Twinsanity 2022

Disclaimer: This contains neither the quality of prose of years past nor the humor. It’s been a truly hard year, and we now have 5 month old twins… The fact that this retelling exists at all is a Christmas miracle!

The full version [by Jessica with edits by Michael]:

TL;DR (too long didn’t read), a.k.a. Executive Summary

Normally, I am excited to write the summary of our year. Recounting our year usually contains a hefty portion of crazy that is seasoned with humor and topped off with hope. This year feels heavier and most jokes feel “too soon.” We have run the gauntlet on trials, challenges, and big feels—much more so than years past. This year has wounded us, smothered us, given us the greatest gift in our beautiful twins (and biggest challenge yet), and continues to feel like too much on most days. And, in fact, we are saving one last hard story to be chronicled next year. We would not have survived this year without the immense amount of help received from friends and family, near and far.

The quick and dirty summary is that Michael continues to work at the stressful startup that is Upward Farms; we got pregnant with twins after struggling with infertility; my days were filled with doctor’s appointments (jaw treatment and pregnancy), being pregnant, homemaking, house hunting, packing, and keeping babies alive; we had a lovely babymoon in March; we’ve had family members with scary health issues; we moved while I was 8 months pregnant; we had a traumatic birth experience; our new apartment has been a source of strife and stress; our babies are amazing and magical; and caring for twins is next level hard. I continue to volunteer with Little Brothers, Friends of the Elderly, making friendly phone calls to my friend, Elsie. Heartbreakingly, my other elderly friend, Anthony, passed away just before Christmas 2021, before I got to share our pregnancy news with him. We remained very involved with our beloved church, Reconcile Brooklyn, until it unexpectedly shut down this summer.

Read on for more drama and trauma. Be on the lookout for a handful of fun sections Babymooning, Doubly Showered with Love, Vocabulary Lesson, Drawn & Quartered, and Prides and Joys.

Infertility Sucks

Infertility has been the hardest thing I’ve experienced—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. We were walking our infertility journey all throughout 2021. I was subject to many medications, countless appointments, multiple undignified procedures (for both Michael and me), and oh-so-many needles. The sometimes daily treks to the Upper East Side from central Brooklyn and the jabs and pokes were nothing compared to the emotional roller coaster of hope and devastation that each unsuccessful month brought. We had to be so careful with the Covid pandemic, as a positive Covid test could cancel the month’s cycle halfway through. It affected our choices in travel, socializing, hosting friends, etc. Michael was positive for Covid in August 2021, and we lost a month of treatment.

I found support and comfort in a therapist-led infertility support group, and we appreciated the prayers and support from our tribe. During this season, I also worked with an integral coach, Griff Foxley. My goal was trying to figure out what do with my life vocationally—in the near term in case we couldn’t get pregnant, and down the road if we could. Our chats were comforting and grounding, and he was gracious and flexible as my outlook and/or circumstances changed significantly from week to week.

It was December 2021 when we learned that we had a positive pregnancy test just two weeks after our second IVF embryo transfer. That test was a morning blood draw and then anxiously awaiting an afternoon call with results. With the first ever positive test, we started to cautiously hope. Pregnancy blood tests came every 2–3 days afterwards for two more weeks before we could really start to accept the good news. Early pregnancy is so fragile, and with IVF you learn it’s a pregnancy far sooner than you would normally have any idea without so much testing. With each test we were balancing hope, relief, and anxiety, knowing that the next test might show signs of a miscarriage. Without all the monitoring, we would never have known we had been briefly pregnant if the pregnancy didn’t survive. Thankfully, each test continued to have positive results with the hormone levels doubling the way they should.

Wait… What?!!?

My first OB ultrasound was December 22nd. We were waiting to tell anyone our positive pregnancy news until after this appointment that would confirm the pregnancy was in the right location, viable, and not potentially lethal for me (not an ectopic pregnancy). I had to go by myself due to Covid protocols. As my fertility doctor was doing the exam, he pointed out the embryo, yolk sac, and heartbeat. I was briefly blissfully happy. And then he pointed out the OTHER embryo, yolk sac, and heartbeat. And, I was instantly overwhelmed. “Wait… what!?” It. was. twins. I sent Michael a picture of the ultrasound printout before leaving the office. IVF increases the chances of multiples, but it’s still a relatively low chance. We were the lucky winners for the twin lottery!

“Double the nausea, triple the fatigue, and quadruple the weight gain,” is a saying about twin pregnancy. I had a rough first trimester with exhaustion (multiple naps per day) and nausea. I consumed more crackers from January through March than I have in my entire life up to that point.

Housing Drama: Part 1

Once I emerged from the nauseous fog of those first 15 weeks, we started house hunting. Our third floor walkup with laundry in the basement and no stroller parking wasn’t going to work for one baby, let alone two. We looked high and low for a place to buy in Brooklyn or Queens, but none of the 15+ options we looked at worked for location , budget, space, or schedule. We did enjoy the realtor we worked with. Olena is Ukrainian. She was showing us homes while coordinating gathering supplies to send to her family back in Ukraine as Russia was invading her country.

Our landlord had offered us first dibs on a rental she was renovating. It was a first floor unit with a back patio and was supposed to be ready at the end of April. After our attempts to buy fell through and given a difficult rental market, we accepted the option from our landlord. It was the best option under the circumstances and came with a preferred tenant discount. Unfortunately, we wouldn’t end up being able to move until about a month before the babies came and the new apartment was a source of so many problems. More on this later.

Babymooning

Knowing that our lives were about to change forever with our twins and that the summer would be miserable with moving, we took a babymoon vacation in March in to Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. We flew into Charleston for one night before driving to our beach resort. We had a delicious late lunch at Poogan’s Porch, complete with shrimp and grits, a fried chicken sandwich, and mac & cheese. We walked around the city, and took a historical horse-drawn carriage tour.

Come dinnertime, we wanted some vegetables, but it turns out Charleston doesn’t believe in vegetables. We couldn’t find an open restaurant that was veggie-forward in the downtown area, and we were too tired to drive further afield. Our solution was walking to the grocery store for high-fiber cereal and blueberries. We ate out of paper bowls in our fancy hotel room, watching a “Home Town” marathon and taking turns falling asleep on the green velvet couch next to the in-room record player. (Exhaustion, cereal for dinner, and couch napping are a now regular part of our life with babies… we didn’t know we were in training.)

Our beach vacation was lovely. We splurged on an ocean-view room, a prenatal massage for me, and pedicures for both of us. There were chilly sunrise walks on the beach, reading books by the pool, Pirate’s Cove miniature golf, delicious Duck Donuts (made hot, fresh, and topped to order), and seafood dinners.

We made a day trip down to Savannah, Georgia, which we enjoyed—apart from the Confederate monuments—much more than Charleston. There are gorgeous homes, charming squares, and definitely more vegetables. We got to see the square where the famous bench scene in Forest Gump was filmed. Additional highlights included walking through Forsyth Park, strolling down the old riverfront, and stumbling upon the lobby of the Marriott hotel housed in a converted 1912 power plant.

Family Illnesses & Trips to Michigan

In March, my 94 year old grandfather was in the hospital for a couple weeks. I traveled back to Michigan to see him and my grandmother for a long weekend April 1st–4th. I made the trip just before my my high risk pregnancy safe air travel window closed. With the pregnancy and knowing we wouldn’t be traveling with the babies for a while, the trip had extra emotional weight, as we never know when the last time is that we’ll be together. My mom and dad flew up from San Antonio, and my siblings all got together as well. It was a short and sweet trip. Grandpa is home and managing. Grandpa and Grandma hosted Thanksgiving again this year (with a lot of help from family), although we did not travel for the gathering.

In May, Michael’s mother (81) went to the ER and was hospitalized for over a week. Michael booked a last minute trip to Michigan May 12th–16th to help care for her and make some changes to her house. His sister, Kendall, was there for a longer time and worked on some bigger projects. His mom now needs oxygen while moving around, so it makes life more difficult for her.

Subway Scaries (“He has a gun!”)

On April 12th, I was riding the subway into Manhattan for an orthodontist appointment when my train’s emergency brake was pulled between stations. At first I didn’t think much of it. I was just annoyed that it was going to make me late. Then I noticed a lot of commotion in the adjacent car through the window. One man in my car looked through the window and exclaimed that someone in the next car had a gun. Everyone started freaking out. (Earlier that very day, a mass shooting elsewhere in the subway system left ten people wounded, so it was terrifying.)

My phone had some service underground, so I called 911 and stayed on the line with them as the situation evolved. The train operator unlocked the doors between cars so that passengers could move into my car. There was a flurry of conversation about what weapons the man possessed (allegedly a machete, a knife, and a gun), what he looked like, and what he was saying—all of which I relayed to the 911 operator. At one point I was crouched down because the possible assailant might have been outside the train, and I was trying to not be visible in the windows.

After 15 minutes that felt like forever, the train pulled part way into the next station, my car doors opened, and I beelined for the stairs to get my five month pregnant self out of there, leaving the police to handle the situation. I never saw that armed man with my own eyes, but I was looking over my shoulder as I walked the two miles home. I called Michael, shaking, and asked him to call about my appointment that I was not going to make. He did so and broke down on the phone with my orthodontist’s staff. He was working from home and walked to meet me for the rest of the trip home. I couldn’t ride the subway alone for a couple weeks.

Carousel and Covid: Part 1

May 1st was one of those perfect spring days. Instead of packing, Michael and I stole away to the DUMBO neighborhood in Brooklyn for an afternoon date. We rode Jane’s Carousel. We had been meaning to do this for years. It was charming and only $3 a ride! Sadly, Michael was tall enough to ride the ride, but too heavy to ride the up and down horses…

While Michael was in Michigan, I took the train up to Rhode Island to visit the Liebenthals. I got to meet baby Elsie and help Priscilla pack for their move to a new house. Mostly, I held Elsie while Priscilla packed, since I wasn’t supposed to do much heavy lifting. It was fun to see young Ruthie as a big sister as well.

Unfortunately, I caught Covid on the train up to Rhode Island. I started feeling extra tired during my visit, and upon returning home decided to take a test. I tested negative on every antigen test, but finally got a positive PCR test. My age and twin pregnancy put me at elevated risk for preeclampsia, pre-term birth, and other complications. Getting Covid while pregnant increased those risks even further, so I was frustrated and anxious to have gotten sick after being so careful for so long. I was prescribed Paxlovid, and that set off another level of stress. There was not any significant data on the drug’s impact on pregnancy. We decided not to take the treatment, and I was wiped out for almost two weeks. One small consolation is that my infection likely gave our babies some natural immunity.

Doubly Showered with Love

We were showered with love at two separate baby showers in early June. We had a virtual shower hosted by Kat and Sarah Schulte, and an in-person shower thrown by Priscilla Liebenthal and Melissa Childers. They were sweet events filled with warmth, affection, and love for us and for our unborn babies. The virtual shower was over Zoom. People showed up with festive backgrounds and sweet words. The in-person shower was held at an auxiliary space belonging to Upward Farms. Our plan had been to hold it in the backyard of our new apartment, but since we hadn’t moved yet, we scrambled to find a backup option.

To Melissa’s and Priscilla’s chagrin, Michael and I were in the shower space during set up. I was told that I wasn’t allowed to participate, and when I bent that rule ever so slightly I was put in timeout. Six year old Ruthie was charged with supervising Auntie Jess’s timeout, and she thought this was all quite amusing. We enjoyed cupcakes on the roof deck, encouraging hopes and blessings for the babies, a surprise visit from the Whites (who were also expecting!), and lovely gifts, including some handmade blankets and hats.

It was an all-too-short visit, but we did manage to get some quality time with the Liebenthal clan at our apartment before the shower and then again with the Childers for an extravagant brunch at the incredibly lovely La Brasserie in Manhattan.

Our Beloved Church is No More

On June 10th, we learned that our beloved little church, Reconcile Brooklyn, would be closing at the end of the summer. The church had struggled with pandemic-related financial challenges, but the small community really cared about each other, loving God, and pursuing justice. Michael and I were aware of enough of the struggle to not be blindsided by the news, but we felt crestfallen and a deep sense of loss nonetheless. Late pregnancy, moving, and our kiddos being born meant that we missed out on all the wrap-up services and goodbye gatherings. We are still in community with many of our dear friends from that church, but we miss what used to be and what could have been.

Fired up for a wedding

We had the joy of getting to celebrate the nuptials of friends we met at church, Luke and Cassie Smith, on June 18th. We almost didn't make it to the wedding on time because of a 3 alarm fire on our street. At least twenty emergency vehicles swarmed our block. Our neighbor, Jerry, helped direct traffic to allow us to drive our rental car the wrong way down our one way street to get out before the street was completely closed off. Thankfully, everyone got out alive, but 3 homes were lost and several firefighters were injured.

Luke and Cassie’s outdoor wedding was a couple hours outside of New York City at a beautiful old mill. We had perfect weather, and so enjoyed spending time with the Hess’s and Boone-Lee’s at the reception. In an incredible twist of fate, the groom introduced Michael to friends of his that had graduated from Michael’s tiny Christian high school in Jackson, Michigan some years after him. They swapped stories about their teachers and laughed and lamented about shared experiences.

Housing Drama: Part 2

After two months of delays we finally moved into our new apartment just 10 blocks away from our existing place on June 26th. A move at the end of April would have happened while I was 5 months pregnant. Instead we moved while I was over 7 months pregnant (my belly was already the size of a woman with a full-term single baby pregnancy). If not for all who helped us pack—Ellice Lee, Amory & Woody Davis, Keyla Morgan, Tim Cheung, and Stephanie Lugo—we would not have made it. Thank you all for your energy, boxing, wrapping, lifting, and labeling.

When we got into our new apartment, we were dismayed to learn that even after months of delays, it still wasn’t fully ready for us. Because of inspection issues the gas wasn’t turned on, meaning we had no hot water and no cooking gas for the stove or oven. The A/C unit in the main living space wasn’t functional yet (we only had small window units in the bedrooms), an Internet service installation error meant we could not have service, the basement laundry wouldn’t be functional for a month, and the wrong basement storage unit was finished for us.

When we learned that the gas issue wasn’t going to be resolved particularly quickly, we rigged up a camp shower in our bathtub. We boiled water in our InstantPot, dumped it in a bucket in the bath, topped it off with cold water, and showered with a battery-operated pump and spray head that we bought on Amazon. The water pressure and duration weren’t ideal, but it beat icy cold showers for weeks! Our landlord did install a temporary hot water heater after about two weeks, so we could retire the camp shower. Ultimately, we wouldn’t have gas service until August 5th—the day we got home from the hospital with Aiden and Emmy. In the meantime, cooking—or more often warming—happened with our slow cooker, InstantPot, the microwave, and a charcoal grill.

My dad, Paul Schulte, came to our rescue, flying up from San Antonio to help us unpack during the first week of July. He was a godsend. He got to experience the joys of the camp shower. He assured us that it was a step up from the facilities at deer hunting camp, but as someone who enjoys showing classy and cozy hospitality, this was little consolation. While he was here, our refrigerator malfunctioned and froze everything. Our morning OJ was slush at times or a popsicle otherwise. The refrigerator malfunctioned for a week. After various attempts to fix it didn’t work, we insisted the unit be swapped with one from another unoccupied unit in the building. We lost all our produce, and it almost killed my sourdough starter, Fran. My dad and I did get out of the chaotic apartment for an ultrasound appointment. He got to visit the hospital where the twins would be born. I also took him to the cafe with the best cruller donuts in the city, Daily Provisions. His mind was blown.

There was (and is) always something going wrong or that is unfinished around here. Issues have included unpatched holes in walls, missing door handles, unfinished wiring sticking out of walls for an abandoned intercom, a radiator heating system with no thermostat, an incorrectly sized barn door that offers no privacy to a bedroom, kitchen cabinet doors falling off, hot water going out after the gas was finally turned on, part of the climate control system dripping condensation, electrical work being redone, the microwave remounted, shelving yet to be installed, and water damage to the floor and walls from leaks during heavy rains.

On the laundry front, Michael and I still had keys to our old apartment, a 10–15 minute walk away. Until the basement appliances were working, we used a local drop-off service or schlepped our laundry over to our old place to wash and dry there.

We had more help unpacking from Jeff & Ellice, Becca & Chris, Stephanie, Cynthia, and Amory & Woody. Our stuff is all here, but some of it remains in boxes as there’s no place to put it, and our new space doesn’t feel as much like home as we wish.

Braces Off!

In major news that didn’t get much press because of everything else going on, I got my braces off on July 11th! A couple minor follow-up issues remain, but it marks the end of an oral intervention era that is nearly as long as my marriage to Michael. While I won’t miss all the mouth soreness and poking wires, I will miss Dr. Chow and his staff. They were the people I saw most consistently in this city for the past 4 years, and there is real affection going both ways. Dr. Chow even sent lovely gifts for the twins when they were born.

Pregnancy Complications

On July 14th at 34 weeks pregnant, I was at my doctor’s office for my regular pregnancy checkup. My tests showed signs of preeclampsia, a pregnancy complication characterized by high blood pressure, protein in urine, and fluid retention that can be dangerous for mother and babies. I was sent across the street to the hospital for triage. The actual cure for preeclampsia is delivering the babies, so I was a wreck as I made my way over, worrying that the babies would come before we were remotely ready. I didn’t even have my hospital bag packed, and I always imagined Michael being with me while entering the hospital.

The lovely front desk staff figured out who I was as I was barely able to talk through the hormonal, anxiety-induced tears. They took a picture for my file as I was red-faced and sobbing. I calmed down upon learning that it was mild-to-moderate preeclampsia that could likely be managed with increased monitoring—increasing from one non-stress test to two per week with weekly bloodwork.

My care team decided to hold me overnight for observation. Michael rushed home from the office to pack for both of us and to come stay with me in the hospital. Funny thing, my blood pressure actually decreased while in the hospital, a normally stressful place, compared to being home in our disaster of an unpacked, chaotic apartment. We enjoyed that our hospital room came with hot showers that involved no battery-operated pumps. The whole ordeal may have been a blessing, since I got steroid shots to accelerate the babies’ lung development in case my preeclampsia worsened and the babies had to be delivered prematurely (50% of twin pregnancies are delivered before 36 weeks). This may have contributed to the twins entirely skipping any time in the NICU when they were delivered.

My pregnancy uniform all summer included compression socks. The swelling and leg/foot fatigue were no joke, and the socks helped. A phlebotomist that I saw regularly for blood draws knew me by my brightly-colored, knee-high socks, but I only discovered that this was my defining characteristic when I went in after delivery. My swelling was healing, so I didn’t have the socks on, and she commented on their absence.

Covid: Part 2

As if things weren’t stressful enough with racing the babies to get unpacked, setting up a nursery, and worrying about my health and the babies’ safety, Michael tested positive for Covid on July 19th. Incredibly, he was unknowingly infected by a friend—probably in the cramped space of our storage unit—who was helping us desperately unpack.

We had to isolate from each other in an attempt to keep me healthy. We slept in separate rooms, wore masks around each other, and ate our meals outdoors, sweating on the back patio. My C-section was scheduled for August 1st. So, during our last week before babies, instead of unpacking and enjoying some nesting, Michael was exhausted from Covid, I was exhausted from being uber-pregnant, we were missing our last days enjoying time as just the two of us, and we were super anxious about me needing to deliver early. The hospital’s Covid policy wouldn’t let Michael in if he was within 10 days of getting sick. Priscilla offered to come be with me if Michael couldn’t, but I just couldn’t imagine him not being there for the birth of his children and going through that experience without him.

two peas in the pod… a visual history

A twin pregnancy is the size of a full term singleton pregnancy (the term twin people use to describe a single baby) at 32 weeks. The photo with the crib is one week past that milestone.

A funny thing about being pregnant in NYC is that it changes how people relate to you. Normally, there is a certain amount of privacy in public, in the sense that people mind their own business and just don’t talk to strangers. While pregnant, every time I left the house, someone would comment on my pregnancy. I would get asked if it was my first (I’d say, “My first and second,”) or if it was a boy or girl (I’d say, “One of each,”) all the time. Later in the pregnancy, people would tell me, “Any day now…” when it was going to be several more weeks. I even had someone shout some of these questions across a street from the opposite sidewalk! It was a little intrusive, but mostly amusing, and I was thankful for the spirit of kindness (and seats given to me on the subway) from strangers.

Not How I Saw That Going…

I woke up July 29th to a voicemail from my obstetrician about my bloodwork. She had called after 10pm the night before, saying that one of my levels was low, and I needed to have repeat labs done at the hospital. I was more annoyed than concerned. It’s an hour and fifteen minutes each way to the hospital—two subway trains and twenty minutes walking. At nearly nine months pregnant with twins in the summer heat plus subway stairs is no easy outing. I also had on my mind unpacking still to do, a surprise Michael had planned for that evening, and that Michael’s Covid isolation was finally over that afternoon. I was looking forward to all of this and finally getting to share a bed with my husband again after eight days.

I checked into triage, my blood was drawn, and I was told it normally takes an hour to get results back. After three hours and still no results, I was so frustrated with being stuck there that I was getting really worked up. They wouldn’t let me eat or drink, and this mama was hangry (hungry + angry). My blood pressure spiked to 160/110 while my results came in. The doctor came to see me and and said she would prefer to not let me go home. I lobbied her hard to let me come back for more bloodwork the next day so that I could have a date with Michael. She agreed, as long as my blood pressure came down. It didn’t come down.

After two consecutive high blood pressure readings, the nurse placed an IV with some urgency and pushed meds to prevent heart failure or stroke. The doctor returned and informed me that my preeclampsia had become severe and that my babies were coming that night. They would wait for Michael, but he needed to come quickly. I had not planned to feel so unhappy or so unprepared the day of the birth of our children, but there we were… We still didn’t have names picked out!

Michael rushed to pack the last of my things, his things, baby things, and a chunk of the Berry Chantilly birthday cake he had bought me (the surprise was an early Zoom-based birthday party for me). Michael met our new neighbors in a rush as he hurriedly summarized all that was happening. A small stoop gathering of strangers scrambled to help him get bags, pillows, and more into an arriving car. Michael messaged everyone who we wanted to know as the car took him to the hospital. I was headed into surgery soon after he arrived. The C-section was successful, and I got see our baby A (our daughter) and baby B (our son) as they came out. Michael held my hand through the whole thing, and he got to hold both babies in the operating room. It all happened so fast!

Things Get Worse Before Getting Better

While in a recovery room late on that Friday evening, I was nursing our son for the first time and began to feel that I was going to pass out. I urgently asked Michael to take the baby so that I didn’t drop him if I fainted. Michael took him and sped down the hall to find help as we were not yet familiar with the emergency call button in the way that we soon would be. Michael watched my heart rate, blood pressure, and blood oxygen all plummet on the monitors as I fainted. The room filled with doctors, residents, and nurses trying to bring me back to normal levels. I would have 4 of these vasovagal episodes in the first 24 hours after delivery before the doctors figured out what was going on.

We were prepared for premature babies to be in the NICU. It turns out that our (technically) premature twins skipped the NICU altogether and went straight to the nursery with the other healthy babies. I, on the other hand, spent eight days in the hospital instead of the normal three  days for a C-section, bouncing back and forth between the ICU and postpartum floor. I had the distinction of being the most medically interesting patient on the postpartum floor (not a title you want to have). In the end, I had three blood transfusions, two CT scans, 24/7 heart monitoring due to blood chemistry being out of whack, insulin and glucose IV injections due to electrolyte imbalances, crazy bloody noses from an anti-clotting medication, cellulitis and a superficial blood clot in my left hand, the worst bruising I’ve ever had from the blood pressure cuff being used so many times, and a prescription for Lasix to remove the retained fluid from the preeclampsia. The core issue was internal bleeding that took a while to find. When the bleeding thankfully stopped naturally I was left with a blood clot that measured 6x3x2 inches in my abdomen—roughly the size of a baking potato.

The fainting episodes, internal bleeding, and heart issues were all so scary. Every day there seemed to be some new ailment, either developing spontaneously or as a side effect from existing treatments. There was discussion of laparoscopic surgery to stop internal bleeding or to clean out a potentially infected clot, or worst case, needing to reopen my C-section scar to clean things out. Thankfully, additional surgery wasn’t necessary. I was a human pin cushion, though. Poking me for new IVs and blood draws got increasingly complicated as time went on as all the available veins were poked already. The most experienced nurses in the hospital were eventually called upon to get my IVs in.

The IVs in the crook of my arm and in my hand made holding the babies so uncomfortable, especially when trying to breastfeed them. I was in so much pain from the C-section and the hematoma under the incision site that I couldn’t get out of bed or sit up properly for days. The babies would be wheeled in to us in their bassinets from the nursery, and Michael would feed them and change their diapers as I couldn’t. Inevitably, one would be crying while Michael was paying attention to the other. I had such an emotional time not being able to respond to their cries. I knew I wasn’t well and needed to heal, but it was disappointing, heartbreaking, and frustrating to not be able to bond with or feed my babies. Meanwhile, the lactation consultants were telling me to pump every 3 hours, else risk losing my milk supply (this ended up being needless exaggeration) even though it was impossible for me to do so. Sitting up to pump was exhausting and painful, and this added to my feelings of not being able to do basic mothering for my children.

Despite all this, we experienced a couple bright spots of generosity during our stay at the hospital. The nurses were all so great. One gave me snacks out of her personal stash when I was finally allowed to eat after delivery but the kitchen was closed. Another stayed beyond her shift just to be with us a while longer. I memorized the food menu at the Alexandra Cohen Hospital for Women and Newborns. I recommend the turkey panini, watermelon mint salad, and chocolate torte after trying everything many times.

Michael was barely sleeping or eating during our hospital stay. I would order as much food as I was allowed and share with him. We would try to send him out to eat, but the timing was hard. He didn’t want to miss doctors on rounds (there was always something to discuss), and I couldn’t handle being left alone with the babies if they were with us. He was sleeping on the couch-bed in our room that wasn’t quite long enough, and there were nurses coming in to take my vitals every 4 hours overnight. Michael was our communication director, and if you knew what was going on, it was because he was doing a great job of sending out updates and prayer requests.

To give you a sense of how trying this time was I’m leaving out how Michael sprained his ankle and just barely caught himself before collapsing into a busy side street, our misadventures with a rental car to get home that we paid for but never used, an emergency shopping excursion to locate a pumping bra, and an SOS for help in retrieving the babies’ car seats from Brooklyn for a hospital test we did not know about.

We finally named our children after they had been in the world for 5 days. We spent a great deal of time with our candidate names and then had to try them out on the babies once we met them. Despite how often we were simply waiting while in the hospital we found it incredibly difficult to find the time to work on baby names. Elliotte Michaela is our daughter. Elliotte is the feminine spelling of Elliot and means “The Lord is my God.” Michaela is a feminine version of Michael. We are calling her Emmy, because her initials are E and M. Aiden Jordan is our son. Aiden means “little fire” and is of Celtic origin. Michael is half-ish Scottish. Aiden is also a baby name in a song by a musician Michael loves. Jordan is a family name for me and also my middle name. Aiden and Emmy are beautiful babies. Everyone thinks so. We know we’re biased, but it’s actually true!

One fun story and portent of things to come is an epic tale of Aiden pooping. (You know you’ve reached peak newborn parent status when you decide to write about your child’s poop in the Christmas letter.) I was finally able get out of bed and wanted to see our babies’ poop transitioning from meconium to regular poo. Michael was changing Aiden’s diaper and lifted his bum a little to show me. At that very moment, Aiden pooped again, and it shot out of his bassinet, arcing onto Emmy’s bassinet, the floor, and almost onto me a couple feet away! For the first 3 months of his life, Aiden rarely missed an opportunity destroy a changing table or doctor’s exam table when his diaper came off. Here’s hoping that his affinity for al fresco toileting translates to easy potty training!

We Finally Went Home

My mom, Emmy and Aiden’s Nana, Claudia, arrived the day before we came home from the hospital. The original schedule had her arriving on day 3 following the planned C-section. In the end, because of the extended hospital stay after an emergency early delivery, the timing remained perfect. Our friend, Becca Villalobos, came all the way up to the hospital to get our keys and then prepared our apartment for Claudia before she stayed one night without us—washing sheets, cleaning the bathroom, dropping off food and snacks, etc. Chris Villalobos had previously ferried Michael home and back to the hospital for additional supplies and car seats after our homebound plans all changed. What a godsend the Villaloboses were. We got home in a giant SUV that barely fit three adults, two newborns, all our bags, and a driver. Our driver had 5 adult children and expressed a special warmness towards us and did his best to drive gently. The twins slept soundly. I sat between the babies and made sure they were breathing the whole way home.

The morning after we came home from the hospital, the Liebenthal family drove down from Rhode Island. Priscilla, Marc, Ruthie, and baby Elsie came to help us unpack, drop off freezer meals and lactation cookies, and give hugs and emotional support. They promptly put an egg, potato, and bacon casserole in the oven for breakfast (that only had a gas supply as of the day before). Michael had been up with the babies throughout the night for feedings and diaper changes to let me sleep. I was—and would be for weeks and months—recovering from major surgery and a painful hematoma. He was so exhausted from that and the previous week that while the Liebenthals buzzed around the apartment he just fell unconscious on the couch amidst all the commotion. He is such a light sleeper that this is saying something.

Nana stayed with us August 4th–24th and was an enormous help. Michael took eight full weeks and then two half-time weeks of parental leave, but everything was so much smoother with a third grownup on hand. It was all still a sleepless blur but smoother. We figured out how to swaddle our children so they could sleep and promptly realized we needed 200% more swaddles because of how much the babies were soiling their clothes and swaddles. Thank God for Amazon Prime. We spent countless hours with my mom talking and spending precious time all together.

The surprise of my emergency C-section left a variety of tasks undone—from unpacking to picking up our laundry. Anticipating that babies would probably ruin our white bedding we had swapped it out for something more practical. In doing so we had our nice duvet and cover laundered by a local shop. Michael was to have picked it up the day the babies ended up coming in dramatic fashion, and, well, that didn’t happen. Almost 3 weeks later he was was finally able to get to that shop to pick up our laundry. He apologized for the delay and explained that we had just had twins with complications before and after. The woman behind the register was also a mother of twins and gave us our special handling laundry service for free. Among so many hard things, this small act of kindness by The Soap Box touched us.

Vocabulary Lesson

We developed unique terminology for our new life with infants:

• “Costume change”—changing clothes because they’re wet or dirty from feeding or escaping their diaper.

• “Swizzle”—Rotating a baby on their butt as part of burping, like stirring with a swizzle stick.

• “Baby elephant”—The animal that lives in their diaper and announces bowel movements.

• “Murder”—As in what the babies claim is happening with their crying when changing their diaper (thankfully, this finally ended at about 2½ months old).

• “Houdini”—A name or verb related to escaping a swaddle.

• “Jailbreak”—Alternate swaddle escape terminology.

• “Grand slam”—Diaper change that includes pee and poop, a costume change, and a swaddle change.

• “Cold Shoulder”—When our extra long children start to grow out of their footies and stretching their legs pulls the garment down off their shoulder.

• “Austin Powers”—When Emmy turns 90º in her crib, and her head and feet touch both sets of bars along the narrow dimension of her mini crib.

• “Primary Baby”—The baby that you are feeding/changing/paying attention to at the moment.

• “Back-up Baby”—The baby that is not your primary focus at the moment.

• “Stinker”—A baby exhibiting frustrating behavior during a feeding including refusing a bottle from anyone but me, or biting while nursing and losing boob privileges.

• “Mission Impossibling”—When I roll to the far side of the bed to get out of bed and leave the bedroom so as to lessen the chance that sleeping babies sense me. I do it holding my phone, watch, baby monitor and open water bottle with my slippers on, so my hands and feet can’t touch the bed while I roll.

Diaper Fairies

A benefit of living in New York City is that we are able to hire a cloth diaper service to reduce our environmental impact while not having to wash mountains of dirty diapers. We collect dirties in a pail, and once a week, a “diaper fairy” comes overnight to collect the soiled diapers and leave a fresh supply of clean diapers. In preparation for our cloth diaper service, we practiced diapering on a stuffed bunny from my childhood.

Some Baby Stuff

At one point, my mom was feeding Emmy a bottle and was impressed with how vigorously she was suckling at the bottle. She exclaimed, “Emmy! You really suck!” I told her not to speak to my children that way. We had a good laugh. Nana was there for the first baths—like bathing a fragile squirming octopus. In typical Aiden style, he promptly pooped in the water during his first bath. Michael couldn’t stomach mustard for a week.

Becca Villalobos continued to be a local hero and came over twice to watch the twins with my mom to let Michael and I take a break and go out. Becca and my mom are now good friends, which makes sense, since they are both lovely, generous, solid midwestern folk. We celebrated our anniversary on one of these outings–six years of this crazy life that I wouldn’t change for the world.

We deeply appreciate everyone who generously gave time and/or money to feed us as part of our meal train. Ellice Lee was a hero for setting it up and managing it.

The twins’ first pediatrician appointment fell on my birthday, August 8th. My gifts were that they both got glowing reports on growth and overall health. We decided we really like our pediatric nurse practitioner, Rachel. For our first appointment she came in wearing scrubs and sparkling, glittery sneakers. With Rachel, everything about our babies is “amazing”, and we agree with her.

At our first checkup we learned that our kids would need additional medical followup. Michael took our newborns to all of the specialist appointments while I recovered at home. Outings were close to military supply operations. Emmy was breach in-utero and, after coming into the world, loved to have her legs pulled up, frog style. This meant she would need an ultrasound at 6 weeks of age to assess if she needed physical therapy for her hips. That assessment was completed September 14th (her first real tears happened at this appointment). Aiden developed swelling in his groin that turned out to be a form of incomplete development called a hydrocele. He needed an ultrasound (September 2nd) and to see a pediatric urologist (September 8th) to learn if surgery was required. We are thankful that all the tests results indicated no special interventions. Nobody needed surgery or additional therapies.

We got much appreciated help from friends and family in August and September. Amy Cesak was here for a weekend, Priscilla Liebenthal (and baby Elsie) came for a long weekend, Melissa Childers came for the better part of a week, and Kat Schulte came for a long weekend. We were desperate for extra hands to keep our spirits up and let us nap, shower, and eat at a normal pace. Two babies eating every 2½ hours around the clock is intense. Parents reading this will relate to needing to holding a baby while eating one handed or using the restroom with a little one strapped to your chest. It happens—all the more with twins.

Housing Drama: Part 2

While Melissa Childers was visiting to help with the babies, we experienced yet more apartment issues. The first thunderstorm since moving into the apartment blew in. As previously mentioned, this caused water to seep into the apartment. Water came in under the floorboards—it was some of the strangest flooding I’ve seen. We awoke to find a puddle in the middle of of the apartment between the coffee table and TV, and areas of the flooring were “squishy” for days. Our basement storage room also flooded with half an inch of water. Thankfully, we have experience with basement flooding and had most of our belongings up off the floor, but it still took almost two months until we could find the time to rearrange after workers hastily dried the space out.

Oral Surgery

You probably thought that this section would be about me, if you know how much dental intervention I’ve needed over the years… but it’s actually about the babies. We suspected that Aiden and Emmy both had tongue and lip ties that were causing painful and somewhat ineffective breastfeeding. Our lactation consultant recommended doctors that could assess and treat the babies. We chose a doctor that could evaluate and treat in the same visit, is well respected, and is within our insurance network. Unfortunately, she was all the way in New Jersey. We rented a car and drove an hour and a half out to her office on September 13th. The babies both needed lip and tongue releases (snipping the connecting tissue to allow for more movement). Both screamed. Aiden cried his first real tears, and mom cried enough tears for all four of us.

The worst part was the aftercare. To ensure that the wounds healed without reattachments, we had to perform regular oral stretches on the twins. This involved jamming our clean fingers into the open wounds, and stretching and massaging the affected tissues. Obviously, nobody enjoyed this activity, and there were tears from multiple parties. The cadence was every 4 hours for the first two weeks, every 6 hours for two more weeks, and twice a day for a final two more weeks. By the time we finished, we had been doing oral stretches for half the babies’ lives. Trying to time their torture with feedings every 2½ to 3 hours without having to wake them up from naps was a puzzle, and we ended up doing more rounds of stretches to make the pieces fit.

Aiden and Emmy both had cranial sacral massage work done after the procedure, and we did suck training exercises to help them learn how to use their tongues and lips in their new configurations. It was a lot, but they became excellent nursers, eating more, faster, and with much less pain for me, so I think it was worth it.

Drawn and Quartered

In our housing search we had hoped to buy a home or rent an apartment with in-unit laundry. To be clear, this is something of a luxury in the Big Apple. We did not have any such luck. However, our new apartment does bring us closer to laundry by two flights of stairs as compared to our previous third floor walk-up. Unfortunately, just like at our last apartment, the basement laundry machines require quarters. Where once upon a time we ran loads of laundry at most once per week, with the babies it immediately became daily and sometimes twice a day. This ate through quarters at an unbelievable pace. There is no service we are aware of for easily replenishing quarters, and outings to a local Chase branch were all but impossible amidst nonstop chores and feedings.

So, when people asked what they could do to help, we began asking for quarters! Becca Villalobos brought rolls during one of her many visits to check on us. Amy Cesak packed quarters when she came up from Virginia. Paul Schulte mailed us quarters from Texas. Luke Smith dug out all the quarters from a bag of change he had transported through multiple apartment moves. Holly Robbins and her partner were in the U.S. from Europe with their own baby daughter and brought us quarters when they came to visit.

In November we were actually able to help a family member finish a project by sorting through all our coinage to find an Alaska state quarter. We hit the jackpot with the sixth roll.

In the end, we’ve worked out a system with our landlord where we buy back hundreds of dollars of quarters from the laundry machines every couple of months. They come to us freshly sealed in salsa jars left outside our door.

Back to Work

Michael went back to work half-time on September 26th. I started learning a lot of things that didn’t work while trying to care for both babies on my own. I had had major anxiety about being alone with them for weeks leading up to this inevitable day. We had yet to figure out how to get them on a proper feeding schedule, so there was no predictability for the day or night. I struggled through that first week, but we all stayed alive.

My parents felt how desperate we were for help and generously offered to come support us. My mom came for her second tour of duty on October 4th with plans to stay a week. My dad would come the day after Claudia left and stay for another week, so that we would have 2 weeks of help to bridge the transition of Michael back to work full-time. We looked forward to every one of our visiting helpers like it was Christmas. So much hope for a little more sleep, help with chores, and that positive adult energy.

Covid: Part 3

Unfortunately, Nana (my mom), picked up Covid on the trip up from Texas to be with us. Claudia started feeling sick three days into her stay and began to to wear a mask around the babies. We all hoped it was allergies, but she tested positive for Covid. This was tragic on multiple accounts. My mom decided to leave early to minimize our exposure to Covid and to be home before her symptoms got really bad. We couldn’t house a sick adult, and she got home just in time to collapse into bed of fatigue. My dad postponed his trip, since he was exposed at home, and we were exposed at his destination. Michael and I started wearing masks around the babies until we knew who all was sick.

I did test positive, and Emmy and Aiden both started exhibiting symptoms seen in infants (fever, fussiness, and diarrhea). Michel seemed like he had mild symptoms but never officially tested positive—quite possibly because he had just been positive two months before. We went from looking forward to 2 weeks of help and extra rest to being profoundly exhausted and miserable. I was falling over tired from not sleeping compounded by Covid. We were stressed and on high alert for any signs of breathing issues for our pre-term, ten week old babies. We had a scare with Aiden. He was breathing hard and fast, so we got in to see the pediatrician straight away. Thankfully, it was just congestion and a lot of boogers—I’ll take saline drops and suction over the pediatric ER any day. We learned that only in rare cases is Covid dangerous for infants at 10 weeks old. Covid is mostly like a cold for babies at that age. This was some relief.

Michael spent what should have been his first full week back at work as sick time, caring for the rest of us. The first three days were the worst, and we had never felt so close to nervous breakdown in our lives. The babies still needed feedings, oral stretches, and changes around the clock while being extra irritable and filling their diapers with diarrhea. Already exhausted mom and dad had Covid fatigue compounding the struggles. Michael was doing laundry and other chores in the middle of the night as it was the only time such things could be done.

A silver lining in all this was that we got the kids on a feeding schedule. They were so tired from Covid that they slept long, and we were able to wake them up to eat every three hours. That pattern held and allowed us to make life manageable to a certain degree.

Turning a Corner

Michael went back to work full-time on October 17th. The feeding schedule was working, but the napping turned into chaos. I would try to rock a baby back to sleep, but the other one would inevitably wake up, and we’d be playing crying baby ping pong back and forth until my arms were going to fall off. We got support from our pediatrician to do some daytime sleep training, and let them learn to self-soothe and get back to sleep. It was torture for me but has paid off in the long run.

We hired a part-time nanny for three weeks in November. We found out about Ms. Patti from another twin mom in the neighborhood. She came to meet us one day, and Becca happened to be here giving me emotional support. Becca recognized her, as Ms. Patti has been a long time nanny to the kids of mutual friends, the Hess’s. Ms Patti also babysat Becca’s baby boy. What a small world! It seemed like divine providence to have found someone that our dear friends trusted with their littles.

I was really hopeful for the relief that having help would bring. It did work out that we finally made progress on the daytime sleep training and saw improvement on naps just before Ms. Patti started. That breakthrough actually made me believe that I could handle my children on my own without daily breakdowns, and we didn’t continue with Ms. Patti after November.

Thankful

My dad, Paul, rescheduled his November visit derailed by Covid to come be with us for an extended Thanksgiving holiday. He helped with chores, cooking, and caring for babies, but the best part was seeing him fall in love with his grandbabies. He was giving Emmy a bottle one day when she spontaneously gave him the biggest grin and laugh, and it might have been the highlight of his decade. I had to get a metaphorical paper towel to clean his melted heart off the chair.

As has been our tradition for the past couple years, we hosted Jeff and Ellice Boone-Lee for Thanksgiving. Hosting with infant twins was probably foolish, but somehow we made it work to feed five adults in our small overcrowded apartment. Most of the cooking was done by Honey Baked Ham, but we did make mashed potatoes, green beans, and my red wine cranberry sauce. Jeff and Ellice brought extra sides. I baked two pies, but slummed it with store-bought pie crust (I’m getting lots of practice letting things not be perfect). As it was nearing time for the grownups to eat, the babies decided they wanted in on a Thanksgiving feast. To make all the timing work, we ate dessert first! I wasn’t mad about starting with pumpkin and bourbon pecan pies.

Prides and Joys

Our extra long babies didn’t gain as much weight as expected between their three and four month checkups. We think changing their nap schedule and Emmy having reflux were to blame. Emmy is on Pepcid, and a focus on feeding them as much as they’ll eat while reducing distractions is helping them make up lost ground.

Michael and I have come to truly experience the meaning of the phrase, “pride and joy,” when used about one’s children. Emmy and Aiden are truly delightful. They can be stinkers, but most of the time, they’re charming and amazing and fun. They are both above the 95th percentile for length, and nowhere close to that for weight. Emmy is all legs like Michael, and Aiden is all torso, like me. Their personalities are emerging, and we are emerging from the fog of sleep deprivation to really enjoy them. They've started noticing each other, and they are each other’s favorite tummy time distraction. I do so much tandem nursing (the gold standard for twin breastfeeding), and they like to hold each other’s hands while making eyes at each other. (It’s hard to reduce distractions when your twin is the most excellent distraction.)

Emmy is our passionate child. She does everything and experiences everything at 100%. Sometimes she is so excited playing with a toy that she actually gets mad about it. Her favorite things these days are “the crinkle” (the crinkly-sounding toy hanging in the babies’ play gym), any screen (phone, TV, Apple Watch), having raspberries blown on her tummy, “Jingle Bells,” and being rapidly jostled side-to-side on our bed (we call it “earthquake”). She has a bright smile that’s as much in her eyes as her mouth. Her laugh is hilarious—it’s like a cough married a cackle, and we love it. It took us a couple days to realize she was laughing because it’s that unique. She has hit physical milestones before Aiden, mostly because she is a bit lighter. Because of her high strength-to-weight ratio, I call her my titanium baby.

Aiden is our social butterfly and snuggle bug. Where Emmy seems to be ever alert and has some tension in her body, Aiden will fully relax and melt into your shoulder. I call him my Snuggle-lump-a-gus (like Snufflelufagus from Sesame Street). Often, he is content to be a jovial observer. He was the first to respond to faces, make eye contact, and smilie in response to smiles. He was the first to notice his sibling and gets concerned hearing Emmy’s cries of distress. He started cooing and vocalizing well before Emmy found her voice, and he really seems intent on making us smile with his regular “discourse.” His favorite things these days are his hands (they’re in his mouth 90% of the time), the subway diagram hanging in our living room, “Wheels on the Bus” while having his arms flailed about for him, “Itsy Bitsy Spider,” blowing raspberries, and his sister. We are looking for a tummy repair shop, as blowing raspberries on Aiden’s tummy elicits zero response. Aiden has the biggest, sweet eyes and reveals his dimples when he grins ear-to-ear.

Not So Silent Nights

As usual, we had a quiet Christmas with just our little family (that doubled in size from last year!). The quiet was a little less quiet than last year with coos and raspberries abounding. There was no silent night either, as we are still doing overnight feedings. Our apartment can’t accommodate our proper Christmas tree, so Michael had the creative idea to hang something Christmas tree-shaped on the back of a door to hold some of our favorite ornaments. I overcame some bah-humbugs at the apartment and executed the vision. It came out nicely! Michael also wrapped a lamp with lights, and that’s where we put wrapped gifts. We have been asking Siri to turn on and turn off the Christmas Lamp for a couple weeks now (it’s a distraction for our kiddos during feeding time.) We did Zoom calls with Grandma and Grandpa Karlesky on Christmas day, and we did the Schulte family Secret Santa Zoom call the day after Christmas.

Many times this year, it felt like if something could go wrong, it would. Earnest and desperate prayers for relief, for being spared struggle, and for things to just resolve easily seemed to go unanswered. Looking back, we are thankful for the prayers for help and safety that were answered that kept us a notch or two above surviving. This doesn’t take the sting away from all the hard things, though. We wonder at the miracle of Christ’s birth in circumstances that were full of struggle and strife—an unwed teenage girl in an unfamiliar city giving birth in a barn because of the scandal of her circumstances. We've done much pondering of what joy looks like when things feel so hard. We’re still a work in progress. We know that 2023 will bring some major life changes for us, but hopefully there are fewer life-threatening situations and more “standard” struggles.

If you made it this far, you've earned 100 Karlesky Update Points™. They’re not redeemable for anything other than hugs and maybe an eventual baked treat, but I’m grateful you spent so much of your precious time reading about our lives.

Previous Years’ Entries:

2016: 2016 Was Insane

2017: What a Year

2018: Doesn’t exist, may not ever

2019: Hey We Live Here

2020: Blursday

2021: Twenty Twenty Two Point Oh No