High kneel

Punk has discovered the world of the "high kneel." She crawls over to something and then reaches up higher and plays on her knees, or grabs things. I love the high kneel. It's cute, and it's a step toward the "pulling up." Besides, being up in a kneel bends her legs. Yay.

So anyway, with the high kneel comes the potential for the falling over. And I really do leave Punk a lot of space to do her thing and fall over, because she needs to figure things out.

Day One of the high kneel and she has a big scratch on the side of her head. And it's not even 9am.

Whoopsie!

February 29: I remember

My buddy Calliope has claimed today, February 29, as a day to remember our losses - an extra day to grieve and hopefully transform some negative energy into positive as we head into a hopefully warmer, brighter, and sunnier March. (She is awesome.)

About 45 minutes ago, I swaddled my sweet baby and rocked her in our broken rocking chair until her eyes drifted into sleep. I kissed her forehead and smelled her delicious baby smell, and held her for a few more minutes until I placed her gently into her crib and closed the door so I could get to some chores.

It is a dream come true, for sure. But I was supposed to have two babies. Two babies to swaddle and rock, two babies to kiss and hold, two babies to smell and taste. Two beautiful bursts of energy who would laugh at each other and conspire with each other in destroying the house. Two sets of bottles, two little high chairs, and a whole lot more laundry.


I remember when we saw two sacs. They were measuring a little behind and we were still waiting to see heartbeats. No worries, said the doctor, they will come. I was a mixture of excited, nervous, and terrified. We were finally pregnant, and were going to have two babies. I went back in on 7w1d, and saw what I was hoping for:



Two little tiny fetal poles and two strong flickers of life. They were still measuring fairly significantly behind (6w3d and 6w4d) but my concerns were dismissed and I was discharged from the fertility clinic told to expect "a normal twin pregnancy" with babies likely in mid-June. Two Gemini babies! I loved them so much and was already trying to wrap my mind around going from being just me to being a mama of two. From being a family of two to a family of four.

We hadn't told my family about my pregnancy because we hadn't seen heartbeats, but we were gearing up. At that ultrasound I had a bit of spotting and was told it was no big deal. A few days later I woke up in a pool of blood and called the doctor frantically, so sure that all was lost. But when I went in for a quick ultrasound, everything was fine and Jen got to see those beautiful beating hearts for the first time. The doctor said that this sort of bleeding was fairly common and shouldn't impact anything. He said everything would be fine. So on Thanksgiving Day, we presented my grandmother with our ultrasound pictures - her first and second great-grandchildren. I remember how wide her eyes got when she gasped, "Twins?" It was the start of something big and crazy and wonderful.

The spotting continued but I had faith that things were moving the way they were supposed to. We moved to Western Mass and I began unpacking our new life, imagining our new house with our two little babies. And before we'd even had our new bed delivered (and thus were still sleeping in the guest room), I bled again. And panicked again, but kept reassuring myself that this is common, that the blood doesn't mean anything happened to the babies, that the doctor said it could happen again. I hadn't even had my first appointment with my midwives yet but they had me come in for an ultrasound just to check on things. I prayed my heart out the whole way there, praying for two little healthy babies. I remembered that when I first posted the pictures of the two sacs, someone said, "Well, you're likely to at least have one baby," and I clung to that in the car. 'Please,' I thought, 'please let there be at least one baby.' I couldn't wait to see those beautiful heartbeats again.



At 10w1d, I learned that I was no longer a twin mama, and had not been for some time. In fact, s/he hadn't grown much at all since the last ultrasound and could have even been gone while I was showing my grandmother the ultrasound photos. I had just gotten used to the idea of having twins.

I love my daughter and my life is so rich and full and wonderful with her in it. But a part of my life is missing, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't see my daughter and wonder about her twin. Boy or girl? Would s/he be crawling around too? Making funny noises? Would they look alike? Would they be similar sizes? Would they like each other? Would they sleep together?

Sometimes I think about Punk and how she hates to be alone, how she won't sleep alone and she likes to be all swaddled up and snuggled. I think about Punk and I think she misses her twin, too.