#helpmehelpyou #flattenthecurve

We are nurses. We are rad techs. Respiratory therapists. CNAs. Doctors. PAs. APRNs. Dietary. Environmental services, and on and on. We are the faces of healthcare. We are here when you go into labor, break your arm, or have a heart attack or stroke. We're here when your world is rocked by depression, a car accident, or a natural disaster. We've been here to help you every time you needed us, and other than begging you to get your flu shot, we asked for nothing in return. We don't fold, and we don't back down. We stand up, link arms, and fight with everything we have to get you back to your normal. We knew the risks, and we signed up anyway because you needed us.

But before we became the faces of healthcare, we were sons and daughters. We are mothers and fathers. We are humans, and we have lives. We have people we care about and who care about us. We are loved, and while we signed up for this trip, our friends and family didn't. They have to watch us walk out the door each day and have no control over whether or not we come home, and honestly, we don't have much control, either. We are all at the mercy of COVID-19 and the behavior of the general public. It's a tremendous source of anxiety.

We signed up to help the public - even when the public is too selfish to do something as simple as stay home in order to help themselves (and everyone else). A global pandemic has always been a possibility, and even though we knew that when we chose our professions, nobody really expected it to come to this. We're putting our lives, and potentially the lives of anyone else we come in contact with, on the line every time we care for a COVID-19 patient. 

We want to help you, but we don't want to die because of it. We don't want to watch our loved ones struggle to breathe. We don't want to wonder if we'll be planning a funeral for our parents or our babies because we brought a vicious viral illness home on our scrubs. We are living with anxiety and fear every day because we are the biggest threat to those we love the most. 

Chances are, I'm going to catch it, and if/when that happens, I'll likely pass it to my husband and our littles who are 8, 8, and 3. I haven't slept well in weeks because I can't get that reality out of my head. If I had to guess, I'd say the only reason I'm sleeping at all is because we all fall into the low risk category (which doesn't necessarily mean anything). We will probably be fine, but my grandmother who is 91? Or my father-in-law who has a compromised respiratory system? My dad with asthma? My cousin who just had a heart transplant? I don't know. I know that I'm avoiding anyone I don't live with as much as humanly possible, but other people aren't. Too many people are not taking this seriously, and to say I'm frustrated would be an understatement.

We will continue to come to work every day because you need us now more than ever. We will be here because, quite simply, this is what we do. We have never asked for much in return for our service, but now, we are. Actually, we aren't asking - we're pleading. Desperately. PLEASE don't ask our families and friends to sacrifice us or themselves because you didn't want to sacrifice your social calendar. Stay home. Cancel that birthday party, girls night, or small group gathering. Help us flatten the curve, so we can help more people survive - my family (and yours) included. 

Quarantine Week 1

As a healthcare professional, a pandemic or major healthcare event is always floating around somewhere in the back of my mind. A faint imagination of "what if..." or "hypothetically..." while watching Contagion or Outbreak and entertaining the possibility of it actually happening for 5 seconds before dismissing it altogether. In a matter of days, the "hypothetical" has become a reality. Our disorienting, unsettling, full-of-unknowns reality. 

Businesses are closing indefinitely. "Social distancing" is trending on all social media platforms despite the fact that (it seems) a lot of people have no idea what it actually means. With unexplained reason, grocery stores and supermarkets are selling out of toilet paper faster than stockers can fill the shelves. Lysol and hand sanitizer are nowhere to be found. Concerts, sporting events, church services, and virtually all gatherings of 10+ have been cancelled. My kids are home from school for at least a month and likely until August. My personal life looks completely different than it did a short week ago. It has basically come to a screeching halt, but all of the changes are manageable. We're doing ok.

My professional life is a different story. It will not be grinding to a stop anytime soon. That part of my world is still spinning, and I'm not so sure it isn't about to spin completely out of control. We are in unchartered waters. Standard PPE is becoming scarce. Masks, appropriate respirators, and basic cleaning supplies are on backorder from suppliers across the country. We are standing on the frontline of this fight, and we're about to be doing it while completely exposed. I've heard praises all week from every direction hailing us as "heroes" and declaring newfound love and respect for everyone in the medical field (and all other service industries, really). To say the least, it's humbling, but if we're getting brutally honest, I don't deserve it. I am not the brave, heroic nurse that the public has put on a pedestal. 

I feel ashamed for not being brave. I feel afraid. And like I should quit, but we all know I won't. I feel like a coward for letting the thought of abandoning my career even cross my mind. I feel like a horrible wife, mother, and friend for putting the people I love most in a position where they are not truly safe if they share my airspace. I feel selfish for choosing a career that is now putting the people I value most in danger. I feel so anxious that sometimes it's hard to take a breath. I feel frustrated that people are not taking this entire situation seriously, and I feel angry when I think about how cavalier and selfish many have been when it comes to helping prevent the spread of disease.

I need people to understand the importance of practicing true "social distancing." Please only leave your house if it is an emergency (and not the "I've had this bump on my arm for 2 months, but I want it checked now, so I called an ambulance" kind of emergency. An ACTUAL emergency - the kind where life or limb is being threatened). Grocery shop no more than once every 2 weeks if at all possible. Skip the gym, movies, dental cleaning, whatever else. COVID 19 is going to spread no matter what we do, but if we can slow it down, we will be able to save more of those who will become critically ill. 

This week, I've brought out all the stress and anxiety relievers I've ever used before. I'm exercising, having a drink by the fire, watching mindless TV, dancing it out, and on and on. Most importantly, I've spent a lot more time than usual in prayer. Why does it take a valley to get me back where I should have been the whole time? And when will I ever learn that all the stress reliever techniques in the world will never work as well as my Jesus? Why did I make prayer a last resort instead of my automatic Plan A? Earlier this week, it crossed my mind that maybe, just maybe, the spinning isn't out of control, after all. Maybe the gravity of it is simply pulling me back to where I should have been all along. 

What It's REALLY Like To Have Twins

Let me tell you what my life with twins was really like. 3-4 months in, we finally had a pretty solid routine. My husband was temporarily out of town for work, and I was already back to working 40 hours a week. For me, it was one of the hardest times of their infancy, but we made it.

6:00a - Alarm goes off, and I've got time to pump, pee and maybe brush my teeth before the first baby is waking up to be fed. Alarms are kind of pointless anyway. I've already been up a few times since I went to bed last night, but this way I have time to pump before my day really starts.

6:05a - Get started pumping, and as much as I hate this breast pump, I am so much more comfortable now than I was 5 minutes ago. My boobs were HUGE. In 20 minutes, I'll feel back to normal.

6:16a - The first audible complaints from the nursery are heard. It's Cameron. Baby A almost always wakes up first. He's cutting my pumping time short, but I'll have to take what I can get. Start disconnecting everything.

6:20a - Pump parts are rinsed and milk is in the fridge. I can't use this milk to feed them right now because we have milk from yesterday that needs to be used today. I have to use it first so that nothing goes to waste. Lucky for me, Cam's not crying yet, so I risk it and hurry to throw on some clothes.

6:21a - Jeans are rubbing my C-section scar today. Uncomfortable. Take them back off and search for my favorite stretchy jeans.

6:22a - We're 7 minutes into the day, and I've already made my first mistake. Minor complaints have escalated to howler monkey level babble. He's not angry, but he's LOUD. Damnit. Trash jeans idea. Switch search to favorite stretchy pants.

6:23a - ANY STRETCHY PANTS!! HE'S ABOUT TO WAKE THE OTHER BABY!!

6:23:30a - Go get screaming banshee before he wakes his brother. He is SO excited to see me, and that grin melts me. I don't even care that it's 6 something in the morning. This boy loves mornings, and I love him. Retreat to my closet to find actual clothes because we have to go grocery shopping today. I would rather starve than go, but my husband will probably want to keep living, so I'll suck it up. First victory of the day - Baby A is content being held and seems to have temporarily forgotten that he is hungry. I may have time to get dressed after all.

6:25a - Stretchy pants have been located, and THEY ARE NOT EVEN DIRTY! High five, mama.. this is awesome!

6:30a - I put on a dirty shirt and throw my hair into a ponytail. I wish I could say it was a cute messy bun, but that takes more time and effort than I have to give, so slummy pony it is. Head to kitchen to warm a couple bottles.

Pause. Let me explain why my babes got bottles. We all know "breast is best," and while I agree to an extent, I will say that I subscribe more to the school of "fed is best." I don't care if your baby gets breastmilk, formula, or a combination. It's really none of my business. I just want all babies to be fed and healthy. 

When our babies were born, Cameron (Baby A) had respiratory distress and landed himself in the NICU. It was a short, uneventful stay that ended well, but while he was there, he got a bottle. He's a quick learner, and it only took one time for him to realize that it was easier to drink from a bottle than a breast.

I tried everything under the sun to get him to nurse, but he was NOT having it. Lucas (Baby B) was a total champ, but psychologically I couldn't stand the idea of breastfeeding (and therefore, bonding) with one baby but not the other. Ultimately, them having the benefit of breastmilk was more important to me than the experience of breastfeeding, so I committed to pumping for them instead. This meant that I would have to pump in addition to feeding both babies each feeding, but it was worth the sacrifice to give them whatever antibodies and nutrients I could that wouldn't have been possible with formula. Now, back to my day...

6:35a - Bottle is warm, and Cam is thrilled because he's pretty sure he is about to starve to death. Let's eat.

6:48a - Hear Lucas making sweet baby noises in his crib. Right on schedule!

6:50a - Cam polishes off his bottle, and now we burp. And by burp, I mean release a small amount of air along with a significant amount of milk that he just ingested. Don't worry - I knew this was coming. I never put on a clean shirt until I'm ready to leave. This refluxy boy makes sure there is never a shortage of laundry at our house.

6:55a - Change Cam's diaper and puke covered pjs. Get him settled on the play mat while I go get Lucas. He has escalated to loud chatter but is still so pleasant!  

7:05a - Lucas eats faster than Cameron does, and he doesn't have reflux, so his feedings are almost always faster and less eventful.

7:10a - Lucas now has a clean, dry diaper and clothes and is ready to head to town. Cameron needs a new shirt because he spit up on himself. Again.

7:12a - Cam has a new shirt. And new pants because he had a nice little blow out diaper while Lucas was eating. I'll wash that playmat when we get home. Now that both babies have eaten, we're on a clock. 2 hours before we're supposed to do it again. Tick, tock.

7:21a - Both boys are buckled snuggly into their car seats, and we're ready to go! I make sure a diaper bag is always packed and ready in the car, so that saves me a lot of time. Scoop up both car seats with my left arm because I still have to close and lock the house and open the car door with my other hand. 

7:24a - Successfully got both seats into the car with no more spit-up incidents. Jump in the front seat and realize I forgot to change my shirt. Run back inside. 

7:26a - Change shirt and pee before going back to the car. I don't really need to pee now, but taking twin infants into a public restroom so I can pee is a total nightmare and grosses me out to no end. Always go before you leave home. Always. Also, grab a banana on the way out because that's probably going to wind up being breakfast and lunch for you, mama.

7:40a - Arrive at Walmart. Finding a desirable parking spot is different now. I no longer care about proximity to the door. Which spot is closest to a cart corral? That's what we're in the market for now.

7:45a - Get a great spot (only one away from the cart corral!). Grab a cart from said corral and return to the car. Load both seats into the shopping cart. One on top, one cross-way over the lower basket. Don't preach at me about how car seats go into a shopping cart. I know what the original design is, but at a rural grocery store with no double cart options, you do what you have to do. If you come up with a better way for a mother shopping solo with twinfants to get groceries, that's awesome. I did the best I could.

7:47a - Finally make it inside only to realize that I forgot my grocery list at home. Sonofabitch. I think I can remember what we need.. HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! I can't even remember to change my spit-up shirt before I leave the house.. I most certainly cannot remember what was on that grocery list! Decide to wing it.

7:52a - I made it all the way inside and to the fruit before someone stopped me. This may be a record! I've usually already answered a handful of questions before we even get inside. When I'm in public with my kids, there is a relatively standard set of questions that follow:
 

OMG!! Are they twins? SUSAN! (or any other name) Come look!!

Are they identical? (hand reaching toward one or both of their faces) I politely say "Please don't touch them. It's flu season."

How do you tell them apart?!

Which one is older? How much??

Are they very different?

Did you have a C-section?

Are they natural?


Oooook, let me just stop you right there. Yes. No. I just look at them. Cameron. 2 minutes. YES. Yes, but if I'd said no, now we're just talking about my vagina in the middle of the produce section. All children are "natural," and I think you meant to say "spontaneous" as in "are they spontaneous or did you do fertility treatments?" And regardless of what the answer to that last question is, it's really none of your business, Stranger. How were your children conceived?? Whether it's in a petri dish or in the backseat of a car, it's none of my business. Grant me the same privacy. 

I'm more than happy to discuss a lot of personal details of my life (obviously), but when I'm picking grapes or trying to get in and out of any public place is not the time. You went straight to third date conversation material, and I don't even know your name. Maybe ask what I do for a living or buy me a drink before you go asking about my sex life. If I volunteer information, that's one thing, but the barrage of questions from strangers every time we leave the house gets old. Fast. And we'll get stopped at least 4 more times before we get out of here.


8:02a - I escaped the very friendly strangers, and I'm certain I got several things that were on the list. Bananas, milk, cheese, bread, pickles, laundry detergent, hamburger meat. I'm also certain I got things that were not on the list. Doritos, oreos, cream puffs. Whatever. Realize what time it is. Cameron will be hungry again in less than 30 minutes. List or no list, we've got to get out of here.

8:20a - Keep playing "Where's your foot?!" to distract my boys who are growing increasingly restless while I finish checking out. They've been so good and have been in the seats for right at an hour. I know they're ready to eat again and spend some time unconfined in the floor at home.

8:29a - Get back out to the car and get groceries loaded. Fortunately, it isn't bitter cold or raining, so I can leave the boys in the cart beside me while I load everything up. If the weather changes, that's not an option. Put the boys in the car last and lock it while I return the cart to the corral. It's not far, and I can see them the entire time, but still.. people are crazy, and I'd rather be safe than sorry.

8:45a - We had to contend with a little traffic on the way home, but fortunately, the boys are in good moods, so they don't mind that I'm running just a little late on their next bottle. I park and take them inside. I guess Lucas catches sight of the clock on our way in, because before I can even consider what my next move is - groceries inside or feed babies - he makes that choice clear. HE IS STARVING TO DEATH RIGHT NOW! Cameron has an Anchorman moment and doesn't know what we're yelling about, but for solidarity's sake, he joins the cause. I go warm bottles.

9:00a - I unbuckled and changed both babies' diapers while bottles were warming, and now I've got one propped up in the boppy beside me while I hold the other and feed them both. Everyone is happy again.

9:10a - Tandem feeding always seems like a good idea until I have to stop feeding Cameron so I can use both hands to burp Lucas. From the sounds of it, Cameron thinks I've decided to kill him. Patience is NOT his thing.

9:20a - Turns out, I didn't decide to kill Cameron, and he did get to finish his bottle after Lucas burped. And then he got his third outfit of the day after he spit up what seemed like half of it.

9:30a - Babies are clean, dry, full, and sleepy. I swaddle them up and put their sleep hats on (nothing special, just plain hospital nursery hats, but we only wore hats at sleep times in an effort to introduce schedule and predictability so they would associate hats with sleep. It worked very well). I give them both pacis, turn on the white noise, and slip out of the room. As difficult as having twins can be, I'm so grateful to say that we do have good sleepers.

9:31a - I collapse in the chair. I was up three times last night feeding babies, and I'm worn out. I just need a minute to rest.

9:32a - Good thing I only needed a minute (ha) because that's all I get. I remember that I have groceries in the car. And I need to pump. Desperately. I didn't get to finish pumping this morning, and I'm super uncomfortable.

9:40a - Groceries are inside and cold food is put away. Everything else can wait because my chest may explode. I have got to go pump RIGHT NOW.

10:15a - It takes longer than usual, but I'm feeling much better now! And as an added bonus, I got almost 20 ounces of milk. Score!! Now to get these pump parts cleaned up and get the milk put away. I have to check the fridge and figure out if this needs to be used today or if it can be frozen. I have a small freezer stash, but it's difficult to keep up with the demand of twin infants. I have to supplement some, but I do a pretty good job of meeting their needs on my own.

10:16a - Get to kitchen and remember that I still have to put away the rest of the groceries. And that banana isn't holding me over like I had hoped. And I'm super thirsty. And I need to start laundry. I better get a move on because these babies won't sleep too much longer.

11:03a - I manage to wash my pump pieces, freeze two bags of milk and fill two more bottles, get groceries put away, fix myself a drink, grab a granola bar, fold one load of laundry, start another, and sit down for almost 5 minutes before I hear the babies waking up. This was a super productive nap time!

11:05a - Both boys woke up in dreamy moods, so we lay down together and play in the floor for awhile. Cameron only spits up on us twice, and it's not even bad enough that either of us has to change clothes. It's a win in my book!

11:45a - Unsolicited knock on the door. I wasn't expecting anyone today, but company tends to show up unannounced pretty regularly since we had twins, so I'm not surprised that someone is here. I look and find my aunt and grandma. Not expected guests, but most certainly welcome! They love seeing us, and I love getting a few minutes of adult conversation and help with the babies.

12:10p - Babies announce that they are hungry. NOW. They are so very cute, but patience is not a skill they possess just yet. I warm up a couple bottles and take advantage of the extra grown ups around to feed them. Instead of having to pump after they eat, I excuse myself and pump while they're being fed in the living room. It doesn't seem like much, but it buys me 20-40 minutes of free(er) time, and that is valuable.

12:42p - Finish up pumping. Wash the parts. Milk in the fridge. Change two poopy baby diapers. Get Cameron his fourth shirt of the day. Pants are still good. I'll be so glad when we find a reflux medication combination that actually works for him. Return clean, snuggly babies to living room for Pam and Gran to play with them.

12:58p - Play time is over, and the boys are getting sleepy and a little whiny. I swaddle them up, get the sleep hats and pacis, and settle them down for the second nap time of the day.

1:25p - I fold laundry while I visit with Pam and Gran. I'd love to just sit and hang out, but I know my time is limited. They understand, and Pam even cleans my kitchen for me while I fold clothes. I'm fortunate that this isn't an isolated occurrence. We often have family come over and help with little things like this. It's only 10-15 minutes to them, but it means to world to us.

1:30p - Laundry is put away, and I realize that I haven't had much to eat today. A banana and granola bar doesn't exactly count as a filling breakfast and lunch. I refill my water and rifle through the fridge. I'm hungry enough to eat almost anything. I find some casserole leftovers to finish off, so I warm it up. Pam and Gran head home so I can rest while the babies nap.

1:43p - I'm finally fed and chores are mostly caught up. I decide to lay down for as long as I can before the boys wake up. If I'm lucky, I can get an hour or so of sleep.

2:04p - And if I'm not lucky, I wake up to another unsolicited knock on the door. I ignore it and hope to go back to sleep. But it gets louder. And is accompanied by yelling. In an effort to get to it before whoever is out there gets loud enough to wake the babies, I get up and go answer it. I open the door to see a couple distant relatives whom I have not seen in a long time and who are not known for their tact or common sense. I could cry. I am young, and my southern heritage and hospitality tells me that when someone arrives at your home, you are a gracious hostess. However, I'm desperate for some sleep. I whisper something about how it's nice to see them but the babies are sleeping in hopes that they will get the hint and come back another time. The hint is not received. I wind up inviting them in.

2:11p - Turns out, it only takes about 5 minutes of loud talking in the next room to wake a pair of sleeping babies.

2:13p - Guess who is grouchy because nap time was less than half what it should have been. Spoiler alert - it's not just me.

2:22p - Company tells me "We can see you've got your hands full, so we'll get out of your hair! It was so fun to see the boys!! We'll be back soon!" I muster up some pleasantry and wish them a good afternoon as they hand me their dirty glasses from the drinks I offered.

2:25p - I shut the door behind them as they leave. One boy is in a bouncy seat on the floor. The other is in my arms. They're both wailing. Now, I actually do cry.

2:33p - I can only wallow in self pity for so long, and then I get it together. The babies can wallow longer than me, and their crying continues. I'm trying everything, but I know it's not going to work because the problem is they are sleepy. And maybe hungry.

2:35p - I go ahead and feed them again. It's about 15 minutes early, but I figure it'll calm them down a little. It works.

2:56p - In theory, it should be nap time because they just ate, but our schedule usually has them napping around 4. Maybe we can swing this and get them down a little early.

3:21p - The normal nap routine wasn't effective. I make sure everyone is full and dry, and I put them in their car seats. I've only been a Mom for a minute, but even I know that car rides are equivalent to Ambien for babies.

3:30p - We're in the car, and we're off. I'm not sure where we're going exactly, but I'll figure something out.

3:32p - Both babies are asleep. We turn around at the next driveway and go back home.

3:45p - Jesus is holding my hand today (and every other day, really). That's my only explanation because I was able to get both boys back inside the house, unbuckled, swaddled, and put in bed without waking them. Maybe I can get an hour or so here, too.

5:14p - I wake up confused and disoriented in my bedroom? No, this is a couch. Living room? That seems right. What year is it? Good grief.. what is that noise?! OH!! It's one of the babies! I have babies. Two of them. I have two babies. I should not nap. I obviously need more sleep, but waking up is hard. I need to pump. I should've pumped two hours ago, but I didn't.

5:20p - I let the babies stay in their beds while I pump. They are so cute I absolutely cannot stand it. How can I love two tiny, bald, toothless humans so very much?? How is this even possible?! Even when they yell at me, still.. so cute!

5:53p - I finally have everyone fed and calm. Leftover milk is in the fridge and pump parts are washed and drying. Diapers are dry, and we're home alone for now. I hope one of my parents drops by to visit. My husband is working out of town and won't be home until tomorrow, and I'm feeling a little lonely tonight. In the meantime, we're going to play in the floor.

6:00p - Cameron smiles all the time, but I think he just laughed. He definitely made a sound that sounded happy. Not quite a squeal, but there was joy in it. I think. Did he just laugh??!

6:01p - Lucas continues his stoic stance. He sees the toys I'm offering, but he seems to be more inquisitive than anything else. I'm not necessarily funny, but he does find me interesting.

6:26p - Gigi is here!! She stops on her way home from work pretty frequently. She's always one of my favorite visitors. And to make this stop even sweeter, she brought dinner. Which is extra amazing, because I totally forgot that I'll need to eat again tonight. I certainly didn't have an actual meal planned. She is the best. But to be fair, this could easily be my mom or dad, and I would be just as excited. We have an amazing support system, and it's not uncommon for any one of them to drop what they're doing to help me or my husband at any given time. Or to show up unannounced and send me to nap while they handle the baby business and clean my house. We've been incredibly blessed by the Village that helps us raise our boys.

7:30p - Gigi stayed and helped me get through baby bedtime. We get clean dry diapers, fresh pjs, swaddle blankets, and sleep hats. I top them off with a small bottle, and then I give them pacis and lay them down. I hate that one boy always seems to have to wait for something, so it's nice to have an extra set of hands for this part.

7:35p - Babies are settled down for the night. The house is quiet, and I can relax a little. Gigi helps me finish up laundry and clean my kitchen. I get to talk to a grown up about something other than diapers and bottles. It's wonderful! I also get to tell her about the stressful parts of my day (I'm ranting about you, handsy stranger at the grocery store) and about all the fun things that happened (this part of the conversation takes a long time). Turns out I'm no different than any other proud parent.. I'll talk about my babies forever if you let me.

7:57p - Gigi heads home. I get around to answering the 27 texts I've got throughout the day and returning whatever phone calls I missed. I really only ever respond to my immediate family and couple friends throughout the day. It's not that I don't care about the rest of you, but I only have a minute or two and have to prioritize.

8:04p - I finished returning texts and decide to return a couple calls while I pick up my living room and then get ready for bed. Sometimes I look at the clock and can't help but laugh at how much my life has changed. Not much more than a year ago, my husband and I were in St. Louis celebrating our first wedding anniversary. We hadn't even left our hotel for the night at 8 and would be out until well after midnight. Now, I wouldn't dream of going anywhere this "late." I would've never gone an entire day without talking to my best friends or gotten up before 9 on a Saturday. Now, I can't tell you the last time I saw a leading number bigger than 6 on any given day when I woke up (and I saw 12, 2, and 4, too), and I haven't talked to Miranda or Maegan in at least two days. They've both texted, and one has called, but I haven't had a chance to send back anything more than "we're good!" or "lol." It's unfounded, but I'm afraid I'm going to lose my friends because I've been so out of touch lately. I desperately want to talk to them, but I'm running almost nonstop every day. I get distracted so easy, and I'm so tired.. I just forget that they called or sent a text, and even though I wish so much I could sit down and chat for an hour or type out a text that is actually part of a meaningful conversation, I physically do not have the time to do it. There are too many things demanding my time, and I can't do what I WANT anymore. There are too many needs that have to come before my wants. It's hard.

9:10p - I finished cleaning the house, and I showered and dried my hair. Now, I get to sit down and pump while I talk to my husband. He's been in Oklahoma for a couple weeks, and we still have a couple weeks to go. It's hard, but he's starting a new job that will be really good for our family. We talk for almost an hour. It's not the same as having him beside me, but it's nice to hear his voice. No matter what kind of day I've had, he always makes me feel better. I miss him. And it's hard doing this parent thing every day by myself. Sometimes I'm rocking it, and sometimes I'm counting down the hours until he gets back home. I let the pump run the whole time in hopes that I won't have to pump again until at least 2am. In theory, I should pump every 2-3 hours because we're feeding the boys that often, but it's just not practical. I can't seem to fit it in that often. I do my best to pump at least every 4 hours, but sometimes it's longer. Sometimes it's shorter though, so it's ok.

10:26p - I'm off the phone, and I realize what time it is. The boys will be hungry soon, but if I catch them before they actually wake up, I can do a dream feed and get them to sleep until well after midnight. I hustle and get bottles ready and sneak into the nursery. Feed a baby; change a baby; put him back down. Feed a baby; change a baby; put him back down. Sneak back out. Mission accomplished.

10:53p - I've got milk poured into bags and in the freezer and bottles ready for the first middle-of-the-night feeding in the fridge. Pump parts are washed and reassembled waiting for their next use. The doors are locked, and the lights are off. The boys are snoozing away, and I finally climb into bed. I'd like to catch up on Grey's Anatomy, but it's just not going to happen. Maybe I'll watch an episode during the next feeding session, which, by the way, starts in 2-3 hours. I should be sleeping, but I reflect for a minute or two. Our day was busy, but they all are. Aside from moments of hunger or sleepiness, there was really very little crying today. Lucas didn't even have a colicky episode tonight, which is a HUGE answered prayer. We've been crying together every night this week. This was a welcome change of pace. Cameron almost laughed out loud. Lucas even smiled several times today (big deal for this stone faced baby). I got to visit with some of my favorite people today, and I managed to keep up with the housework. There was some stress and even tears (from all of us), but it was outweighed by the joy. We're blessed. I'm tired, like always it seems, but it was a really good day. 

Stomach Bug Lifesavers

If you've been a parent long enough to have children who can talk, then you know one of the most dreaded things you can hear in the middle of the night isn't a mouse or a prowler... it's a tiny voice saying "Mama, I'm sick." Those few little words spoken in that pitiful voice will break your heart and your spirit in one fell swoop. Nothing is worse than watching your child suffer in pain and be helpless to stop it, and even though a stomach bug is very minor in the grand scheme, hearing those heart wrenching cries never gets easier.

Last night, I was tired after a long day, and my husband and I had a rare chance to go to bed early. In very unusual fashion, I had finished my shower and was already in bed and about to doze off before the clock ever saw 10pm. (If I ever think that I'm still 20-something, I just need to remember how excited I was to be in bed so early on this night, and that should jolt me right back to my 30+ reality.)

It was 10:35 when I heard it. "Mama. MAMA!!" Ahhhh, man... "What's wrong, buddy?" "I'm sick." My heart dropped. First and foremost, my middle boy felt terrible, and that just rips my heart out. After having spent a good bit of 2017 fighting off what I thought was a recurrent stomach bug (but turned out to be a gallbladder issue that required surgery), I could commiserate with how awful he felt. Secondly, I knew those two words meant that I was heading into a proverbial war zone where everything in his room was booby trapped, and even if it didn't have actual puke on it, it still had germs that were like heat seeking missiles with the sole mission of taking me down. I threw on my robe, grabbed a ponytail holder, and headed in.

At 6, my kids are getting pretty good at making it to the toilet or hitting the puke bucket (which is actually a $1 plastic measuring cup from Walmart) when they're sick. Unfortunately, he had ZERO indications of illness before bed, so he didn't have his bucket, and he most certainly didn't get to the toilet. He met me in the bathroom, and we got him undressed, cleaned up, and in clean, dry pjs so he could lay down in the floor while I handled the rest. Now to assess the damage... by some miracle, he managed to keep everything on the bed, and for once, I didn't have to clean the carpet! I did, however, have to scoop warm vomit from his sheets and pillow before I could strip the bed and head to the laundry room.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't gagging the entire time. I can handle blood, guts, and snot, but puke gets me every time. I think it's the smell. You know what I'm talking about.. I can just type that, and you get a whiff of it. I know. It's bad. And it's not easy to get that smell out of just anything like, say, a pillow. I'm no stranger to this Mom game, and I know when to pick my battles. I also know that you can find a pillow suitable for a child for $2.98 at Walmart. I didn't even have to ask myself if it was worth it. I jerked the pillowcase off that bad boy and immediately trashed it. By now, it was almost 11, and there was no point in wasting my time and energy trying to salvage something that would forever have a faint vomit smell.

If you have small kids, you know that nobody sleeps on a mattress that doesn't have a waterproof liner on it. Too bad for us, we only have one that fits each of the big boys' beds, so when there's an accident like this, it's pallet time. We saved the kindergarten nap matts for occasions like tonight. I covered that joker with an extra sheet, stole a waterproof crib liner from the baby's room to cover my carpet surrounding his head, and set up his sick camp. Bucket, check. Spill-proof (for real) Nalgene water bottle, check. Three blankets because he's extra cold, check. (And before you even say anything, no, he didn't have a fever, he was just cold.) Peppermint and thieves oil diffusing, check. In less than an hour, I had him cleaned up, calmed down, and settled back in for the night. Score! Now on to the laundry.

More good news - when I made it to the laundry room, there was NOTHING in the washer! Ha!! If your house is anything like mine, you know that this was incredibly unlikely, and definitely something to be celebrated. This seems so insignificant, but it meant that I didn't have to do bonus laundry before I could wash his sick sheets. It also meant that I didn't have to waste another hour of laundry shuffle before I could go back to bed. Thank you Jesus for small favors! I got everything started with an extra dose of bleach because, duh, germs, and headed to the couch to wait to toss it in the dryer before I headed to bed.

I sat down and queued up the next episode of Scandal on Netflix. Before Kerry Washington could even start telling me what happened last time on Scandal, I heard that panicky "Mama!!" again. You have got to be kidding me. I rushed in, and of course, he was throwing up again before I could get to him. However, even when my boy is sick, he's smart enough to be aware of his surroundings, and he grabbed his bucket. Again, thank you Jesus!! I could tell this was going to be a long night.

We did the stomach bug dance for the next three hours, and I wound up sleeping in his room because when your sick baby says "Can you stay with me?" you do. My sleep app said that my night was crappy, and honestly, that felt a little optimistic. Fortunately, my boy was feeling better when he woke up this morning. He will, obviously, be quarantined to his room all day because I'm a big advocate for breaking the chain of infection. I'm washing our hands like crazy, slathering everyone in Thieves oil, Lysol-ing everything we own, and praying that the rest of us are spared.


A few things I couldn't survive stomach bugs without:

Our Nalgene cups. The $6-10 price tag is typically more than I would spend on any "sippy cup," but it's a small price to pay for a cup that actually does NOT leak. My boys can keep them in bed or on the couch, and I don't have to worry about cleaning up a mess from a spill. I mean, we've been using these cups for 5 years, and we've had maybe 3 leaks. So. Awesome. Lots of color and design options!

Our "throw up bucket." I couldn't find the exact one we have, but they have this one on Amazon that is similar. It's a cheap, plastic bucket that can be thrown away if needed, and the handle makes it easy to transport and carry from room to room. I keep a couple inside the house and one within reach of each car seat in my car (they fit in our cup holders). Because I hate cleaning up puke from car carpet even more than house carpet.

Lysol. Lots of Lysol. I buy the store brand (because I'm cheap), and it works just as well. Washing your hands is the very best way to prevent the spread of illness, but we all know that kids touch EVERYTHING and then put those grubby precious hands in their mouths, so I disinfect anything that will be still long enough to get sprayed.

Rubber gloves. Because the only thing worse than having to clean up puke is cleaning it up with bare hands.

How do you handle stomach bugs with your kids? Any tried-and-true methods that work for your family?

Starting a Blog - Step 1 - Feel Overwhelmed. Then Name Your Blog.

Let me just tell you.. I'm typically a person who catches on quickly when learning new things. I wish I could say this applied when my sister-in-law said "We should start a blog!" Now, technically, I've had a blog for several years. However, I've never done much with it other than write 1-2 posts a year and then forget it exists. It wasn't designed to be popular or get much traffic. It was designed more as a storage box. A diary of sorts where I kept track of things I wanted to remember without actually having to put a pen to paper. And it served its purpose beautifully.

When Emma said she wanted to start a blog, she wasn't referring to my style of blogging. She wanted to have a real blog. She wanted something organized and helpful. Something that would get a lot of traffic. Something that people could use and enjoy. She wanted something lucrative and worth our time. She wanted to do it the right way and actually make something of it. I could tell immediately that I was in over my head.

The more she talked about it, the more my interested was piqued. One quick search on Pinterest, and I was over my head. There were hundreds thousands of articles. I started reading, but the more I read, the more confused I got. "5 MUST HAVES Before Starting a Blog!" "NEVER Start Blogging Without THIS!" (Heads up.. THIS wasn't even on the MUST HAVES list.) "7 Things to Make Your Blog Legal" (How is a blog illegal to begin with?? I guess my original one has been breaking the law for years.) "15 Common Mistakes New Bloggers Make" Topics covered blog titles, advertising options, email lists, domain hosting, SEO, traffic monitoring, avatars, income reports, and on and on. I didn't even know what most of that stuff was. I certainly didn't know how to do any of it. I had learned more about blogging in the last two days than I had ever expected to know, but much of it seemed impossible for a technologically challenged individual like myself. I was feeling like a failure, and we hadn't even started yet.

Ok. I needed to take a step back and catch my breath. Step 1 varied according to which post you read, but naming the blog felt like the right place to start, so I started brainstorming. What words were important to me? What did I want readers to feel when they were on our site? What represented the essence of who we truly were and what we wanted to share? I had a cloud of words floating in my head, so I made a list.

What words went together well? Did it flow? And let's remember the most important factor here - did any of my words match up with what Emma had in mind for the blog? This is technically her brain child - not mine - so this needs to be something she loves, too. Emma and I each came up with several options, and I hoped it would be like naming a baby... You'll know when you find the right one! (Spoiler alert - it wasn't.)

Beautiful Chaos. Treasured Hearts. Raising Arrows. Beautifully Bold. Perfectly Flawed. Chronically Optimistic. Simply Savvy. Wonderfully Wild. Finding the Joy. Grateful Hearts. Southern Sophistication. Life Unfiltered.
 
So. Many. Names. I was, again, overwhelmed. We thought about it for several days and finally landed on Simply Savvy. Blog is named. Done! Orrrr so we thought. Turns out... Some other joker thought Simply Savvy was a great name too, so they took it. Damn. Now we were back to the drawing board. This time, we checked to see if a domain was even an option before it made it to the list. Ultimately, we landed on Live Simply Savvy (obviously). I'm not going to say that we both saw rainbows and butterflies when we chose it, but it was our best option that conveyed what we wanted to be about AND was available.
 
So, if you're thinking of starting a blog, and I assume you are or you wouldn't have landed here to begin with, let me offer the following points of advice:

1. What is your goal? Do you want to be a featured blogger on Scary Mommy, Buzzfeed, or something similar? Do you want to make money? Do you want an outlet to share your hopes, dreams, and fears? Deciding what your goal is will steer you in the correct direction from Day 1. If you're undecided for now, that's ok, but work toward figuring it out. It's hard to know how to get somewhere if you aren't sure where you're going.
2. Decide what you want your blog to be about, but don't feel limited to one subject. Have kids, dogs, and a job, love DIY and photography and want to write about all of it? Do it. But don't get discouraged if you aren't making bank the first year (or three). Consensus is that niche blogs are the most successful, but I believe you can share facets of your entire life and still have success. It may look a little different than traditional "success," and it may take longer to get there, but you can do it.
3. Name your blog. Allow more time for this than you originally expected. This step is crucial. It is who you are, and it's who your blog is going to be. It's how you'll be identified. Use our method of brainstorming keywords if that's your style. Write words down until something comes to you. Maybe you like to crowdsource and let your friends give you ideas. Do whatever works for YOU, but learn from your 6th grade email mistake (I'm looking at you, pretty_thang24@hotmail.com!), and don't commit to something that won't stand the test of time. Put some time and effort into this step. It's worth it.
4. Read, read, and read some more from reliable sources. I know it can be a bit much in the beginning, but if you're taking this venture seriously, you will appreciate the opportunity to learn from the experiences of others. If you find something about a topic that you don't understand, do some research until you DO understand. Talk to other bloggers. Get advice and tips and tricks wherever you can find them. Information is power, and the more you have, the better off you are.
5. When it doubt, blog it out. If you're struggling with something, write a blog post about it. You don't even have to publish it! You can save it for later, or you can just vent to yourself. That's what I did. If you're having trouble, chances are, someone else is having trouble with the same thing. Share how you overcame the issue and moved forward. Don't have a solution yet? That's fine too. Sometimes misery genuinely does love company, and people appreciate knowing they aren't the only ones looking for answers to a particular problem. You might even find that one of your readers has an excellent idea for you to try!

We'll get to Step 2, but for now, this will have to suffice. If you are getting started on your own blog, I wish you the very best! So far, it's been a lot of work, but it will be worth it! Even if it never becomes the income replacement the internet has promised, it has still been a valuable learning experience. Comment below with your questions, concerns, or ideas! I'd love to hear feedback or experiences from other bloggers and readers!  

The Year of Travel - 2014 - Des Moines

I found a few drafts saved when I logged into the blog for my standard biennial check. Figured better now than never!



I don't have too many hobbies, but I do love to travel. As always, availability and money dictates when, where, and how often I get to take trips, but I'm always looking for a good deal for a family, couple, or individual vacation. At the end of 2013, the stars all seemed to align, and I was able to schedule a few trips for the following year. Before 2014 was over, I would have visited Des Moines, Iowa; Los Angeles, California; Manhattan, New York; Branson, Missouri; Canon City, Colorado; and Los Angeles again. I declared it the Year of Travel, and I enjoyed every minute of each trip.

I joined an online Mothers of Multiples group when I was still pregnant with the boys, and we got together in the summer of 2013. It was a blast, so when a different group of friends began talking about having a get-together in the spring of 2014, I was thrilled! We finally decided on a location and weekend that worked for the most people and packed our bags!(Theoretically, of course. Nobody packs bags months in advance.)
 It's amazing what a little break can do for the soul. Before heading to Iowa, my temper was short and patience thin. The tiniest things annoyed me to no end. The (very loud) giggles that filled most waking hours in my house didn't bring me joy like they once had. Instead, the noise grated on my nerves and made my head pound. I was sad and on edge 90% of the time. I felt like I had neglected myself for so long that I wasn't even sure if the person I had been still existed. After two-and-a-half years of raising twins, I was hitting a new, unexpected low. My energy was depleted beyond what could be restored after the nightly baby bedtime. I felt defeated before I even started most days.

In March, we all met in Des Moines, Iowa for a long weekend of drinks, laughs, and no fixing food for other people or changing diapers. It was perfect! It was a low-key, uneventful weekend, and while most people would find it unremarkable, for us, it was priceless. We may get to talk on an almost daily basis, but we rarely get to spend any physical time together. Add in that as moms in general we get very little alone time, a weekend away to be completely selfish was heaven on Earth. I laughed more than I had in months. I remembered what it was like to be someone other than "Mama." I felt like I could take a deep breath. And when it was time to go home, I was actually excited to get off the plane and head home to resume my Mom duties. The thought of those tiny humans depending on me for almost everything didn't make me want to cry. I was refreshed. I was back.

I'm grateful that I've been able to prioritize my family in most situations, but it often meant I neglected myself to do it. It wasn't even a conscious decision.. it just happened. I needed to be reminded that even though I am a wife and a mother, I still have an identity outside those (very important) roles. This trip taught me that I can't truly take the best care of my family if I'm not willing to take care of myself, too. It was a hard lesson for me to learn, but it was definitely one that I needed.

When was the last time you took a weekend for yourself, mama? A day? An hour? It's challenging to find time for yourself. You have to find a babysitter, coordinate times that work for them and you, get those angel children of yours dressed, buckled in, and to the sitter, then head out for a while alone, keep check on that ticking clock so you aren't late for pick up, wrestle back into the car, and then get those precious munchkins home, fed, bathed, and in bed. And you have to do it before bedtime hits. Is it even worth it?!

YES. It is worth it. YOU are worth it. Get that sitter and take a few hours to get a pedicure, have a cup of coffee that's actually hot, or just sit in your quiet car by yourself. Raising tiny humans is no joke. It's a relentless labor of love. You wouldn't dream of being clocked in at a day job 24/7, but those are the exact hours that Moms have. You need to clock out every now and then. Recharge, mama. Recharge, and come back ready to take on the world.

The ONE Thing I Couldn't Clothe My Kids Without

I can't speak for anyone else, but I hate paying full price for anything. I mean, HATE it. I'm constantly looking for good sales, and I don't mean the kind of sale where they jack the price up so the "30% off" the new $150 price means I'm still paying $100 for something that would normally cost me $104.99. Uh, no thanks.

I mean actual sales where I can save significant money on things we were going to use anyway. Coupons are great if it's a product you normally buy, but if I'm saving $1 on shampoo but still paying more than I would for my usual brand, guess what... even with the coupon, it's not a good deal! Anyone who knows me can vouch for my frugal, responsible side, and it should be no surprise that my kids' clothing is no exception.

We had twins in 2011, and we were shocked at just how quickly the cost of necessities added up. Whoever came up with that clever phrase "buy one, get one free!" in reference to multiples obviously didn't have a set of their own. It's more like "buy one, pay double." While there are some things they can share, the big stuff usually doesn't fall in that category. Two car seats, high chairs, beds, etc. The list is long. As newlyweds, we didn't have the luxury of springing for brand new baby gear times two, but our babes were still going to need all of these things. We needed a safe, feasible alternative to spending $$$$$ to get ready for these guys.

Enter Rhea Lana's Children's Consignment. Game. Changer. I've been to a few different Rhea Lana events, and I will say the Rhea Lana's of Searcy event is hands-down my favorite!! The first time I went to the sale I was 15ish weeks pregnant with the twins, but I didn't know yet if we were having boys, girls, or both. This made shopping a little more challenging, but don't think for a second that I let it stop me. I went gender neutral and was able to get two jumperoos, two high chairs, two pack-n-plays (one for home, one for grandparents), two bouncy seats, and a ton of bottles, burp rags, and other needed items for less than $200! That's less than the cost of what I would've paid for half of this stuff if I'd bought it new! I couldn't believe all the stuff I'd checked off our list or how I was able to walk out with money left in my pocket. I was hooked.

Here we are, 7 years later (side note - how did SEVEN years go by so quickly?!!), and I'm still a huge advocate for my fav consignment event. I've progressed from avid shopper to lucrative consignor to faithful volunteer. As a volunteer, I'm able to shop earlier and get a better selection than what's available to the general public, and as a consignor, I almost ALWAYS make more money than I spend. Rhea Lana's of Searcy has pretty well ensured that I am able to sell the things we've outgrown and buy an entire wardrobe in the next size and STILL manage to make money on the exchange. It makes my bargain shopping heart flutter! So. Amazing.

Aside from all the incredible prices and wonderful selection, can I also mention how much I love getting rid of all the clutter and toys my kids never use or play with anymore? If you need it for a child at any point from pregnancy/birth to college, you can buy or sell it at Rhea Lana. Sports equipment, pool toys, potty chairs, baby monitors, you name it - they have it. If you live close to Searcy, AR, you should check it out! If you don't, go find the event nearest you. I can promise, I will shop at RL of Searcy as long as it's around, and I hope you can, too!

29 Weeks

I stumbled across this draft today. Obviously, I wrote it a while back (April 1, 2016, to be exact), but it seemed worth sharing.

Today marks 29 weeks in what is very likely my last pregnancy. I'm getting a little tired, a little uncomfortable, and a lot anxious for this sweet boy to get here. Sleep (and rest in general) is getting harder to come by, but all-in-all, I'm still feeling pretty good. A close friend recently had her little girl, and I'm insanely jealous that she is home snuggling her brand new baby while I'm still at work carrying an extra 25+ pounds around with me all day. I'm certain the next 10ish weeks will fly by, but some days seem to drag on much longer than their allotted 24 hours. There is always work to be done, laundry to wash and fold, and dishes to put away. There are games to be played, toy cars to drive, and baseballs to throw. Most importantly, there are two boys to rock and snuggle and treasure every little bit of time we have left while they are the only little ones in the house.
All of our lives are about to change, and while it is a wonderful and exciting change that we are all looking forward to it, it will, nonetheless, forever alter our lives. Very soon there will be another tiny human in our home that will require a lot of attention and won't have any regard for the plans, needs, or wants of his housemates. I don't have unrealistic expectations of a reality that resembles a Pamper's or Johnson & Johnson's commercial. I know infants are selfish and demanding. As I recall, aside from the sweet baby snuggles, infants have very few pleasant qualities. It is mostly eating, pooping, peeing, and crying between two hour stretches of rest (if we're lucky enough to get two hour stretches) yet we will somehow still be very much in love with this tiny stranger. And I also remember that the "trenches" stage is relatively short lived. Soon enough, the tiny stranger we bring home from the hospital will begin to show his personality. We will get to know him and he us, and we will all be smitten. I remember the elation I felt at those first smiles and giggles, and I'm so very excited that we are getting the opportunity to live those moments again with another baby. I remember the pride mixed with sadness when the boys learned to roll over, sit up, and eventually walk. I remember the bittersweet feeling we had at the time because we weren't sure if we would ever experience these precious "firsts" again. I am so looking forward to all of those moments just one more time, and I'm grateful to have the perspective of a parent so I can truly appreciate and respect how quickly the time flies by.

With newborn twins, there was essentially no free time in our day to just enjoy the newborn and infant stages. It was baby business. By the time we finished feeding, changing, and swaddling each boy back to sleep, there was just enough time left to pump, get bottles ready for the next feeding, and sleep for 15-30 minutes before we started the cycle over again. I hope to be able to slow down a little more this time around and spend more time snuggling and really soaking in everything we can.

I feel much more prepared for this baby than we were for the twins. I'm not certain if it's because we have first hand experience to relate to this time, because it's only one baby, because we're not in the middle of moving to a different town and changing jobs, or a combination of it all, but I'm so thankful for the feeling of peace I have now compared to how I felt in 2011. And I would be lying if I didn't say that I absolutely KNOW that a huge part of the peace I have now comes from God. My spiritual relationship with him has grown by leaps and bounds since the boys were born, and the difference in my state of mind is incredible.

I'm still pretty comfortable and am trying to enjoy as much of this pregnancy as I can. I know it will be over all-too-soon, and the discomfort and fatigue will be a distant memory. Unfortunately, that means that while the way he tumbles and kicks (sometimes violently) is such a vivid part of my daily life now, it too will fade into the back of my mind. I don't expect to ever forget the feeling altogether, but I know that it will never be the same. For this very short time, I'm the only person on the planet that can provide his basic needs. I'm the only one who knows each time he stretches and rolls to get comfortable. My voice is the only one he hears throughout every day. This time is precious beyond words, and I'm forever grateful that I get the opportunity to carry him until he's ready to be born.

I'm so ready to meet you, tiny boy, but I can be patient. In the meantime, I will soak up the simplicity remaining while we only have two children at home. I'll appreciate the beauty of being pregnant and keeping you safe until you can survive in the outside world. I'll do my best to absorb and appreciate the wonderful, exhausting, and challenging times until you're ready to meet us.

Egg Donation - 2012, 2013, 2014, 2014

I have become friends with countless other moms of multiples since the birth of our twins in 2011, and in doing so, I have learned a lot about the world of infertility. Approximately 1 in 6 couples will battle infertility. Along this journey, they have many options including medical therapy, intrauterine insemination (IUI), and in vitro fertilization (IVF). These reproductive assistance options often result in a successful pregnancy, but occasionally further intervention is required and intended parents may choose to use donor eggs or sperm. This is where egg donors come in.

To understand the donor process, you first need to understand the general IVF process, so I'll give you the most basic rundown. A woman takes hormone injections to stimulate her ovaries to produce more than one egg. She is carefully monitored via vaginal ultrasounds and lab work, and if necessary, the dose can be adjusted based on these results. When the eggs reach the appropriate stage, the egg retrieval is scheduled. She will then take a trigger injection timed precisely before the scheduled retrieval. Approximately 36 hours later, the eggs are retrieved via needle aspiration through the vaginal wall. The retrieval process itself is fairly quick, and as the patient is sedated throughout, it is usually relatively painless. The retrieved eggs are then fertilized in a lab and monitored very closely for the next 3-7 days. When the embryos have reached the appropriate stage (average is day 5 but can be shorter or longer), a select number (usually 1-2) are then transferred into the uterus. Most often they are transferred to the woman from whom the eggs were retrieved, but in the case of egg donors and surrogates, it is not. Following the embryo transfer, the woman must wait approximately 2 weeks before having blood work drawn to confirm whether or not an embryo has implanted. If everything goes as planned, she will then have a positive beta HCG and follow up ultrasound to confirm viability of the pregnancy.

Egg donors may be used if the intended mother has low quality eggs or no eggs of her own to use. The stimulation and retrieval process is essentially identical for egg donors as it is for women hoping to become pregnant using their own eggs via IVF. However, once the egg retrieval is complete, the egg donor's role in the process is complete. Fertilization and transfer will occur along the same timetable, but the embryo(s) will be transferred into the intended mother or a surrogate mother. It can be a long process with many moving parts and opportunities for complication, but fortunately, all of my donation cycles have been fairly smooth.

There is a lot of information out there regarding egg donation, and I did extensive research on the subject before finally deciding to submit a donor application. I researched the application process, what to expect during the donation cycle, compensation, and expenses. I initially chose to register through the fertility clinic closest to me geographically and later applied to be a donor at Egg Donation, Inc. Within a few weeks of completing my donor application, I was contacted by the program coordinator because I had been chosen by my first set of intended parents. It was surreal and exciting! I knew there was always a chance that I would be chosen when I signed up to be a donor, but I also knew the donor pool was very large so I never really expected to be picked for a cycle.
The donor process can be lengthy, and this was no exception. There were a lot of forms to fill out, psychological evaluations to be done, and physical exams and test to be completed. Over the next few weeks, I had several appointments (over an hour away from my house) and countless procedures and lab draws performed. I had a general idea of what to expect when I signed up for the process, but the reality was more intense than I had anticipated.

Once I had been cleared psychologically and physically, we were ready to start the actual donation process. I began taking birth control pills to synchronize my menstrual cycle with that of the intended mother. After one complete cycle, we transitioned into the stimulation phase.

The challenge of giving myself injections was very difficult for me. I've had a fear of needles most of my life, and the first time I had to do an injection was quite the event. When I was supposed to start the Lupron, I mentally prepared for it all day. I came home that evening after work, took one look at the needle and vial, and promptly called my mother (an RN) because I knew I couldn't do it. Like always, she came to my rescue and was happy to help me out. I was embarrassed that I couldn't give myself a tiny shot and relieved that she was there to do it so I didn't have to. I swore I would learn to do it myself the next day, but a big part of me thought it was never going to happen.

The next night, I came home and got the needle and vial out of the bathroom cabinet. I very calmly pulled the medication into the syringe and sat on the side of the tub. I cleaned a small area on my lower abdomen with an alcohol swab and uncapped the needle. I looked at the 27 gauge needle and felt like a fool for being so afraid. It was tiny. Absolutely tiny. Why was I so nervous?! I decided to just bite the bullet and get it over with. I held the skin on my abdomen and began to count. "1... 2... 3." Nothing happened. The hand holding the syringe hadn't moved. I tried again. "1. 2. 3." Again, nothing. In that moment, I was the biggest baby in the world. Another failed counting attempt lead me to believe that maybe that just wasn't an ideal approach for me. Maybe I just needed to control the injection slowly rather than try to sneak up on myself. 

I decided that I would slowly and precisely pierce my skin with the needle and then inject the medication. I wiped the area again with a fresh alcohol pad (after 20 minutes of staring at my stomach, I wasn't sure if it was still clean). I carefully placed the tip of the needle against my skin. I pushed. It began to sting a little bit, but it had not broken the skin yet. I pushed harder. My skin began to cave under the pressure, but the integrity of my skin remained intact. I pushed even harder. The combination of the sharp point and the pressure was beginning to cause some pain, but still nothing. How thick is my skin anyway??! Shouldn't it have broken by now?! I started over in a different spot. After another two failed attempts, I gave up and reached for the phone. It was clear I wasn't going to be able to do this. I opened my favorites tab, and my finger hovered over the contact for "Mom." My pride and fear were viciously battling in my head. I was a 25-year-old woman. Surely I wasn't going to call my mommy to come save me for the second time in 24 hours... No. I could do this. I put the phone down.

I picked the syringe up again and cleaned my skin for the fifth time. Sixth time? I wasn't even counting anymore. I knew the slow injection wasn't going to work, and that only left me with one option. I didn't even count. I quickly brought the needle toward my stomach and jabbed inward. Much to my surprise, it easily broke the skin and went all the way down to the hub of the needle. The sensation wasn't exactly painful, but it wasn't pleasant either. Approximately 1/2 a second had passed, and when my brain registered what had happened, it shocked me and I pulled my hand away as I gasped. Unfortunately, I didn't bother releasing the syringe when I reacted, and the needle came out just as quickly as it had gone in. You have got to be kidding me. What the hell just happened?!! I had it! It was in!! I had been sitting on the side of the tub for an hour alternating between coaxing myself into it and trash talking my pansy behavior. I had the needle in, pulled it out, and now I had to start all over?!  COME ON!

I wanted to cry. I wanted to quit. Call the agency and tell them I was sorry but I wasn't as tough as I had originally thought. I couldn't do this for 2-3 weeks. We were talking about a minimum of 18 injections, and I couldn't even do it once. This wasn't going to work. And then I remembered why I was doing it. This couple desperately wanted a family. They were giving everything they had just for the chance to have a baby. It certainly wasn't a guarantee. It was just a CHANCE. They were this desperate for the opportunity to have a child. If they could go through infertility and all that comes with it, surely I could give myself a few shots.

At least this time I knew I was capable of sticking myself; I just had to make sure I didn't mess it up again. I needed to regroup. I went to the kitchen and got a glass of water. As I walked through, my husband asked me how it went. I told him that I hadn't done it yet. He asked if I was kidding, and I wish I had been. I went back to the bathroom and sat down. I cleaned my stomach yet again and picked up the needle for what would hopefully be the last time today. I knew what would work, so I quickly punched the needle through my skin. Shock. Surprise. I gasped again and felt my arm pulling away in a knee-jerk-style reaction. My brain screamed LET GO OF THE SYRINGE!!! I did. Sweet Lord, had I done it again? I looked down convinced that I had let go too late and would see the syringe in the floor. Instead I saw it hanging from my abdomen with the needle still mostly buried under my skin. Thank goodness!! It was still in. Just dangling out of me. Suspended only by the needle piercing my soft tissue. I'm going to throw up. And then I realized I wasn't even finished yet. It was in, but that was only half the job... I still had to actually inject the medication.

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to push it fast or slow (or if it mattered), but I knew that in that moment, what I was "supposed" to do was completely irrelevant. There was no way I could quickly inject this. I slowly and carefully grasped the syringe. What had I signed myself up for? I've worked in the medical field for years, and while I could easily and happily inject anyone else with anything, this was a whole new ballgame. What was I thinking?! I tried to ease the plunger forward, but it didn't move. I used a little more force but still nothing. I tried to spin in so it would be easier to move forward, and it worked! I was then able to very slowly, cautiously, and somewhat painfully inject the entire syringe into my stomach. It probably didn't help that I was already sensitive because I had been pinching various places on my lower abdomen intermittently for over an hour. I closed my eyes and continued to slowly inject the medication. Much to my relief, when I opened my eyes several seconds later, the syringe was empty. I quickly pulled the needle out and thought I was going to pass out. It burned and stung, but, thank you sweet Jesus, it was over.

I was a nervous wreck, a couple places on my stomach were oozing blood, and it had taken over an hour, but I had done it. I successfully gave myself a shot in the stomach. I alternated between pride in myself for conquering such a huge fear and absolute embarrassment that it had taken me so long to do something that diabetic patients accomplish in a matter of seconds multiple times a day. I decided I didn't care that other people could do it with so little effort. I had proven to myself that I was capable of giving myself injections. This was a huge accomplishment. Then I remembered that I had to do it all over again tomorrow night. This was going to be the longest month of my life, but at least I knew it was possible.  

The injection the following day was significantly easier, and by the fourth day, I could do it with very little time or effort. If you had ever told me that I would be able to give myself any kind of shot, I would've laughed in your face. I couldn't believe how far I had come! I took daily injections of Lupron to suppress my ovaries and induce a temporary menopausal state. After taking the Lupron for 7-10 days, I had an appointment to check my ovaries and then began stimulation injections. For a few days, I had to do two injections each day, and I'm sure you can guess how much I loved that. I used Gonal-F my first cycle, and after several days of taking the stimulation drug, I began having ultrasounds and lab work every two days to monitor the follicles. We continued the daily Gonal-F injections and continued routine monitoring. When they had finally reached the appropriate size, I stopped the stimulation injections and was scheduled for the egg retrieval.

About 36 hours before the egg retrieval, I had to give myself a HCG trigger injection. This shot was different from the ones I had become accustomed to. It was an intramuscular (IM) injection which means the needle has to go all the way into the muscle layer to be injected. I was able to give myself this shot as well, but it was more difficult. I was so very relieved to get it over with because I knew that was the last time I would have to stick myself with a needle. For me, that was absolutely the worst part of the process, and I was thrilled to be finished with it!

My husband drove me to the clinic on a Thursday morning for the retrieval. We came in, I changed, and the pre-op whirlwind started almost immediately. They checked vital signs, started an IV, and gave me pre-op medications for sedation and nausea. Shortly after, I was wheeled into the procedure room where they performed the needle aspiration to retrieve the eggs. I vaguely remember moving to a different table, and at one point I remember saying "That hurt!" but I don't remember feeling any pain. The next thing I remember is waking up and seeing my husband sitting beside me. He didn't leave my side the rest of the day. He is always very attentive, and seeing him nervous about my being sedated and having a procedure done was one of the harder parts of the process for me.

It's hard for me to say how long I was in recovery because I was so groggy, but I've been told it was about an hour. I was able to get up and to the bathroom unassisted and changed my clothes. All of my post-procedure vital signs were stable, and I was reasonably comfortable, so I was released fairly quickly. I was sleepy for most of the day and had some mild bloating that afternoon. I only remember eating lunch and sleeping a lot.

I woke up the next morning, and aside from some mild bloating, felt completely normal. I went to work like usual and other than the bloating getting a little worse, I really didn't notice many side effects. The clinic called to check on me Friday afternoon, and when I mentioned the bloating, she seemed a little concerned. They told me to weigh myself, and when I did, I realized that I had gained 3-4 pounds since the morning before. I hadn't really noticed it that much, so I was surprised when they sounded so concerned. I was having some other symptoms like loss of appetite and some mild nausea. The program coordinator told me to drink extra fluids the rest of the day, and she would call to check on me again in the morning. I was to call or go the my local ER if I started having any respiratory symptoms.

Apparently, bloating and weight gain is a symptom of a post-procedure complication called ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome (OHSS). It is fairly common and usually mild, but severe or critical cases often require medical intervention and if untreated can lead to death. When they performed my egg retrieval, they were able to obtain 35 eggs, so they knew I would likely have some degree of OHSS. Unfortunately, it appeared that my case was in the moderate range with a high possibility of becoming severe.

The next morning, the bloating was worse and my weight gain had increased to a total of 9-10 pounds. I was also having more nausea and decreased urine output. When I talked to the coordinator, she told me to come in immediately because my symptoms had progressed to the severe range, and they needed to do an ultrasound as soon as possible to decide what my treatment plan would be. I told her I would be there as soon as I could, but it would probably be close to two hours. I called my husband to come get me (I was at work), and I immediately went to tell my boss I needed to leave for an emergency medical appointment. She was less than understanding and told me that I would not be allowed to leave because that would leave them short handed. I told her that while I understood that it was an inconvenience for her, it wasn't something I had a choice about. She said I always had a choice and walked away. 

Within 15 minutes, her husband (who happened to be a doctor and the owner of the small clinic I worked at) arrived, asked for my keys, and told me to get my things and leave. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I physically felt too bad to argue the ethical or legal aspects of what was happening, so I simply did as I was told. My husband was already waiting outside, and he was beyond livid when I told him what had happened.

This was obviously the beginning of a completely different problem for me, but I didn't have the time or ability to sort it out then. I told him that I didn't want to get into it right now, and we instead chose to handle the issue of my physical health first. We made the hour drive to the clinic in near silence. He was still fuming at my work situation, and I was feeling worse than when I had gotten up.

When we arrived, they took me straight back for an ultrasound. It showed that my ovaries were both enlarged (as expected) and I had a moderate amount of free fluid in my abdomen. Two of the physicians at the clinic began discussing a treatment plan. They finally decided to put me on bed rest for the next 24 hours with the hope that my body would begin to resolve the issue on its own. If my symptoms persisted or got worse, they would admit me to the hospital for a fluid aspiration. We were given strict instructions to increase my fluid intake, monitor my urine output and weight, and rest. I was nervous but hopeful that my body would adjust and begin eliminating the fluid.

We went home and followed the instructions precisely. My weight gain maxed out at 10 pounds, and by Sunday afternoon, my urine output had increased and I was down to 7 pounds. We were making great progress! The coordinator called me twice a day to check on my physical symptoms and comfort level, and we scheduled a follow up ultrasound the next week to confirm the ascites had resolved. My follow up ultrasound was perfect, and by then, I was feeling almost completely normal. I still had some mild bloating that was expected to go away after my next menstrual cycle, but otherwise things were fine and my donation cycle was officially finished.

It wasn't without challenges or complications, but overall it was a great experience that I was happy to do again. My donation cycle resulted in 35 eggs and 13 embryos, of which, 8 were frozen for future cycles. I don't know if the intended parents were fortunate enough to have a successful pregnancy or not, but I hope they did. Since completing this cycle in 2012, I have been a donor three more times including twice in Encino, California. Each process was emotionally and physically taxing, and while I don't see another donation in my future, I am forever grateful for the opportunity to help those couples have a chance at a family. Most of my experiences were wonderful and joyous, and I'm glad I was able to be a part of something so much larger than myself.

I would highly encourage anyone who is considering it to do some research and explore your options. There are strict guidelines and standards that must be met to be considered for donation, and not everyone is a good candidate. However, if you are a good candidate, it is definitely something worth looking into!