I Think I'm Turning Japanese

Yesterday, my Mom and I made a vain attempt to take the boys to have their 18-month-old pictures taken. JC Penny’s was too crowded (and I previously vowed to never, ever go back to them for pictures again). Picture People, which take the best pictures of the boys, told me their next appointment was at four. It was almost noon and the studio was EMPTY. Grrrrrr! So, we walked around a bit trying to figure what to eat. When we got to the food court, I suggested grabbing a few free samples. We stopped at the Japanese place handing out samples of chicken teriyaki. The boys gobbled it down, and William was demanding by signing and speaking “more.”

My parents and I have always loved Japanese food. Bruce is so-so about it. Plus, the Atkins diet isn’t ideal for hibachi (he doesn’t eat sushi either). Mom thought the boys would find it fun to watch the chef make their lunch. I was worried they would be frightened by both the man and the noise.

Unfortunately, I was right. Still, we got through it. Thank God he didn’t have the lighter to make the onion volcano! The boys enjoyed the food all in all. Bobby enjoyed grabbing rice and veggies from my plate. They all ate some salad, shrimp, chicken, steak, lo mein, fried rice and veggies. Will and Bob had some of my soup until William spilled the bowl on me. I was grateful that it wasn’t still boiling. Evan enjoyed watching food hit the floor.

Well, you live and you learn and then you eat a very fast Japanese lunch!

Too Early!

It’s 1:30 in the morning. The boys and I have been up for at least a half an hour. Will woke up crying and somehow woke his brothers. After the third time going in to settle them, I made them some bottles and turned on their lullabies. Lying in bed, I began to write this blog entry in my head. It would not go away, so I had to write. I think I’m addicted.

I also started thinking about Deadwood (the HBO show, not the actual town at first). Then my non-awake brain started to wonder how the writers knew what the people’s conversations were so accurately! Ack! It took a good fifteen minutes for my brain to focus enough to realize that although the show is based on history, it is actually fiction and that 99.99% of the dialogue is made up. It’s a little scary that this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.

A few months ago while watching a news magazine like Dateline or one of the others, they showed the town of Mankato. I immediately thought of Little House on the Prairie and said to myself, “Wow! That place has really changed.” My next though was, “Well, it should after all this time.” Hello! TV set!!!

They aren’t asleep yet. I hear a crib being shaken. I’m starting to wonder if it will be one of those days when their therapist Cindy is amazed at how functional I can appear with little sleep. I have told her in the past that I have no choice. Stupidly, I don’t nap when they do. I eat or watch my soap, but I never nap. Bruce is up now, too. Evan won’t settle even with the bottle and neither will Bobby. Evan is now reading to Stitch. Bobby is talking to his teddy bear. I’m wide awake and I’m sure Bruce is wishing I would stop typing and shut off the computer. He gets back to sleep so easily. With them still fussing, I can’t. I’ve almost fallen down the stairs too many times going into them half asleep (like tonight). Here’s hoping they get back to sleep soon!

A Proud Day

It was a good day all around! They woke up in good moods, played together nicely before Thomas and breakfast, watched Thomas, ate most of their breakfast, played on the porch, took a bath and just before 10 took a nap. That gave me enough time to eat a little something, take a shower and put together an outfit for our day out. I felt new! I hardly get a chance to do one of those things, never mind all three! Woo Hoo!

I woke Bruce and the boys at 11:15. I was a little worried about being late for our brunch with friends from the gym at noon. Actually, I was a little worried about brunch. The boys are generally very good, but toddlers can be so unpredictable. They looked too cute in their khaki pants (compliments of Na Na and Pop) and green shirts with yellow pineapples (compliments of their “Aunt” Tina). We actually made it at exactly noon.

I was very excited. Not only did I have a chance to see everyone, but we were having brunch at the officer’s club where my high school held all its special events and where I led in the color guard the night they held a dinner in honor of the Battleship New Jersey’s retirement. I had warm and fuzzies.

The boys were very good. Bobby and Evan ate pretty well, and while Will didn’t eat that well, he was pretty decent in his behavior. He also said a new word, “cut.” We all had a chance to eat and socialize, and the boys loved the attention. We were there for two hours! I was thrilled when an older woman came over to where my mother and I were standing with one of the boys and complimented their behavior. I thanked her. Later, as I was getting our van, another woman in her party made the same comment. Bruce and I were very proud and told the boys so.

After brunch, we took the boys to Costco to buy our weekly 6 gallons of milk. Again, they were wonderful. As we were walking, we met a mom who has 15-year-old triplets. We exchanged pleasantries for a while. The whole time the boys were all smiles and friendliness. They then chowed down on the samples! Isn’t that the best thing about Costco? They tried an energy drink, peanut clusters, chocolate chip cookies, rice crisps and granola bars. They wanted to try some salad, but it looked messy and old. Again, we were proud and told them so.

When we got home, they had a bottle of milk and watched two Baby Einstein animal videos. They laughed hysterically at the puppy puppet on the Neighborhood Animals video. We ended the evening as we usually do with tunnel time and some books. Since they didn’t have an afternoon nap, they fell asleep almost instantly after their nighttime story. I really couldn’t have asked for a much better day!

CowBobby

Bruce and I took the boys to Point Pleasant tonight. They were having an event called “Lots for Tots.” They were doing video ID’s as well as pony rides, a petting zoo and a children’s concert. After we got them videoed and fed them, we brought them to the ponies.

All three of them rode ponies at Monmouth Race Track a few weeks ago, and Evan and Bobby rode ponies last week at the town fair. Only Bobby would go tonight. He went willingly without Bruce or me. Bruce told the handler that Bobby took horsemanship seriously. He truly does. He sits up straight on the pony, holds onto the pommel with one hand and lets the other hand hang at his side like he’s too cool and has done this his whole life. Tonight he held on and pointed things out to the handler with his serious work face on. It’s too cute.

After Bobby’s ride, we walked towards the petting zoo. Evan was interested but the line was huge, so I had him touch the lamb, bunny and calf through the fencing. It worked well enough for him.

18 Months Ago Today...

I believe I left off the night before they were born….

It was a fitfull night’s sleep. The monitor kept slipping off Bobby’s side (he was on a down-slope), and the nurses and residents kept coming in to fix it. Somewhere around 5 am, the resident came in to tell me that the babies were to be born shortly. They hadn’t seen any improvement in Bobby’s condition overnight. I called my parents as promised. My mother said they’d be at the hospital for 7. I told her that the babies would be at least an hour old by then, but that it would be fine. They must have jumped out of bed and flew to the hospital.

Bruce got ready in his spiffy gown. I started what I termed “labor shakes.” I don’t even know if there is such a phenomenon. I’m sure it was some sort of adrenaline rush. Still, I felt completely calm and at ease. I somehow knew that things would be fine. The doctors and nurses soon began rushing around. I gave Bruce a quick kiss as they wheeled me away.

The operating room was chilly and very bright and white. Someone sat me up. They told me to hold onto a rickety looking equipment tray. The anesthesiologist told me to hold still. Easier said than done there, Mister Man! The doctor barked, “Get the spinal block in or knock her out NOW!” It was then I worried a little. Had I been knocked out Bruce would not be allowed in. I was so worried he would miss seeing the babies he had wanted for so long being born. The spinal block was inserted thankfully. Before I knew it, someone asked where the father was, and then I heard Evan cry. 5:54 am. Bruce got to my side as Bobby was pulled out screaming. 5:55 am. Bruce commented that they had good strong cries and that it had to be a good sign. William was pulled out last crying. He was rushed out of the room. 5:56 am. They were all out. I heard their cries as the doctor began sewing. There were no words. I longed to her them talk about something inane-their golf games, their new BMW’s, the show they saw in NYC last week. They seemed too serious for nothing wrong with me.

The nurses brought Evan over. I studied him. They told me there was no time. I told him we loved him and that his Daddy would be with him soon. Then they brought Bobby over. I again had no time to absorb how tiny he was at just 12 inches long and 2 pounds 4.5 ounces. I told him the same thing I told Evan. William was not going to be brought to me. They said that the room had been too small to have all three babies in and that he was fine. I wanted Bruce to go with them. I was encouraged to have Bruce stay with me since he’d be in the way while they were being settled in.

Finally, the doctor told me that they “hated” me because I had lost about 30 pounds on the table and looked about ready to get into skinny jeans right then. I was happy and doped up with morphine. Everything seemed fine. As I lay in recovery with my parents (Bruce was running back and forth between me and the babies calling everyone he ever knew to announce their birth), I even talked to several people on the phone. I felt great! Morphine can be a great thing. My parents said that they saw the boys being wheeled into the NICU from the operating room. I was touched that the teams stopped briefly so that they could see their grandsons.

So our life with triplets began. I learned so much about medicine and about me in the next 8 weeks until we got Bobby home. I didn’t realize that I had it in me to make major medical decisions and to sometimes literally fight for my boys. Mostly, their stay was great in terms of the level of care they got. The nurses who took care of them were the best. I mean that whole-heartedly.

Now onto cute stuff! Today, Will and Evan were up earlier than Bob-not the norm. Every time Will or Evan heard a noise coming from upstairs, they would walk over to me and say, “Bob” pointing to the stairs. At one point, Will even called up the stairs something that sounded like, “I’m coming.” Then, he practically dragged me to the stairs, pointed up and said, “Bob!” He was still for all intents and purposes asleep. Needless to say, they were happy to see Bob this morning and included him in their play as soon as he was ready.

The Eve of Their Birth

Today is one of those days when I need to be reminded about the blessings of motherhood. I’m tired, I’m aggravated, I’m stressed! They were continually underfoot or defiant today. However, there were moments of pure sweetness from my babies.

This afternoon we were outside and the boys were all playing together with their climber. All of a sudden, there was a big brother love fest! They were all kisses to each other. Then, Bobby, who said “bark” as in the bark on a tree for the first time today, made two pieces of bark kiss. It’s moments like that when I think that we must be doing something right to have such loving children.

Anyway, as I promised Bruce (and you for that matter), I figured I’d begin the story of their birthday today since the action began 18 months ago today. It was President’s Day. Mom and Dad had the day off from work but Bruce didn’t. I had a doctor’s appointment scheduled, and Mom and Dad came with me to see the babies. It was something they often did. So, off we went, a camera in their hands and my pregnancy wedges in mine. As a side note, the wedges were wonderful for both sleeping and ultrasounds. They really helped the nausea I would feel after laying flat for a while.

The ultrasound was taking an unusually long time, but then again all those measurements took a while if the boys were uncooperative. At some point, the tech left the room. Mom broke out the camera. My head practically spun as I directed her to NOT take a picture of my face only my tummy. I was indeed feeling queasy. A doctor I didn’t know entered the room. This wasn’t unusual as the group was very large. She announced that the babies were going to be delivered because Baby B- “Bobby” I interrupted- was “shunting” or bringing all his blood away from his vital organs to his brain. I asked if I could use the bathroom. I had to pee in the worst way. Everyone looked at me as if I was losing my mind.

On the way over to the hospital just over a walkway, I asked if we could just deliver Bobby. They said no. I still don’t quite understand why, but fine. Dad just kept saying, “I can’t be having babies today! I’m just here for an ultrasound!” Those were his exact words. I called Bruce at work to tell him the babies were going to be delivered that night, the next day or by Wednesday at the latest. He was on his way. Everyone kept asking if I was okay. I felt surprisingly calm. I was, I thought, prepared for my little preemie babies to be born 10 weeks early. After all, I spoke to the mother of a preemie several times, and she told me what to expect. I read as much as I could. I was ready.

When we got to the labor and delivery wing, they hooked me up to monitors to watch the babies. It turned out that I was having contractions but thankfully didn’t feel them. After the nurse had to come in twice to help me use the bedpan, they catheterized me. It ticked me off because I constantly felt like I had to pee then. Some flunkie came in to “check” me. I told them before they did that I wasn’t dilated, but what did I know? They weren’t satisfied until I informed them that they were touching my tonsils from the inside when they proudly pronounced that…I wasn’t dilated at all! I also got my first steroid shot. It hurt like hell! I winced trying to be brave for my already very nervous father. He left the room to get something, and I confided in my mother that it burned badly. Still, I hoped to be able to have at least one more for the sake of the babies.

It was getting late; I had signed every consent form imaginable, some three times. There were forms to admit the boys to the hospital, to treat them, to have my tubes tied, to perform an emergency hysterectomy, and then there was my living will to contend with. My parents were getting more and more nervous. I found it more and more ridiculous. Each time they came in, there was an “oops, we forgot” form to fill out, and each time there was something more grave that they had to say. Each person told us different odds of baby survival, and as the night wore on the numbers got lower. I sent my parents home promising to call them the instant we knew the babies would be delivered.
To Be Continued tomorrow.

Dedicated to my FF pals

Coming up on the boys’ 18 month birthday, I found myself thinking about the whole process of having them. I kept remembering how painful the journey was at times, and how the only people who seemed to understand were my online Fertility Friend buddies. I felt broken at times, and I know that when I tell you that they did too that I’m not breaking any unspoken confidences. They honestly kept me sane, and for that I will never, never forget those amazing women-some of whom are still on their journey.

If you never dealt with infertility as one in every four couples does, then this post is for you more than those of us who have. Maybe it will help clarify things, or maybe it will stop just one person from saying, “It’ll happen when you stop trying.” Please keep in mind that everyone’s experience is different and that treatments depending on the medical reason for the fertility issue(s) are different. Bruce and I went through a relatively short process.

I had to go for blood work and an internal ultrasound at least twice a month. I can still clearly remember seeing a woman get called in to have her blood taken and greeting the tech by name. I assumed that would not be me. I wondered how long she had been going there to have such familiarity with him. A few cycles later, he and I were indeed on a first name basis. I actually found it funny in a weird way. I ended up having so much blood work done that my arm looked like I imagine an IV drug user’s arm might, and I bore a mark of dubious honor-a constant bruise. It was a symbol of what I was going through-at least outwardly.

We started with a drug called Clomid, which basically gets a woman to ovulate (sometimes more than one egg). My little ovaries went into production and would pop quite a few of those little suckers. That was two cycles. Then we went into the inseminations. They lasted three cycles with two cancelled cycles. The fun part of the insemination cycles was a lovely injection in my stomach! The first one was done in the doctor’s office. The next two were done at home-by Bruce. Remember that I mentioned he’s not a doctor, nurse, or anything medical like that? He was so good though. He always worried that he was hurting me. Those shots burned.

After six cycles on Clomid, apparently you cannot use it anymore. So, we were introduced to the next step-injectible drugs! We got to go to a “class” for these injections. The nurse told us that there weren’t many spots to do some of these, and that the best was on the upper outer thigh. I still got to have stomach injections, too, but those didn’t hurt at all. The thigh shots caused so much pain and bruising that I began to have trouble walking and sitting. I lied to curious co-workers that I had injured my back. I felt bad, but it was such a personal thing at the time that only those who were true friends knew about it.

Unfortunately and fortunately, my body went into hyper-drive and produced 18 eggs. I got a call in work telling me that I had about 15 minutes to decide whether to cancel the cycle or to turn it into an in vitro cycle. Bruce and I discussed it as thoroughly as we could in 15 minutes and decided that if we could put the “down payment” on our credit card, then we’d go for it. Turns out you can pay for your kids on time, folks, so in vitro was what we did.

The next day I was at the doctor’s office. I was placed in a chair that can spread your legs a full 180 degrees. It looks like something that they’d use in a torture chamber complete with arm straps! I was knocked unconscious, the eggs were “harvested,” and I was sent on my way. Then they were mixed with Bruce’s donation and left to grow. We were told that 10 eggs were harvested and that 8 survived the long three day wait. That left us only one more decision-how many to put back. In an earlier discussion, the doctor said that they do one per decade of life. I was 29-was it to be 2 or 3. He left it up to me after offering the following: by putting 3 back I would increase my chances of having a baby by 40%, there would be an elevated chance of twins, and there was a 1% chance of triplets. I went with three. Obviously, you know what happened.

At first, I was in shock. I said, “I can’t have triplets! I don’t have enough of anything! I have two arms, two legs and only two breasts!!!” I calmed down soon enough and basked in the pregnancy knowing that it was a true blessing. I loved carrying the boys! I loved feeling them move! I loved talking to them and planning things and rubbing my growing belly. I loved maternity clothes-bring on the bows! I hated people’s stupid comments. I still hate people’s stupid comments.

So, in closing, please remember that each person has his or her own unique and special journey in life. There are tremendous gifts that come along with sometimes tremendous sorrows. When offering comments like, “It’ll happen when you stop trying or worrying/thinking about it?” trivializes the sadness and loss that the couple is dealing with. What can you say? I’ll offer this: “I’m here if you want to talk about it.” Please just listen.

A Broken Family

I’m hoping that we are all finished breaking ourselves! Last week Bruce re-injured his back saving Bobby from falling down the stairs. Bobby apparently had attempted to dive down the stairs, and Bruce went through several motions that would make any contemporary dancer jealous. Since he’s no spring chicken, this caused his back to go out of alignment.

William decided that he hadn’t caused too much chaos lately, so he hurt his foot. He had followed Bruce to the door and attempted to close it. When Bruce tried to stop him from crushing his fingers in the door, Will got angry and swung the door open catching the top of his left foot. It was a minor bloody that got two days of band-aids and anti-bacterial cream.

Bobby followed up two days later. He was walking along, tripped, and bit quite a little gash in the middle of his little tongue. It bled a short while but fairly quickly stopped. I called the doctor worried about infection. She told me to give him something cold and then give him Tylenol, which I had already done. It was just enough to make me feel ill.

Not to be outdone by his brothers, Evan tripped today and smashed his head on the toy box. It was very close to being a gash instead of a small bump and scrape. If it had, then we would have been in the hospital.

All are doing fine now. Of course, it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t do something, too. So, tonight while looking for my cell phone under the couch, I cut my hand on a piece of metal under the couch. It took a bit to try to act as if I had no cut, but I managed. Evan kept looking at the band-aid and saying, “boo.” I told him that Mommy had a boo boo just like him. He gave me a hug.

Our Trip to the Cape May Zoo

The day started out pleasant enough. The boys woke up pleasantly, although Bruce probably could have slept a little longer than 4:30 with Bobby getting him up. Barney was a repeat and aggravatingly so was Sesame Street (re-airing yesterday’s new episode introducing the very cute Abby Cadabby). They didn’t eat breakfast very well, but I think they sensed that there was excitement surrounding our trip to the zoo.

Well, they started to nap on the way south, but then Will woke up after about an hour screaming. He screamed for almost an hour. I’ve surmised that it was because he didn’t want to be in his seat because the second I took him out he stopped crying. Too bad we had such a long way to go. We finally got to the zoo, gave a small donation and went on our way.

The Cape May Zoo and Park is quite large and nicely kept. On the way to the zoo we noted two playgrounds-a pre school and a “bigger” kid playground- both with a nice amount of mulch for padding. There is also a small gift shop and a food stand with standard amusement park fare (hot dogs, hamburgers, chicken nuggets, pizza, French fries, etc.) along with plenty of picnic tables. They even rent strollers and wheelchairs. The zoo was a little disappointing for us, though. It is clearly not set up for the stroller set. The boys had a hard time seeing the animals from their strollers. Most times, they would have had to be picked up. Unfortunately, it just wasn’t possible for us to do that. They are getting heavier and they never would have gotten back into their strollers; it was impossible to carry them through this rather large zoo. I’m really glad that admission was free.

The boys had a nice time playing in the pre-school playground. They each got their own swing, which almost never happens due to high volumes at most area parks and the lack of baby swings. They also played with the equipment. Bobby met a bigger boy while playing who jokingly blocked his way. Bobby shoved him and then climbed over him. Normally, I am not a fan of that kind of behavior, but it is so funny to see such a little guy be so tough and unintimidated.

I’m happy to report that the ride home was uneventful with only a minor fussing on Will’s part. When we got home they played outside for a while having another nice time before dinner. As a side note, they all drank from straws today! Apparently, this is a milestone sort of thing. They also enjoyed new juice bottles we bought them called “Tummy Ticklers.” They are spill proof reusable bottles featuring all different characters. We have Barney, BJ and Baby Bop from Barney and Friends and we also have Charlie Brown, Snoopy and Woodstock of Peanuts fame.

Get them started early

I was always slightly spoiled, but never spoiled rotten. There’s a distinction to be made there. My mother definitely would not have allowed it. That being said, I never did housework. Mostly, it was due to a variety of craftiness. I figured out that if I “did it wrong” then I wouldn’t be allowed to do it at all. All I can say is that really taught me a lesson!! Actually, it did because I wound up being a less than worthy housekeeper. So, Bruce and I have sworn that the boys will have chores and will do housework. After all, what good is having three kids if you can’t put them to work? (WINK!) That being said, Evan loves to sweep. So, his grandparents bought him and his brothers brooms at the dollar store and cut them down to baby size. The boys really enjoy sweeping, and one of their new words is “broom.”

Now that I’m mentioning the boys talking, I have to say that Early Intervention is going quite well. Evan and Will get developmental intervention twice a week to work on their speech mostly as well as to get them caught up on the other skills. Bobby gets physical therapy once a week and developmental intervention once a week. They are all trying to talk a lot now. They love to point things out in books or stores or the park. Sometimes they repeat the names of things and sometimes they totally spontaneously identify something. William pointed to a blue truck in the mall parking lot the other day and said “da da.” When I acknowledged that it was a truck like Bruce’s, he responded with “boo” which is Will talk for blue. Bobby is starting to follow his brothers around. It’s something that I never thought I’d see considering how long it took him to even crawl. He’s catching up so nicely.

In other news, I’m taking the boys to the Cape May Zoo tomorrow along with my parents. It should be a nice day and the zoo is free! Evan especially loves animals. Will and Bob seemed to enjoy Popcorn Park Zoo when we took them in the beginning of July, so it’s not an “Evan” trip. I hope that I won’t be too wiped out tomorrow and I’ll be able to post something about it. I’m now off to pack up for it.

The next trips in our plans are to see an air show in Atlantic City (they’re flying over the boardwalk) and back to Thomas the Tank Engine in Strasburg, PA.

It's Crying Time Again....

Picture it: 3:30 am, a quickly aging Italian mommy is awoken by the shrieks of her youngest being brought into her bedroom by her loving hubby (no flames for the hubby). William decided that he wanted to be awake and wanted ONLY me. It wasn’t quite as bad as Evan’s antics two nights ago when he insisted on sleeping across my throat. Bruce brought Will downstairs by 4 and got him to sleep after a little while. Unfortunately, it hurt Bruce’s back because Will did not want Bruce to lay down.

Anyway, I got to go out today sans babies! Woo Hoo! Mom picked me up this morning, we went out for a nice, leisurely breakfast at Turning Point, and then did some much needed/dreaded bra shopping for me. Due to a potentially mixed audience and knowing not too much has to be said to the ladies, I’ll just say I eventually bought something. This afternoon, though, we were treated to super cranky babies for unknown reasons.

Bruce wants me to write about the actual birth of the boys, their hospital stay and our crazy foray into opening our own company. I’m looking to do that maybe for their 18-month birthday next week.

Oh, Bobby is identifying up and down and doing a ton of “talking.” His walking is getting more and more steady, too! Will and Evan are practically running and are chatting away as well. I’m also happy to report that they can identify some colors now.

Finally, a Real Intro!

Life with triplets is, in one word, crazy! We love it though, and we find ourselves daily amazed by our quickly growing up family.

For those who don’t really know us (this is a public blog after all), I’m the mommy of our now 17 month old triplet boys, Dana. I’m 31, and I used to have a fairly well functioning brain and a full time outside of the home job as a geologist. I met my husband, Bruce, while trying to get out of school for the day. I was a college junior, and Bruce was an actual living, breathing, working geologist putting in some wells that anyone interested could go and view. If you’re anything like me, you are picturing Jack and Jill and a brick circle that you can look down into. I walked onto a property covered in mud with a hole in the ground with mud coming out of it. Hmmmm…. Anyway, at that point, I told him that he was very impressive but I would never be a geologist (famous last words from the former President of the Geological Association of New Jersey). Fast forward a bunch of years to 2002 to make a long story short as they say. We got married that December.

Bruce and I had discussed having children. We had even discussed waiting a year to start “trying.” By May, “Baby Fever” hit me hard. Needless to say, that’s when the trying started. After about eight months with nothing happening, we visited a specialist and began the journey that apparently befalls 1 out of every 4 couples-infertility. The blood work, the ultrasounds, the drugs, the injections in my stomach, the injections in my thigh that caused me to limp and not be able to sit comfortably because of the bruising-they all added to the feeling of absurdity. I mean, I hated getting shots and blood work done, and there I was volunteering to do it several times a cycle! I really wasn’t all that sure about letting Bruce do the injections that we had to do. Don’t people normally go to school for stuff like that???? Oh, we went for a one hour class, but I kind of assume that people who give people injections normally spend a little more time on things like that.

Luckily for us, one in vitro cycle after 18 cycles of “trying” worked. About 10 days after my positive pregnancy test at the doctor’s office, we had our first baby ultrasound showing three sacks-one empty. Ten days later, all three were full. The boys were delivered by emergency C-Section at 30 weeks. Evan spent 5 weeks in the hospital. Will came home two weeks later, and Bobby joined us in our now over crowded home at 8 weeks old. It’s been a real experience to get us all to this point.

Evan is the oldest. He has been in the Terrible Twos from around 9 months old. He has full scale temper tantrums when he doesn’t get his way and bites. However, he can be so sweet and has the most adorable little laugh!

Bobby is the middle baby although he is the smallest in size. Don’t let his tiny stature fool you though, he is a real tough little customer. Bobby is our little chatterbox. He spoke first, and he started to move last!

William is the baby. He is a very sensitive little soul. He is also very confident in his cuteness! Will has the most beautiful little smile and a contagious laugh!

So, I will try to post more about them now later. Right now, it’s time for a little quiet with the Mr.