This week, the babies are winning. Up until this point (we’re 19 weeks in), if you’d asked me how we’re all doing, now that we’re a family of four, I would have smiled and said, “We’re doing really well,” with a semi-surprised look on my face.

We are doing really well, we really are, but it’s hard. And I knew that having a kid would be hard, and I knew that having multiples would be even more difficult. But it’s the unanticipated little things that are hard, not things I would have expected, like nasty diapers (I can deal with those), or piles of laundry (you know how I feel about laundry, but it’s not that bad), but it’s not those things. It’s the things I thought would come naturally to me as a mother.

Feeding is hard, and I’m not even exclusively breastfeeding. Our kiddos get mostly bottles and eat every 3-4 hours, except at night when they can go as long as 6 hours. I’ve spent what feels like the better part of two days trying to feed our kids with big wet tears rolling down my cheeks. Why won’t they just EAT!? Aren’t they freaking hungry? I know I would be. I can usually get through about a half a bottle (between 3 and 4 ounces) with each baby without a problem and in about 10 or 15 minutes and lately, the little man has basically been falling asleep after that and it takes him another 40 or so minutes to finish the rest of the bottle. You can imagine my frustration. And the little lady…well, she’s got her own agenda. After that initial eat-like-no-one’s-ever-fed-me phase, she just refuses. She’ll spit the nipple out, she’ll scream, she’ll cough, unless you walk with her, then she’ll gladly take the rest of it, at a snail’s pace and she’ll finish up right as you’re sure your arm is absolutely going to fall off from holding her for so long. I know she has reflux and sometimes she looks like she’s in terrible pain (which is absolutely heart breaking), but it would be great if she would just take a bottle from me! It’s even more frustrating when I’ve spent over an hour trying to feed either kid and then there’s the inevitable giant vom (that’s short for vomit, we say it so much in our house that we decided it was easier just to use half the word). I thought feeding would be easy.

I wrote the above paragraph in a moment of hopelessness, and things are getting better. We are trying new bottles: change is hard. And I haven’t cried in almost 24 hours. Miraculously, I felt much better after a 2 hour nap yesterday. Thank you Daddy Magic and cousin for letting me take that nap!

Breastfeeding is another story entirely, a story for another day, another blog post.

Sleeping is hard. They say, “Sleep when they sleep.” Yeah, sure, ok. Then when am I suppose to go to the bathroom, eat, do laundry, do dishes, or PUMP! Yes, after every feeding I  hook myself up to the breast pump and turn into an absolute dairy cow. I spent a total of 94 hours pumping in the month of March alone. Want to know how much I pumped? Come on, I know you do…13.5 GALLONS. Our babies are not eating even close to that amount, but my goal is for them to have breastmilk until they’re about 14 months old, so I can’t stop now! Hopefully, if they’d stop defying me (see paragraph above), they’ll up their volumes and catch up to me a bit, because right now it feels a little silly to be pumping so much. And not sleeping so much.

pump
I had to share a photo of my pump, doesn’t it look like it’s right out of 1970 or something. And, that’s Stella with the sweet photobomb!

Getting out of the house is hard. It’s my goal to leave the house once a day, with or without the kids. I had NO idea how hard it would be to get out of the house (with our without them). I hate to be late, but since February 25th, we leave the house about 45 minutes after we planned. Some days, I just can’t leave at all. Between the pumping and the feeding every 3 hours, there’s just no time. Physically getting out of the house is hard too! Managing two carseats, dogs, giant diaper bag, and the obstacle course that is our house (so much baby equipment everywhere) is a real challenge!

Accepting the occasional failure is hard. I do not like to fail. My whole life I’ve spent doing things that I seem to be relatively good at (toot! toot!…that’s me, tooting my own horn). I feel like I fail my children all the time, and I wake up each morning, ready to embrace the new day and it’s challenges, but sometimes I fail again. Raising children has made me see the value in the small victories, like, really small, like…10mL of breastmilk small. I have to accept and move on, and I have to tell myself that 10 times a day. Accept and move on. The babies are fine.

So if you ask me this week how I’m doing, I’m inclined to be a bit more honest (not that I was lying, it’s just easier to say I’m OK). There might even be some tears. But really, we are doing OK. This is our first time, and our last time, and we’re getting it done in one fell swoop, of course it’s hard, but that, and every moment they melt our hearts, makes it all worth it.

neala rylan
They are worth every. Single. Second. Love these babies!

Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, “I will try again tomorrow.”
– Mary Anne Radmacher