If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, you know that our twins joined the family a little over a week ago! I would love to take a moment to officially introduce you to the two newest loves in my life: Sullivan “Sully” Luke and Kalinda “Kali” Joy.
If I’ve learned anything in my two experiences of birthing babies, it’s that labor rarely goes according to plan. Sully and Kali’s birth was not at all the blissful, drug-free, natural birth I had hoped for. However, it is our story and I am excited to share it—not just to document our experience, or to satisfy curious minds, but also to encourage others whose own birth stories are not what they’d imagined . . . because our journey over the last two weeks is proof that even the messiest stories can have a happy ending.
Our birth story begins two weeks ago, on the Monday before the twins were born, at our 35-week prenatal appointment. Prior to that day I’d had a picture-perfect twin pregnancy and our OB, Dr. Seeker, anticipated that I would carry these babies to at least 37 weeks. At our previous appointment (at 34 weeks) the babies were both breech, so we had scheduled a C-Section for 38 weeks, though we still held out hope that our Baby A would flip and we would be able to have a drug-free vaginal birth. Midway through my 34th week I experienced some dramatic shifts in my body that indicated labor might be imminent. Overnight, I gained nearly ten pounds of water weight and my legs and feet swelled to the point where I could barely walk. I had severe pelvic and back pain and the babies were so low in my uterus that it felt like I had a bowling ball between my upper thighs. Given these changes, I wasn’t surprised when Dr. Seeker checked my cervix at our 35-week appointment and said that I was already dilated to 3 centimeters. He said that I would likely go into labor that week and put me on immediate bed rest, with instructions to call the office the minute labor began so we could come in for our C-section. (Since it was still pretty early, he didn’t feel comfortable performing a C-section until absolutely necessary.)
The next few days were agony for me. I was physically in tremendous pain, going stir-crazy on bed rest but too uncomfortable to read, write, or even sleep. I was also very emotional as I tried to come to terms with the prospect of a C-section. I had spent my entire pregnancy preparing for a vaginal birth and refusing to allow myself to even consider an alternative. I had done all of the “right things” to prepare for natural birth (I’d hired a doula, written out an extensive birth plan, read several books on natural labor, revisited my Bradley materials, taken good care of myself throughout my pregnancy), and I had done everything possible to get my babies to flip (lots of swimming, all of the Spinning Babies exercises, weekly sessions with a chiropractor, plenty of prayer and meditation). . . but none of it had worked, and short of flying to another state to labor under a doctor willing to deliver breech twins vaginally, I had no choice but to move forward with the Caesarean. I was able to take comfort in the fact that I had done everything that I could; God clearly had different plans for my twins’ birth and I began to make peace with this alternative. I had a long phone call with my doula, Stephanie, who walked me through what to expect during a C-section, and that helped to alleviate many of my fears. In the meantime, Luke and I focused on getting some last-minute things done to prepare for the twins, including finally deciding on their names (though we still weren’t 100% sure until after they were born; Sully was nearly Nicholson “Nico” or Dixon, and Kali was almost Juliet).
I lost my mucus plug the day after my 35-week appointment and I was certain I would go into labor that night. I picked up the whole house, folded laundry, and made sure that everything was ready to go before I went to bed. But I was still pregnant the next morning, and despite increased discomfort and copious amounts of cervical discharge over the next couple of days, I had no more definitive signs of labor. On Thursday night, I went to sleep feeling confident I would make it at least a few more days. How wrong my intuition proved to be on that front!
I woke up at 3:00 on the morning of Friday, September 27, the day that I hit 36 weeks. My first thought was that I had made it to nine months! I was about to get out of bed for one of my numerous nightly trips to the bathroom when I heard a slight popping noise and suddenly our bed was flooded with fluid. It took me a minute to realize that my water had just broken. I’d been told that less than ten percent of women experience their water breaking before the start of labor (with Charleston, the doctor had to break my water once I reached 10 centimeters so that I could begin pushing), so I never dreamed that this would be part of my labor experience. Once I got over the shock, I woke up Luke to tell him that my water had broken. I was continuing to leak fluids; it seemed unending and our entire bed was saturated. Every time I tried to move to sit up, more fluid came out. Luke ran to get some towels and came back with Charleston, who had woken up with the commotion. He was SO excited and was running around say, “the babies are coming today! I guess God wants today to be their birthday!”
From my bed I texted my family and our doula Stephanie to let all of them know that the babies were on their way. Then, wrapped in a towel to catch the fluids that were still pouring out of me, I headed to the bathroom to pee, leaving Luke to strip the wet sheets from our bed. The minute I sat on the toilet, I experienced my first contraction. It was VERY strong, located entirely in my back, and lasted at least a minute. I told Luke he needed to call the hospital immediately, which he did. Then he called his parents to have them come pick up Charleston and Arlo, and he touched base with Stephanie, who said she would meet us at the hospital.
Between contractions, which remained in my back and were about a minute apart, I added a few last minute items to my hospital bag and started packing a bag for Charleston, though I got derailed because the contractions were too frequent and too intense. We also got a couple of final belly pictures to document the 9-month belly.
My in-laws live about forty minutes away from us, and they got held up by a train, so we were still waiting for them at almost 4:00. As my contractions intensified, I knew we needed to leave right then, so we loaded Charleston into the car to bring him to the hospital with us. Thankfully, they pulled up as we were leaving our driveway, so I kissed Charleston goodbye and we headed to the hospital.
The thirty minute drive to the hospital was incredibly painful and scary. The contractions continued, I broke out in a heavy sweat, and my body began shaking uncontrollably. Luke remained amazingly calm, encouraging me and even making some light jokes. Given the time of morning, we had no traffic and Luke ran every red light. He also coached me through my contractions and I attempted to focus on my visualization and the verse that we had chosen to guide us through labor (Psalm 91:1-4).
We arrived at St. David’s North Austin Medical Center around 4:30, and Stephanie met us out front with a wheel chair. As she and Luke guided me into the wheelchair, she led me in some calming breaths and helped me release extra tension from my head and shoulders. Then we wheeled to the elevator and headed up to the Labor and Delivery floor, while Stephanie offered calming reminders that I was doing great, that I was where I was supposed to be and that I was safe.
When we checked into Labor and Delivery, the hospital staff began asking me questions that I couldn’t answer because my contractions were so intense. Luke took over for me and signed all of my paperwork as they wheeled me into a labor room. They asked me to get out of the chair and into the bed, and I didn’t think I would make it, my back felt like it would split apart and my body was still convulsing. Once on the bed, I asked to lie on my side (it was too painful to lie in any other position) and requested one final ultrasound just to confirm that the babies were still breech (they were). Luke stroked my hair as the nurse listened to both babies’ heartbeats—which were strong once she was able to find them, not an easy feat, as I was still lying on my side. Then she helped me remove my leggings, which were practically plastered onto me because my legs were so swollen; they weren’t able to remove my compression socks because of the swelling. The nurse asked if I wanted to put on a gown and I said I’d brought my own, but I didn’t have time to put it on. The nurse went to check my cervix and I immediately heard her saying into a phone, “I’m with the patient. She’s all the way there and I feel a foot.” No wonder I was in so much pain, my cervix was at 10 centimeters. Talk about a quick, intense labor!
After that, everything is a bit of a blur. Luke and Stephanie remained in the labor room while a team wheeled my bed into the OR. While we were crossing the hall, my body involuntarily began pushing. I screamed, “my body is pushing! I can’t stop it, the baby is coming out of me!” I was so scared, unable to prevent my body from laboring and not knowing what that would mean for the outcome of myself and the babies. We were soon in a room and a doctor I had never met (Dr. Seeker hadn’t gotten to the delivery room on time) introduced herself and said she was going to be doing my procedure. Then an anesthesiologist was by my bed, and after a quick introduction he put a mask over my face and everything faded to black. All I remember is asking God to protect my babies as I fell into a deep sleep.
The next two hours are lost to me, and that is one of the biggest regrets of my life. I hate that I was not awake and present to see my babies’ fresh-from-the-womb faces or hear their first cries. I hate that we didn’t get that magical moment of them being pulled from my body and placed immediately on my chest. I hate that the first sounds they heard were not welcoming words of love from their mama and daddy, that the first face they saw was not mine. I hate that Luke couldn’t be present, that he spent the moments when our babies were being born waiting anxiously in a room down the hall.
I have shed endless tears over the circumstances of their birth, and I know this will be something I will grieve for years to come. I’ve questioned what could have been done differently to avoid an emergency C-section; I have no answers, but I do know that not having the option for an emergency Caesarean would have been fatal for one or possibly all of us. God’s handiwork can be seen in so much of that early morning—the fact that we made it to the hospital without a minute to spare, that traffic was light and that our doula was there to get us up to Labor and Delivery quickly, that my body waited to begin pushing until we were in the hospital and not while we were in the car. And while I am devastated that I wasn’t “there” when the babies made their debut, one of our hospital staff pointed out that I was there. . . even though I wasn’t awake for it, the babies knew their mama was with them, and one day I will be able to tell them that I sacrificed my selfish desire to witness their birth so that they would have the best possible chance at life.
While much of their birth will forever be lost to me, I know from their charts that they were born at 5:06 (Sully) and 5:07 (Kali), that there was meconium in my amniotic fluid, that their Apgar scores were 8 and 9, and that they were both perfectly healthy but very small—Kali was 4 pounds 10 ounces and Sully was 4 pounds 8 ounces. (Sully was just 41 grams, or 1.4 ounces, over the 2000 gram threshold below which newborns are required to be sent to the NICU). These low birthweight surprised all of us, as their most recent ultrasound had indicated they each weighed close to 6 pounds.
After being checked out by the labor and delivery nurses (the NICU nurses hadn’t arrived on time to be present at the procedure), the babies were taken to our original labor room where, at 5:26, they met their daddy for the first time. Thankfully Stephanie was able to capture many pictures of Luke with our twins. He told me that he was incredibly scared but so relieved that they were here and healthy.
After holding them for a while, he accompanied them to the nursery for their more thorough checks. I love seeing the pictures of Luke watching over both babies, holding their tiny hands and observing all their first movements (including Kali’s impressive leg stretches!).
At 6:30 the nurses roused me. I don’t remember much about those first moments awake, other than not quite knowing where I was. When it occurred to me what had just happened, I felt an odd mix of sadness about what I had missed and also relief that it was all over. I had a tube in my nose and IVs in my arms and legs, and I was boiling hot and more thirsty than I’ve ever been in my life. I asked the nurses if the babies were here and if they were healthy, and they told me they were. Before I knew it, Luke and Stephanie came in and brought my babies to me for the first time. My eyesight was still blurry, so I couldn’t see much, and Luke said I kept repeating the same things over and over, asking the same questions; I was still very loopy from the anesthesia. But I do remember Luke bringing Sully to me and putting him in my arms. I couldn’t believe how much hair he had, and how much he looked like Charleston when he was born! I held him and told him I loved him so much and that I was so glad that he was here.
Then they handed me Kali. My beautiful daughter! Another rush of love and intense gratitude for this precious soul. Physically, I felt like I’d been hit like a truck, and my thoughts were scrambled, but I was overwhelmed by love and thankfulness for the miracles in my arms. These babies I had prayed for and carried for nine months were here in front of me. And I was given the gift of being their mama!
We remained in the recovery room for about an hour. Stephanie played my birth playlist on my phone and fed me ice chips, and I snuggled my babies, pulled up my shirt to do some skin-to-skin with them, and attempted to get both babies to latch onto my breasts. Throughout my pregnancy I had tried to imagine what it would be like to hold two newborns in my arms; this was it, and it was the most incredible, natural feeling in the world. I knew that I was meant to be their mama; regardless of what we had just gone through and what was to come, this moment felt sacred and beautiful and incredibly right.
During that hour, Dr. Seeker came in to check on us and congratulate us on our new additions. We LOVE Dr. Seeker and I was sad that he was not the one to perform my C-section, but it mattered less to me since I was asleep for the procedure. After a while a nurse came by to say that the doctor who had delivered the twins had not given permission to release our placentas (which we were encapsulating), that because it was a twin birth, the placentas had to be sent out to pathology. Luke asked for a second opinion, so Dr. Seeker was contacted and he gave us the go-ahead to keep the placentas. While we were waiting, I asked if we could see the placentas (I’ve always regretted that I didn’t get to see my placenta when Charleston was born), so the nurse brought them over, emptied them from their bag into a bowl and did a full demonstration. I won’t include any pictures here (I’m pretty sure I would receive hate mail if I did that), but we got plenty of photos and even some video—I found them fascinating!
After that hour in recovery, my bed was wheeled up to our hospital room where we said goodbye to Stephanie. She was such an incredible support during my final month of pregnancy and my (short) labor; we had been on the fence about whether or not to have a doula for this birth, and I would say it was one of our best decisions. She was one very bright spot in a scary birth story. Once she had left, we met our new nurses and settled into postpartum life.
When Charleston was born, we spent only one night in the hospital, and even that felt too long since we had planned to deliver at a birth center and go home right away. Prior to this delivery, we thought we wanted a short hospital stay this time too. But because of my C-section, we knew we would be in the hospital for at least three days, and this turned out to be a huge blessing because the twins were not ready to go home yet, and I would not have wanted to leave the hospital without them.
That first day in the hospital was rough. Recovering from a C-section is HARD. I had multiple IVs, a catheter, air compressors on my legs, and a clamp on my finger to monitor my heart rate and oxygen levels. The heart monitor was annoying because it would go off every time my heart rate dipped below 45; my heart rate is naturally that low, so the nurses were in and out of our room constantly to turn off the alarm. I found all the tubes annoying and I was frustrated that I couldn’t get out of bed to get my babies from their bassinets. My throat was sore and I was hoarse from being on oxygen during surgery; I needed to clear my throat, but it hurt too much to cough, and my nurses spent 24 hours trying to get an order for a cough drop (which we found hilarious, considering all of the other narcotics I was currently on). My blood pressure was elevated, leaving me with a massive headache, and I was insanely thirsty: I drank more than six 28-ounce thermoses of water over the next twelve hours (I also filled up my catheter bag THREE times during the 18 hours it was in). I was burning hot and couldn’t figure out why they kept the room so warm (Luke later told me that the room was actually freezing, it was just me that was running hot). And I was ravenous, but wasn’t allowed to eat anything beyond broth and jello until that night. When I was finally given the go-ahead to eat, the call-out room service was closed for the day, so Luke went to the deli to get me a baked potato, some oatmeal, and yogurt; I think that was probably the best tasting meal of my life!
Despite the physical discomfort, those first hours with the twins were magical. Luke and I traded off holding each baby, doing skin-to-skin with them and nursing and simply taking in their fresh newborn smells. Though it obviously would have been better for them to be born closer to term, it was incredible to see their tiny preemie bodies—something few parents get to witness because babies are usually still in the womb at this point! It was fun to see the personalities I’d experienced in my belly play out in front of us. I was amazed by how different Sully and Kali look from each other (though Sully could easily pass as Charleston’s twin), and I loved noticing the differences in how they moved, cried, nursed, slept, and observed the room. We wanted to put them together, but got in trouble for having them in the same bassinet, so whenever possible I would hold both babies at once and even began attempting tandem nursing (it’s harder than it looks with babies that still need help latching and holding up their heads!).
By the next day I was feeling quite a bit better. I’d had my catheter and IVs removed and was able to walk around freely. I still had a lot of pain at my incision site and down below (caused by the trauma experienced when I began pushing in labor), as well as quite a bit of swelling and gas pain, but the oral narcotics helped a lot, and that cough drop I was finally given took care of my sore throat. I was surprised by how minimal my bleeding was compared to after my vaginal birth—one perk to having a Caesarean, I suppose.
Because I was on the mend, the next few days in the hospital were all about the babies. We met with someone to fill out their birth certificates and we had daily visits with a pediatrician. The twins had their hearing screenings and their car seat checks (which Sully failed the first time, but passed the next day) and constant monitoring of their temperatures and weights. We had some scary moments when we weren’t sure if we would be able to take them home: first Kali’s blood sugars were off (the pediatrician said this was because she was TOO good at nursing: she was so energetic at the breast that she was exerting more calories than she was taking in, so we had to supplement her with formula for the first day). Then Sully’s weight had dropped too much, so we began supplementing nursing sessions with bottles of pumped milk fortified with a calorie booster. They both had instances of very low temperatures (solved by some quality skin-to-skin time), and then Sully had an evening when he was running a fever. (Hilarious story: the fever incident was at night when I couldn’t really see their faces because it was dark, and they had been placed in the wrong bassinets, so I thought it was Kali with the fever, as did the nurse—even after changing “her” diaper. It wasn’t until I changed the diaper of the baby I thought was Sully that I realized we had them mixed up!) But those tough moments were interspersed with some lovely ones, like taking their Instagram announcement pictures (they were so cute snuggled up together, attempting to suck each other’s noses and intertwining their hands and feet) and getting to “talk twins” with all the hospital staff. Many of the other babies spent most of their time in the nursery, but I loved having the twins with us the whole time—even though that meant we didn’t sleep.
Throughout our time at the hospital I was nursing them both (separately) every two to three hours and pumping between. I had daily meetings with a lactation consultant who helped me get good latches with both babies, and between their nursing and my pumping, I was able to pump several bottles of colostrum until my milk fully came in about 48 hours after they were born. While I focused on feedings, Luke took care of washing bottles and changing diapers (these kids can seriously pee and poop, we were doing at least one diaper per hour for each in the hospital, and we filled up a diaper pail—with their preemie diapers—in less than two days when we got home!). I was thankful we were in the hospital during this time so we could focus on the twins and nothing else. I even found a little time to get started on their baby books! The hospital staff was all incredible (we seriously wanted to set up friend dates with each of our nurses, but thought that might be a little over the top) and the food was awesome: we could order anything we wanted from a very extensive menu any time between 7 am and 7 pm, and I had an amazing appetite for the first time in nine months, so I took full advantage of those services.
The only hard part of our long hospital stay was being apart from Charleston for so long. He was in great hands with my in-laws, but he’s never been away from us for more than one night and the time apart was hard for all of us. He came to visit the twins for the first time on the Saturday after they were born (we waited until I was off all the IVs and machines, as I didn’t want him to see me that way). He took a few minutes to warm up to them but before long he was totally smitten. He kept touching their heads and saying how cute they were, calling them “the boy one” and “the girl one” (in hindsight, it might have been a good idea to choose names before they were born so he could learn them!). He was fascinated by watching me nurse them and pump. (It’s been less than a year since Charleston was weaned, so he remembers “milkies,” but milkies for a newborn is very different from milkies for a 3-year-old. After many months of his asking to nurse again, I let him drink some pumped milk and he didn’t like it at all, so I think we have finally succeeded in breaking that fixation!) We had let Charleston pick out some toys to give to the babies, and it was so sweet to watch him give them their rattles and book. I cracked up when Charleston kissed my belly when they left the hospital that day; I had to remind him that the babies aren’t in there anymore, which he found very confusing because my belly is still quite big.
Though much of our hospital stay is a blur of sleep deprivation and anxiety over the twins’ progress, Luke and I will both remember those days fondly. It was a great time of bonding for the four of us, and so nice to be taken care of for a while before officially beginning life at home as a family of five.
On Tuesday morning, after four nights in the hospital, my doctor cleared me to go home, and that afternoon Sully and Kali had both regained enough weight that their pediatrician felt comfortable letting them leave. We dressed them in their going home outfits that had looked so tiny when I bought them but positively swallowed their small frames, and we loaded their teeny bodies into their carseats and wheeled out to our car. We had succeeded in bringing the twins into the world, and now they were ours for keeps!
When we got home, Luke and I sat on the couch, each holding a baby and taking a moment to embrace this new reality. An hour later, my in-laws dropped Charleston off and he was so excited to be home with his brother and sister. That evening, while Luke and I were unpacking hospital bags in our bedroom, Charleston heard a noise coming from the nursery where the twins were sleeping and shouted excitedly, “they wake up?!” (They had been asleep both times he saw them in the hospital.) He peeked in on them in their crib and apparently Sully’s eyes were open, so Charleston ran into our room and told us, “my brother just saw me for the first time! I told him my name and his name and the name of the girl! He saw his big brother!” My heart just about exploded. That night, he wanted to do stories and prayer time in the nursery with the twins. After praying he asked if he could “do my piece” so he went over to his step stool next to the crib and, looking over his brother and sister, prayed, “Dear God, thank you for the babies. And. . . thank you for the babies. Amen.” Not the most articulate prayer, but one of my favorite memories to date.
We’ve been home for five days now and it hasn’t all been blissful. Many of my friends have told me that bringing home a baby when there’s an older kid in the house is rough, and they were right. Charleston (who suddenly seems SO grown up to me) loves his siblings, but is experiencing quite a bit of jealousy, and is also going stir-crazy from being in the house so much. Luke and I have been alternating getting out with him; I took him shopping and to McDonald’s on Wednesday, to MOPS on Friday, and to get ice cream on Saturday. Yesterday, he and Luke went to church followed by lunch and a movie. It’s been difficult to manage his needs—and his high energy—with constantly caring for the twins: between nursing, pumping, washing bottles, doing laundry, taking care of postnatal paperwork, keeping our house running, and scheduling appointments, my time with Charleston has been limited, and I’ve been experiencing a lot of guilt over the fact that he isn’t getting as much attention from me as he’s used to, and that my patience with him is not where I’d like it to be.
My personal recovery has also taken a back seat, and while I am still experiencing significant abdominal pain, it pales in comparison to how I felt in my third trimester, and I feel like I could conquer the world! Luke has been extremely helpful, and my mom is coming out this week to help out, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about what life will look like when I’m on my own with three littles. When Charleston was born, I spent lots of time just snuggling with him and giving him all of my attention; that’s just not possible with twins—and a big sibling—and I feel like I’m missing out on these one-on-one moments that I crave.
That said, having the twins home has been so wonderful! So far, life with two newborns is not that much harder than it was with one, probably because I know what I’m doing this time. Yes, there is technically twice as much work, but the learning curve has been much less steep. I love being able to keep the babies together, as they are so much calmer when they are in the same crib or bassinet. They both love to be swaddled (although Sully’s hands always escape), but when those swaddles come off, they are immediately cuddled up together, and watching them snuggle is just about the most precious thing I’ve ever seen.
Kali and Sully have been ridiculously easy babies (though I have a feeling that’s because they are preemies; I’m sure they will get more fussy once they reach 40 weeks): they sleep most of the day, except when I wake them to change and nurse them. Nights are harder, as they wake up nearly every hour to nurse—and rarely at the same time—so I am pretty sleep deprived. But unlike when Charleston was a newborn, I’m embracing everything about this stage—even the hard parts—because I know how quickly it will pass.
The twins’ size makes things a little more stressful because we have to be extra diligent about feedings and keeping them warm, but because they are so small, it’s easy for me to hold, carry, and even wear them in a baby carrier at the same time. Both babies are nursing well, though we are still supplementing Sully with fortified breast milk after each nursing session since he tends to fall asleep at the breast. We’ve been going to the pediatrician for regular weigh-ins and both babies are back up to their birth weights! They also both lost their umbilical cords over the weekend, which has made diapering so much easier.
At ten days old, their personalities are more prominent and we are learning each of their uniquenesses. Kali seems sturdier and more vibrant, more like a full-term baby: she is a deeper sleeper, a better nurser, and quick to let us know what she needs or wants. She likes to stretch her limbs and show off her flexibility.
Sully acts more like a preemie: he is quiet, more lethargic, cries little, and though he’s gotten better with his latch when nursing, he still falls asleep before getting a full feeding in. However, he’s great at taking a bottle and can down 35 mL of pumped milk in just a few minutes. He is a swaddle escape artist, loves curling up in a ball (making it hard to put clothes on him), and makes the cutest facial expressions.
Arlo came home from the kennel on Friday and he has been very interested in the newest additions to our family. Whenever they are sleeping in their playpen in our dining room, he lies right next to it, and he’s always nearby when we are holding them. He’s even acting more mellow, as if he knows he needs to be gentle around the babies. We did have a rather comical Arlo incident on Saturday: Luke was on a work call and I was nursing Sully when I heard a strange noise in the hall. I went to check things out and discovered that Arlo had thrown up twice. Still nursing Sully (who refused to unlatch, a rare occurrence for him), I got Arlo outside and got the throw-up cleaned up while also navigating Charleston, who was on a sugar high and running laps up and down the hallway. I didn’t gag or cry or yell once! I think I deserve some sort of Mom Badge for that!
On Saturday we went for a family walk, our first official outing as a family of five. As we were heading out, Luke said, “before, it was just us and Charleston. But I feel like we are a real family now!” He’s right: while I loved our little trio, it always felt like someone was missing. Now, we feel complete. I don’t know that our family will look like this forever: Luke and I both agree that my body and our marriage wouldn’t survive another attempt at infertility treatments, but after all we went through to get these two babies, we don’t feel comfortable closing the door on having another child if that is part of God’s plan for us. But for now, our family feels perfect. I never wanted twins and now I can’t imagine NOT having two newborns. I am exhausted, and slightly overwhelmed, but I’m also the happiest I have ever been.
So that, my friends, is our birth story. If you’ve made it this far in the post, you deserve a gold star because I know it’s been a long one. Thank you for joining us on this journey of bringing these two miracles into our family—from thinking I would never have another baby, to walking through infertility, to carrying twins for nine months (one of the hardest things I’ve ever done). I’m looking forward to sharing all of the future adventures of the Jernejcic Five!