One Today!

Special Day.
Can't quite believe it.
Snowed, which was exciting, and the girls loved their presents. Anyone want ideas for birthday gifts, I went through quite a few - just ask.
Special breakfast, lots of toys and playing.
Wore fancy dress for our giant raucus tea party.
twenty people and cumcuber sandwiches.
Eat chocolate brownies and chocolate cake. Twin One tried to steal extra from her sisters plate.
They were impeccably behaved.
They were happy.
I was proud.
One Year Old.
I've even run out of ticker.
Amazing.
One.

Nearly, but not quite...

One.

Took them to lunch today in a child friendly restaurant. They sat in high chairs gazing around, pulling at the string of their helium filled balloons. And while my mother and I eat, they quietly tucked into scrambled eggs and beans on toast, mesmerised by being out and the noise and the music.
They are very funny. They can both get up stairs now, and fast. Twin Two learned first; Twin one copied a few minutes later and now can overtake her sister, elbowing her out the way.
My nephews third word was ‘moon’ and my nieces was ‘light’. My daughters, more prosaically, say 'mummy' 'bye bye' - and ‘nana’ for banana.
Took the girls to the aquarium, carried them round in Ergo back packs. Entranced by fish. Waved at the sharks in the tank. Eeked a lot.
Separation anxiety starting. They clamber all over me, and cry if I go away for too long. I’m like a climbing frame and an assault course combined.
They are sociable children and wave and smile a lot. They babble away and rear up on their back legs like meer cats. They even do strange yoga holds, standing on their heads with their bums in the air.
They adore music and bounce when I put anything on. They are trying to stand up and Twin Two has begun to cruise.

I’ve been planning their birthday for months. It’s only a few days away and I already have about 160 pounds worth of gifts to give them. Not that they’ll register, but it’s hard not to buy. They are also going to have their first chocolate. My sister-in-law is baking a chocolate cake with chocolate icing. But I really want their first chocolate to come from me, so I spent this week attempting to make biscuits and brownies (I can’t cook). After a major dud batch, I succeeded with Nigella’s brownies, gooey and hot. I’m going to give the babies a little bit each for lunch with a candle stuck in top before their birthday tea party (cucumber and smoked salmon and egg and cress sandwiches in triangles and lots of cakes and hot cross buns).


*********************

Read an interesting book about the fertility business – Everything Conceivable by Liz Mundy. Would recommend it. Frightened me though, as I realised how blithely, how thoughtlessly, I had embraced IVF and ICSI and drugs and other non-natural methods of conception (I had no known fertility problems, only the lack of a man). The book makes it clear where the research is lacking – for example, the impact of the liquid culture on the embryos and the effects of sticking a needle into an egg for ICSI. Even progesterone supplements are apparently correlated with some genital malformations in boy babies.
The book includes a description of ICSI. Did you know the lab technicians don’t just randomly choose the sperm to put in the egg (the thought of that spellbinds me; my childrens' fate in their hands) but then cut off the tail so it is less wiggly and can’t get away. If the sperm gets stuck in the process, they just move onto another one, and another child is born. Makes me somewhat dizzy.
I’m certainly not saying I regret conceiving this way. I cannot ever do that. I adore my children. They are the most wonderful things. But this week I have worried that I may not have done right by them. They exist because of this technology - but have I created problems for them further down the line?
Anyone else ever have these fears?

Mother's Day

.... well not for another thirty five minutes. But it's as good as for me.

This week, an ex-boyfriend came to visit. We were talking about mother's day. He has two children and he was telling me how he was going to buy a card for his wife and a card for his mother. And I said that possibly the only disadvantage of not having a husband, is that there is no one to send me a mother's day card.

On Friday morning, the post arrived. I was with my brother and Flavia, who is the woman who helps me with the babies (I would say nanny, but that sounds as if she looks after the children while I swan about. In fact, we care for them together). The post arrived, including two large brown envelopes addressed to 'mummy' in coloured pencil. Inside each was a hand made card with a photo of my girls and a handprint done in paint, and a message, 'happy mother's day mummy'.
While I was out last week, visiting a friend who has just had a baby (single, DI) Flavia organised the girls and made the cards.
I was incredibly touched. I felt quite teary. The cards are on my mantle piece now.

Also in the post was another card. When I opened it up it played a tune: "MY MUMMYS THE GREATEST MUM". There was a message, from my father: "What Twin 1 and Twin 2 would have sent you if they had the money. You are doing a great job as a mum."
Felt teary. Feel all emotional when I hear the garish tune.

This evening I received an e-mail from my mother, 'Happy Mother's Day.'

And just now, I went upstairs to cuddle Twin One who was coughing in bed, and I went into my room to root around for a book (Everything Conceivable, about assisted conception) to read in the bath, and on my pillow was a bag with a card saying 'For Sunday' and inside was another Mother's Day card "From Twin One and Twin Two" and a trashy magazine, and a little box of chocolate eggs and a novel and a bottle of cava.
My best friend, the girls' godmother, came to visit us this morning, and must have put it there to surprise me.

*************

Today is March the First and this month my girls will be one year old. I think of them as 'the children' now, not as the babies. It is full on fun in my house (when they are not ill... which Twin One has been for a week). They clamber over me, and cuddle into me, and eek and squeek and babble and stand up everywhere holding onto corners and edges, and Twin One has fallen in love with a stuffed cat and Twin Two began her first cruising this week and smiles so much that people always say to me, that child has such a beautiful smile, she's such a smiley baby. They are very, very heavy. Twin Two is solidly into 12-18 month clothes. She has also started to point at everything and really enjoys handing me things - chewed up bits of toast, for example. They both love houmous - smeared all over their face - and today I gave them their first ever bit of cake - a little crumbled piece of wholefood Carrot (they loved it).

***********************

A poignant moment a few weeks ago. Up to now, I have been the centre of their world. They notice each other more and more and laugh at each other. But their main relationship has been with me.
I was in my bedroom having a rest during their nap. The girls, who sleep in the room next door, woke up and began to babble, blah di blah di blah and eeks... getting up noises. I could imagine them pulling themselves up on the sides of their cots and peering at each other as they chatted. They were having a really good time. There was laughter and conversation.
For the first time, I felt like the outsider. I could feel what it would be like to be them, alone in their bedroom, mummy in the next room, laughing with their sister. I could imagine what it would be like to be a child and to have the adults elsewhere... to feel like it was Them and Us.
I love it when they get on, and I want them to play together and be friends. But it was a strange feeling, and a bit sad because it felt like the first separation.

*************

I don't think there is much else to report here. My life goes on. I think I will not try for another baby. Not because I don't want another baby, but because I am 42 and I am so lucky to have had two lovely children, and the idea of another IVF, or more precisely a failed IVF, is exhausting.
I have a family. I am lucky.

I am still breastfeeding, even though the girls go at my breasts now in a very professional and dedicated way - like milk maids trying to fulfill their daily quota. They pummell and kneed. But still, I think it gives them comfort. And I like the full on cuddles.

As for the half-siblings: two mothers have suggested meeting up now, and still undecided. Maybe. Maybe not.

Ten Months Today

Ten Months Today. And there are full fledged people in my house. They now play with me. Twin One did peek-a-book with a muslin during dinner, holding it up high above her head like a little theatre curtain, and dropping it down to her own amazement. Twin Two celebrated by going from no crawling to a waddle of ten steps during her naked-play-before-bath. And then her sister tried to up it by pulling herself to standing on the stairs (spurred on by fury that I had removed a half-masticated gas bill envelope from her mouth and put it on a step just out of reach). It's all go here - here in the land where little people actually, and I think this is amazing, actually wave and go 'bye bye' and not any old how, oh no, they do it when someone leaves the room. Together. 'Bye. Bye Bye'. Wave wave wave. It is extraordinary (though not as visceral as the cry of MAMAMAMAMAMUMMMMMY in the middle of the night, that gets my hooves on).

A couple of things I want to say. Where to start? The first is something all parents probably know, and that is that babies get better. I honestly didn't think it could be possible. I was snug in the knowledge that babies were where it was at, and nothing could improve on their immense and sweet and soft vulnerability. But to watch little people emerge day by day, their personalities come out stronger, the big wonky smiles, the bouncing up and down on their bums and clapping to music. It is an ever growing source of wonder.

I have been thinking about having another child. Actually, I've been thinking about it on and off since about a month after they were born. These children delight me. I'd love a huge brood. I think about it, but in a gentle sort of way, a sort of way that makes me think - why not just go along to the clinic and measure my FSHs and see if it would be plausible (though my friend, who is due today, got pregnant with an FSH of 18). I loved being pregnant, and I would love to have the whole experience of babies again (I'm still breastfeeding, but I'm not sure how many more months this can go on for and I am mourning it's loss already, it's so loving and intimate and wonderful). But, on the other hand, I'm 42 now and that's not young, and although I have no known fertility problems, that doesn't mean this time would be as easy as the last. And I'd also have to divide my attention between more children (and they do have half-siblings out there if they want more blood relatives). And, most of all, I feel like I have a family, I feel so incredibly lucky that I ever got pregnant, that at the last post, when the fertility charts begin their decline, I got not one, but two, babies. I feel so lucky and it's hard not to feel I should be content with the number I have (I am certainly content with who I have). Still, it's a little sad, and only a little, to let go of the dream.

I find myself in an unusual position. I have always known that I would certainly want to meet and embrace my children's half-siblings (that is the children born from the same donor but different women). And I am in contact with quite a few mothers. Now, however, one of the mothers wants us to meet up, even though our babies are still just babies. And I find myself hesitating. It's odd. I thought I would be gung-ho and let's embrace this. And instead I wonder whether I should be taking the lead like this, or whether it is something I should let my children decide. I know families where the half-siblings have been introduced since birth and everyone grows up with an awareness of each other, and families where the half-siblings initiate contact of their own accord when they are older. And I am not sure in which group I belong. Anyone still read this blog, and if so, any advice/experience to offer?

Nine Months!

Wow.
I am the mother of full fledged people.
They crawl - well, one of them does - they investigate and peer and excavate and back up underneath cots and open drawers and make lovely da-da-da noises and kiss me when I say, Kiss, and give me smiles and are soft and lovely.
Nine months!

Happy Christmas and New Year to everyone. May all those who have children, continue to enjoy and love them, and for all those who want children, I hope that 2008 is the year that brings you your dearest wish.

A Post About Breasts

Yes. I too thought that the breastfeeding posts were over. The babies are over eight months old, and the agony of the first three months, the constant pumping and worrying and inadvertently starving Twin Two and the blocked ducts and the fire in the nipples, all that’s behind me. And I’ve been happily going along, breast feeding still, down to four feeds a day and sometimes supplementing, but still breastfeeding. And now, it looks as if I may be reaching the end.

It’s not that I want to. I would happily go on for months, a year, more even. I love breastfeeding. I love the way the babies are focussed on me, and the way they wave their hands up as they feed, waiting for me to kiss their palms (which they seem to find both funny and reassuring). But in the past few weeks, I’ve noticed them become more and more dissatisfied. Twin Two is often on the left breast – the rubbish left breast, the one that produces about half as much milk as the right – and she cannot stand it any longer. The last week she has rebelled. She begins crying and wriggling the moment we settle down for her pre-bedtime feed. And until recently I’d have said this was one of the favourite parts of her day. She has always loved hunkering down, gently patting my bosom with the palm of her hand, letting her eyes close dreamily, luxuriating in the milk and the warmth of my body. But not any more. Now she takes a few half hearted mouthfuls, turns away, and screams. Twin One still seems happy, but that is because she is more often on my abundant right breast, and also I think she is less hungry in general as she eats huge amounts of food – about half an adult portion three times a day.

I think it is the solids that have done it. The babies have been on solids for nearly three months and they eat a lot. We only breastfeed first thing in the morning, for a short snack at eleven and three – really short, only five minutes, and they take so little I don’t even bother to supplement then – and a night time feed. And it’s not enough to maintain my supply. I know because my body is changing, dramatically. The weight has started to come off, my appetite has decreased, my period began last week, and I now fit into a size smaller clothes (I learned that today when I went to Peacocks, a discount high street chain, to try on some clothes, and all of the ones I’d pulled off the rack were much to big for me). My breasts are also a giveaway. My breasts have always been one of my better features. They were – before pregnancy – a perky 34D and much complemented – even by bra fitters (they stayed up by themselves and were very round and appealing – the one part of my body ex-boyfriends eulogised). During pregnancy they swelled up to the top size in the bravura range – a Large Plus – and then, when the milk came in they became inconceivably big – the biggest bra I could find in Mothercare, around 38 G or H. Massive. If I skipped a feed they were porn-star pneumatic. But not any more. This evening I was undressing for my bath, looked up in the mirror, and realised my breasts had shrunk. I knew they were getting smaller – they now fit in the bottom half of my giant bras, with space in there for an extra pair – but I didn’t realise quite how diminished. They look like small people whispering in a crowd. And they have come through the drama of birth, pregnancy and breast feeding much worn and sagged – like a deflated balloon. They sit lower on my chest. I would fail the pencil test.

I’m not sure how this makes me feel. I think it makes me sad. The babies are growing up. They really are like children now. Heavy and full of exuberant personality. Their babyhood is already largely behind them. I liked the heaviness of my pregnant body, I enjoyed the fat and the excess of feeding myself up to breastfeed two, I quite liked being big and not caring about my clothes and putting on stretched faded pajamas every day with my belly hanging over the top and my massive bosoms stretching and gaping open the buttons of my cardigan. It’s as if I am turning back into an ordinary civilian, the full-on excesses of full-on mother hood are fading away. Soon, I will look like a woman who might or might not have had children, rather than someone whose body is clearly devoted night and day to babies.

Anyway. I haven’t given up feeding them yet. I will keep on going until they stop, or my milk dries up. But I’m not going to pump to increase my supply, and I’m not going to agonise. I did enough of that at the beginning. I feel I’ve done pretty well – eight months breastfeeding twins is good – and I don’t want to end up in a nightmare of constant ‘is it enough?’ and ‘is it working?’. I want to enjoy my daughters.

Children...

...that's what I seem to have now. Not babies.
Today, for example, Twin 1... crawled.... played pull-the-napkin... and clapped enthusiastically. Twin 2 kissed me and responded to the word 'kiss'. They are both absolutely lovely, gorgeous. They are also very heavy, and long. They are so expressive. They make me laugh. Today, for example, when we played the tugging game, I laughed, and she laughed back. They are incredibly strong. They are impatient and sweet. Twin 2 has gone right off my left breast and if she carries on like this I won't have any milk left(I'm down to four feeds a day and my period has started again... that made me a little sad).
The babies keep changing. It is quite incredible. Now they have their own playroom - or rather half of my living room, they are penned in with a long gate, and the floor is covered in thick soft rugs and toys and I let them roll and skoot around (or in the case of Twin 2, sit elegantly and then lean and lean and lean again until she gets the toys she wants with her oustretched fingertips).
Really, they are something else.