Lincoln's Birth Day

I will probably update this post several times as things come back to me.  I was so groggy on the magnesium (David can attest to this!) that a lot of things are foggy.  I remember waking frequently to have to my vitals checked, I don't remember being bothered by this as I was so tired I was able to immediately fall back to sleep.  My doctor, Dr. Davenport, came in at 11 and joked that I had slept from 11P-11A.  That was fine by me; I was so relieved that the extreme pain was over and I could relax enough to sleep.

Dr. Davenport, my favorite doctor at my practice, checked me at 11AM.  She said I was fully effaced, but only 1cm, if that.  She said to expect to live in the antepartum unit at the hospital for several weeks until Baby Boy's arrival.  Dave and I had debated for weeks what we would name our little man.  Every cute name Dave came up with got veto'ed.  Every cute name I came up with got nixed.  We had a couple of names we mutually liked, but neither Dave nor I both loved the same name yet.  Some of the names in the running were Fletcher, Alexander (but call him Xander), & Copland.  We had seen Lincoln and Fletcher on street signs.  I was arguing for the name Lincoln and call him Link (a la the Zelda video games) - I thought for sure that Zelda "link" would win.

Anyway...Dr. Dav checked me and everything seemed to be holding steady.  My contractions had slowed down and held steady at 8-10 minutes.  Dr. Davenport seemed confident that Baby Boy wasn't going anywhere.  She promised to come check in on me later.  She decided to wait until 11 PM for my second steroid shot, because my first had been at 11PM the night previously, and though you can take it at 12 hours, 24 would be better.  Around 1:00, I told David to go home.  I reminded him that the twins should be napping, Elliot wouldn't be off the bus for an hour and a half (and it would make her day for Daddy to get her from the bus), and he could just go home and rest.  Our nanny, Sarah, told me that he came home and threw laundry in, did the dishes, cleaned up the back yard and essentially didn't stop moving.  So much for resting.  David is incredibly hard-working, and I know his concern was keeping up with everything as a single parent while I lounged in the hospital for what we hoped would be more than a month or two.

At 4:30, after more naps, time on FaceBook and updating concerned friends & family, Dr. Davenport came in again to check on me.  She did not do a physical check, as she said that too many could actually force me into labor.  She told me she had already delivered six babies on this shift and she was going home.  I was amazed and didn't blame her for wanting to crash!  I was still feeling perfectly fine and confident that I would be stuck here for weeks.  I was due for my second steroid shot at 11PM.  The steroid shots boost the baby's lung growth, giving them a much needed jumpstart should they enter the world early.

Around 5:00, I used my call button for my nurse to tell her that I was starting to feel pain from my contractions again.  She said she'd call anesthesiology to come in and check - probably the epidural was wearing off.  Around 5:45, I called her in again (no sign of anesthesiology) because not only was the pain quite bad again despite still having the epidural, but I felt a lot of pressure (like an extreme need to poo - sorry).

My nurse sent the on-call doctor in who checked me, and sure enough I was fully dilated.  I couldn't believe it.  The nurse yelled to call Dr. Davenport, I cried and had to ask someone to get my phone which was charging across the room.  This couldn't be happening.  I wasn't even 24 weeks yet.  Chances were not great that this baby would survive.  Doctors and nurses were trying to gently tell me that.  I had to sign a paper that said I wanted doctors to try all measures to keep him alive.  They had discussed that with me the day before.  I tried put it out of my mind.  I talked about it with Dave the day before - I was questioning what I wanted.  Did I want them to try to keep him alive if he would live his life as a "vegetable"?  Was I dooming my sweet boy to life of difficult disabilities?  And why was this happening?  What could I have done differently so that I wouldn't have gone into preterm labor?  I shouldn't have gone back to work.  I should taken the chair that James offered me at lunch duty.  I shouldn't have carried that small load of laundry downstairs.  I shouldn't have helped move a single item this summer for our new house.  I should have stayed off my feet more.

When a nurse handed me my phone, I immediately texted our across the street neighbor and dear friend Sue.  I said, "Can you go to my house until my in-laws get there? I need David now." Then I called David and told him the baby was on the way and I needed him at the hospital immediately.  I knew he would call his parents to watch the girls, but I needed him there more quickly than that.  Sue ran across the street to watch the girls until Bill and Betsy could arrive.  Anesthesiology finally showed up and "topped off" my epidural - I was able to relax a bit more then, the pain had been very intense.  What seemed like a lifetime and yet only seconds later (and was probably 15 minutes later), Dr. Davenport arrived.  In the meantime, nurses were setting me up for delivery, the NICU team was called and was setting up.  (When all was said and done, there were 15 people in the room, other than David and I.)  While everyone was setting up, I told my nurse that something was coming out - she checked and my amniotic sac was delivering.  It burst and it was go time.  David still hadn't arrived, but Dr. Davenport said, "Okay, Stephanie, it's time to push."  I started crying again.  I told her I couldn't because David wasn't there.  She said, "I'm sorry, honey, you have to push.  The baby is coming."  At that moment David ran into the room and for a second all was right in the world.  With Dave at my side, I pushed.  It was incredibly hard.  I couldn't feel much.  The epidural took away my ability to feel what was happening.

After about 4 pushes, nothing was happening.  Nothing. I wasn't even having contractions.  My epidural being "topped off" had sent everything to a grinding halt.  Everyone stood around wondering what to do next.  Dr. Dav sent the NICU team away, telling them to be ready, but to relax for a bit.  She sat watching my monitor for a contraction, but nothing.  They took me out of the stirrups and put my bed back together.  My nurse laid me back and told me to rest for now.  Dr. Dav went out to sit at the desk where she would monitor my contractions.  After I think 25 minutes, she came back in and said she had consulted with another attending doctor.  Baby Boy had to deliver.  My water had broken and he moved down into the birth canal.  I had two options, neither were good.  I could have an emergency c-section.  I have had two c-sections, but this time was dangerous.  The pregnancy was too early so my uterus was too thick, I had scar tissue from my other sections, baby was so tiny and had already begun moving, the risk of bleeding out was very high.  My other choice was to push without contractions.  Dr. Dav said this would be one of the hardest things I have ever done.  Too hard won out over too risky.  I opted to push.

They took apart my bed again, got everyone all set up, and put me back in the stirrups.  David and my nurse each took one of my knees.  No one remembered to sit me back up.  I pushed, and this time the angle was different - in one push I had nearly delivered my baby.  Halfway through my second push he was out.  The one blessing in delivering a 1 lb, 10 oz baby is that it doesn't damage you too much.  The time was 7:53 PM on September 3, 2015.

I remember saying, "He needs to cry, I need to hear him cry!" The tiniest little kitten's meow came out of his little tiny body.  A wave of relief swept over me.  (A week later, it's still the only sound I've heard him make.)  The NICU team went right to work. I had to stay put, but they were only a few feet away.  The doctors did an APGAR test - I heard Dr. Mintzer, the head NICU doctor there, talk to a student: "What would you give him?" She replied, "I think a six or a seven.  I'm going to with six, because no 23 week baby should be able to get a seven on an APGAR."  He replied, "Okay, that's fine. He's a six." Two minutes later, I believe they repeat the APGAR.  This time he scored an 8.  Those are incredibly high scores for a preemie.  But then again, our family has always been full of overachievers.

A swarm of doctors and nurses were working feverishly on him.  Dr. Mintzer, who was calm and comforting, laughed and told us he had already peed everywhere.  He invited David over to see him.  Daddy took a picture for me.  Everyone asked us his name - Baby Boy Amrine-Jaklitsch.  Dr. Mintzer said, "10 fingers, 10 toes!" We said, "Did you count? Because his sister had 11 fingers, 10 toes!"  After a quick double check, it was confirmed that he had ten and ten.  Baby Boy was taken away to the NICU then and we were told to wait a couple of hours to check on him.  Dr. Mintzer reassured us before leaving that his scores of 6 and 8 were pretty incredible and Baby Boy was off to just about the best start we could ask for of a micro-preemie.

Everyone left.  The room was so quiet.  Only David, Dr. Dav, my nurse and I were left.  I forgot that when you deliver vaginally, you have to deliver the placenta.  Dr. Dav said it doesn't usually take long.  She massaged my belly, hoping to help.  But I still wasn't having contractions.  My body didn't seem to want to make my life easy.  Dr. Dav commented that my uterus was contracting nicely and quickly.  Unfortunately, because I have a bicornuate uterus (a heart-shaped uterus), it was essentially sucking the placenta deeper and deeper back into my body.  After an hour of trying to deliver the placenta, I had to be taken in quickly for a D&C.  An anesthesiologist was brought back in to turn my epidural back on (it was turned off during labor to try to get contractions going again), I was prepped for my procedure.

I started feeling nauseous almost immediately.  I began dry-heaving as I was being prepped.  Then the shakes began.  They were whisking me off to an operating room and I felt worse than I've ever felt.  I could feel myself being moved, tugged, gotten into place.  I couldn't move my legs and could barely move my arms.  They slid me onto the operating table, and I couldn't stay put I was shaking so hard.  I could barely speak.  People kept saying, "Stephanie, are you still with us?" I was, but I was having a hard time responding.  I think I grunted as an answer each time.  I was shaking so badly that my arms were constantly falling off the table.  They had to center me back on the table several times.  My legs were up in stirrups.  My doctor had told David this would be a 20-minute procedure...it took 70 minutes.  Apparently I was a challenge.  I was incredibly nauseous and dry-heaving this entire time.  Nurses were bringing heated blankets in for me and covering me including wrapping my face and head in them so that I could only see and breathe through my nose.  I was still dry-heaving.  I had my eyes closed nearly the entire time - I was so sick and tired, plus all I could see were lights.  By the end, I was in tears and begging to be moved.

I was taken to recovery.  David said that Dr. Dav said the procedure went really well - minimal bleeding and they were confident they had gotten everything.  Dave asked me if he could go to see the baby, and I asked him to stay with me for a few minutes.  Apparently then I fell asleep, snoring, and he went to check on Baby Boy.  I was in recovery for what felt like a lifetime, trying to get warm again and sleep.  We had had to wait for anesthesiology to come remove my epidural.  I peed like crazy while in recovery - I asked for a bed pan at least three, maybe four, times.  I'm told I peed over 1500 cc's - an entire IV bag - while in recovery alone.  I've never been so uncomfortable as I was in that recovery room.  What felt like six or seven hours later, but was only three hours later, I was finally taken to my room.

The nurse took me to the bathroom and got me settled into my bed - far more comfortable than the recovery room bed.  Then she helped David convert the chair in the room to a bed.  We asked for blankets, I was STILL freezing.  There were no blankets on the floor in the unit, so some were requested from upstairs.  They were there within minutes, and Dave and I were grateful to try to sleep.  Dave's head hit the pillow and he started snoring.  That guy, I swear.  This was about 1:00 AM.

My nurse took my vitals.  I asked her to remove my IV's.  After all, I was peeing so much I obviously wasn't dehydrated.  She removed one, but left two in, just in case.  An hour later, I hadn't fallen asleep yet, so I buzzed for the nurse to help me again to go to the bathroom. About 30 minutes later, I still wasn't sleeping, so I crawled out of bed, walked around the room, climbed over Dave in his bed and got my iPad - he slept through all of that.  Another half hour later at 3 AM, I still wasn't asleep.  The adrenaline was obviously still pumping keeping me from settling, so I woke my sweetly sleeping husband (for whom my jealousy over his sleeping abilities was raging) and demanded he take me to see our son.  He pretended to not be annoyed and even laughed at me a little.  I hopped into a wheelchair and off we went to the NICU.

My son was beautiful.  So tiny.  So terrifying.  Baby Boy's nurse, Kayla, assured me that he was doing well for one so tiny.  We didn't stay long.  Dave wheeled me back to my room, and we both fell asleep quickly.

Little Did We Know - Lincoln Eve

This was my easiest pregnancy in terms of feeling well.  We had had a scare at 12 weeks with heavy bleeding.  No cause was found, but when the doctors did a sonogram, my baby was bouncing and kicking and moving as it had been all along.  A wave of relief swept over me.  From that moment on, the baby took it easy on me.  I still had my bicornuate uterus to keep an eye on - the reason for my preterm babies - and I had gestational diabetes once again.  But I felt good.  Like really good.  I couldn't believe the energy I had this time around and how much easier this pregnancy felt.  We had a great (and very busy) summer, and in August we closed on our new house.  We started moving in, and two days later went to Colonial Williamsburg.  After we returned, we jumped right back in to moving and unpacking.  School was approaching quickly, and David worked tirelessly to get moved in and unpacked.  I helped as much as I could with a growing belly and orders to lift nothing.

Back-to-School came, and the night before the first day of school, I packed lunches and snacks and backpacks and bags.  We all headed off to a great first day of school.

It was nice to be back at work.  Don't get me wrong, I'd take a lifetime of summer and how relaxed we get to be.  The new house has a pool, and the joy that my girls get from that pool is so beautiful.  It was nice to be back at school and back into a routine again, though.  It's easy to be back at work when you know you won't really be working later than Thanksgiving.  I had a nice time seeing my students again - this is the first year that my 8th graders are all mine.  I had them in sixth grade, seventh grade, and now they were my elite 8th graders.  I am very proud of the fact that my first year back at JFK I had 14 eighth graders, my second year I had 18, and now this third year I had 67 students signed up for zero period eighth grade chorus.  I was going to spoil the heck out of those kids.  I have lunch duty this semester, and I spent the whole period walking around, catching up with students on how their summers were.  My AP James offered me a chair, but I was truly enjoying my time with the kids, and I felt fine.  I should have taken that damn chair.

That afternoon I headed home around 1:00. Addie & Charlie were napping and Elliot was still at school.  I took advantage and laid down for a bit.  I headed out to pick up Elle at the bus stop, eager to hear about her first day of school.  All I knew for sure was that it was hot and I wanted to take my girls in the pool.  Elliot gave me few details about school (as is her way), and started right away on her homework - to read for 20 minutes.  She read to her sisters - she's such a good big sis.  I laid down again, I was starting to feel a little off.  After the 20 minutes, we all got in our bathing suits.  I was excited for how good the cold water would feel and how light I felt in the pool.  We stayed in the pool for a little over an hour.  I always rush my kids on to the next activity, but they were being so good, and it felt good being in the pool.  I was still not feeling great, but the pool definitely helped.

I texted Dave to see if he wanted to go to Friendly's for dinner - it has become a first day of school tradition.  He said it sounded great.  We got ready and off we went.  While there, I was feeling worse and worse, and started to realize that I felt bad, then okay, then bad, then okay.  I started timing the bad periods.  They were coming every 6-8 minutes.  Hmmm.  I drank more water.  I told Dave I wasn't feeling well.  When we got home, he said not even to unbuckle the girls, just go get in bed.  I put the foot of our bed up, drank tons of water, and worried about getting lunches packed.  I was certain it was Braxton Hicks contractions.  I had just gone back for my first day of teaching, I was on my feet too much, I overdid it.  I googled Braxton Hicks.  They shouldn't be painful.  They shouldn't be regular.  Now my contractions were every 5 minutes.  I called the hospital.

The doctor said what I thought - you're tired from your first day back, you did too much, you're dehydrated.  Then he said what I expected - you should probably come in, we'll check you out, we'll hook you up to an IV.  We called our parents and told them it's probably a false alarm, but we were off.  On the way to the hospital, the pain was getting worse.  I must not have looked good, because they sat me down in triage, then got me right back up and into a bed.  David was still parking the car.  They timed the contractions and put me on several monitors.  They started an IV - it took 2 people and four tries - it was the first time I saw David nearly pass out.  I watched the blood drain from his face as nurse #1 tried to get the IV going.  Nurse #2 got it on her first try, thank goodness.

The contractions were now incredibly painful.  And they were coming every 2-3 minutes.  I was given a steroid shot at 11PM to help develop the baby's lungs.  I would receive another in 12 or 24 hours, depending on how imminent the birth was.  The doctors decided to put me on magnesium to slow the contractions.  I was only 23 weeks and 5 days.  This baby simply could not come yet.  I was given an epidural eventually for the pain (thank Heaven for epidurals - I became a much nicer person to be around after that!).  The magnesium made me groggy and cloudy and loopy.  I saw my husband cry for the first time in years.  He is always so strong, he takes care of his four girls so well.  I could tell it was killing him to see me in so much pain.  Once the epidural kicked in, I was a much happier camper.  It was the middle of the night - midnight maybe?  I was exhausted.  One nurse made me take of my rings and remove my earrings.  I remember feeling angry with her - I was feeling better and this baby WAS NOT coming now.  I was told I'd be in antepartum until his arrival.  Dave prepared himself to be a single Dad for several weeks while I lived at the hospital to keep this baby in for every extra hour we could.

Two NICU doctors were sent in to talk to us about what would happen should the baby come that night.  I can only recall Dave sitting on the couch in my room while they talked.  I have no recollection of the conversation or how long they were there.  The rest of the night and the following morning are a a blur.  I slept on and off from 11PM to 11AM.  Several nurses over that time period remarked that I have sleep apnea.  Apparently, as I sleep, my oxygen sats drop to around 90, and they should be at least around 95.  Oh good, something else for me to worry about.  Now I am being told to have a sleep study done.  Because I need one more thing on my list.

Back in Time - Lincoln's Backstory

2015 started out as an awful year.  Things were busy as usual.  That's no different than any other time with three kids, a full-time job, and all the work that is being a Mommy, Wife, and homemaker.  After a panic attack in August of 2014, I had been seeing a therapist and been put on several different anxiety medications.  It was in January of 2015 that we finally found one that made me start to feel like my normal again.

As things leveled out and I began to feel better, I got a call at work from my Dad.  That's never a good sign.  And when you have a grandmother whom you adore who is 94 years young, anytime you receive a call from Dad, you jump to the conclusion that Grandma is not okay.  Well, I was lucky this time that Grandma was okay, but my Uncle John was not.  He had had a heart attack while driving (I believe) and gotten into a single car accident with a tree.  He did not survive.  He was my Dad's brother.  It was quite traumatic.  I remember the phone ringing, I was co-teaching a class, so I took the call.  I went into the AP office and hid in a closet and cried.  My principal sent me home.  The next few days are fuzzy.  That was February 3.

                                                            (My Uncle John is in red.)

My Grandmother's health deteriorated quickly after the funeral.  Everyone had commented how stoic and strong she had been at the funeral.  I think at 94, you probably don't anticipate burying one of your children.  We later found out that Grandma had had two small strokes around the time of my Uncle's death.  She left living with my Aunt Mary to be put into a nursing home.  Sadly, she never returned to Aunt Mary's house - she passed away on April 2.  I had actually taken that day off to drive home to see her.  David had the day off already, so Elliot and I took that day off, packed everyone up a day early and went home to see Grandma. On the way home, Dad called again to say that Grandma hadn't made it.  It's probably a good thing, as everyone said how different she was in the nursing home, and I have beautiful memories of her smile and laughter, which I would not have seen there.

 

        (My beautiful Grandma, Virginia Anne Murray Amrine, at my cousin Allison's wedding.)

I was devastated.  Even as I type this, I still am.  How, just under two months from my uncle's death, could my beautiful grandmother pass away?  My grandma had told me before that she wanted me to have more children.  She often told me that she thought David and I were doing a terrific job with our girls.  That weekend, not necessarily according to our plan, but definitely according to hers, David and I got pregnant.  April 3, in fact.  I only put the date because our beautiful boy came to us exactly 5 months later on September 3.  The sonogram confirmed that his conception was April 3, and his due date? Christmas Day.  If Lincoln was not a gift from my Grandmother...I simply cannot see it as coincidence.  

I honestly did not even recognize that I was pregnant for weeks.  We had tried to get pregnant with the twins for 25 months.  There was no way that one single isolated time without protection could have gotten us pregnant after that ordeal.  It was not on my radar.  I was still on my anxiety medication until I realized.  I was about ten days late when I realized that I may be pregnant.  I had a pregnancy test left over from the twins' days in my bathroom closet.  There was no wait necessary, that line turned blue immediately.  True to our fashion, I went out and got an ice cream cake.  I was pretty dumbfounded.  Shock is a good word.  

                                                                     (Um....what???)

The cake this time, instead of saying, "Congratulations, Daddy!" as it had the two previous times, said 3+1 or 4? Meaning 3 girls + 1 boy or 4 girls?  As soon as David saw the Carvel box, he said, "ARE YOU PREGNANT?"  He was thrilled.  We had debated whether or not we would try for another baby.  The debate was over.  I was super emotional, hormonal, and the anxiety and depression was really feeling out of control.  We eventually told our parents, and I thanked my Grandmother over and over.  

5 Days Old - PDA

I'll go back and tell backstories eventually.

Lincoln "Link" is down to 585 grams.  That's about 1 pound, 4.5 ounces.  In addition to losing weight again today, I was there for rounds.  The doctor hit us with a heart condition today.  Link's blood pressure is about 38/16.  Apparently, his bottom number should be 22 or higher, and definitely over 20.  What that number tells them is that his heart is not pumping as it should.  This told doctors that Link probably has PDA, and they did an echo which confirmed it.

PDA is:
"Patent ductus arteriosus (PDA) is a heart problem that occurs soon after birth in some babies. In PDA, abnormal blood flow occurs between two of the major arteries connected to the heart.

Before birth, the two major arteries—the aorta and the pulmonary (PULL-mun-ary) artery—are connected by a blood vessel called the ductus arteriosus. This vessel is an essential part of fetal blood circulation.

Within minutes or up to a few days after birth, the vessel is supposed to close as part of the normal changes occurring in the baby's circulation.

In some babies, however, the ductus arteriosus remains open (patent). This opening allows oxygen-rich blood from the aorta to mix with oxygen-poor blood from the pulmonary artery. This can put strain on the heart and increase blood pressure in the lung arteries."

Essentially, Link's heart cannot efficiently pump blood through his body.  He was receiving his third blood transfusion when I arrived, and once that ended, the doctors will begin a treatment of medicine for the purpose of closing those arteries.

Lincoln's Log

I will begin blogging again, now as a Mom of Four.  When Addie & Charlie were in the NICU, it was the scariest, most exhausting time of my life.  David and I found out in April that we were pregnant again and expecting a child on Christmas Day.  The pregnancy was going very well for months - my easiest of the three pregnancies, and suddenly, our lives changed forever.  Our son, who was to appear around Thanksgiving by most doctors' guesses, arrived a few days shy of Labor Day.  September 3, 2015, Lincoln Alexander forced his way into our world, far before he or we were ready.  Blogging about the twins experience made me feel purposeful in a world where I couldn't do much to help them.  I am hoping that since Lincoln had only made it to 23 weeks, 5 days before labor started, that this will help me again.  I will post almost daily here stories from before his birthday to current day stats and progress.  It isn't really meant for anyone but me, but those who know and love our family will likely find this helpful as well.

Three! THREE? (Daddy's Ode to our Twinkles)

Three! THREE? How can they be THREE?
I’m telling you folks that I’d pay a small fee
To tell me how possibly they could stay wee!

(I’m sure that you see that my twin poetry
is the annual affair that I want it to be.)

They bring me such glee to the highest degree,
Even more than I ever thought I could foresee.
I’m speaking of course of A.Q. and C.B.
Who are getting so big that they now often pee
In the potty (which is quite a burden off me).

They know numbers through ten and the letters through Z,
They know mommy drinks coffee while daddy drinks tea,
When to flee, when they’re free, how to see whether she
Is the key to what is annoying to me!

Let me tell you it’s true that the first, Addie Q,
Is able to make my day one that I’ll rue.
My patience each day is tried one time or two
(Okay, alright, fine... it’s no less than a few!)

But then, as if on cue, she knows just what to do.
She looks at me and tells me “Dad, I love you!”
(But more often than not it’s because Mom told her to...)

The glorious hue that you’ll find on her shoe
Must always be pink, this I promise to you.
It’s the way that we do make it easy for you
To tell her apart from the one she’s next to!

That girl that’s ne’er far is the one we call “Char”.
She stays right on par with her twin when they spar.
When one goes too far, her twin raises the bar.

I wonder, would she have been great at guitar,
If she still had that finger where now there’s a scar?
Don’t worry, we keep it around in a jar.
(Not really, I’m kidding! Hardy har har!)

Perhaps you now know that each girl was a star
In a movie (don’t see it... it was, well, subpar).
We went to the theater by way of our car,
And gave them our money, twenty bucks au revoir!
We witnessed a plot that was really bizarre,
But we got to identify them from afar.

Before I wrap up here and tell you goodbye,
I want you to know that I’m one lucky guy.
When I write up these poems, I try not to be shy,
I am not embarrassed to tell you that I
am so very happy each day that goes by.

I watch over my girls in bed where they lie,
I want to protect them from what makes them cry.
I’ll always be with them, till one day I die,
And then I’ll still watch them, from high in the sky.

Till next year, when certainly once again I
Will wonder how yet one more year has gone by,
Three days before math nerds will celebrate pi,
I’ll sit here and hope that my words won’t run dry,
And wonder how one day the twins might reply.

Busy March

March is always a busy month for us.  The Mommy (that's me) directs the school musical which occurs in March.  That means almost daily rehearsals and 11 hour work days.  This year the musical is Shrek the Musical, Jr. on March 27 & 28.

More importantly are the many birthdays in March, beginning with the twins.

March:
11 - Adeline & Charlotte
15 - Nana
17 - Aunt Mara
18 - Monty & Zoe (doggies)
21 - The Daddy
22 - Cousin Molly

And I'm probably missing some!

Looking forward to hitting April 1st and things slowing down!!!