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parenthood one month in

Saturday was my due date. Instead of being in labor, I spent the day with my ONE MONTH OLDS. They’re already growing up so fast! There’s no way they’d fit in the little preemie footie pjs they came home in just four weeks ago. Amazing how time flies when lived in 3 hour intervals between baby feedings.

Time also apparently flies between blog posts around here…sorry about that.

The truth is, my life is rather boring but happy at the moment. I’m not kidding about the living in 3 hour intervals thing– we followed the “golden rule of multiples” from the start, which is “one up, both up,” and mercifully the babies are on roughly the same eating/sleeping schedule, which works out great until I’m home alone with them and they’re both screaming with hunger at the exact same time, and I can currently only feed one at a time because they both like to try to drown in their food, or dribble it all over themselves, or choke themselves by sucking the nipple too far into their mouths. Luckily, until June, Jon is home with me most of the time, and we can just both feed a baby at the same time. This also means we can trade off at night and get longer stretches of sleep!

In a similar vein, I’m no longer mournful about not being able to breastfeed. Formula may be stinky and expensive, but it’s also fast and easy, and it allows my husband and me to share in the feeding of our babies. It also means I’m getting much more rest than I would be if I were nursing, and I’m enjoying having my body mostly to myself after 9 months of sharing it with two other people. I get to drink wine in the evenings! More than one glass even, if I’m feeling crazy!

Another thing that’s working out great is cloth diapering. I was really hoping it would work for us, and it totally is. I don’t find the cloth diapers to be any more disgusting to deal with than the disposables we used for the first 2-ish weeks, and when we have babies spitting up and such all the time, we’re already doing an extra load of laundry every day anyway. If anyone is particularly curious about what we’re doing, I thought I’d give a quick rundown.

We have a “stash” (oh cloth diapering lingo!) of 36 newborn all-in-one diapers (aka AIOs). They are BumGenius XS’s, Lil Joeys, and some Kissaluvs. (When the babies are bigger, we’ll switch to my stash of one-size pocket diapers.) I chose AIOs because they’re the easiest to use, and the most like disposables. I could probably wash every other day, but I just do a small load every day because I’ve got other stuff to wash anyway. I run the dirty diapers through a rinse and spin cycle with no spin, and then I add in the other laundry and do a “sanitize” cycle on the heavy duty setting for extra water. We tried All Free and Clear detergent, but I wasn’t crazy about it (I felt like the diapers still kind of smelled), so now we’re trying Tide Original Powder. I figured I’d exhaust all my available-at-Target options before moving on to more specialty detergents. I’ve been mostly drying the diapers in the dryer, though I’d like to line-dry them more often.

I think the cloth diapers are really cute, and I like that we’re not creating tons (literally) of trash by using disposable diapers. Other folks use cloth for health reasons, but those weren’t one of my top priorities. Most of all, we’re saving a ton of money over what it would cost us to have twins in disposable diapers. I know some folks try to claim the energy and water from washing is just as expensive, but with our high efficiency washer and dryer, it’s totally a negligible cost.

As far as the babies themselves: they are perfect. Sure, Claire sometimes reminds me of a hungry hungry hippo (do NOT get between that girl and her bottle), and Etta is our little Fussbudget who wants to be held all the time, but they are the most precious and beautiful little things I’ve ever seen. When they’re snuggled together? The cuteness is somehow multiplied by a factor of 10. I’m so looking forward to seeing their personalities develop.

A month in, motherhood has both changed and not changed me. I feel like the same person, even though I was worried that I wouldn’t. Sometimes I look around and feel like I’m playing house and wonder who entrusted us with the care of these two little people. But at the same time, I’m surprised by how much I don’t mind all the work that care involves. I used to have a hair-trigger gag reflex, but now I can deal with all manner of the disgustingness babies produce without batting an eye (though the nasty smell of formula spit-up in my hair still makes me want to run for the toilet).

I’ve still not spent an entire day alone with the babies, and we have basically only ventured out to doctor’s appointments and church, and then always with Jon. The very idea of going somewhere alone with the babies seems VERY daunting to me at this point. Two infants is just a lot to handle.

As for all of my fears about how having twins would rob me of some of the specialness of a new-baby experience, they were both founded and unfounded. I read the posts of new moms of singletons on one of my pregnancy message boards and see things like how they never let their baby cry for more than just a second, how they’re always rushing to comfort their baby, how they never put their baby down, even how exhausted and frustrated they are, and I almost want to laugh AND cry. With two infants and only one me, if Jon’s not home, sometimes one baby just has to scream her head off when I’m feeding her sister and can’t stop to feed her too. I’m always having to put one baby down to pick up another. And nighttime feedings take twice as long because I have to do the whole routine twice. I must resist the urge to say, “we had only one baby home for a week and it was SO EASY.” Seriously though, my theory is that 2 babies are 4 times harder than 1, though I should probably save that sentiment for the multiples message boards– infancy is hard, no matter how many infants you have.

I still get plenty of baby snuggles. I still spend hours staring at their tiny faces, gazing into their currently still-blue eyes. I still have babies falling asleep on my chest. I still feel very bonded and connected to both of them. And all of us are doing so much better than I could have possibly imagined either while pregnant or just a month ago.

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a birth and near death story

Some folks may be wondering, since my last post over a week and a half ago was OMG ONE DAY TIL BABIES LET’S FINISH THE NURSERY, whether or not I did in fact have those babies.

I did.

And what a crazy story it is.

One last belly shot the morning of the c-section.

Things started out as planned– we didn’t sleep at all the night before from excitement, and we showed up at the hospital at 7:00 am on Wednesday, March 28 (exactly one month before my 40 week due date) for a C-section that had been moved up 5 days because I suddenly had an elevated blood pressure and had started retaining fluid. I was really nervous about the surgery, but despite a little trouble getting the spinal/epidural combo in place (apparently folks with scoliosis and an extra vertebra are a bit challenging for anesthesiologists), the whole operation went very smoothly. It’s super surreal to be lying on a table, numb from the waist down, knowing you’re being cut open and having babies pulled out, but feeling nothing but pressure and tugs and then suddenly hearing cries. I’m pretty sure I was saying “I’m afraid I’m going to feel it!” to the anesthesiologist who was standing next to me as I was already being cut open.

It turns out my girls, who had been in “bunk beds” or in the transverse position for my entire pregnancy, had turned breech somewhere between my last appointment and the surgery– so I’d have definitely needed a C-section even without my blood pressure issue or Claire having spina bifida. Jon joked afterward that there are about 5 ways I could have died in childbirth this week if not for modern medicine– breech twins are one of them. Jokes aside, there is no one more supportive and awesome than my husband, who was right by my side for the whole surgery. The surgical team kept telling him when to pull out his camera for a good photo op, but he mostly focused on supporting me and keeping me calm. He did have the anesthesiologist give me some “goofy juice” at the end when I started to freak out a bit that I might be feeling more than just pressure (pretty sure that was mental), but overall, he kept me relaxed.

Jon and the babies-- Etta in front, Claire in back.

After both girls were pulled out, Etta weighing 6.2 lbs. and Claire weighing 6 lbs. (I am SO FREAKING PROUD of those weights for 35 weeker twins, I must say), Jon went with the babies to the resuscitation area, which sounds scary, but doesn’t necessarily mean the babies are getting like, CPR or anything. They were checked out by a team of neonatologists and pediatricians, and there was a transport team standing by ready to take Claire from the university hospital where I was delivering to the nearby Children’s Hospital (where my husband works), where she would be having surgery to repair the opening on her spine caused by her spina bifida.

It turned out that Claire’s spinal defect was both higher and larger than we initially hoped. I got to see my baby girl in a plastic transport box for about 5 minutes in recovery before she was whisked away by the transport team. I’m pretty sure the “goofy juice” is what helped me not completely freak out over not getting to hold one of my babies, but we had also prepared ourselves for the fact that this is what would happen on delivery day, knowing it would be happening since week 20 of the pregnancy. I was also very thankful to have met and consulted with the team of doctors who would be taking care of her, so I knew she was in the very best of hands.

Meeting and saying goodbye to Claire.

After recovery, Etta and I were moved to the peri-partum ward, and she was allowed to share a room with me. My blood pressure and heart rate were slow to go down, and labs revealed my blood counts were very low, so on Thursday I received a blood transfusion. Everyone who came in the room and saw me afterward remarked on how much better I looked, and the color in my face, even though I was about the same shade as the beige hospital blanket that covered me. I guess I was white as the sheets before?

On Friday, Claire had her surgery, a five hour process involving neuro- and plastic surgeons to cover the 4 cm. area where you could literally see her spine. I wished so desperately that I could be there for her, but was still not in shape to be discharged from the hospital, so a social worker set up a video-conference and I got to video chat with her before the operation. She opened her eyes when she heard my voice, which made me feel so much better that she still knew her mama loved her. She came through the surgery great, and continues to recover in the NICU at Children’s. She seems to move her legs of her own accord and also to respond to stimuli, which are great signs that she may not have disability in her legs. As with everything, though, we will just have to wait and see. She may also have disability in her bladder and bowel functions, but since no babies have bladder and bowel control at this point, we won’t know until she’s older if this is the case. We certainly hope it isn’t.

On Saturday, there was talk of discharging me from the hospital as I was doing much better, but I was still feeling very very weak and not very able to get out of bed, and when my doctor suggested keeping me another day, I said I thought that was a good idea. I needed the time to continue to recuperate.

By early Sunday morning, I was feeling well enough to get out of bed and walk unassisted the 5 steps to the bathroom, as Jon was holding Etta. I remember feeling so proud as I stood up and walked unassisted, thinking this was finally the milestone I needed to get to go home. As I walked back to the bed, I felt myself getting shorter and shorter of breath. I told Jon I was having trouble breathing, and he called for the nurse. It just got worse and worse, as I struggled for breath in short gasps, and a crowd of nurses gathered around. People were telling me to take a deep breath, but short gasps were all I could manage. I began to hear crackling in my lungs (Jon later explained that this was flash pulmonary edema), and I became more and more panicked. I knew from the way I felt and the look on Jon’s face that I was crashing.

The Rapid Response team arrived and soon I was being prodded and various breathing masks were being shoved onto my face, which only increased my feeling of panic. I know enough from being raised by medical professionals and married to an emergency physician that I needed to be intubated. I was looking at Jon begging him with my eyes to get someone to sedate and intubate me so I wouldn’t have to panic and struggle to breathe any more. From the look on his face, I could tell if he’d had a cart nearby, he would have done it himself.  I truly believed I was dying, lying in that bed, surrounded by people bustling around to save me, with my husband watching and my baby girl lying next to me in a bassinet.

And then I don’t remember anything.

My next memory is vague, like a dream, where you know there is something you MUST do, and in this dream, what I had to do was pull something out of my mouth. So I just kept pulling.

It was Monday morning, and I had extubated myself. I was in the ICU, where I had spent about 24 hours on a ventilator.

After consults with cardiologists and pulmonologists and internal medicine specialists and more doctors than I can count, it seems I have developed peri-partum cardiomyopathy, which was causing congestive heart failure. My terribly lay understanding is that possibly due to the stress of the pregnancy on my body, I either developed or finally exhibited a pre-existing weakness in the muscle of my heart, specifically in the last chamber (left ventricle) that sends blood out into the body. The ability of this chamber to pump out blood effectively is measured in an “ejection fraction.” Most people’s is 50% or better, and mine was 15%.

Reunited with Etta in the peri-partum ward after getting out of the ICU. I may look yellow, but this is "good" color compared to where I was.

Putting me on the ventilator helped them pump fluid out of my body to take the load off my heart and lungs. They removed 7 liters of fluid from my body in my 24 hours in the ICU, and continued to take more off through diuretics and fluid restrictions after they got me out of the unit and back in the peri-partum ward.

Tuesday through Thursday were spent trying to fine-tune the cocktail of medicines I am now on to control my heart rate and blood pressure and allow my heart to strengthen and heal. Every day they tweaked the meds a bit, and every day I worked harder to get out of bed and walk and move. By Wednesday night, I finally was able to make half a lap around the ward, pushing Etta in a bassinet, Jon beside me to steady me, with nurses cheering– even those who hadn’t cared for me had heard about the girl who was seemingly ready to go home and had suddenly crashed and wound up in the ICU on a vent, so they were proud to see me looking better.

Etta and me.
Claire and her daddy.

At first, the medicines made me feel worse, which my cardiologist told me would happen. I’d get my meds, and then for 4 hours afterward, feel hot flashes and jitters and general exhaustion, only able to sweat and sleep. But every day that got a little better. By Thursday, Jon and me, and Etta, if I may speak for her, were just DONE being in the hospital. Convinced that I would be compliant with my meds, diligent in home blood pressure checks, and sure to come back for follow-up treatment, I was finally discharged. I have never been so glad to breathe fresh air as when baby Etta and I were wheeled out to the curb in front of the hospital on that beautiful spring day when we finally got to go home. I’m feeling better and better since then. My heart condition may never be fully cured, but it can get a LOT better, and I have high hopes of being one of the successful cases. We will not be able to have any future pregnancies, however, because it would literally mean risking my life.

Another loss that I feel very deeply is the loss of the ability to breastfeed the babies. I had really hoped to be able to nurse them, and had been working on nursing Etta and pumping and building up my supply while in the hospital, however, after the whole almost-dying thing, my doctors convinced me that breastfeeding is a major physical strain on my body, and I needed to be conserving my physical resources to give my heart the best chance to heal, so that I could become strong enough to care for my girls. I have cried many tears over this loss, but I know that we made the right choice for our family. They need my beating heart a lot more than they need breast milk.

We’re still missing 1/4 of our family, with Claire still in the NICU, and we are anxious to get her home. I’m still pretty weak, though stronger every day, and my one outing a day is to go visit her. Blessedly, Children’s has a special “twin rule” that lets us bring Etta with us to visit her sister, and it’s super special just to have the four of us together for a little bit each day– giving us a taste of how great it will be to finally have all of us home. We don’t have a specific date that she’ll be discharged, but we hope it could be soon if she keeps meeting the goals her doctors set for her. Every day that I’m wheeled out of that NICU with only one baby feels incomplete.

Seeing Claire for the first time since her birthday after I got out of the hospital. It had been over 8 days since I saw my baby.
Reunited twins!

Overall, though, I am so very thankful. I’m glad I was in the hospital where I could quickly get the care I needed when I crashed. I’m glad Claire has such awesome people taking care of her, and glad we have awesome families who would come and take care of her and Jon and Etta and me when we needed them. I’m thankful for two beautiful baby girls. I’m thankful to be alive.

The whole family.
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baby room reveal and BIG update

BIG NEWS: Etta and Claire will be born tomorrow! Our c-section was originally scheduled for this coming Monday, 4/2, but at my appointment this morning, my blood pressure was elevated, I had started to retain a lot of fluid, and Claire wasn’t as reactive on the monitoring as the doctor would like her to be. My doctor said my body and the babies were telling her that it’s time for them to come out. Initially she was talking about getting them out today, but Claire perked up a bit with further monitoring, so we bought ourselves until tomorrow morning, first thing.

I’m glad, because we still had a lot to do: finishing touches on the girls’ room, finishing thank you notes for shower gifts, straightening up the house a bit, and packing a bag for the hospital. In fact, right after the doctor told us tomorrow would be baby day, I said to Jon: but we have to finish the room and I have to take pictures so I can blog it before they come!!! Clearly I’m an insane internet weirdo. But hey: check out our babies’ cute room!

This is the view standing in the doorway of the room. I didn’t set out to have a themed room, but it quickly developed a color palette based on the crib skirt and pillow fabric, and we ended up with a bit of an animal thing going on. What I am most proud of about the room are all the handmade touches, by me and by other folks who love Etta and Claire, and of all the stuff that we already had that we were able to repurpose for the room. The only new furniture we bought were the two cribs, which are BabyMod from WalMart and were a gift from my family. The white dresser, from IKEA, we already had, the little yellow table used to be a nightstand in our guest room, the futon was in our living room, the white tables on either side of it were in our bedroom, and even the rug, which strangely matched perfectly, we already had from IKEA.

This is the view from in front of the bathroom door. Bonus Tinycat sighting! The purple dresser/changer is one of the coolest repurposed items in the room. Our friend Sean found the solidly-built dresser by the curb while walking his dog and carried it home for us. Jon refinished it, and I found the cutest green knobs on sale for half off (which made them $1.50 each) at Hobby Lobby. It’s chock full of our cloth diapers! The four animal paintings were painted by my dad after some he saw in a catalog. They were the first animal items we got for the room, which is what led to the unofficial theme.

I knew right away that a traditional rocker or glider wasn’t going to work with two babies, but wanted a comfy place to nurse and snuggle. So we moved a futon out of our living room, and it fit great! This way one of us can sleep in the room with the babies if we want, and if anyone is ever crazy enough to want to come stay with us, we still have a space for guests to sleep. Tinycat also thinks it’s a great nap space. Everything hanging over the futon is something we already had somewhere else in our home.

I already mentioned my DIY mobiles and origami lamp and re-made vintage lamp in previous posts.

Another awesome handmade touch in the room are these name prints by my awesome friend Christen, whom you may remember from our maternity photo shoot. She’s not just a super talented photographer, but makes adorable prints, which you can purchase from her Etsy shop. I love that they don’t match exactly, but go together just perfectly!

And that’s the room! I can’t believe that after tomorrow, we’ll have BABIES in those cribs!

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our babies have a birthday!

Just a quick update on Etta and Claire: they’re not even born yet, but they have a birthday!

I saw my OB this morning for my now weekly monitoring, and the babies and I look great. She had spoken to the Maternal Fetal Medicine team about our last ultrasound, and they decided that to be on the safe side, we should plan to have the babies at 36 weeks.

So…..April 2 is BABY DAY! It’s completely surreal to think we’ll just go to the hospital, have a c-section, and have babies in our arms by lunchtime.

I feel it is an auspicious date because April 2, 2006 is the day Jon asked me to marry him. Now that happy day gets exponentially happier!

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on tornadoes and the Jesus who calmed storms

Last year was a bad tornado season for those of us who live in Tornado Alley. Bad enough that we spent several nights in our “safe space” waiting for the sirens and the winds to stop. A friend had a tornado knock a tree onto her house. Other friends survived the tornadoes that blew through Birmingham and Tuscaloosa. It freaked me out enough that I finally made a FEMA-recommended tornado kit to keep in my safe space, which is small comfort when I know that if a tornado really does hit my house, no waterproof bag full of food and supplies can save me. Tornadoes are scary. They are unpredictable. They are deadly. And climate change seems to be making them worse.

This year has already seen several tornadoes. People have died. Communities have been destroyed. Others are just now starting to pick up the pieces.

And John Piper, not even a week after this latest bout of deadly tornadoes, would like to let those survivors know that God did this. Because that’s what the hurting and grieving need to hear right now, right?

Now, let me say right now that I believe in a powerful God who could cause tornadoes if God wanted to. But I also believe that sending these storms wouldn’t be in keeping with the nature of the God I have come to know and love.

I believe that the best way to learn about the nature of God is through the Person of Jesus Christ (as Brian McLaren called it at a talk I attended, you could say my hermeneutic is Jesus). And the God revealed through the person of Jesus is not someone who capriciously sends tornadoes that pick up babies and carry them for miles and kill them. The God revealed in Jesus is someone who wakes up in a boat in the middle of the storm and calms it. The God revealed in Jesus is someone who raises the dead and heals the sick and comforts the grieving and gets to know the outcast. God isn’t someone who breaks and destroys, but someone on a mission of healing and wholeness and reconciliation and redemption.

In the wake of deadly tornadoes, God is on the side of the folks wiping away tears and giving hugs and listening to the grieving and picking up the pieces. God’s drawing nearer to us through acts of love and healing. At least that’s what I believe.

Yes, we live in a world that does not work the way God designed it to. There were no deadly tornadoes, no death at all in fact, in God’s original plan. But all of creation was given the ability to turn from that design, and we did, and here we are. But God isn’t smiting us. God is working to fix it, and God invites us to be a part of the healing. At least that’s what I believe.

I’m praying for the people in Indiana and Kentucky who are dealing with devastation right now. I want them to know that God is on their side.

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cursed sleep

At the beginning of my pregnancy, blessedly free from the all-day pukes called “morning sickness” that so many women suffer, my one persistent symptom (aside from having to pee constantly from the moment we got that little plus sign) has been INSANE TIREDNESS. Like, mono tired. Ran a marathon tired. Completely senseless tired. I spent a lot of time napping with Tinycat (who, it must be said, is a champion napper):

Now that I’m in the home stretch, it’s become frustrating because I’m still tired, and I’m increasingly incapacitated by my ballooning body, but I can’t. freakin’. sleep.

I know! Right this second, you’re thinking something along the lines of: oh poor naive dear, if she thinks this is bad, just wait til she has actual newborn twin humans on her hands demanding to be fed and changed and held all the time.

I KNOW!

And yet, it would be nice if I could sleep now. People say helpful things like, “Sleep while you can!” And boy do I wish I could. Between reflux (which is a nice way of saying “constantly throwing up in one’s mouth”), restless legs, difficulty rolling over which results in weird hip pains from being paralyzed in one spot, hot flashes, and having to pee every single hour on the hour of the night…. and I’m not sleeping much.

I’m thinking I might start “sleeping” on the futon in the nursery, not because Jon is somehow keeping me up, but because lying sleepless next to someone happily, deep-breathingly, sleeping away makes me irrationally, jealously angry. He’s off in dreamland, and I’m sitting there thinking NO FAIR NO FAIR NO FAIR.

In the meantime, not sleeping at night means lots of napping during the day, which perpetuates the vicious cycle. Perhaps I’m becoming nocturnal.

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my valentine

Mush alert. But hey, there’s more maternity pics ahoy, so…

photo by Christen Byrd.

Happy Valentine’s Day, to everybody, but most especially to My Favorite. We don’t tend to do a lot for Valentine’s Day. Sometimes we go out for a nice dinner, sometimes I buy him his favorites, Hot Tamales and Reese’s Pieces, sometimes I bake something elaborate, and sometimes he sends me flowers. But my favorite part is always a handwritten expression of love inside a card, and that’s what we always do. I put on my red fuzzy robe this morning, and, slightly hungover from Tylenol PM, limped out to my recliner to find a card from My Favorite, who had to go to work at an ungodly hour this morning. It made me smile just like he always does.

I have no grand theories or pronouncements on love. I have no relationship advice to give. I met the love of my life when I was 18 years old, and I don’t just love him, I like him a LOT. He’s my favorite person to hang out with. There is literally nothing about my life that isn’t better for him being in it. Being with him makes me insanely, ridiculously happy. And even though this pregnancy thing is hard, and even though the twins thing is often largely terrifying, the only way I know how to face anything is with him holding my hand. So I’m going to keep on holding on.

Photo by Christen Byrd.

*If you like the photos, hire Christen Byrd to take some of you!

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the BIGtime

I’ve realized, while pregnant, that people really have no frame of reference for what pregnant bodies are supposed to look like. Every woman carries her pregnancy differently, every woman gains weight in different amounts and in different places, and as a result, even those who have been pregnant or have experienced a pregnancy up close have no idea what we’re “supposed” to look like at various stages along the way. Perhaps because there’s no “supposed” and we’re all special pregnant snowflakes. Anyway, I say all this because to everyone I meet I am either ginormous or way too tiny to be carrying twins.

Here’s the real facts: I’m 7 months pregnant, I have gained about 30 pounds (which my doctor is very pleased with), and I’m officially measuring about as big as I would be at full term with a singleton. And I still have two months to go.

Though lots of folks still tell me how tiny I am and are amazed that I really “have two in there,” I’m starting to feel the effects of carrying around all this weight all the time. Basically, as I have tearfully told Jon more than a couple of times lately, I hurt somewhere all the time. If it’s not my ribs from the weight of two baby heads, it’s now muscular pain in my back so bad I can barely walk from my living room, where I spend a lot of time snuggled with a heating pad, to my kitchen. I get short of breath easily, and any sort of movement is enough to trigger Braxton Hicks contractions, which, while not exactly painful, are definitely uncomfortable. Oh, and the only thing I’m allowed to take for all this pain is a couple of Tylenol. Fun times.

I’m glad I’m not experiencing pre-term labor. I’m happy to let the babies cook as long as they need to. But I can’t lie and say I’m enjoying this part. It’s harder than I thought it would be and I’m kind of over it.

Which is why I was particularly happy that my marvelously talented friend Christen Byrd took some gorgeous maternity photos for us. I got them back this weekend, and they made me feel pretty at a time when I pretty much feel awful. You can see more of the photos on her site, and if you’re local, I HIGHLY recommend you let her “shoot” you sometime– wedding, maternity, engagement, family, newborn, whatever. She will make you feel great, she will make you smile real smiles, and you will not be disappointed.

BELLY! Photo by the wonderful Christen Byrd.
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A quick update on Etta and Claire

Just got home after another ultrasound with our maternal fetal medicine team. We got to look at the babies, which is always super fun–just looking at them reminds me that all this near-constant discomfort and pain are worth it. I also know now why my right ribs hurt all the time: both babies have their big ole noggins on that side.

Baby Etta was called an “Amazon baby” by the doctor because she’s measuring a couple weeks ahead of where we should be at 28weeks gestation at 3 lbs. 6 oz., and Claire is just slightly petite at 2 lbs. 9 oz. The discordance is nothing the doctors are concerned about.

The best news was that neither the tech nor the doctors saw a defect on Claire’s spine. Basically, based on her head anatomy, the presence of a “lemon sign” and the fact that her cerebellum has been pulled down trapping some fluid in her ventricles, mean that there must be a spinal defect somewhere. But, the fact that they can’t find this defect means it must be very small and is therefore unlikely to have a very large negative impact on her. It seems more and more like the neurologists will have to find it after the birth rather than seeing it in utero.

We are so thankful and hopeful. Both girls look great and are growing well and we can’t wait to meet them!

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how to make a simple crib skirt

Baby bedding is a weird racket. Most of the cute stuff seems to come in sets, but the sets include things that may or may not kill your baby in her sleep, like crib bumpers. And they’re awfully matchy-matchy, as if you need curtains, sheet, bumpers, quilt, and skirt to all be perfectly matched. Personally, I prefer things that “go” rather than match. And the matching sets are often SO babyish, completely unable to grow up with a kid into early childhood. My goal with the twins’ room has been to have a room that is girly but not princess pink, to choose things that they won’t grow out of before they’re potty trained, and to use as many unique, handmade touches as possible. So I decided to make my own crib skirts. I think they turned out great:

I initially followed a pattern for the first skirt, found parts of it confusing, redundant, or unnecessary, and decided to simplify the process for the second skirt. I figured other folks might be interested in a super easy tutorial of my method for making a modern crib skirt, so here it is: how to make a modern crib skirt. There are no gathers, no pleats, noting complicated. If you can cut and sew a straight line, you can do this, I promise. Also, I took the trouble to make this skirt with French seams, encasing all the edges of the fabric, so a serger is not necessary for keeping your crib skirt from raveling in the wash. It should be sturdy enough to last for years.

Materials:

  • For the “deck” or the part that goes under the mattress, you need 1 5/8 yards (44″ or 54″ wide) muslin or other cheap fabric. (I got solid cotton that was on sale for $1.99/yd– no one will see this part)
  • For the skirt, 3 yards (44″ or 54″ wide) mid-weight fabric (I used a cotton duck that feels like canvas and claims to be soil resistant)

How To:

Cut out your pieces from the fabric:

  • For the deck, cut from the muslin a rectangular panel 29″ wide and 53″ long
  • For the skirt, cut 6 panels, each 30″ wide by 16.5″ long

Create a hem in each skirt panel by folding up one of the long sides 1/2″ and pressing, and then folding that up again and pressing:

Sew along the upper edge of the fold, making sure to backstitch at the beginning and end of each hem:

Create a similar hem on the two short sides of each skirt panel by folding and pressing 1/2″, folding that up and pressing again, and sewing close to the inner edge of the folded portion. It may help to pin the corners where the fabric is bulky because of the bottom hem:

After you have hemmed the bottom and sides of each skirt panel, fold the deck lengthwise and gently press a crease down the center:

(Can you sort of see the crease in that picture? It’s basically just there to help you find the center of the short ends of the deck.)

Line up the center of one skirt panel with the center of the deck, right sides of each facing OUT. Pin. (The right side of my deck fabric was hard to see, as it was a solid, so you might want to use a disappearing ink pen to mark “right” on the right side of your deck fabric.)

Sew the two pieces together, sewing very close to the edge:

Press seam open:

Fold over, encasing the edge of the first seam within the fold. Press:

Stitch seam again, sewing close to the edge:

Press seam again, and you’re left with a nicely enclosed edge that won’t fray in the wash:

Repeat process to sew panel to other short end of deck.

Starting at one edge, line up the corner of one skirt piece with the corner of one long side of the deck, again both right sides facing OUT. Pin in place along edge:

(using a grapefruit to keep your fabric from sliding off your table is clearly optional but works great!)

Match the corner of another skirt panel up with the other end of this side of the deck and pin in place. The two panels will overlap in the center:

As with the short sides, sew very close to the edge, press seam open, fold over to enclose cut edges, and stitch again to create a French seam. Repeat on other side of the deck with the last two remaining skirt panels.

Iron out any creases your fabric has gotten throughout the process, and you’re FINISHED! Put your crib skirt on your crib and admire your handiwork:

Note: the skirt will not graze the floor when mattress is raised to the highest newborn position, but should fit nicely for all of the various mattress positions you’ll use as your baby grows.

If you make a crib skirt, I’d love to hear how it goes!