Identity, identity...

My husband and I have a new set of "couple friends" who we've never met. Well, sort of. They are the friends of another set of couple friends.  (That's just confusing.)  Anyway, we knew some months ago that they were expecting twins.  Somehow, though, it wasn't until about two weeks ago that my DH reached out to the wife of the pair.  Turns out she was already 38 weeks pregnant and had been hanging around, waiting for the babies after having taken the semester off since everyone said "they'll come early."  My DH offered us up for advice, recommendations, etc., and she wrote back with questions.  We invited them over and joked that they'd likely end up not making it on the day we'd planned because she'd go into labor...which, is, of course, exactly what happened two days before our "date"! 

So, we still haven't met them but my DH and K (the mom) have been e-mailing back and forth.  I think she's using him as a sounding board and my DH loves to be able to share his expertise.  (Where I'd feel like I was imposing, he's always into sharing.)  I feel like I've gotten to know her, too, even though we've never even e-mailed much less spoken.  So, yeah, it's kind of a weird situation at the moment.  But, we're giving them a few hand-me-down things that we're going to drop off at some point along with a few "Twin Tested Toys" and I'm hoping that we'll have a great new set of twin parent friends that our kids can also get to know as they're all bigger (and the 10 month difference becomes less meaningful). 

After the parents come back up from the underwater feeling of the first few months of newborn twins, that is.

What does this have to do with "identity"? I've been trying to decide what has had the most impact on how I feel as a mother -- mom after infertility, mom of twins, mom of preemies, working mom, older mom, etc. 

I mean, obviously, all of those things are true and have influenced me.  But, I feel like one stands out from the rest -- mom of preemies.  How these kids came about is huge -- IF, IVF, years of anxiety.  And, the fact that there are two of them is huge -- holy crap on a cracker is it insane (happy, but insane).  But, the preemie thing and the NICU experience are things that, even at 10 months old, I think about every day. 

When we talk to other parents of preemies, there's an instant understanding.  We had dinner with a woman whose daughter was born somewhere in the 26 week range -- nearly 40 years ago.  (She was told by a nurse not to expect her to talk or develop normally.  Yeah, the daughter has an Ivy League Ph.D.  Take that obnoxious nurse.)  We bonded completely with the parents and talked about changes in the NICU experience, etc.  And, it's happened SO many times in the last 10 months.  From colleagues who came to see us at the NICU to share their experiences with their kids who are now 15, 18, 24, 30, even 50 to friends and family who have come out of the woodwork talking about their fears of RSV and developmental worries, etc., that we never knew. 

(And, we're so lucky that our boys were only in the NICU for 50 days and had so few medical issues other than just needing to grow out of the breathing problems -- 50 days seems like a long time but we've known so many who were there for 100 days or longer.  It's hard to imagine.)

It's all come home recently, though, while we (and by "we" I mean "my husband") talk to K about her twins.  Yeah, she and her husband are overwhelmed and exhausted.  Yeah, she's trying to figure out if tandem nursing will work and how to work in "shifts" to get through the night.  And, the "twin thing" will always be a big connection there.  But, I hadn't realized how much of our "twin thing" is really our "twin preemie thing." 

She actually got to room in with her babies.  They were allowed to co-bed them (our particular NICU was against that sort of thing and we rarely were able to get the boys together until we took them home).  Family and friends got to visit her in the hospital with her babies.  They brought the babies home when she checked out.  Her babies weren't taken away from her not to be seen again for 36 hours.  She didn't have to wait three days before holding her children for the first time.  She didn't have to wait for a month before trying to nurse her babies.  She didn't spend weeks pumping alone in the dark in a musty smelling dorm room playing a video on her phone of her son crying over and over again and burying her nose in blankets the nurse had wrapped the babies in for a few hours in a desperate attempt to trigger some sort of pheromone response that would increase her milk supply and make her feel like a mother.

I'm not claiming "whoa is me" here or "look what I've been through."  It's just that I've realized that our experience was just SO different.  I know it sounds funny to say it, but I hadn't totally realized that.

While I think about my infertility and IVF and injections and doctor's appointments and all the months of trying and anxiety and depression occasionally, mostly it is as a wistful background thought that is dashed when I look at the boys.  But, I can't stop thinking about the early bleeding and stressful pregnancy and premature labor and the days in the NICU and giving S CPR and dealing with apnea monitors and feeding the boys with the lights on at 3 am so we could see if they turned blue and blowing on their faces to remind them to breathe while they were eating. 

It's not like I obsess over these things -- though I'll admit I've been known to do so.  It's just that I feel like all of those things have had such an influence on who I am as a mom -- sometimes positive, sometimes negative.  We missed out on some things.  When people describe the sweet bonding feeling of feeding their newborns, I remember the first time I was alone with S after he was released from the hospital the second time while my DH was visiting D at the NICU.  I actually had to stop and breathe for him every few minutes while I was feeding him since he kept forgetting.  I hadn't yet learned how to work with him during a meal so that he wouldn't get to the point where he'd completely stop.  Every meal took an act of courage on my part and ended in tears.  I was scared to death.


It's hard to forget that, you know?  When people wonder why we seem overprotective of the boys right now -- we don't really take them out much and we are keeping the hand sanitizer companies in business -- we think "it's RSV season and we are NOT going back to the hospital."  They kind of roll their eyes but I've already seen both of my children struggle to breathe.  I don't want to do it again.

When I'm stressed about developmental milestones and weight gain people say "all babies are different" but I can't help wonder what I could have done to keep the boys "in" longer and give them a better chance. 

When people say "wow, can't believe you're still pumping, that's kind of crazy" I know that it is something I NEED to do for myself and the boys.  Sometimes I feel like some of the disconnect I had from the boys when they were in the hospital is still there.  Feeding them something from my own body -- even if it isn't directly from my body -- makes me feel like the connection is still there.

Don't get me wrong -- the boys are doing really well.  They're mostly on track for their adjusted age.  They're doing the things they're supposed to do. They're a bit small but healthy.  Other than the helmets, they don't look any different from normal kids.  If you saw them out and about you wouldn't have any idea they came so early.  By all accounts, their prematurity will likely have minimal influence on them as they grow up. 

But, me?  It's had a huge impact on me.

The boys at 1 day and 10 months -- D on top, S on bottom