Molly Piper

Last Wednesday morning, at 8am, our twin pregnancy took another dramatic turn. First, let’s recap:

• First, I wasn’t expecting to be pregnant in the first place.
• Second, I found out I was having twins at an 18 week ultrasound (which actually ended up being changed to 16 weeks when they measured the babies). Most people know they’re having twins before that point in their pregnancy.
• Third, I found out they were two girls.

Ready for the next plot twist?

Well, turns out one of our twins is a boy.

Here’s a little window into how it went down:

Ultrasound tech asked me, “What were you told for gender???”

“Two girls,” I confidently answered.

“Oh no,” she said gently. “Twin B is a boy.”

“Are you SURE????” I asked over and over and over.

Anyway, you get the idea.

I spent the rest of the day in a stupor of confusion and disbelief. Literally, the day before, I had gone to a girl’s house who was getting rid of her twin girl clothes and bought a ridiculous amount of stuff from her. A couple weeks before that, I’d had a baby shower for twin girls. How could this be happening to me????

I lamented through the rest of the week and the weekend, mostly because I’d let myself get attached to the babies (even disciplined myself to attach to them) and now they weren’t what they were “supposed” to be. One of the things that just killed me about the whole thing was that when I had my original ultrasound, and they told me it was twins, then told me that Twin A was a girl, I was almost certain she was going to say Twin B was a boy, and I was totally cool with that. But I’ve spent the last two and a half months making myself slowly embrace these two little girls who I was told were coming into my life.

I went yesterday for my first non-stress test (which will now be a weekly event because of our history with a full-term unexplained stillbirth) and listened to their heartbeats. Then I had a visit with my regular, yet oh-so-amazing doctor. She and I pored over the pictures from my original ultrasound and the ones taken last week.

Now, my doctor has a reputation as pretty much never getting gender wrong–never. She said she didn’t believe the people who told her about my updated ultrasound. And when we looked at the pictures from 16 weeks, she said, “If someone else came in today with that same presentation at 16 weeks, I’d still say girl.” It really was that clear to her then. She and I worked through some of the emotions I’ve been feeling, and she of course was so sensitive and empathetic. It really was a good visit.

For some reason, hearing it from her settled it for me. I don’t feel confused anymore. I don’t think I understand, but I don’t feel confused. I don’t feel cheated anymore. I don’t feel like the butt of some cosmic joke anymore.

Instead, I’m starting to embrace the reality that I am the mother to twins–sister/brother twins. There are some things I’m still digesting and emotions I’m still processing. That’s to be expected. I have a lot of work to do now to get rid of some of these girl clothes and get some things for my son. I have some revisions to make to the grand plan of my life, but I feel confident about one thing:

LOVE.

I feel confident that God, in his love for me, will take me through this change. I feel confident that our son will be embraced just as fully as his sister would have been by the people who love us. I feel confident that, in my love for my son, I won’t always look at him and see “the girl he was supposed to be.” I feel confident that his siblings, in their love for him, will enfold him as just who he’s supposed to be–their brother. I feel confident that we will be in love with him.

So, if you want to greet our son, feel free to leave a comment. I want him to know the most sincere, heartfelt welcome from me as his mother, and I’m trusting God to get me to that place in my heart over the next 8-9 weeks (we’re talking induction at 36 weeks due to my history).

Please pray that this is the end of the drama, pregnancy-wise. My doctor and I even had some energy to joke around yesterday. She said, “I really hope all this drama early in your life means that you’ll just sail through later years, like the teenage years.” And we both laughed, knowing how unlikely that is. But here’s hoping, anyway.

I guess we’re not getting the super-cheesy Hollywood ending to our story. But a story isn’t much of a story without a few plot twists, right?

One of the weird things about expecting twins is not knowing my timetable. When I thought it was a single baby, I was kinda like:

Okay, baby at the end of August. I’ll stop working at the end of May, and then I’ll have the whole summer to hang out with the boys and do fun and productive stuff.

Hmmm…

I get the most stressed out right now by the not knowing. Mostly it’s not knowing when I’m going to be basically incapacitated, or functioning at a very low level.

At my doctor’s appointment last week, she told me to expect to look and feel 40 WEEKS at 28 weeks. WHAT?!?!?

So now the twin-time time crunch is on! In the next couple months I need to:

• Buy a mini-van. We started the process on Saturday, and it was exhausting! I will definitely NOT want to be traipsing waddling around car lots when I feel 40 weeks pregnant.
• Get stuff! We now have our infant car seats, some hand-me-down cribs, and a double Snap & Go stroller (which I hear is an essential for twins).

Little Morrow excitedly checking it all out.

Funny side story: Morrow loves babies. He loves to say baby. He loves to wave his hands in front of babies’ faces and say, “Hi baby!!!” So when he saw Abraham out the back window bringing this loot home, he started yelling, “BABY! BABY!” I think he thought we were actually getting 2 babies, not just 2 car seats.

Anyway, back to my twin-time list:

• Get a bunk bed for the boys’ room. Our friend Phil is going to build one for us! By the way (shameless plug coming), Phil has his own custom woodworking and remodeling company. If you live in the Twin Cities and need anything fix-it related, he’s a trustworthy man who’s great at what he does!
• Transition Morrow and Orison into the same room. This was always the plan (because I don’t think kids need their own rooms), but now the timetable is really moving up!
• Set up the cribs and decorate the girls’ room. My friend Jenna is going to help me make the bedding. These are the fabrics I’m thinking of using:

Right now everything seems kinda moved up on the calendar.

In other news, my stomach issues have improved so much! Thank you for praying for me. I’m able to eat more fatty foods now, though I’m still staying away from pork. I’m able to eat beef, though, and my first cheeseburger over the weekend was glorious! And I can eat regular ice cream, which is simply awesome! I’m very thankful for this change, too, since I actually need a good bit of fat each day to support the development of two babies.

Well, I’m sure this isn’t the last of the news on the preparations we need to make for the twins to come. Thanks for being interested enough to read this!

Most people post Friday Funnies or something like that. I’ve not been in a very funny mood today, so these were the posts that grabbed me and I found myself wanting to share:

• My husband wrote a really thought-provoking piece on his blog that I thought some of you would enjoy reading. Sometimes his wanderlust scares me, sometimes I encourage it. It’s part of who he is, and I love him. So…I live with a husband with a serious case of wanderlust. Regardless, this is a great post. And also kind of ironic, since he takes a couple lines to hate on having a car, and we’re in the market for a minivan.
• My friend Elizabeth Esther wrote a gut-wrenchingly honest post about losing our joy in motherhood. I can so relate today. And knowing that she’s a mother of twins, it’s a sobering thing for me to read. But it’s also good for me to have people like her in my life who don’t pretend that everything’s peachy-keen. It helps me pray and prepare for the hard days ahead, as well as the joyful ones.
• And lastly, my dear internet friend, Mrs. MK, lost her baby at 18 weeks yesterday. I’m crushed and devastated every time I think about it. She lost a daughter just after I lost Felicity, and we’ve grown to love each other over these here internets. I was so excited that she and I were pregnant at the same time. Perhaps you have some time to drop over and share an honest condolence. And if you don’t have one to give, then don’t feel obligated. I just know she’s hurting. So many of you have reached out to comfort me. Let’s share the love with my friend Mrs. MK.

It would seem weird to say “Have a good weekend!” after all that heaviness. But that’s life, isn’t it? Not all of us are having “a good day” today. I want to live honestly and share openly, even if it’s a Friday.

Recently, Orison has been asking to watch “that movie where the man jumps into the water and swims around.”

WHAT?!?!?

I tried to get the name out of him, but he couldn’t remember. I started going through his movie-watching history (a very short list), and remembered that one time he saw a portion of the A&E Pride & Prejudice.

“Do you mean ‘Pride & Prejudice?’”

“Yeah! The man jumps into the water and swims around!”

Anyone know what part he’s talking about? That’s right, Mr. Darcy is trying to cool his jets over Miss Elizabeth Bennett and dives into the pond at Pemberley, only to meet with her face-to-face as he’s walking back up to the house, soaked to the bone.

Ahhh, “Private Predges”–one of my favorite movies (and books).

So last week, when his Aunt Talitha was babysitting for the afternoon, he suggested they watch Private Predges. (She doesn’t take too much convincing to watch a Jane Austen flick.)

Later that night, this is what he told me:

“Private Predges” was way before cars.

Why did they ride horses all the time? And why didn’t they say giddyup? They just said “Drive on.”

Then, yesterday, he convinced our regular babysitter that they should watch some of it! Here’s what she told me in an email:

He asked for Pride and Prejudice. I laughed. I assumed it would be okay for him to watch, since he relayed the whole story to me. I said if he was a good boy, we could watch a little bit but not the whole thing. He was okay with that.

With an affinity for Jane Austen at 5, I think he’s going to make some lady very happy someday!

So, one of my minor goals for raising sons is being achieved! Perhaps someday he’ll be a man who happily sits through multiple screenings of Jane Austen movies throughout his marriage! He’s supposed to live with his wife in an understanding way, right?

Or maybe he’ll be Darcy-like: strong, level-headed, generous, kind…a mother can dream.

Remember me, months ago, already stressing a bit about how/where we were going to educate Orison for Kindergarten?

Well friends, we have an answer: Seven Hills Classical Academy.

I was getting really nervous in the past couple weeks while waiting for the schools I applied to to do their lotteries. I don’t think I’ve ever trusted the US Postal Service less–I found myself wanting to call the charter schools multiple times a day and frantically ask, “Did you get our application?!?!? Are you SURE?!?!?”

I was so nervous that I started filling out private school applications like crazy, and when I wasn’t doing that, I was mentally planning how I would be able to homeschool with a 2-year-old and a newborn in tow (which was something I really didn’t want to do).

But we got our answer on Sunday evening when I finally checked the mail from Saturday! HA!

I saw the envelope in the stack of junk mail as I was coming up the stairs, and instantly couldn’t breathe. I got to the dining room table and was praying out loud, “Please God, please God, please God…”. When I got the envelope open I was so nervous I couldn’t even read the letter–all I could do was scan it for the important words.

Due to overwhelming interest in our school… (oh no)

lottery was held… (yeah, yeah… get on with it)

(not breathing at this point, folks)

pleased to inform you…

PLEASED TO INFORM YOU?!?!? PLEASED TO INFORM YOU?!?!? Then I was finally able to read the rest of the letter!

To make this even sweeter…

• Orison’s best friend also got in! (They’ve been each other’s favorite since about 1 year old.)
• Orison’s best friend lives a block away!
• Orison’s best friend’s mommy is one of my best friends!
• Orison’s best friend’s mommy & I already have our car pool!
• Another one of Orison’s friends also got in for Kindergarten, so he’ll know at least 2 other kids in his grade!

I’m absolutely THRILLED if you couldn’t tell!

Last week I wrote about the fear that kept me from blogging about being pregnant. This is another post written during my post-Felicity pregnancy, the one that brought the blessed arrival of Morrow. Morrow is now 17-months-old. So this post is old.

The first reason was fear; the second reason I didn’t post about my pregancy was time.

*               *               *

Aside from the fear of telling people about our upcoming arrival, I also had a deep longing during this unique season to focus on my daughter.

From the time this pregnancy started, I’ve felt this desire to protect her place in my life and heart, not ever wanting to feel like I was trying to replace her.

I’ve also known that these months where I could focus my energies more on her and her memory were limited. Especially as we got closer to having our second son, I kind of wished that I could be pregnant longer, just so I could keep focusing on Felicity.

I knew that the instant he arrived, my affections and heart would be different, because I would have so much love for him. But what would happen to the feelings I still want to have for Felicity? Will there be room enough for all of them? I almost felt like her territory was being encroached upon. Not that this would be the fault of our next child AT ALL; I just felt like her little spot in my life would get even smaller. And as her mother, I dreaded that.

I never, ever want to leave her behind. And in some ways, I know I won’t. But in other ways it’s inevitable that our life will move on. And I’ve wanted to hope so badly that it will be good when it did.

I just finished an excellent book by Jerry Sittser called A Grace Disguised. A dear sister gave it to me. Her full-term daughter Addie died due to complications during birth just over a year ago. Anyway, if you have ever experienced any kind of loss, this is an excellent book. One of the closing statements really shed light on what I just described.

The accident remains now, as it always has been, a horrible experience that did great damage to us and to so many others. It was and will remain a very bad chapter. But the whole of my life is becoming what appears to be a very good book.

Since I’m writing this before the arrival of this child, I don’t know how all that is going to shake out. I suppose you’ll hear more about it in the coming months. I’m thankful for the book that God is writing. I never thought it would include a chapter like Felicity’s, but it has. By no means is the chapter finished, but now there is another chapter called “Morrow.”

*          *          *

Reading this post again after so much time has passed is very interesting. I thought that having another child would be so healing for me. And ultimately, it was. But I was expecting it to be healing in the short run, too, and it wasn’t. In reality, having another child sent me into a new wave of grief after his birth.

It was after his birth that I finally came to terms with my depression and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). It was after his birth that I got the most counseling (professional and non-professional). His birth didn’t remove me from the pain of losing Felicity, it blew the lid off of it.

I thought I was focusing on Felicity in the year after her death when I was pregnant with Morrow. Looking back on it, what I can remember at least, I was still in shock. I was pregnant (And happy to be!) 3 months after her death, but it caused me to focus on the pregnancy and what was ahead more than focusing on healing from the wounds of the past. So much so that when we got through the pregnancy with the hoped-for result (a living baby), all the pain of the pregnancy with the unhoped-for result forced its way to the top.

And that had to happen. I had to come to terms with the deep pain and loss. And I did that with a new baby at my breast.

In some ways, he saved my life. He ushered me into the darkest, most painful places I’ve ever been, where I wrestled and struggled and thought for sure I would die. He was my constant companion through those dark, dark days—grunting, smiling, filling his diaper. It was like his presence and the regularity of his need for me kept me alive, kept me waking up every morning, forced me to go to my counseling appointments (since I only had a small window until he’d need me again), and gave me a reason to want to get to the other side.

He was God’s little catalyst for my healing, ultimately.

So there I was, my whole pregnancy with Morrow, worrying about having enough time to grieve. Turns out, God had hardly begun the mega-process I was in. He gave me just the right time, with just the right people, and one very special baby who remained a mystery to all of you while God knit him together.

Time for true confessions: I don’t drink coffee.

[insert audible GASP!]

I know, I know, I know. Will you still be my friend? I can drink tea! Or even a chai tea latte (see… SEE? I’m getting closer, right?)

But seriously, all funny business aside, I’m at peace with my distaste for coffee. I can still be a grown-up! I can still do all the things that responsible adults do!

I figure, if I made it through college and graduate school without resorting to coffee, then I will probably do just fine for the rest of my life (with a cup of caffeinated tea from time to time). You know, they say “It’s an acquired taste.” I just chose not to acquire it. I love the way it smells, can’t stand the taste.

So, with that fumbling preamble out of the way, I had to pass on this adorable (yet informative) cartoon about… coffee!

I like this cartoon because:

• It’s so cutely illustrated.
• The points are short enough to keep my attention (that of a non-coffee drinker).
• So much useless information (but could probably be of use in Trivial Pursuit someday)!

So if you actually like the stuff, you’ll probably be doubly entertained.

(via Wesley Hill)

This post was written right after the birth of our third child, Morrow. Today he turns 17 months old. So this post is about that old.

I never published it—not sure why.

For those of you newer to our story, our third child was born 8.22.08, 11 months after the stillbirth of his sister, Felicity. But… I kept my pregnancy a secret from my blogging audience until the day I was going in to deliver.

Here’s the original post, written sometime in late 2008.

*          *          *

Many of you were probably a little bit surprised by the news of our third child’s arrival. I am too.

There are a few reasons I haven’t blogged about it.

1. Fear.

Women who have experienced the death of a child often deal with irrational thoughts. I’ve dealt with so many since Felicity’s death. Many of them have been those “if only” thoughts:

If only I had gone into the hospital the night I was having some painful contractions, maybe they just would have let me stay and I’d have her right now.

Others have been more like:

My baby died inside of me. My womb is a place of death.

So much of me has struggled to believe that the birth of a healthy, living child could ever happen for us again.

Maybe God will never do this for me. I’m going to live with the agony of another stillbirth so that he can keep making an example out of me and my suffering.

I don’t want to be an example. I want to be the mother of more than one living child.

So, though I don’t believe in jinxes, I shied away from announcing my pregnancy for a long time, mostly because I was afraid to actually say the words and then have God snuff it out because I was presumptuous and he was going to teach me a lesson about that.

I know these thoughts don’t reflect a belief in a loving God. And I’ve wept even thinking the thoughts. But they’ve been there.

I didn’t even tell my parents for almost five months that we were expecting. It was as though my mouth went dumb every time I tried to bring it up in a phone conversation with them 900 miles away. It was just easier to talk about weather or Orison or what I was making for dinner.

The fears I dealt with throughout this pregnancy were ones that I wanted to deal with personally, first between me and God, then between me and Abraham, then between me and my family and close friends. These concentric circles of trust and support have been what I needed for the duration of my pregnancy.

*          *          *

It’s been about 17 months since I wrote those words. And since then I’ve given birth to a healthy, full-term, living baby. That should prove to me that it’s possible, right? That should take care of my fears, right?

God has indeed proven his faithfulness in many ways in my life since September 2007. But… fears remain. This Christmas I was struck over and over and over with how each person responded to the announcement of Christ’s coming. What was the first thing the angel told each of them (Mary, Joseph, the shepherds)?

“Fear not…”

It’s like the angel knew what a human’s knee-jerk reaction would be—fear.

We’re so stinkin’ fearful, every last one of us. But one thing I’ve been clinging to recently is something my mentor told me when I was dealing with something very fearful for me.

“Hell dances when God’s people are afraid.”

So I can either add to their revery and stew in my fears down here, or I can bring them to the Cross, where God is not spurning them, but hearing them and calming them. If the angels know that we will react fearfully, then surely God knows our inclinations. He’s not surprised by my fears. So I can run to him, and he will embrace me.

I just keep telling myself: He is a loving Father, and not my adversary.

I know I’ve completely dropped off the map in 2010…

I know you’ve been wondering if:

• I ate so much holiday food that I’ve literally popped and vaporized?
• I got trampled when some post-holiday shopping madness went terribly wrong?
• There was some horrible glitch in the matrix and I’m frantically banging on the window of 2010, stuck on the other side, in 2009?

Truthfully, it feels like I’m stuck a few days behind, just waiting for the energy to officially enter into 2010.

Someone call Keanu.

I’m getting this post up during the final minutes of Thanksgiving 2009!

My mother-in-law posted a video of some of our racous family moments today if you’re curious. (Bonus! You’ll see footage of Morrow walking and dancing. Aaand… you’ll get to see my awesome dance moves during a kiddy dance party with Orison and his cousin Grace.)

I mean, who wouldn’t want to see that?

I decided to finish the night quietly, knitting a pair of mittens for Morrow. The weather’s gotten really cold, really fast! So while Abraham sleeps (the lump in the back of the picture) I post on my blog and knit.

I’m thankful for a quiet end to Thanksgiving 2009.