You asked. I answered. Birth story edition, Part II.

So, it's really Parts II, and III. But since babies two, three and four didn't take near as long as Jordan to arrive, their stories can be condensed into one post. I'm sure you're relieved.

And really, much to DeNae's benefit, these stories aren't near as disgusting as the first. I promise... no mentioning of my nether regions, whatsoever.

So, I discovered I was having twins when I was just five weeks pregnant. It was a heart stopping, you have to be kidding me kind of moment, except, it really wasn't. I mean, I was shocked, but once the initial panic wore off, I wasn't really all that surprised. It was as if in my heart of hearts, I knew these babies were supposed to come together. The pregnancy was amazingly free of complications, unless walking around larger than your television is a complication. Because I was. Larger than my TV. See?



I carried them 38 weeks when I was taken in a for a scheduled C-section. The twins were breech, forehead to forehead with their tiny little heads nestled comfortably underneath my ribs, so c-section was the best option for delivery. They were born in the same minute, one right after the other. The only thing I can really remember from that moment was what it felt like to finally take a breathe that actually FILLED my lungs!

"Baby? What baby? I can BREATH!"

It was lovely. And so were they. 



There is something magically wonderful about twins. Mine have always been close. Not always on the surface. They fight and bicker and deal with the differences that gender creates, but at the core, they have a need for one another that even I can't really understand. It's a deeper sense of awareness, I think, an intuition about the other that only comes from the togetherness that twin-ship provides. When still in the hospital, the nurses placed the two of them in separate bassinets. Lucy would have nothing of the separation. She screamed her little lungs out until she was once again close to her brother. And so it has always been.

I don't remember much about the first year of their life, except that I swore I would never have another baby. The ones I had did a perfectly fine job of keeping me insanely busy. Another? Out of the question. Except, it wasn't really, and never had been. I just had to get enough sleep to realize how much I wanted another one.

The twins were 3 1/2 when Henry was born. My pregnancy with Henry was simple and straightforward. He was also a scheduled c-section, my doctor worried that having endured the strain and stress of 14 1/2 pounds of twins, my body may not be up for a regular delivery. Too much scar tissue, he thought. And so it went.

And so he was.



No one has had quite as much hair as Jordan did, but then he got three extra weeks in the womb to grow it. But Henry's was pretty impressive as well, wasn't it?



Henry was, and still is, my mercy baby. He has always been the sweetest, most complacent child. I'm convinced had he not been such a breeze, I wouldn't be having another. Perhaps God sent him fourth on purpose... in order to assure the presence of a fifth!

Sigh.

I'm so very excited to do it again.

And, I'm so very excited to have post ideas for the next week or so... I promise if you asked a question, you'll get an answer. And if you still have one, feel free to add it to the mix. Cause you know. I'm all about having other people think for me. Pregnancy induced fog makes it hard for me to come up with original material on my own. :)