. Whoever encouraged Yoko Ono to sing…what a cruel joke to play on the planet.

5. Anyone who operates a business with a sign out front that reads, “No credit? No Problem!”

4. Whoever thought those metal snaps on onesies were a good idea.

3.  Me, when someone in front of me is buying 391 scratch-off tickets and all I want is my friggin’ gum.

2. The “It’s been .000000000005 seconds since the light turned green, let me blast my horn” guy.

1. Donald Trump’s mirror.

"Do it for the kids...and me!"

I'm Not Crazy...These Kids are Spies!

The devious lengths to which our enemies will stoop know no morally bankrupt bounds. Torture-inducing spies have always been a part of global espionage, but rarely---and do your homework, this is true---have children ever been employed to carry out master plans. But Jess and I come to the ultimate conclusion that Jackson and Logan were “gotten-to” by our enemies and are a part of a devious scheme to sleep-deprive us to the point of vulnerability.

Sound like the ranting of a tin-foil hat-wearing lunatic who shoves marbles up his ass to jam information-stealing signals from Central Command? Perhaps. But crazy people can sometimes be dead-on accurate. It is worth noting that this is being written at 4:44 in the morning Eastern time. Easily the 40^th straight day that one of us have been up at this time. Below I will present rock-solid theories to back up this claim. Read fast…”they” don’t want you to see this and the entire blog may disappear within moments.

Background

It is not uncommon for babies to wake up several times throughout the night. But at some point in mid-June both children began making it all the way through. How glorious! For two weeks straight, Jess and I were the owners of lucid brains and rested bodies. A change had come, and perhaps our nights of displeasure would be limited to my shortcomings in another department. But just as we began to grow accustomed to sleeping like normal human beings, Logan started waking up again. Usually around midnight.

The Conversion

What happened? Why the change? These two were clearly enjoying their newfound sleeping patterns. So were we. A happier family you simply could not find. Something changed. Instantly. We had just moved into our temporary summer housing in a lovely two-bedroom suite at a hotel. I noticed that this extended-stay accommodation housed many folks who appeared to be government employees attending “conferences”. It is my theory that we ended up at this particular hotel on purpose, so our babies could be recruited. Please be clear, I am not necessarily saying they were from our government….just a government.  But someone orchestrated the whole thing. This much is obvious.

"This is easier than I thought!"

“Oh how could you assume such a thing?” you may be asking? To which I respond by saying, “Wake up and smell the conspiracy you hopeless sheep!” Someone got to our boys! Don’t roll your fucking eyes at me. It happened!!!  Possibly through mind control. The hotel served breakfast every morning and dinner twice a week. We were down in the common area several times a week. The suspicious official-looking types were there “enjoying meals” at the same time we were. Let me tell you guinea pigs something, the only thing they were digesting were Jackson and Logan’s thought-processes. The kids never left our sight, so there must have been some sort of brainwave technology they used to reprogram the boys’ sleeping patterns.

Not long after the boys stopped sleeping through, the folks we always noticed at breakfast and dinner…WERE GONE!! They likely monitored the sleeping patterns and left once their slumber assault had taken root. Filthy bastards.

The Techniques

The scum-sucking rats gave Logan the shit-end of this deal. He has been the worst. Often around midnight, he starts whining. It sounds like there is discomfort. Perhaps gas. Or maybe he’s hungry. So believable. I mean this child could be nominated for an Oscar. Those sons-of-bitches have trained him well. We feed him in the middle of the night and that calms him for a while. But usually an hour  or two later, his spy masters send signals to his brain to wake up again. This is when we bring him into bed to soothe him.

Which is exactly what “they” want. Now he’s at close range and employs the “fidget technique”. He doesn’t really whine…he just grunts. And emits tiny moans. And thrashes. And kicks. Then sleeps for 10 minutes. Repeat. Just annoying enough to ensure you don’t get a full night’s sleep.

For a while, we thought Logan was the only infiltrated child. But apparently, the wrong-doers placed some sort of time-release mechanism in Jackson’s brain. Recently he started waking up around 4AM. He doesn’t cry…just the opposite. He loudly coos and giggles and slams his feet into the floor of his bed, which rests at the foot of our bed. While not sounds of sadness, they are sounds. Because he sounds so cute, we can’t get mad at him, nor do we discourage it. Regardless, we’re kept up by this, as well. Another slice of spy-greatness. We are welcoming their disruption.

Conclusion

It’s a brilliant plan. Bravo, bastard-people, bravo. Your foul attempt at ruining the dark hours of the morning is indeed working like a charm. What do these spies stand to gain by keeping us awake? As mentioned, we are now vulnerable. To what? We haven’t quite figured that out yet. But I think they may be toy company spies working on us now so when the kids are old enough to be bribed, that we will offer them toys in exchange for sleep. Or perhaps our children were compromised by the makers of Ny-Quil. That shit will render you oblivious to a drive-by, let alone a twitchy baby. We are close to buying a case of it and keeping it chilled by the nightstand the moment we hear the first, “Wahhhh.”

Who knows, why this is being done to us really? But I know these wacked out ideas are more than just the ramblings of someone who has recently turned unstable. They are the truth. It’s out there? No it’s RIGHT HERE! I could tell you more, but there’s a whining spy in the other room. This message will self-destruct in 5….4…3…2…

It's only nuts if it's not true!

Actual Text Message From Jess....

"Jackson threw up...he put his fingers too far into his mouth. Probably no Harvard for that boy."  And there goes being the sword swallower at the circus. Who would have thought such divergent life-paths would be eliminated by the same thing?

 

 

Odd how those

Twins Quickie Quiz!

 

NOTE: If you answer "C" to most of these, you're likely as bat-shit crazy as we are!

If you hear grunting and moaning that keeps you up all night long, you:

A. Live directly below a questionable online web-cam operation.

B. Are living in a 24-hour Gold's Gym.

C. Are parents of twins with acid reflux.

If you have a bruised sternum, sore jaw, crushed larynx, and flattened testicles, you:

A. Should have put in more than three days-worth of training prior to the amateur mixed-martial arts tournament at the biker bar.

B. Thought the bookie was just bullshitting you.

C. Have twins who have discovered the power of their hands and feet, but still don't have complete control over neck muscles.

If you take fewer than three showers a week and are fine with it, you:

A. Are just days away from starring in an episode of "Intervention".

B. Regularly say the words, "Rock, Chalk, Jayhawk, Go KU!" (Go Mizzou!)

C. Care for twins while your significant other goes to work....freshly showered.

If you are so covered in vomit that you don't even smell it, you:

A.  Are putting in overtime at "Liposuction Waste Removal & Storage".

B. Are just moments away from winning the "Dirty Ash Tray-Licking World Title".

C. Have twins who puke faster than you can do laundry.

If you find yourself violently whispering, "Ahhh, come on," you:

A. Flipped channels for an hour only to find an episode of "Law & Order" you've seen 10 times.

B. Are stuck behind "I-Need-48-Kinds-Of-Scratch-Off-Tickets" guy.

C. You barely type the "Face" in Facebook when one of them starts to cry.....again.  

Our Story: Part IV

This is the final installment of our journey through infertility. Click here to see Part I, Part II, and Part III.

“Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock”

It was probably the longest day of our lives: Tuesday, July 13, 2010. The day after we took our niece Hailey back to the airport, Jess had to go to the doctor’s office and get her blood drawn. In that vile was the most important information either of us would ever receive.  We would find out the results some time after 12PM. Before I left for work, Jess and I decided to cut off all contact with one another after 11AM. Regardless of what the results were, we wanted to share the news face-to-face. I don’t remember how heavy my workload was that day, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t do much. Any tasks I did complete were likely substandard. All I could think about was whether or not there was a child in my wife’s belly when I got home. And if not, how lonely and sad she must be.

I rushed out of work a few minutes before 4:00 and drove home faster than I’d ever driven. The 50 minute commute took just over 40 (not bad in Boston traffic). I pulled into the driveway and held my breath. This was it. As I walked through the door the pressure built in my chest, and my breathing became rapid. What was waiting for me on the other side of that door? A celebration or a black cloud?  I walked through the front door to see Jess standing by the couch, waiting for me. On it, was a teddy bear wearing a baby-sized St. Louis Cardinals t-shirt (my favorite baseball team). “We’re pregnant,” she said through a smile and tears. We collapsed into each other’s arms, laughing and crying for several minutes. It hardly seemed possible. The t-shirt Jess bought two years earlier---which had she stashed away---finally came out of hiding. She used to pull it out every now and then, hoping for the day she could give it to me. The day had come. At long last, the day had come.

“But Wait, There’s More”

As you may remember, Jess was implanted with two eggs. The more eggs you implant, the better the chances of coming away with a pregnancy. That can also increase your chance of twins. So that was the next thing we were waiting to find out. After eight weeks, we got our answer.  Jess and I went to the doctor’s office for an ultrasound, not expecting to get the news we received. We were told it would be around 10 weeks before the possibility of multiples could be determined. But within a minute of the ultrasound, the nurse exclaimed, “I see two sacks!”

 Well, that’s that. We had always hoped to have two children, but as infertility reared its ugly head, we had made peace with having just one. Now, we were going to get what we always wanted…within nine months. We left excited as could be, but also realized that this was going to change things dramatically. Our expenses would double, our free time would decrease infinitely, and the task of being first-time parents would become utterly insane. But after all the shit we had to go through, there was no convincing us then (or now) that this wasn’t the perfect situation.

“I Just Love Them So Much”

For the most part, Jess’ pregnancy was perfect. Physically, her vitals were great the entire way: blood pressure, blood sugar, etc. were fantastic. She experienced the typical back pains, trouble sleeping, nausea, fatigue, and other pregnancy-related ailments. However there was one incident that brought all of our fears and pessimism back to the forefront.

Late in the summer, Jess and I hosted a family reunion for her father’s side of the family. There was much to celebrate that weekend, as we told them we were pregnant. We wanted to wait the customary 13 weeks, but much of this weekend involves beer, and they might have figured something was awry by Jess’ “just say no” approach to fermented hops…all weekend long.

Saturday is usually the night when folks stay up quite late to drink, tell stories and laugh until the wee hours of the morning. Jess battled nausea all day and was absolutely tired. She went to bed early, but I opted to stay up. At around midnight, Jess came down from the bedroom, to the patio where the rest of us were. She silently motioned for me to come inside. She looked bad. Scared. Very scared.  “I’m bleeding,” she moaned, “a lot.” My heart sank.

Luckily my stomach was off that night and had only a couple of beers, the last of which was around 9:00. Otherwise someone else would have had to drive us to the emergency room. I explained to the folks who were awake what was going on and jumped in the car. Jess was crying, while I hung on by a thread. To this day, I’ll never forget the words she said to me as I drove. “I just love them so much.” Our children were no bigger than a quarter, but we loved them. They were our babies and we couldn’t lose them.

We spent the next four or five hours in the emergency room wondering what was wrong. Hoping we were still parents-to-be. Eventually, we were reassured that the babies were fine. The bleeding had no effect on them. We were released and drove home weary. These kids were quite a ways from being born and already we knew what it meant to love them more than anything else in the world. We felt like we dodged a bullet that night, but it certainly put us on edge for the rest of the pregnancy.

“The Next Greatest Day of our Lives”

Friday, March 11, 2011 seemed to take forever to arrive. Again, as has been addressed several times, the wait, discomfort, frustration is a million times rougher on the woman than it is for the man. Jess’ back killed her, she couldn’t sleep, hated to walk and was done with the entire idea of hosting two human beings inside her uterus.

After 38 weeks of pregnancy, Jess was scheduled for a C-section. Waiting to come out were our darling twin boys, Logan and Jackson. At 1:05 and 1:06 PM they visited us for the very first time. All we wanted to hear were two sets of lungs pushing out screams. When that noise echoed off the operating room’s walls, the culmination of high hopes, disappointment, pain, frustration, tension, sadness, renewed optimism, and a new day culminated. At last we were complete. It was, again, the greatest day of our lives.

As we sat in the hospital room, holding the boys, Jess and I spent many moments reflecting on the previous 33 months. It was a journey neither one of us imagined. Who knew creating new life would take so much out of ours? As challenging as it was, we still felt grateful. Our lives, and souls for that matter, were turned inside-out. In the end, everything we had to go through was worth it. Every last bit of it.  We wouldn’t wish it upon anybody, but we’d do it over again if we had to.

AND FINALLY….

This story is indeed depressing and long. If you made it all the way to the end, thank you. For Jess and I, putting this stuff out there was not easy, but it feels good getting out. If you are experiencing infertility, just know that you really are not alone. It is an isolating experience, but there are others who are in the same situation. Google is a great resource, and you can find message boards and support groups. Knowing that you can bounce your frustrations off those who “get it” may help. Ultimately, we  consider ourselves lucky, in that we only went through IVF once. For some it takes longer, much longer. If at all. So if you know someone who doesn’t have children, but don’t know the story, please think before you ask. You just don’t know what they may be going through.

We didn’t use the name of our fertility specialist in this story, but if you want to send me a private email, I’d be happy to give you his name. He has given so many folks, like Jess and me, hope. And getting that back…well, it just changes everything. If you feel like hope is lost, this story is for you. If you are struggling through infertility, we are thinking about and praying for you. We may not  know you, but we understand how you feel. You are in our hearts. Hard as it may be, please try to keep your faith. Whether in God, in modern medicine, in the person you lay next to every night. Wherever you find that strength, go with it. And take care of each other…no matter what happens.You'll need each other now more than you'll ever know. 

Worth the wait...Logan & Jackson