Wow!  What a big, crazy week, which followed on from my big, crazy news.  The one about the twins.  The Twins!!  I’m expecting twins!!  It’s still so amazing for me to even think of two babies, let-a-lone be writing about how they came to be.  Can you believe it?  I honestly feel like I’ve won Lotto twice over.  But double that.  And then some!

So, rewinding a little .. You might recall back when I talked of giving up on IVF..I think around 9 cycles in?  I’m not sure because really,  no-one keeps count at that point.  Anyway, while I had most definitely had enough, it’s the same for the period after every failed cycle and inevitably, the frustration fades and the horrible yearning returns.   So on to failed cycles 10 and 11 and then a then a year’s break.  It was so wonderful to take that time out and when I cycled again in June this year, it was with an overall mix of skepticism and calm acceptance that the end was nigh.  Just one more cycle. Really.  And as the days unfolded and the injections and tests and scans ticked over, even with the rest beforehand and the best intentions, it was a pretty cruddy effort.  Crayton was overseas for the majority of it while I juggled childrens things and business needs and clinic visits and demonic hormones.   I wasn’t surprised but disappointed none the less when we had fewer embryos than ever before and those we did barely made it to day 3, letalone our usual day 5 transfer.   It was with much cynicism that I went through the motions, all the while planning a trip to NYC come September.   The day before the result I cried to my acupuncturist, believing I knew the outcome.  That’s the thing with fertility treatment though – there is no guarantee of anything and I of all people should know to expect the very, very unexpected.

Fast forward 18 weeks.  And so it seems, I am in fact pregnant.  With twins.   Twin girls, at that.  Really, wow.  I still can’t quite take it in – even as I glance down at my rather enormous bump!  I truly cannot express how grateful and excited and amazed we are.   After many weeks of nerves and trepidation, we’re finally beginning to relax and allow ourselves to start enjoying what we’ve waited so very long for.  Well, we’re trying to.  I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you we’re still a little nervous but lets face it, most pregnancies come with anxiety.  Twin pregnancies, more-so.  And with our history?  Eeesh.  Now we’re past our ‘big’ scan though, at least we’re a little less crazy about it all.  It really does feel like it’s becoming real.  I even started some Pinterest baby boards this week!!  Small things that feel like big steps :)

There’s so much I want to say that I struggle to wrap it all up into a few paragraphs so for now I will just say thank you so, so much for all the support and prayers and good wishes sent our way since sharing our IVF struggles.  Thank you too for all the beautiful sentiments sent our way this past week – they add another layer of excitement and happiness to this time and I can’t wait to share more with you.

Love Sheye xo

That’s what I am.  I’m 28 weeks pregnant.  For anyone very nervously making their way through pregnancy, you’ll know the significance of 28 weeks.  Clearly we have a way to go but it does feel like such a huge step forward.  I promised myself I would relax once I got here and I can feel it..I am finally, finally starting to exhale..be it ever so slightly.  (And even while I write that I fear I’m tempting fate).  Underneath the anxiety though, I really do want to keep a record of this time and to really begin to celebrate what on many levels, I still struggle to believe.   For all the bits I have shared regarding IVF, it doesn’t really scratch the surface of our journey and I can never quite wrap my mind around the idea of not just one baby on the way, but two.  It really is so amazing.

In terms of a twin pregnancy, it’s been reasonably smooth sailing so far.  I knew it would be harder on me physically – heading into a 3rd trimester the fifth time around would have been a struggle with just a singleton – but emotionally it’s been so much better than I imagined.  I worried about how I would cope, given I’m no stranger to PND after having it post Luca’s birth, along with a little during Ivy’s pregnancy and again when Ava stopped breastfeeding.  It’s been such a relief to find that so far, I’m fine.  Better than fine.  I still have hard days where everything hurts and sleep deprivation is a normal part of my day now but the gratitude has never waned.  Unlike the other four where I just wished for an end to the discomfort and pretty much disliked the entire process..this time the appreciation over-rides all else.   Sadly, appreciation doesn’t equal radiance and I’m as blah a pregnant woman as I ever was..16 extra kilos have found me and my feet now resemble pasty puffer fish.  Ivy is quite adamant there are extra babies in my chest and behind..just to confirm what I already know.   Thank you, Miss Brutally Honest In Your Skinny Jeans.

So, today is the day I vowed I’d begin recording this incredible chapter in our story and hopefully I can continue to share the ups and downs of the next twelve weeks or so.  As always, thank you for the beautiful thoughts and support along the way :)

Much love
Sheye xo

ps.  Here they are, 27 weeks old!   Twin one does in fact have eyes, it’s just a funny angle.  Twin two is the smaller of the two – not that you can see it here!   For those who’ve asked, they’re non identical as far as we know and if the ultrasound is anything to go by, I think they look reasonably different.  x

As I mentioned in my previous post, I’m excited to share the remaining days of this pregnancy with you all.  I know I haven’t blogged much this year but I have still written a lot..thoughts about birth choices and baby shopping finds and all the usual highs and lows of 1st and 2nd trimester.  I wanted to post those thoughts here but fear and superstition held me back.   Today I read over some of those entries and thought I’d share one with you.  I may have stepped through another door but I will never forget the five years that preceded these 28 weeks.

June 08, 2012.

Today, I found myself heading for the city.  And I found myself entering a building and changing into an unattractive gown and lying on a cold table in a room full of strangers until everything went soft and hazy and I knew no more. Today I had 11 carefully grown eggs removed from my body and after today I will be waiting to have them put back. Well at least some of them, once they turn from eggs into embryos.  I hope.  Today I am sore and tired but I’m also more at peace than I’ve ever been.  No desperation, no anxiety, no panic.  I’m long past the excitement and expectation.

For those following my long, arduous IVF journey..a quick catchup, sans the misery..Between the miscarriage in 2010, and now, I have done two more cycles.  One resulted in nothing at all and the other, a chemical pregnancy..the blink and miss it variety, still served with a large side of despair.    I then took a break for a year and well,  here we are..ready willing, and still rather unstable.    Tomorrow I will find out just how many of those eggs became the beginnings of people overnight and in five days time, I hope to return to that same building and reunite with a couple of them. All I can do is hope they like being back with me.    The frustrating thing is, there’s no reason for my spectacular failure at IVF..none at all.  If I could try naturally (which I can’t) perhaps I’d have two more by now.  It’s really just another example of how life can be amazing, and life can suck. Badly.

Often in the course of my IVF travels,  I’m asked if I have other children..and I always have that moment.  The one where I pause and wonder if they’ll assume it’s not that bad then, that the burden is somehow lessened because I do have three beautiful children here.  Sometimes they even confirm my fears with a simple “Oh well, at least you have them”.   And yes, to a huge degree they are right.  I have them.  I don’t know what it’s like to be trying for a baby and still waking up to a quiet house and I cannot imagine the pain that goes with that.  I do however know the pain that has gone with my own journey and wrapping it up in 7 short seconds when a stranger makes a thoughtless, throwaway comment is impossible.  Twelve cycles at 4 clinics in 3 countries with 2 incomplete pregnancies and a failed tubal reversal.  A bit of internal bleeding here, some severe hyper-stimulation there.   All wrapped up in a rather tatty blanket of grief and just so much more anguish than I could possibly explain to someone who has not walked this road.

While I can be philosophical for the most part the truth just is that fertility treatment is horrendous. It might not start out that way but as the failures mount, it certainly ends up there.  At my first consultation in 2007, a rather mad doctor told me that IVF is “no big deal”. Women do it in their lunch-break and don’t even think about it, he said.  You’ll be pregnant in three cycles, he said.  He was wrong.  It is a big deal, it takes over your life and sometimes it takes more than three cycles. Much more. And along the way it robs your joy and time with those you love and a large part of your self – physically, emotionally and mentally. It’s just so hard.

When the desire is there for a baby, whether it be No 1 or 11, it’s so difficult to get past.   I wish I could just wake up and not yearn.   I wish I wasn’t trapped between having had enough and having invested so much I can’t give up.  At the end of the day though, I don’t want to keep doing this forever.   I like to think the end is in sight soon I will get to experience Life Without Fertility Treatment.  A small part of me wants to go out fighting and gnashing..yelling that it isn’t fair and it can’t all be for nothing but a much larger part of me knows this journey has been largely tied up in grief for Ava and as I’ve shared before, the grief has softened.   I’ve found that ‘liveable’ place and with it, a degree of acceptance that there may just not be another.   Lord knows I have tried, and tried. Que sera. Really.

The point of my post today is not meant to be about me though, I really just wanted to share something that isn’t often talked about in polite company.   Why there is some kind of secret veil over infertility, I do not know. And if it’s firmly in place in social circles, it hangs even heavier at the clinic. No one talks, no one makes eye contact.  Not even when the tears are falling.  Especially when.  We’re all there in that rocking boat together yet unable to reach out and steady one another.  Even with a great partner and wonderful support from family and friends, it’s a lonely place sometimes. Most of the time.

Sitting in the theater waiting room today, surrounded by other silent women wearing those pastel gowns like some kind of Infertility Uniform, I just felt so sad. Not so much for me, but for all of us. For all the women in every corner of the World who are also sitting and waiting – in operating theatres, in bathrooms, in doctors offices. Who are counting the days and marking off dates and praying that this is the one.   Who are screaming at their partners and hating their own bodies and dreading the next injection.  And who are sometimes having to battle the overzealous and fearful ethics committee that exists in our Country just to have options.   I do know I am incredibly lucky to have seen the flip-side – I have been so blessed with four children who came easily – and I gave it no thought.   I’m loathe to think back on how loudly and publicly I shared my ease at falling pregnant back then and how painful that must have been for women over-hearing who weren’t so lucky. It’s like so many things in life – you just don’t know until you know.

I found this video online today. It’s sad and beautiful and I’d love you to watch it. For those who’ve experienced infertility, you already know. For those who haven’t, I’m hoping you’ll take a brief moment to peek into the World that is daily reality for one in eight couples. The toll isn’t just emotional, it’s financial and it makes it an impossible dream for many people. Here in Australia, it costs around $8000 for an IVF cycle. The government give back around half, later. I know in the US it is a lot more, having done three cycles there myself.  It’s hard enough to go through the awfulness of IVF but to think some can’t even afford that opportunity is heart breaking. It makes no sense and it isn’t right.

What IF: A Portrait of Infertility

If you’ve stayed reading, thank you.  Sometimes just being heard is everything.

xo

Images are from cycle 9 (I think).

My Ivy.

She’s finished Grade 1.  She can put her own hair up and she lives in skinny jeans.  She can ride a skateboard..almost.  She’s over Disney Princess and she says ‘like’ too much and she tells her Dad to dress properly.  She’s fallen for Blythe.  She isn’t easily fooled and she knows what she wants and she will sometimes say she’s ‘not in the mood’.   And still..she sleeps in my bed and she loves her cuddles and on 12.12.12, when she turned 7, she was still every bit my baby.

Love you, my honey. Even if you do call me sugarlumps.  xo

iPhone only.  Edited in Lightroom.  Own preset.

32 Weeks.

Really?  As in 8 months?  Crazy, crazy.  I can’t believe how quickly this pregnancy has gone and that I’m actually this far along.  It really feels like the weeks are flying by and to be able to say I’ll give birth next month (well we hope not until next month) is overwhelming!  This is a new experience for me..I normally find the weeks of waiting for a baby painfully slow.  I think the difference is that in ‘regular’ pregnancy (ie one that didn’t take a truck load of drugs and five years to happen), you see that double line and you immediately start planning for a baby.  Period.  In IVF Land you literally live week to week, waiting to find out if your protocol was successful in giving you enough eggs, if your eggs turned into embryos, if your embryos made it to transfer and if your transferred embryos make it to a positive pregnancy blood test.  From there, it’s just more of the same.   Test after scan after test.  Always waiting for the ‘but’.  Especially when there’s two in there.  Except here I am..32 weeks and apparently, still every bit pregnant.  Can I say “wow” one more time?

Physically however, there is no doubt that I am about as pregnant as one can get.  As much as I’d like to present as a peppy, oh-you-don’t-even-look-pregnant, what time is Pilates on kind of expectant woman, I’m actually pretty miserable with the discomfort.  I knew it wasn’t going to be easy but actually living through it each day is not fun.   Back pain, front pain, stinging skin from stretching, balloon feet encased in compression stockings, a broken pelvis and no comfortable way to sit or sleep.  One baby that hiccups into my belly button continually and the other who likes to rummage about in my rib cage.   Somewhat painful and definitely disconcerting.    My trips out are becoming more difficult and less frequent and my air conditioning is running non.stop.   I’m now measuring at full term for a singleton.  Eesh!    All together, this doth maketh for a rather whiney woman.

You know I’ll always look for the happy though so let me end by saying it’s still all so amazing and wonderful and I never forget how lucky I am..even on the hardest of days.  Right now my biggest focus is just to have these babies grow and deliver them safely..however that needs to be.  As someone who’s had the joy of experiencing wonderful drug free water births, I normally would love to try for a natural delivery but being twins,  it’s all about risk management and that comes with a large side of medical intervention.  At the end of the day though,  I’m not looking to rock the establishment here so I shall remain a compliant patient and keep my bleary eyes on the prize.

Thanks again for all the encouragement along the way.  Your excitement doubles my excitement :)

xo

That’s what we call him.  Along with Macey-Boy, Macey-Jude, MJ, Meester Macey and of course Mason, when in trouble.

Yesterday, my Macey turned 12.  Given my current invalid state, we celebrated in the most low key of ways..our normal tradition of cooking a lavish breakfast for the birthdayee was traded for a drive thru McBrekkie.  And honestly, it was fantastic.  No stress, no mess.  Relaxed parents.  Deliriously happy children.  Given I once changed Mason’s kindergarten after they’d fed him McNuggets without permission, this is quite the transition.  In the afternoon Crayton took all three roller skating while I lay horizontal listening to the rain.  Perfect.

As busy as our lives are, we always stop everything for birthdays.  Even if that means to just hang out together and take real time to chat about what another year older feels like.   I think it’s so important to properly celebrate the day someone entered the World and all that they have become.  And I am I’m so, so proud of the person Mason has become.   We’ve journeyed through so much in the 12 years he’s been here, wonderful things mostly but also dreadful things that could have taken over all else.   Instead, I see a funny, sensitive, considerate and oh so polite boy who is also the life of the party.  He’ll do anything for his friends and family and is fiercely loyal, sometimes to a fault.  He’s also a champion at arguing the point and terrible at following instruction so most of our bedtimes involve 23 hugs, lots of roaming around the house and many debates over whether he’s even supposed to be asleep.  Infuriating and absolutely beautiful.  That’s our Macey.

Happy Birthday darling.  We do love you madly.

xo

So, I’m coming to realise that there won’t actually be a point in this pregnancy where I say ‘Yes,yes..I’m pregnant. No big deal’.  I know this is a recurrent theme but I can’t quite get past it.  It does seem the shock and awe shall remain firmly in place until I hold two babies in my arms..when I’m pretty sure the shock and awe will double.  I really did believe that each major milestone would ease my anxiety and quell my amazement and that at some point it would all become quite normal.  Not so.  If anything, I’m totally and utterly astounded that we’re actually at the Grandaddy of all Milestones – 34 weeks.  From here the babies could arrive at any point and have a very strong possibility of leaving hospital whole and healthy.  This is the one I’ve been waiting for and I could literally skip down the street shouting about it, I’m so overjoyed.  That is, if I could skip.  Or walk even.   As expected, the hard bits have gotten harder and I really do resemble those women you take a double glance at before thinking “oh dear god please don’t let her give birth right here and now”.  I have developed a whole other language based in groans and sighs and turning in bed involves a 23 point, agonising manoeuver.  Luckily I have the whole thing to myself – my beloved fled in search of uninterrupted sleep a long while back.  Now it’s just myself and the pregnancy pillow wasteland..an ocean of oddly shaped fluffy objects that claim to increase one’s comfort overnight but instead have me flinging and muttering loudly in the wee hours.   So, no..this isn’t the fun bit by any stretch and I’m just putting one puffy foot after another.

The other thing, a different kind of struggle, is the knowing that my relationship with Ivy will likely shift when the twins arrive.  Not that it will be less than – I can imagine so many ways in which it will grow and develop into something else amazing – watching her become a big sister, seeing her with girl siblings, having her help take care of them.  All the wonderful bits that come with having an older daughter to bring babies home to.   The other side though?  The fact that she will no longer be my youngest, my baby.   In preparing for the twins being in my room I’ve had to move her back to her own and Lord, do I miss her.  From the day Ava left, when my entire philosophy on parenting shifted,  she has been welcomed into my arms at all hours of the night.   In recent months she’s begun just going straight to bed with me at the same time.  We’ve chatted about the important things and the aimless things and she’s held my hand while we’ve drifted off.  That.  I miss it so much that it’s brought me to tears more than once the last week.   When I tucked her into her own bed last night, she said “Mummy I will just close my eyes and pretend it’s your bed”.  Sharing it now, my eyes sting.    I’m just not sure how to navigate it and maybe I won’t really have to.  Maybe life will adjust and we will adjust and we won’t remember a time without these two little people as part of our family.  Well, logically that is how it happens, right?

The nursery is coming along, albeit more slowly than I’d like.  I have most things here, it’s simply because I cannot do a lot physically that it’s slow progress.  Where in other pregnancies I began decorating the moment I fell pregnant, fear this time has held me back for such a long while and then suddenly it’s all become a lot to do in a little time.  It’s frustrating because I love this part of the pregnancy so much – seeing their room take shape is literally a fairytale come true for me.    Hopefully I’ll have some pictures to show you before the girls get here and if not, it will look prettier with them in it anyway :)  Oh, and we have finally chosen their names after much, much deliberation.  As friends and family will attest, I am THE most indecisive woman on the Planet so settling on two entire names has been grueling but we’ve done it.   Really.   There will be no repeat of the Ivy (aka The Baby Formerly Known as Mila) scenario.  I can’t wait to share :)

So that’s where we’re up to.   Another ob appointment and another scan this week will hopefully show everything is still progressing well.  I’ve had breech babies for many weeks now and I don’t expect that to have changed so my birth options are looking more limited by the day.  I refuse to get too focused on it all though, however they arrive is the right way, as long as they’re here safely.  I’m trying to think up little ways I can make a c section more personal if that is in fact the outcome.  Any suggestions much appreciated!

Finally, I know the belly photos have been few and far between so I’ll try and redeem that before it’s too late!  I might even try to find the big camera one of these days ;p  Luca told me this photo looks like Ivy is hugging a giant marshmallow so lets be clear, it is in fact my giant stomach.

And, a present from my Ob this week.  I like to think when I’m out in public I put on a brave face and muster up a little spring in my step.  Clearly, I’m fooling no one.

Lalalove, Sheye xo

Yes, really. I just don’t feel like 36 weeks adequately conveys the extreme state of pregnancy I find myself in.
So there isn’t a lot to report – just more of the same. Except for walking. And sleeping. Less of those. With additional people roaming around in my personage, it’s occurred to me that I’m the real life version of a Russian doll. Mattel could market me complete with matching compression stockings and gigantic underpants. I’d whinge when you pull a string.

I really, really want to get these girls to a very healthy point before being born but wow is it hard not to reach for the castor oil. In my particularly dark, achey and sleep deprived moments, I liken this to a virus where you just want to wake up and feel better the next day – where you’d give anything to feel normal again but you don’t have control over when it will end. I know the big picture is much prettier than that though and it’s not all the time I feel like that. Just most of it. At least there’s an end in sight and I won’t be bleating on forever, right? For now the three of us will keep muddling along and see if we can actually make it to a planned c section rather than a 2am mad dash and deliver one.

Thanks so much for all the lovely FB and Instagram comments of late – it does make a difference to my day knowing people are genuinely excited to meet our girls. I wish I had nursery or baby clothing or belly photos to show you but that would require me moving out of the Jason recliner and shuffling somewhere to do something. No can do. I keep promising I’ll have proper pregnancy photos done but I need someone with a camera to come over and perform a drastic makeover and then piggyback me out to a pretty location. Oh, and they need to be skilled in breech delivery of twins, you know..in case I happen to give birth while we’re there or something. Anyone?

So, just to paint a picture of the week that was:

The Good:
Amazon came through and delivered just about everything left on the list in record time.
I found the prettiest wallpaper and even better, a Dad who’ll attempt to hang it for me.
I managed to pack a hospital bag and look like one of those organised pregnant people.
I’ve received theee most beautiful gifts from friends and strangers in recent days that I can’t wait to share.
I’ve had an awful lot of fun at Etsy.
This arrived from the Cord Blood Bank and makes me smile every time I look at it.

The Notsomuch:

I’ve remembered a whole lot of things that were left off the Amazon list.
I’ve unpacked half the hospital bag already.
It seems I bought the only wallpaper that is not recommended for DIY.
I’ve spent too much at Etsy.
A stranger said she’d never seen anyone as pregnant as me.
Every single day I have signs that, after consulting the interwebs, tell me labor is imminent. Liars. Big big liars.

All for now :)
Love, we three.
xo

Six years.

The third of February, 2007. I think of it and in my head, I see a cartoon layout. The one where there is a jagged line down the frame showing two different moments. The morning and the unknowing. The laughter and the chatter and the normality of it all. And then, still on that same day, the opposite of that. The mayhem and the yelling and the panic. The allknowing.

Then the calm. The utter shock and the staring out the window of the police car en route to hospital. The surreal. Hating that I couldn’t see the ambulance ahead and hating more when I saw it pulled over on the side of the road a little later. I knew what it meant. Her Daddy holding my hand and telling me we would be okay. Not that it would be okay, but we would. One day.

Arriving at hospital in my pyjamas and realizing I had nothing else with me and wondering why that mattered and knowing that I had to ring my Mum. Seeing my darling girl and seeing the tubes and lines and beeping machines and wondering how, how, how?

Traveling to a new hospital and being met by my sister and not recognizing her through the veil of shock. The eternal waiting in PICU and wondering why Ava was taking so long to arrive. They didn’t tell us she was too unstable for the one hour journey.

But she did arrive and they added more tubes and gave us less hope and we sat by her bedside in silence. I focused on her toes so I wouldn’t have to see everything else and even with her there, with her right there beside me, I could not find her.

This day will always be the day we lost Ava. Her headstone may read otherwise but for me, the third is the last day I had her here on this Earth..my sweet girl. Happy. Perfect. Adoring and adored.

In the days that followed, no..in the years that followed, I wondered so many things. Would life ever feel normal again? Would my children grow up happy? Would Crayton and I make it through? Would we ever feel whole again? It does, they are, we have and we do. Time helps so much to heal, if you let it. I have spoken endlessly about perception and priorities and gratitude. Six years have given me more heartbreak and more insight than I could have possibly imagined and today, through the tears and the wishing, I am still so thankful to have survived it..with my family, and my heart, in tact.

Superprincess, thankyou for you.

xo

The short:
Here I am, about to start 37 weeks!

The long (and the real):
Here I am, having the photos taken that I’ve promised I would for months. And only because my husband was wise enough to insist and kind enough to take them. I admire his bravery to be honest. I really am the most difficult, self critical woman on the planet when it comes to photos and I wouldn’t want to capture me. Knowing that, the events that took place around this seemingly small task should not have come as any surprise. Let me paint a picture.

Before this moment, I begrudgingly struggled up the stairs to try and find something to fit. I changed more than once and cursed more than twice. I watched the light falling outside while I tried to apply false eyelashes to eyes that were too far from the mirror.

I struggled back down the stairs to three children who wouldn’t change into photo appropriate attire and traipsed the endless bed of bindies to the the closest patch of light. All the while, snapping instructions to my poor beloved who somehow wasn’t born knowing how to a) operate a camera on manual b) capture sunflare or c) see inside my mind. Don’t get my legs, I said. You’re too far back. Get Ivy with my tummy. Not that low. I said no legs. What are you doing? What am I doing? Seriously.

Seven minutes later and wise, kind beloved looks confused and regretful. The boys are fading and Ivy appears crest fallen. I loudly and dramatically admit defeat and stomp (as best I can with a broken pelvis) back indoors, proclaiming I’m going to find another family on match.com who will actually make a real effort.

And then.. cue the wailing. The latex glue on my eyelashes are causing an allergic reaction and my feet are morphing into cushions. Everything, every. single. thing, hurt.

But worse than that? The LCD told me what I already knew. Sniffling and pathetic, I sat flicking through frame after frame of images that looked nothing like the ones in my head and wailed some more. I wasn’t being rational and I had no intention of trying to be.

Later that night, with less puffy eyes and feets, I looked again and still, I saw the same frames and flaws. I saw nothing that I’d wanted captured and everything that I didn’t. But also, as I saw the happy smiles of my children, I realized that the clothes I’d gotten cross over were barely noticeable. And that the photos themselves were technically fine. They may not have donned the perfect outfits or pressed the exact buttons I’d wanted but they all happily came to capture this moment. They came because it was important to me and even when I slid into tantrum mode and none of it was the least bit fun anymore, they didn’t walk away. And so, with new seeing, I’m sharing this with you.

The Really Real:
Here I am, starting 37 weeks tomorrow :) I look at this image and it makes my heart burst. I see my gorgeous Ivy and her pure excitement. I see the months of anticipation and gratitude and I see the years of hope and perseverance. I see my amazing belly that’s holding the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me. I see a new door opening. I see a different February to the last five and I see that even from the very, very darkest of days that the sun can shine again. I see Ava, my sweet, sweet Ava, and all that has become because of her. Most of all, I see an image taken with so much love, by the one I love.

Thankyou my darling for helping me see as you saw.
xo

ps A favorite song, for you, and to remind me.

Cradled in thin arms lies a small golden glow
Bright eyes that gaze upon the great mountain snow
Cradled in fabric soft lies the little arms that reach
For things that lovers dream of – sunlight across the sea.

Mamma’s feet will walk with her child with crimson hair
Her lover’s hand, he’s holding on caught in her moonlit stare
Daddy’s singing slow to a child with heavy eyes
Tiny hands are curled up softly by her sides
Her smile makes him weak and her gaze makes him strong
Tiny crimson girl this is your dreaming song

- Elle Graham – Alba’s Lullabies

With the happiest of hearts, on Friday February 08, 2013 we welcomed Luella Miette (2820g) and Maeve Emmeline (2610g) into our arms.

Finally, finally, our beautiful girls are here. Two weeks later and I am still giddy with elation and disbelief. I’m actually smiling, with stinging eyes, as I type. I cannot really grasp that I am sharing the birth story of our fifth and sixth babies. Every little thing, every single day, reminds me of the incredibly difficult journey it took to get to this place and then, so very often, the gratitude brings quiet happy tears. I spend so much of my day staring and kissing their heads and reaching for a camera and wanting to preserve every moment. I want to slow time and I want to keep them right here with me. For always.

So, here it is. The birth story of our girls. Luella and Maeve.

I’d heard that if you think the months before babies arrival go slowly, wait until the day of birth. Yes, this is very true but for me, it was the entire week of birth. Instead of busying myself with nursery preparation and excited chatter with the family, I found myself alone in hospital on bed-rest for seven days prior to their arrival. I didn’t plan to end up there, I just did. The evening of the belly shot I shared previously, as pathetic as it sound sounds, I cried my sorry self to sleep. I didn’t want to admit it but things really were becoming difficult, or maybe it was just that I was, and Crayton had begun speaking in sentences that frequently included the word ‘hospital’. In my usual obstinate fashion, I had begun protesting loudly against the idea. The thought of leaving everyone behind and waiting it out by myself across town did not remotely appeal – I just wanted to be able to soak up the anticipation together. I had painted the picture in my mind, counting down with the kids and repacking the suitcase and laying awake at night with my love, dreaming of meeting them. It only took one more night of no sleep and the complete inability to make it down the stairs the next morning to change my mind. For all my protesting, once I’d made the decision it really was fine and by the time we got to hospital, I was actually looking forward to the adjustable bed and meals on a tray.

I thought at some point I’d get bored and restless and impatient. I didn’t. Time did slow down but I actually began to really enjoy the quiet and the chance to write letters to the girls and the many many minutes of uninterrupted staring out the window. It was a time to really prepare for the biggest change in our lives since 2007 and to bask in the anticipation. The midwives were so sweet in sharing my excitement and it felt like our twins were the most important thing happening that week :)

A quite surreal something also took place over those days though. On February 5, the anniversary of Ava’s passing, I was laying in the same hospital where I held her and said goodbye. I watched the clock that morning, knowing it was coming. The same minutes my darling made her way from this Earth, in that same place. It was hard. More than hard. But it was also a different film reel this year. Before, it always stopped at the moment she left. Beyond that, just a time of unavoidable sadness. This year, this week though? It played on. This week I imagined the path between then and now and what was waiting at the end of it. I said endless thank yous to our sweet princesses. All of them. Ava, Ivy and the two tiny miracles about to arrive in that very same space. Those extra frames in my mind brought a new calm to some difficult moments. And when I made my way out of my room that day, for the first time since arriving, I wandered slowly down the quiet halls looking for something to photograph. I wanted to preserve a moment from that day. The late afternoon sun streamed through the huge windows and just steps from my door, I found this.

A small something but it felt like the perfect symbol for that day. From where I stood I could see the balcony of PICU..the place I’d gone to take shallow breath six years earlier. I don’t feel Ava often but I did that day. I felt her all around and I felt peace. I may not have been at home with the rest of my family that week but for at least some of it, I was with my darling girl and for that, I’m so grateful.

My ob had agreed that Friday the 8th of Feb was a good day to be born and I started counting down the minutes. I also began researching ways to make the whole operating theater environment and surgical birth experience a little more personal. In the UK, there is the option in some hospitals of having a ‘natural caesarean‘ and while I knew the big tertiary hospital I was in would never allow some of those concepts, I drew on the smaller elements to make it more special to us. I enlisted the help of wonderful midwives and spoke to key people who would be present for their birth. All in all, while I’d ideally have loved a natural birth, the girls had stayed very comfortable in their breech/transverse arrangement and I felt really happy that the team of people who would greet our babies were on board with the little requests I’d made. I was careful not to get too fixated though, I’d been warned numerous times that twins at 37 weeks may or may not need special care and if so, all the plans for personal touches would go straight out the window.

Seven days of bed rest and seven nights of pesky pre-labor contractions later, their day of birth dawned and I was literally bursting with excitement. Crayton arrived and we ‘gowned up’ and waited to be wheeled into theater. We were a huge mix of nerves and happiness and anticipation..hoping the surgery would go well, hoping they would be healthy, praying they were ready to be born. As we traveled to theater, I found it hard not to shout to strangers walking by that we were about to meet our twins. I giggled and squeezed Craytons hand and felt a thousand butterflies in my tummy.

At 1pm, I climbed up onto the bed and tried to prepare for what was about to happen. Both the imminent birth and the idea of the spinal anesthetic had me shaking. The tears rolled slowly down my cheeks while Crayton smiled to reassure me. The lovely medical staff did a great job of calming our nerves and my wonderful ob went to find speakers for my iPhone and happily popped on the music I’d asked to be played. Alba’s Lullabye, by Elle Graham, filled the room and helped me refocus. I still can’t say I found the spinal fun but we got there and thank the Lord, it worked. I’d asked for the medical team to keep mindless chatter to a minimum (I wanted the focus wholly and solely on this amazing event!!) but they did end up making small talk about silly things and to be honest, we probably needed it. The distraction meant I couldn’t focus too much on the incredible pushing, pressure and rummaging sensation going on below. I used every hypno-birthing technique I had to keep my breathing steady while I silently begged for it to be over and for everything to be okay. Crayton held my hand tightly and I searched the ceiling trying to find a reflection. And then, there she was. Luella. Big and beautiful and every bit a baby. Our baby!

She cried immediately and while that doesn’t quite fit with my ideas for a perfect arrival, it did mean lots of reassurance for us. They took her to be checked and we shifted focus to our other sweet-pea, still tucked well and truly inside. A few more minutes of more intense rummaging and then I heard the ob say she was out. I waited to see her but instead, the ob said “Sheye, she’s going straight to resus”. I’d been warned that babies only go immediately if they’re having problems so being honest, I was pretty afraid. The aimless chit chat had stopped and the silence of our second baby completely drowned out Luella’s cries. It seemed like forever but in reality, it only took a minute for her to cry also. Oh, the relief. My ob explained she was being over cautious and while it meant we have no birth photo of Maeve, I am very happy she took no chances.

The next ten minutes were spent with my darling girls perched on my chest, blinking and sniffling and taking in the World. I saw right away how different they looked – Luella was pink skinned and fine featured. Maeve..well she was like all the other Rosemeyer babies – dark skin and eyes with a little button nose and very round head. I wanted to feed them right away but lying on a narrow theater bed didn’t allow for it so Crayton went with them to the nursery for some skin to skin. It wasn’t very long before I got to see them again – perched up on Daddy’s chest eagerly waiting for lunch. I was thrilled to find they both fed well and that they were able to return to my room with me.

All our worries, all our hesitation about when they should be born..and here they were, healthy and beautiful. I can’t describe how elated I felt in those moments and still, forteen days later. How did we got so incredibly lucky? It still feels so unreal. It feels like when we had Luca and couldn’t fathom the hospital lets you take them home. Without a chaperone. Like, you just get to keep them? Wow. Wow. Wow. Every single day, I still say to Crayton “Can you believe it?”, to which he replies “No, I can’t.”

When I found out I was having twins, I worried about carrying them. I worried about their birth. Never, though, about caring for them. I know it’s hard, on some levels, but we’ve done so much harder. It’s almost laughable when people say the things people say when twins are discussed. The most popular so far seems to be “glad it’s you and not me” to which I cheerfully reply “me too”. I am absolutely loving every single second of life as a Mother to twins. I can’t imagine feeling otherwise, after what it’s taken to get here. All throughout my IVF journey, if you’d asked me my ideal outcome, I would have first said a healthy baby of course but if you’d have pushed me, I’d have told you, in my wildest dreams, it was twin girls. While I do know about life delivering situations that are impossible to comprehend, I still struggle to believe we are here. To have their older siblings doting on them too is just the icing.

Of course there are the practical bits that aren’t quite as much fun as staring and cooing all day. I’m finding out that the sleep deprivation is a whole different World to the sleep deprivation I experienced in pregnancy. There is a big difference between waking up yourself all night and being woken out of a deep sleep. Add in a set of breasts on fire and then times it all by two and well, it’s demanding for sure. The good thing is I’ve figured out quickly how important routine is and have stuck to it pretty well. At the moment they are usually only waking twice overnight to feed, or I’m waking them if need be. It does mean being awake for at least an hour or more each time but at least they’re in sync and it’s not all night long. Being early, they do sleep a lot and I’m under no illusion that it won’t change. I do expect there to be much harder days ahead but gratitude carries you so much further than you can normally cope with. I never forget, not for a second. My heart literally sings with the appreciation of this gift..even at midnight. And 3am.

And speaking of appreciation..you. All of you. I am totally overwhelmed – yet again – by the incredible love and support shown to our family. Your excitement and enthusiasm, your beautiful words, the gorgeous gifts, the sheer celebration of our babies arrival. It’s incredible and it’s all things good in human nature. Endless thank you’s for making this magical time even more special for us.

Oh, and the girls names..I’ve been asked a few questions about them so here’s how they came about.

Luella – a name Crayton really loved and often put forth but I always had 2 syllables in mind..in line with the other kids. When I realized I could shorten to Lula, one of my top contenders, it seemed like the perfect choice. It’s the first time Crayton has had a look in with baby naming and given there were two arriving I figured I couldn’t be entirely greedy. I think Lula is very sweet for a baby and little girl and Luella is a lovely grown up name. Miette, her middle name, means “small sweet thing” in French. I loved it so much the first time I heard it and I was quite intent on it being Twin 2′s first name. After test driving it on anyone who’d stop and listen, I gathered that it could be problematic. From bad pronunciation to just plain confused expressions..I decided it was best as Lula’s second name. I still adore it very much and it will be the perfect nickname for when she is being small and sweet :)

And then Maeve. A name I heard quite some years ago and fell hard for. A little more unusual than Mae, which I also adore, to me it conjures up everything cute for a small child and everything elegant for a grown up. I do think it suits her so perfectly. Emmeline, her middle name, was for no reason other than it just sounded really pretty. Melodic and feminine and again, French. (One of my alternate Universes has me raising children on the Côte d’Azur you see). So, I hope they love them as much as I do. For the record, they’re pronounced Lou-ella Me-ette and Mave (rhymes with brave) Emma-lene.

So, the sky looks different once again and for the first time in six long years, I remember what real, pure, true happiness is. Thank you for choosing us, our beautiful baby girls. You are so very loved.
xo

Goodness. A month? Our little girls are now past full term! Their actual due date was last Saturday and all of a sudden they look like bigger babies. Well Luella does, Maeve is still quite teeny tiny but I have noticed her lungs have matured somewhat ;p I feel very behind with sharing of photos and updates – it’s just challenging, nay impossible, to find enough spare minutes in the day. Given the option of blogging (or eating, or conversation, or anything else really)..I’d rather sleep. Today however, I’ve had a total of 7 hours sleep over a 12 hour period and I’m feeling all Wonder Woman.

The girls are actually quite good .. just the usual newborn demands and the juggling of two which gets most interesting after dark as I take care of them myself through the night. Crayton sleeps in another room so at least one of us can function enough to manage the other three and get them to school on time. Kind of. This half crazy notion was actually my idea and mostly, it works well. It means a lot less bickering over who did what and who’s had less sleep. I just win on every count. Given the girls really just need me right now, or my bossoms, it does seem a little pointless to both be awake all night. That doesn’t mean there isn’t some horrifically sleep deprived moments between 3 and 4 am where I fantasize about throwing a bucket of cold water over my beloved.

The personalities of the girls are starting to show and we’re realizing just how very different they are. Luella is so laid back – she literally just eats and sleeps. She never cries unless she’s hungry and after meal time she’ll lay in her crib awake with no problem. And feeding her is a very orderly affair. Hop on, drink enthusiastically, hop off. Then sleep. Rinse and repeat. Physically, she’s very fair, strong and quite long. I’m half expecting her first language to be German.

Then there’s Maeve. Smaller, hairier and the opposite of chill. She’s making sure we get our moneys worth with shorter naps, longer feeds and a rather constant demand for cuddles. She’s a fussy eater and light sleeper. Feeding her is akin to a picnic in the park. No set time for lunch and no one’s in any hurry. Leave and come back later if you wish. Take a nap even. Lots of naps. Physically they are also different. Very different. As in Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito in Twins different. It’s harder to see in photos but close up, there is no mistaking one for the other.

It’s still so amazing to have two babies in our home and it’s been the most beautiful thing to see Luca Mason and Ivy completely dote on them. When I first began trying for another I so wanted a two year age gap, like the other four. When I missed that window and the gap began to widen considerably, I fretted a lot. I wondered how it would work, if it ever did happen..having older children and a tiny baby. Would they play together? Would the tiny baby end up feeling lonely? As it turned out, baby arrived with a friend anyhow but it’s also been such a bonus to discover how very much the older kids adore them. Sometimes keeping the unruly mob at bay requires more energy than the twins themselves.

I guess I can say that we’re getting the hang of this twin thing. I think. Each day is different and I constantly change how I’m doing things but we muddle through and the girls seem settled and happy. And, the best bit? I feel settled and happy. Sooo happy. I’m really thankful to be able to say that..for all my excitement and gratitude I still worried about how one actually manages two new babies. I’m so lucky to have a lot of help from Crayton and Mum every day so it never really gets overwhelming. Perspective is a funny thing though isn’t it? When I look back to having a singleton it seems so incredibly easy but I certainly didn’t think so then..quite the opposite. I do find it amazing how we adapt to different situations and cope..or even enjoy them..when they would have seemed near impossible in another life.

So here’s a lot of photos, taken in hospital in the days before coming home. (Luca had a cold so doesn’t feature in too many). The first three are iPhone snaps, taken the moment the boys and Ivy saw the babies for the first time :)

xx

I’ve sat and wondered for some days just how to write about these images and what they mean to me but I can’t find the words. Or perhaps it’s that there are too many words. As I said to Anya, amidst a flood of tears after seeing them for the first time, I could never describe just what a gift they are to our whole family but especially to me. They are so incredibly beautiful in every way. The fragility and the perfection and the togetherness. But it’s not just that. They speak, in small whispers, of the very worst days of my life, and sing in glorious song of the very best.

These babies. Because of their sister. Because of one small moment in time that changed everything, and because of every moment after that spent trying for them. The enormity of that takes my breath. These images take my breath. Thank you, beautiful Anya. One thousand times over, thank you.
xo

Oh hai!

It’s been a wee while. Well in a normal World, it would be a while but down here in crazy town, it’s been the blink of an eye. Who knew that sitting in your lounge room semi dressed doing the baby shuffle for eight months could be so entertaining? There’s a million things I want to share about every amazing minute we’ve had with our sweet babies so, in random fashion..

I changed T2′s name.
Just in case you missed it and would then have no idea who I’m talking about in this post. I know I said I wouldn’t ever do such a thing but..ah well. So, Maeve. Such a lovely idea at the time. Until I saw her and got to know her and the idea of her being Maeve seemed more and more strange as each day passed. She just wasn’t a Maeve. My dilemma wasn’t helped by the fact that everyone else around here agreed so after a quick swicheroo of first and middle names, she became Emmeline Maeve. And because I’m greedy, I shorten to Mila Mae and have a few more of the names I love. More than all those though, she’s Mini. And it suits her most. Luella is still every bit Luella. Thank God.

This twin thing.
The idea of two babies at once is truly overwhelming. The reality of two babies at once is that you just get on with it. It literally is double everything which can feel like a lot some days, especially when one is attempting to function on the measliest of sleep. Eight months on though and it really feels like they’ve slotted into our family as if we were always waiting for them. Well I guess we were. And the doubles extend to the amazing bits too so it really is nothing and everything like I imagined. Life is funny like that – often the things we think we could never survive or do or cope with are actually, for the most part, survivable, doable and even very wonderful. Honestly. I’m not one to paint a pretend picture of perfect but I really am loving every bit of parenting right now. Which leads me to..

Can you even believe?
In my craziest of crazy wishes, even right back when I was pregnant for the first time, twin girls appeared there somewhere. By the time I was five years into IVF, I just wished for one baby anything. Girl, boy, guinea-pig. The beautiful clothes I’d begun gathering in 2007 for ‘the baby’ were relegated to a dusty bag in the back of the cupboard for ‘pretend baby’. Right alongside the hopes and expectations. I could never, ever have imagined these baby girls would actually become and I will never stop being amazed. Every single night in the small hours, half asleep and cradling one after the other, I marvel and I think of their sister and I feel that rush of gratitude and peace and all consuming love for their tiny selves. So no, I can’t even believe.

One of these things is not like the other.
If you follow me on Instagram, you’ll be well aware of this fact. It’s rather amusing that these two babies are called twins – they are literally the opposite of one another. Tall/short, blonde/dark, lanky/bootylicious. Mila takes after Crayton and Lula is mine, all mine. Yay!

The kids are besotted.
Like, really really. They still fight over who’s held a baby the most each day and constantly hover and fuss over them. Mason calls them “my ladies” and told me today that he will be taking over the raising of them and that I will only be required for feeding. Ohhhkayy.

Speaking of feeding.
We’re still doing that. Aka can I put my bosoms away yet? I don’t normally bother unless Fedex is knocking at the door and even then it gets sketchy at times. I’m amazed we’re still demand breast-feeding and I’m pretty ecstatic about the fact. If we get to 1 year I’m going to start wearing my cape down to the grocery store.

I love my Mum.
Let it be said, I have a great husband who does more than his fair share. However, I’m pretty sure I could not have survived the pregnancy without Mum. I know for sure that I would not be enjoying these days anywhere near as much as I do without her. Beth is here distributing cuddles, dinners and clean sheets like nobodies business. It’s been the biggest gift to have her by my side – not just for a million practical reasons but to also share the best days of my life. And then there’s how besotted she is with them. If I said they all adore each other it would fall far short. Luella’s most used word is Nannannan and when I recently mentioned we may move cities one day Mum’s first response was “Don’t make me go for custody”. You get the picture.

We’ve parted ways.
After barely surviving on no sleep for many many months, I’ve finally got both babies into their own rooms and we’re all a lot better for it. Well actually that’s a lie. I just swapped two small ones for one bigger one and a dual set of baby monitors. Sleep is for the weak.

It’s entirely possible I’ve lost my mind.
No..I mean more than every other parent of multiples. The proof is in the fact I’ve booked to take us all the the USA at the end of this month. Crayton is literally having panic attacks about the flight. He wakes from sleep in a cold sweat babbling about blocked ears and business class. I’m not so concerned about the getting there – I’ve survived childbirth for longer – it’s the nine weeks of holidaying as a family of seven that has me spooked. I can’t even, I mean..I just have no idea. I’d arrange a nanny but she might run off with the babies. I know because Mum tells me so. Every single day.

I’m just so in love.
Oh I already said that? Just checking you knew.

xx
Here’s a whole lot of iphone snaps which are a poor substitute for the big camera but as good as it’s going to get for at least a while yet :)

Last month, the twins turned one. ONE! How crazy is that? This has easily been the fastest, busiest, best twelve months of my life and for all of the changes the girls have brought to our days,  it’s hard to even imagine a time before they were here.  Like I’ve said before..I really did spend my entire pregnancy wondering how on Earth one does it.  Twins.  Two of them.  How, even?  It’s quite the victory to find out we actually can manage to feed, bathe, clothe and entertain two babies at once. Not only do we do it, we really enjoy it and while all the days end in exhaustion, there are very few that end in tears..contrary to what my fretful pregnancy brain had imagined.   This probably comes down to the huge amount of help I still get and the fact I’ve adjusted to the idea of never sleeping a whole night again.  We’re still breastfeeding which is another victory I’m so happy about – a year seemed so far away in those early, teary, teeth-clenching days.

Before I get all gloaty though, remember that one time we decided to go on a vacation? Like when people go off to Byron Bay for a week or something? No, no.  Not anything like that.  In November we trekked, all seven of us, to California. For nine weeks. You must understand that up until this point we had only taken both girls to the supermarket. Once. Oh, and once to the beach and a couple of doctor’s visits.  As our departure date loomed closer I became prettty nervous about the whole shebang but we forged ahead..determined to see it through.  Lo and behold, the flight over was so horrendous that the cabin crew handed us champagne as we stepped off.  We should have taken this as a clear and ominous sign and scrambled for the next flight back but noooo..lets carry on, we said. It will be good for us, we said.  It wasn’t. For a million billion reasons, it just wasn’t. But we stuck it out and we learned to cope with tricky scenarios far from home with very limited help.   I don’t plan to repeat it any time soon.

Crazy long haul excursions aside, our days are pretty simple.  The girls are getting back to their routine, happy to be hanging out at home again with Nanny fussing non-stop. It’s so, so much fun watching them grow together..they’re starting to play with one another and fight over things and try out the sympathy cry.  They’re so close to walking and the idea of two heading in different directions is interesting but like everything else we’ve encountered this last year, I guess we’ll figure it out.   Yes I am tired and I have so little time and I forget what a beauty salon looks like but I couldn’t be happier.  I absolutely adore being a Mum to twins and having a crazy busy house.  I’ve even managed to start shooting a little again and have some fun creative type things floating around in the recesses of my addled mind.

Speaking of feeling lucky, on the 8th of February we had a party. While it happened to be on the girl’s birthday, it was also a celebration of all of the days our girls have been with us and the journey we all traveled to meet them. For our nearest and dearest, a chance to say thank you for everything, both before our babies arrived and after. I really wanted it to be a day filled with love and thanks and happiness.  In my wildest hopes, I also dreamed of the beautiful El Hogan being there to capture this day. And then guess what happened? El came along and did just that.  Thank you, my dear friend. The feelings I have about our two darling girls and this day and the way in which you saw it are way, way too big to translate into words but hopefully you know. I’m so very grateful to have these images..they capture that which fills my heart every single day.

Immeasurably blessed.
Sheye xo

Images: El Hogan
Event Styling:  The Cherry Red Styling Co

Crystal Cove | California | last days | new friends | shared loves | cool air | cold water | vegan treats | puddles | feathers | changing leaves | falling light | squeals | laughter | tales of travel | family | dreams | hugs | goodbyes.

Thank you for everything, beautiful girls.  We miss you so.  x