15 Months

I had a lot of dreams and aspirations of how I imagined pregnancy, childbirth, and the first year of life to go…much of which was thrown to the side once I found I was pregnant with quadruplets.  Pretty much everything you imagine or dream of is completely blown. I was thrown into a very high risk pregnancy and quickly learned that many things, including a drug-free birth experience, immediate bonding, short hospital stay, and exclusive breastfeeding were not things I would get to have.

I was incredibly disappointed after speaking with many moms of quadruplets to find that breastfeeding would be a next to impossible task.  There were very few that breastfed/pumped, even fewer who continued to past their NICU stay.  I remember the day my mom bought me a pump- thinking, well maybe I can get a month’s use of that.  I also resigned myself to the thought that once the babies were out the NICU, I’d never be able to pump or nurse…

Then my babies came at 31 weeks.  I felt helpless.  Here were my 3 pound babies, hooked to cords…and within 3 hours of giving birth, in came the Lactation Specialist.

Yes. That I could do. I could do all I could to provide milk for them. Until about 4 months, I was able to provide all breastmilk (with formula only to add calories), then until about 6 months I provided at least 75%, after that, I’ve been able to give 50% breastmilk daily.

There were many days I wanted to stop. Many times I got frustrated. Many tears shed. Many sleepless nights. Many times I was annoyed and got incredibly disappointed in myself. And I continue to push through as I knew I wanted to give the babies as much help as I could.

And today marks 15 months and the beginning of my weaning process.

There are many people I have to thank for this:

My husband: he has put up with my endless hours I’ve had to spend hooked to a pump. Mostly, he’s always been supportive, as he’s known not only was I saving us money, but I was helping the babies. He had to step up at times and take care of poop diapers, crying babies, biting babies, babies that just want to cause a ruckus, so that I could have time to pump. Were not for him, I would not have been able to pump, and especially not for 15 months!

My mom & mother-in-law: for all the times they’ve been over to help and stepped up to take care of the babies while I pumped.

All the nurses & hospital staff:  every day, with every amount of milk I would provide, the nurses would make me feel like I was a rockstar. They would praise me and tell me what good I was doing for the babies.

The Lactation Dept: They never let me believe that I COULDN’T breastfeed. When the babies were just 33weeks gestation, they let them begin trying to nurse. They told me daily that I would be able to nurse, that I could provide a majority of their feeds, and that every little ounce helped. They visited me daily while the babies were in the hospital, checking in, giving me praise, encouraging me, answering questions, supplying endless bottles…They were AMAZING!

Paige: the amazing quad mom who convinced me that I COULD provide breastmilk & gave me much encouragement and advice.

All the other moms of higher order multiples who’ve been on the breastfeeding journey: Only you truly know the struggle of breastfeeding/pumping for many while also being a very active mom to multiples…You ladies gave me much hope.

All the other people who’ve encouraged me. I’m a member of Facebook group for breastfeeding mamas. Many of whom are able to exclusively nurse. They never frowned on the fact that I have to use bottles or formula. They encouraged me, gave me supportive feedback, and told me to be proud of what I was doing.

Ardo: for gifting me a pump after learning I was pumping for quadruplets.

Those mommas that donated some of their excess supply: this helped us make it through when I was sick and my supply tanked.

 

The babies are now 15 months old. We have been slowly adding cow’s milk to their diet and they are tolerating it well.  I still have some breastmilk frozen and am slowly weaning. I imagine in the next few weeks, they will be completely off breastmilk…it makes me a little sad.  As much as I’ve hated having to pump, I’ve loved the positive benefits it’s had.  I look at these 4 very healthy, strong babies, and I know that some part of that is because of what I’ve provided… For that, I am incredibly proud of myself.

To all you mamas out there who want to breastfeed- my support goes to you. My best advice- do not compare your breastfeeding journey to others. I know it’s a hard road. There will be days you cry. Days you might want to give up. Days you wonder just how long you can continue…That choice is yours- Be proud of whatever you provide, for however long you provide! You are a rockstar and your baby (babies) thank you!

Homecoming Day

I remember this day last year. We’d spent the previous night in the hospital- they call it “Rooming in”. We had to be certain we knew how to work Griffin’s apnea monitor. A few days prior, we’d heard 2 or 3 of you might come home- and we said you’d all come home together.

I couldn’t leave just one of you behind. I couldn’t stand the thought of having to drive back and forth- to have to pick who I’d spend time. Thankfully, the doctors and nurses listened to our pleas (maybe my tears)- and agreed to let you all come home together- granted everyone had a weight gain the night prior. I remember weighing you that night. I was terrified one might have a drop!  We cautiously put you on the scale and I prayed hard. I wanted us all to be in our home for New Year’s Eve…

And our wish was coming true. The last night in the hospital, we stayed up almost all night, making sure to get you all on the same feeding schedule.

Truth be told- we are both incredibly excited to get you home.

and a little scared.

4 babies at one time is overwhelming at best.

When the doctors came in that morning, I knew it was real- we’d finally be going home.  As we loaded you, I didn’t know whether to smile or cry- I was a bundle of nerves! I couldn’t wait to get you home- but I was also sad to be leaving behind the family we’d grown through nurses, doctors, and others at the Ronald McDonald House.

But what a wonderful day it was. The best way to end 2014- together.

I didn’t make it to midnight, neither did any of you, and chances are, I won’t tonight either…

This will always be our day- our celebration.

Babies, we survived a full year of being home (and 13 months of life).  I look forward to all the years to come!…–and hopefully a little more sleep in 2016.

 

 

 

One Year

Exactly a year ago, my life was changed drastically. I remember most of the day well…The waking to my water breaking. The rushing to the hospital. The hope we wouldn’t deliver. The news that I would. And seeing each of my precious miracles as the doctor raised them above that blue cloth.

Babies, you changed my life.

 

The past few days have been incredibly long and tiring- so an official post about the past year will be coming soon…

Until then- Know that you are the most wonderful thing in our lives and that I love you more than you could ever know.

 

Happy 1 year birthday!

Beauty from ashes

November 5…always a very significant day.

10 years ago, I had a scare. My life had been rapidly spiraling out of control.  I was anxious and depressed- and I didn’t know how sick I’d become…
I’d gone to a youth retreat to be a youth leader- specifically with 12-13year old girls. It was lots of fun- being able to fellowship with others from my college ministry as well as pour into the lives of younger girls. What I remember is that I was genuine in wanting to be able serve. I’ve always loved being able to give, to serve, to love on others.
But what I was hiding, was how lost I felt. How empty I was. And how sick I was.
I knew I was losing weight. I knew that what I was doing was unhealthy. I knew I probably needed to stop. But I couldn’t. It wasn’t about the weight. It wasn’t about the food. It was about so many, much deeper emotions. I felt completely out of control of everything, yet was desperately trying to hold some type of control. And my body had finally had enough.
After a long day, during some team building activities, I felt like my back was caving in on my lungs. I had such severe pain and felt I couldn’t breathe. An ambulance was called and I was rushed to the ER.
It was such a dark time. I couldn’t understand what was going on. As doctors asked endless questions and I begged to just be allowed to leave. I was taking courses in Psychology and knew what they were hinting- then I received the news that I wouldn’t be allowed to leave. That I had to stay. I spent the night in ICU…By far, the scariest night of my life.  I was hours from home, clearly malnourished, and wondering what my life had come to.  There were times throughout the night that the heart monitors would beep incessantly and nurses would run in to ensure all was ok. There was a moment where the pain was so intense, I prayed to just make it all go away.
There were many prayers that night…and in the days, weeks, months that followed- I had more conversations with God…I vowed to do all I could- if God would just use me. Use what I was going through in some positive way.

I was diagnosed with an eating disorder and depression. Later, a therapist added in anxiety. Over the next several months, I tried to “get better” on my own- and after failing miserably, I mustered what courage or dignity I had left and checked myself into treatment. I spent the better part of the next 3 years in therapy. Therapy was the best decision I ever made for myself. I needed it….and through those years, I learned so much about myself. Learned how to love myself again. How to forgive myself. How to move forward in life.

In 2009, I met Paul. We dated. We married. And we looked to start a family. And after 3 years, we were finally pregnant.

With quadruplets.

November 5, I had an appointment and was 27weeks 6 days pregnant. I thought everything would go smoothly. We’d taken cookies to my Fertility Doctor. He celebrated how far I was in the pregnancy. I had a big, fat donut waiting in the car as we went into my appointment.  My cervix had shortened a bit and the nurse expressed some concern- telling me they needed to monitor contractions and possibly admit me to the hospital. My anxiety shot through the roof. All I could imagine was that I was going to deliver the babies or that something tragic was going to happen. I vaguely remember being hooked to monitors to check my contractions, which I wasn’t feeling, and nurses checking to ensure that I was ok. I was a mess of tears.

Then it hit me. November 5th. 9 years later. All the emotions of where I had been and where I currently was— so overwhelming.

I did end up getting admitted for contractions- and doctors were able slow my contractions and send me home after a couple days in the hospital. Those babies held on another 3 weeks before deciding it was time to make their debut…

But November 5 will always be a very significant day for me. A day marked with the darkness that was mental health– and a day I celebrate that my precious miracles continued to grow. Twice shown of God’s grace and peace…twice reminded that He is in control of my life and wants to use my story.

For some time, I felt much shame about the difficult years of my life- especially in regards to the mental illness that took control of my life. Society has a terrible stigma of mental illness and those that struggle with other debilitating disorders. Even when I went to college and began pursuing my degree in Psychology and later Counseling, I was always scared of being “found out”, of people having a negative perception of me based on what I’ve been through. I can recall numerous times of feeling like I had to go above and beyond to prove that I’m not “crazy”, that I can handle working in the counseling field, that I’m “competent” in my work- or in life in general.  I felt I had to prove myself…And I have often withheld that I, too, know what it’s like to be clinically “crazy.”

Mental illness is not always what movies portray– or what we read in the news. It has many different faces. I am a face of mental illness.  10 years since I was first admitted because of an eating disorder and depression, I am far from where I  once was- but you will never hear me say I “recovered.”

I’m in RECOVERY. It’s a process.  Sometimes, I still struggle with the underlying issues that fueled my eating disorder. Change, control, depression, insecurity, anxiety, fears, weight, body image, self-esteem. Sometimes I can feel those negative thoughts creeping back up and I have to nip it before it runs rampant.  That is how mental illness is- there isn’t a cure-all. It doesn’t just magically go away with a pill and a couple therapy sessions. Once it affects your life, you have to learn how to live life in a new way- how to cope.

For some time, I had much shame about the struggles I’ve faced. I admit, even now, there are times I am ashamed… Mental Illness carries such a terrible stigma- especially in current times… The truth is, I have faced mental illness. It consumed my life for more than I care to admit… And I’m a better person because of it.  I am who I am today because of ALL that I’ve experienced in my life.
And so I feel it important to share my story. To let people know that recovery is possible… And that with recovery, comes many promises and gifts.  I have 4 very special ones that remind me daily of the struggles and the beauty that has risen from the ashes.  I am so grateful for my life and what it has become over the past 10 years.

If you are struggling, please- ask for help.  It could lead to amazing miracles in your life.

Let’s not rush things

I admit.

Since the babies have been home from the hospital, they’ve slept in our room.

I was not going to be that co-sleeping, bed-sharing, room-sharing mom.

Then I had premature babies…and I had to spend the first 32 nights of their life sleeping away from them. As soon as we all got home, in our room they went.

In my defense, their bedroom is upstairs, ours downstairs, and between feeding and pumping those first few months, it was simply much more convenient to all sleep together, in one room….ok- and sometimes, several of us in one bed.

I’ve continued to say, “when they sleep through the night” or “soon” when asked when I plan to move them to their own room.

away from me.

I finally got the courage to try last night…Poor husband had a few rough nights of sleep and I wanted to give him a chance to sleep, in his bed, undisturbed.

I got them all settled into their cribs- in their rooms. Finished me few nightly routines. Climbed in my bed….and cried.

I cried myself to sleep thinking about them growing up…how fast it’s going. How I’m not ready for them to not be babies.

I wasn’t going to be “that” mom- the one that let her kids sleep in her room, or in her bed, yet here I am. This time with pass. They will eventually sleep in their own beds. I don’t think I’m scarring them for life by having them in our bedroom.

So they spent the first night in their own bedroom…and they didn’t do bad. They’ve been having some sleeping issues from all the teething- so of course at the first peep, I was up the stairs…and quickly made a pallet in their room to sleep on. They woke up about like they have been normally. I slept on the floor. Paul got a good night’s sleep in our bed…

and last night they were back in their places in our room.

Ya’ll- cut me some slack here. I’m doing the best I can.  Being up and down the stairs several times is not worth it. And quite honestly, i like knowing they are near- and they like having us near.

So- for all you moms that I once thought were crazy for letting their babies sleep in the room with them—I totally understand you.  I’m still hoping to get them used to their room soon– and before I know it, they’ll be running down the stairs to jump in our bed…

Let’s not rush things.

Of course, they began waking up not long after I fell asleep and upstairs, to their room, to sleep on the floor, I went. I realize, some people reading my think I’m crazy. Everyone has different thoughts, ideas- even emotions.  And mine are that I cannot stand to be away from my babies.

The broken wing

Last year on my last day at work before leaving for maternity, my bosses & co-workers threw me a pretty amazing baby shower. Lots of diapers, baby items, clothes- way more than they should have.  And as with any party- we had cake!  First off- if you know me, you know I LOVE CAKE. Cake, cupcakes. No preference as long as it has icing.  This cake was especially delicious- and it had 4 precious little angel figurines on it. One for each baby.

I’ve kept those angels in the kitchen window ever since. A work reminder- and also because these babies are my miracle babies.

Then, about a week ago, I saw it.  The 3rd in line, 1st boy, Griffin, has a broken wing. The left wing.

I chuckled…but then had to look back to see if it was always that way…. and it has been!

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Baby Shower Cake at work

broken wing

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Now. You may wonder- so what.

Griffin has a clubfoot. Left clubfoot.

We were informed he had a clubfoot at our anatomy scan at around 19 weeks gestation. I remember the nurse was so sweet and cute as she tried to tell us.  I think she was worried for our response. The doctor came in and explained that (along with another slight find on Mae which turned out to be nothing)…Maybe he was waiting for us to freak out- but thanks to google- we just looked at each other, shrugged, and said “it’s okay.” We will deal with it when they are born- was our motto.

Paul & I both believe, strongly, that Griffin was the “small one.” The one that was several days behind early in utero and had about a 50% chance. He measured about 3 days behind and had much less fluid for quite some time….then he just caught up.

When he was born, as soon as I saw him, I saw his precious little foot. Once we were finally able to hold him, I kissed that foot over and over. It was the most precious foot…

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He always kept that foot tucked up close to him. My sweet little man. Gosh, I forget how he was so tiny.
We were fortunate to have PT while in the NICU that helped stretch the foot and prepare it for when he’d be casted. They also splinted it for a bit. He was such the champion- never complaining. Even when we had to stretch it at every feed.

Then, once he finally hit his due date, we were able to get it casted and begin the process of setting it in the correct position.

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Again, he was a champ! The doctor always commented how calm he was! And the doctor also commented how great his foot looked. He was able to set it

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It was a difficult few weeks because I felt so horrible for him. I know the cast had to have gotten hot—and he couldn’t bend his knee. He couldn’t pull that little foot in. I couldn’t kiss that little foot. Of course, there were instances of him getting poop all over the cast. The cast getting soaked with pee and me having to blow-dry it. Not being able to fit in certain pajamas. difficulty holding him. Difficulty breast-feeding.
Then came the surgery. The day I was terrified after he’d been given anesthesia and had such a difficult time coming back.  The long day in the hospital of me praying, holding him, begging him to wake up long enough to eat. Watching as he struggled to fight the medication. Then the nights that followed, where his apnea monitor beeped incessantly.

But it was all worth it.

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On St. Patrick’s Day he was cut out his last cast and put in boots and brace.  That’s also been the journey. I can’t tell you how many days I’ve wanted to just take the shoes off and leave them off. They get in the way. They are bulky. And the mobile he’s become, the more dangerous it’s become. He’s smacked me and left me with bruises more times than I can count. And there have been too many nights to count where he doesn’t sleep well (especially when he was small & couldn’t roll over with them on) that he’d end in our bed for the night. He wore them 23/7 throughout the heat of summer. He’s learned to roll over, push up, sit up, pull up, and cruise with those darn boots & brace….

And FINALLY, after 7 months of casting and boots & brace, little man has finally gotten the go ahead to only wear his B&B at nap and night!

Cue the Hallelujah chorus!.

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He loves being able to grab his feet! When the shoes come off- this is the FIRST thing he does…and sometimes he busts the buttons on his pajamas.

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Sometimes, we are sad, even with our shoes off.IMG_6054
Pulling up with shoes on? No problem!IMG_6069
Look at that perfect foot!

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and this smile- makes my heart melt.

Currently, all continues to look great with his foot. We continue to see his orthopedist to ensure all is well.  There is some concern about his hyper mobility in his joints, which we are hoping to only be genetic from me.  If not, they might check him in the future for a type of flexibility disorder.  We are hoping and praying all is good and that he’s just going to be very flexible like Mommy- maybe even a runner!

My little angel and his broken wing continues to make me amazed and proud.  We are certain that years from now, this will be a distant memory. Others won’t be able to notice that he once had a clubfoot…

But I’ll always have my special boy with his special foot.  And my special angel with his broken wing.

Griffin, I am so proud of you for being such a patient, strong, brave man!

our conventional-unconventional sleep habitss

Often, I read where moms are worried because their baby (or babies) aren’t sleeping through the night. Or that they are. Or that they were, but now aren’t. And I have heard time and time again about reading this book or that one, or this magazine, or hiring this lady, or calling this person, about helping to get a baby to sleep through the night. And everyone has their opinions on what will help. Put them in their own room. Rock them. Don’t rock them. Feed them. Don’t feed them. Play music. Don’t play music. Have a sound machine- or don’t. Keep it dark- or not. Ignore their cries. Or pat their back. Or stand upside down, drink orange juice, eat a box of oreos, jump on 1 foot, cross your eyes and sing prayers to the gods of the night that your baby will sleep through the night at 6 weeks old. Or 10 weeks. Or 4 months. Or ever.

And I want to say “whoa!”

Listen- just because I baby doesn’t sleep through the night at 6 weeks, or 10 weeks, or 4 months, or 8 months does not mean that child is NEVER going to sleep through that night. That the child will make poor grades. That the child won’t get into college and become a productive citizen.

Each baby is different. And each mom is different. IF you want your baby to sleep through the night, by all means, please read all the books, feel horrible at times, and pray that your baby is one of those that will fall into the STTN category. There’s nothing wrong with a baby sleeping through the night.

But, if you’ve had a hard time getting your baby to sleep through the night, stop beating yourself up!

It’s a BABY! Please read this.  I love McKenna for this.

I’m a Psychology Major. In school, I read a lot about child development, social psychology, etc. And I try to incorporate as much as I can into how we parent.

Let me just first say, I have an incredible husband who supports me and my thoughts and decisions. He’s also very active in raising the babies when he’s home. Meaning, he will awake in the middle of the night to help feed. It’s been this way since the beginning.

Now that that is out the way.

Today, the babies turned 10 months old. (Enter small cry here…growing too fast!)  They are 10 months old…

And they still sleep in our room.

Sometimes in our bed. (never all 4 together).

And they do not consistently sleep through the night.

WHAT! Shut the front door! How do you function?

Well, folks. I’m tired. Just as any new mom is tired. Let alone any new mom of quadruplets.

But, history, anthropology, tells me, that this is a short period in my life.  I find I can function on way less sleep- and that quite honestly, 10 months of not sleeping through the night has just blown by.

Yes, but you are a Stay-at-home mom. You don’t have a job to go to. You can sleep when they sleep. You don’t have to get up in the morning.

Please- if you just said any of those things, consider this: I am a stay-at-home mom to quadruplets. I still have to wake up when they do- or earlier if I want to shower and get anything done. I still have to wake up at least once, sometimes twice a night to pump. Quadruplets are a full-time job. They rarely all take a nap at the exact same time for the exact amount of time—and even when they do, I have clothes, dishes, bottles to make, a house to clean, etc. It’s not like when I was working- no. When I was working, I would get emotionally tired- but I was always full of physical energy. I’d have to go to the gym to work out at night to wind down- and I would always lay awake at night, willing myself to fall asleep.  Now, As soon as my head hits that pillow and there is quiet moment, I am out. Hubby jokes about me falling asleep sitting upright pumping. Yes, I’m tired. This is a full-time job. Maybe if I were back at work, it’d be a little different- or maybe not.

But the way I see it, all babies are different. I have mine on a loosely strict schedule. Meaning, I feed them when they are hungry. I try to get them to nap 2 times a day- but our life does not revolve around me making sure they are awake at 7am, nap from 9am-11am, eat, then nap again from 1pm-3pm and then down for the night at 7pm. Sorry. That doesn’t fit our schedule. Hubby works. If I had them in bed every night at exactly 7pm, he’d only get about 1-2hours a day with them awake.

Instead, they wake up when they are ready, usually around 7-8am.
They play and take a bottle- then had breakfast around 10am-1030am.
We try to nap from about 11am-1230- or 1pm. Sometimes more, sometimes less.
Then another bottle and play time.
Then maybe another nap for about an hour around 3pm.
Perhaps another bottle- then we play, go for a walk, etc.
Dinner is usually around 6 or 630pm.
Baths about 7pm.
Bottle around 730pm or 8pm- and they are put in their pack-n-plays.
But they usually get up and have special daddy time- which is just laying around on the floor with “soft” & “quiet” toys.
Final bottle is usually about 930pm-10pm.
And most nights they go down and get up once a night- granted not always at the same time.

The above is all slightly changed on days we want to leave the house. I refuse to be tied to a schedule to the point we can’t have a life. A couple days a week, I try to work out, which pushes nap time to about noon (though they cat nap in the car or the stroller- if I’m lucky).

I can’t do the Cry-it-out method. I just can’t.  There’s something about hearing a baby cry that hits me at my core. That makes me sick to my stomach.  I do, sometimes, have to let them fuss or complain- but when they start to cry or get upset, that’s it. They need me.

We’ll have nights, sometimes a week or so, of everyone sleeping very well at night- meaning up only once, or less, and usually up about the same time- so we aren’t waking every hour to feed another baby. Followed by a couple nights of waking up- several times a night.

Here’s what I know, even on those rough nights, when I wake up in the morning, I see the most adorable smiles, and the exhaustion is worth it.
Babies are needy. That’s biology. That’s evolution. They need me. They can’t do things for themselves. They can’t talk to tell me what they want or need.

Things I tell myself, and believe, in reasoning why I’m not pushing the “need” for babies to sleep through the night:
Other countries, ethnic groups, cultures etc. believe in co-sleeping and do not enforce sleeping through the night. Plain and simple- that means we don’t always have it right or that there is one correct way. There are many ways to parent and raise a baby. Just because Western culture says a baby needs to sleep through the night, doesn’t make it the end all.
Babies have smaller stomachs. If I wake up thirsty in the middle of the night, who am I to deny them something if they wake up? Some nights, I wake up and can chug a bottle of water—and that was before I was pregnant and breastfeeding. If my babies want to wake and drink something, I’m going to give it to them.
Teething is painful. Babies don’t know how to express that pain. They may not sleep as well while teething- or while going through growth spurts. I didn’t sleep well while I was pregnant because of the pain and discomfort. It’s ok if people wake  from pain or discomfort.
Growing pains are also uncomfortable. If we’ve had a couple nights of good sleep then a night or so of little sleep- it might be a growing pain. I remember having charlie horse cramps in my legs as a child- and i would wake up in tears!  Poor babies- they are growing so fast- I wouldn’t doubt they occasionally have pains and discomfort as well.
My babies are not struggling or failing behind due to not sleeping through the night. In fact, they continue to grow- all now on their actual charts (not just adjusted) and are meeting milestones for their actual age. That whole “They need to sleep 10-12hours consistently for growth and brain growth” thing- I’m calling a bluff. My babies, who have NEVER slept 12 hours straight, are quite intelligent.
And what I tell myself most: You wanted a baby. You wanted to be a mom. This is Part of being a Mom. Parenting and raising children isn’t easy.

I remind myself- this may be the ONLY time that I will be up feeding a baby. The only time I hear a cry of an infant who NEEDS me. Who wants me to hold them, comfort them, sing to them, feed them, and put them back to sleep. I’m 30 years old. This has only been going on for 9 months (they were in the hospital a month.) Am I really going to fight and say “No! You have to sleep through the night?” Absolutely not.
I’m going to cherish those moments. Even when i’m exhausted. Even when I’m cussing under my breath and wishing they’d just go back to sleep. I’m going to be grateful for those moments, because they go too fast. I’m going to miss these days. I don’t want to rush them away.

So if your baby isn’t sleeping through the night- know you aren’t alone. Of my 4 babies, each is different. Sometimes one will sleep through the night, sometimes not. I believe neither sleeping through the night nor not sleeping through the night is superior to the other. Both are just 2 different ways of parenting.

All that is not to say this is easy. Believe me, there are moments I ask the babies when they are going to sleep through the night…why don’t they love me enough to sleep?, etc. Last night was rough…tonight isn’t looking too promising…But, I’ll take it. I have 4 incredibly healthy, amazingly intelligent, well-adapted, miracles babies.

Sleep will be there. I’ll find the energy.

Until then, I’m going to cuddle these little ones..

And give my husband an extra hug and “I love you” for being so amazing.