Search officially hit the three-pound mark today. Destroy is close behind at 2.9 pounds – he should catch up to his brother in the next day or so. And tomorrow the boys will be one month old. Already!

We’ve had a lot of help getting them here. The nurses at the NICU are amazing. Each day they let us know how our muppets are doing and provide the advice on how best to care for them. We’re learning their little quirks and developing personalities right alongside their nurses.

So to celebrate their one-month birthday, I made the NICU nurses cupcakes. Behold: my baking brilliance.

While I was mixing the bowl of soon-to-be Devil’s Food cupcakes, I remembered a tremendously chocolatey adventure from my childhood. I was in middle school. My brother, Paul, was just about to finish up elementary school. It was summer vacation and Mom was already back at work.

Paul and I decided the only thing missing from a perfect summer’s day was a chilled bowl of chocolate pudding. With the help of the JELL-O instant mix and the blender – this was an easily remedied situation. So we set to work.

What happened next is one of life’s timeless mysteries. My working hypothesis is that the cord of the mixer caught the bottom of the freshly mixed pudding bowl – sending it spinning through the air.

Suddenly I heard Paul yell, “Hit the deck!!!” as he flattened himself behind the island in the kitchen. When he stood back up, the kitchen was brown. Utterly covered in chocolate. He stared at me as I wiped a sightline out of pudding from my face. Pudding slowly dripped from the ceiling onto Paul’s head.

We stared at each other in shock a few moments longer, surveying the explosive damage. “We’re going to need to clean this up before Mom gets home,” Paul observed. I concurred.

Four very long hours later, we were still mopping up chocolate and emptying countless murkey buckets of water. Mom returned home. We heard the garage door open and, without even a hello, Mom shouted, “I smell chocolate.”

Busted.

Years later we were still finding bits of chocolate throughout the kitchen. Truly, it was an impressive spill. Gramma J is now redoing the kitchen. So just remember, when the contractor removes an old appliance and questions the odd pattern of dirt spatter – it’s probably the remnants of a summer’s afternoon experiment with chocolate pudding.

Search

Destroy

Search

I was trying to think of a topic for today’s blog – and not having an easy time. Really, there’s only so much you can say about poop. Suddenly, I realized this is an awesome thing. I don’t have a post at the ready because things are currently going well.

The boys are eating, sleeping, pooping regularly. Their eyes are open more often as they stare around the NICU, just taking it all in. Destroy has found his voice; he now screams at the nurses to remind them it’s snack time. Search is only a day or two away from three pounds. None of this leads to clever or emotional stories; it just makes me smile.

Perhaps they’re growing up. Or perhaps Gramma J was on to something with her quilts.

The week after the muppets arrival, my mom came up to visit. She still hasn’t been able to meet her grandsons, but a mom is a mom forever and she’d come to make sure my emotional state remained stable. I decided they needed new blankets (remember I previously noted they had fleece blankets with surfers and John Deere tractors covering their isolettes). And a homemade quilt from Gramma would be something they could treasure forever. My brother and I still have the little elephant quilts Mom made for us when we joined the family.

Destroy

After my morning NICU visit, off we went to the fabric store. I was on a mission. I think Mom was just humoring me. Apparently, baby quilts aren’t that popular. There were approximately three options in the 5,000+ pages of patterns. Luckily Mom found a simple quilting magazine.

Out next challenge was to find the right fabric. Much easier said than done… 1) I have boys. I do not want pink dolls or frilly fabric. 2) What is with the amount of John Deere fabrics?! Thankfully, I asked Yahoo! about my dilemma and it shared some info on a local quilting store.

We started riffling through all the fun patterns. Girly, girly, John Deere, girly, John Deere… I found a very cute jungle animal print. Mom vetoed it on the grounds not everything needed to match the nursery. (I don’t see why not. The nursery is exceedingly adorable.) Finally, I found a puppy design with a blue, green and red checkered background. I also pulled out a pattern with dogs, trucks, baseball gloves and footballs. Perfect for my two little boys.

Nope. Vetoed. On the grounds that “those are for boys.” (I am not making this up.) I paused, concerned that the transition to grandmotherhood affected the frontal lobe. Granted, she was there to support me – her daughter – but she has two grandsons. No no, I was informed we were on the hunt for baby fabrics. They’ll have enough time to be boys later.

Suddenly, the educator within emerged. She’d found the school pattern section. Shortly thereafter, we departed the quilting store – appropriate baby fabrics in tow. My mom must have remained behind. Because when we got back to the house, only Gramma was with me. She set about designing and creating the world’s cutest quilts – they only appropriate kind for her grandkids.

They’re LEARNING quilts. It’s never too early to start. The muppets now have a head start over all their NICU peers.

For Search, my little squirming inchworm who doesn’t take kindly to swaddling confinement, Gramma found a pale blue fabric featuring the nursery rhyme “Hey Diddle Diddle.” It has pictures of the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumping over the moon, dishes running away with a spoon, and rocking horses.

The backing is blue with moons and stars. It’s a calming color for the little mover and shaker, yet still stimulating with the varying shapes. And when he awakes, he can learn his nursery rhymes as he starts learning to read!

For Destroy, my chill little guy who may forget to breathe (but loves to eat), Gramma found a farm fabric. He can learn his primary colors and what sounds the farm animals make. The backing is bright red with yellow baby chicks. Stimulating. Wake up and breathe!

They get cuter by the day. The quilts just make them stand out. I can’t wait to remember these moments when they’re packing the quilt for college. That one day, long long ago, I sat and held their three-pound selves – rocking my little geniuses slowly back and forth next to their learning quilts.

During those last few days in the hospital before the babes arrived, all I could think about was having healthy babies. One of the key factors was birth weight.

“Think chubby babies!” I kept telling everyone. We were pretty successful given how young they were – both muppets weighing in over two pounds. (I’ve already discussed how one’s perspective changes to the point were two pounds can be “chubby.”)

And I’m sure you’ve noticed, many of the recent posts talk an awful lot about food – both going in and come out. Well, weight is still a big deal. Before the boys can come home, they must meet three criteria:

1)    Regulate their own temperature. Both Search and Destroy are off the temperature probe and may even start rooming together next week.

2)    Remember to breathe all by themselves. We’re still experiencing some A’s and B’s (apnea and bradycardia) but vastly improved.

3)    Eating via bottle or breast. We’re going to start seeing how they feel about bottles next week.

All three significantly involve size. And so far, this seems to be their biggest strength. We have finally reached the point where both boys are soaring upward. After four weeks as residents of the Hotel NICU we are rapidly approaching three pounds.

Each morning, Jon and I get an update. The medical staff use grams. I’ve had several people ask me to translate to pounds. But telling you how much they’ve gained in grams is so much more impressive! So I propose a compromise. I will continue to update everyone in grams since I like being able to say, “Search gain 50 grams today!” (Also, that’s what I’m told their weight in each morning.) And you can use the nifty preemie grams to pounds conversion chart I have conveniently posted below. (Click chart to enlarge.)

What I find amazing is that even though I see them twice a day, even I can see that they’re really growing. They’re starting to fill out and develop those classic chubby cheeks. They seem less fragile. (Although I’m not sure if that’s just because we’re getting used to them.) Can you even imagine how big they’ll seem when we bring them home at five humungo pounds?

Each week the NICU developmental therapist observes the kids and provides a report on their strengths and “sensitivities.” It appears that even at their tender age no one can escape performance reviews… Destroy’s report notes that he makes sucking gestures when he’s hungry and startles at loud or sudden noises. (I’m going to disregard the latter in this post since I’m almost 30 and startle at loud or sudden noises – so smart kid.)

This morning Destroy began making his mouthing and sucking motions about 20 minutes before breakfast. His nurse dipped his pacifier in milk and decided to see how he’d react. Destroy went bonkers over it; he sucked on it for 2-3 minutes! (In the world of a preemie, 2-3 minutes is a big deal.) Here’s hoping this means he’ll do well when we trying to move from a feeding tube to a bottle. I know he’ll prefer the bottle in the long run; he hates the feeding tube but loves the feedings. So we’ll just take baby steps toward sucking, swallowing and breathing – all at the SAME TIME.

Destroy’s nurse reiterated that the muppets were doing really well. “Fingers crossed – you’ll have them home in three and a half weeks. That’s the goal.”

Suddenly that doesn’t seem so far off. Of course a lot can happen in three weeks. But at the very least it means they’re star preemies right now.

So we’ll keep getting excited about weight gain and resulting developments. Before we know it, Search and Destroy will be home and we’ll be introducing all our friends and family to our giant babies.

Chubby 4-week-old Search

Chubby 4-week-old Destroy

It was bound to happen. Search and Destroy are currently healthy, rosy, little cherubs. So guess who got sick. You guessed it – Mom.

I was at lunch yesterday, after my morning visit with the muppets, when the restaurant suddenly became as warm as the arctic circle during a cold spell. By the time I shivered my way home I had a fever of 101. Teeth chattering, I called the NICU to let them know I wouldn’t be in for the boys evening bath. (Destroy – this does not mean you’re off the hook for your soggy bottom photo.)

The nurses told me the boys were doing great and that I should get some rest and take care of myself to get all better. So I crawled/fell into bed – highly amused at the latest speed bump on this motherhood ride (which may have been slightly influenced by the fever).

But like the nurses told me, the boys were both doing great. The boys have been competitive with one another since birth. With both developments and setbacks, they tend to follow each other closely. During our care conference (meeting with the NICU doctor, nurses and social worker), the doctor began by reminding us that twins mature at different rates and not to expect them to follow the same timeline. With that, our nurses shared that Search and Destroy both weighed exactly 1,200 grams today. (Yay for chubby cheeked kids!)

Search - 25 Days

During my pregnancy, Destroy was labeled Baby A because he was expected to arrive first. At the last minute (literally), Search debuted before his brother. The two were even born during the same minute; they’re 30 seconds apart in age. Both received the same Apgar score of 5/8. (The Apgar test occurs right after a baby’s birth at 1 and 5 minutes. It’s meant to evaluate their initial condition.)

As their first few days passed, the two traded off between who needed oxygen or assistance breathing. At first, Search got extra aid because he was working to hard to breathe. Three days later, Destroy started having recurring apnea episodes. Not to be outdone, Search followed suit that weekend with both apnea and bradycardia episodes.

Destroy - 25 Days

Search figured out how to rip his nasal cannula out several weeks ago. And when he’s not doing that, he’s got a death grip on his feeding tube. Destroy apparently watched his brother; he has now learned the same skill. As Search practiced his army crawl tactics in his effort to inchworm out of the NICU, Destroy discovered how to turn his head. Yesterday, when I went to visit with Destroy, I discovered his nasal cannula firmly ensconced in his mouth. Nice try dude. Today, Jon asked the nurse why Search no longer had his feeding tube in. “Ask him. He’s the one who took it out,” replied the nurse. Both of them now smile when a nurse has to get up to turn off a false monitor alarm.

As I shared in the Momma Bear post, Search needed a blood transfusion because his hematocrit levels tanked. Quick reminder – a drop in such levels isn’t abnormal for premature babes. In fact, we were expecting the possibility of a transfusion since both boys were slowly dropping. Search just wanted to be a showoff. Search got his blood last Wednesday. Demanding the same VIP treatment as his brother, Destroy received his transfusion on Sunday. Although his levels didn’t drop as quickly, Destroy planned ahead and received Dad’s blood. (You know, with all this talk about blood, perhaps I was subconsciously foreshadowing their needs with my Little Shop of Horrors reference.)

Both love their food. Search reached his full-feed levels before Destroy. But Destroy started taking an extra mL than his brother shortly thereafter. (Full-feed for their current size is 20mL and 24 calories per serving.) For added measure, Destroy also upped his caloric intake to 26 calories. Search matched his brother at 26 calories, but he hasn’t needed that extra mL yet.

All the eating is key to growing big and strong. One of the first questions we ask every morning is “How is their weight today?” Both have reached the upward trend we’ve been waiting for. Yet, there have still been a couple drops – usually of around 10-15 grams. Interestingly enough, the gains and losses seem to continuously equal each other out. Current score: 1,200 g all.

I bought them “The Hungry Caterpillar” today. Besides the fact that is precisely what Search looks like when he’s on the move, I feel it’s an appropriate theme for our muppets. The caterpillar eats and eats and eats and sleeps and emerges as a beautiful butterfly. Our boys will eat and eat and eat and sleep and emerge from the NICU. From their start as our little men to their lives as our big boys. Thank goodness Costco (and corresponding diapers, snack food, etc.) is on my way home from work.

And let’s play a new game. Who can be the healthiest? Winner gets to not be sick.

Happy Fathers Day. Normally, I’m not a big fan of Hallmark holidays, but this is Jon’s first Fathers Day. And what a ride it’s been. So, HAPPY FATHERS DAY JON!!!

I’ve always known Jon would make a phenomenal father. Ne’er an animal or child have I met that hasn’t instantly been taken with Jon. It’s pretty amazing to think how crazy the journey to fatherhood has been – and we’ve only had the muppets in our world for three weeks.

At the very start of this muppet caper Jon brought home an adorable little black dress for me. It was my first piece of maternity wear. “You can wear it to your shower,” he stated proudly. I’ve gotten to wear it once.

Jon sat next to me at the doctor’s office, mouth agape, when we first heard the babies heart beats. He sat stoically as we realized they were plural – a pair of babies.

During the first trimester, he tried to cook non-arf inducing foods. He never complained as he took away a dish on Friday that I’d loved on Tuesday. He stayed in on his 30^th birthday because even the thought of a restaurant made me arf a little bit.

Jon was with me at 16 weeks when we learned we were having two boys. He took that afternoon and discovered the names for our boys.

He made it to the hospital in five minutes flat at 22 weeks when I was admitted to Labor & Delivery. He sat with me as the doctor refused to give us good news. He shuttled back and forth from home to the hospital during the next six weeks – spending mornings and afternoons with me and taking care of our home during the evenings.

Jon sat awake all night on May 27 in an uncomfortable chair. He apologized to the nurses when I had a mild tantrum over the accessibility of water. He was by my side while I informed him that I did not like the contractions at all. He was the first to post on Facebook that we were about to meet the muppets when the doctors started prepping the OR.

He was the first to meet them after the whirlwind surgery circus. And he wheeled me over to meet them the next day.

I’ve seen him smile with a little man in his arms. And I couldn’t agree more with Jon’s assessment that “they’re pretty much the neatest things I’ve ever seen.”

To all those first time Fathers Day fathers – may your kiddos bring you all the joy in the world (and a decreasing level of stress as they grow).

• The Catalano’s and little Jackson
• The Cooperman’s and little Molly and Wyatt (Twins Rule!)
• The Dersom’s and little Emmarie
• The Francesconi’s and little Leila
• The Schulman’s and little Luke
• The Wright’s and little Jason
• All our fellow NICU parents – whoever you are we’re with you in hoping your babes grow up big and strong.

And these are just the little ones I know about.

To Grandpa Gary – for giving me the father of my children.

To Grandpa Gustavo – for decorating the house in pink streamers and blasting “Thank Heavens for Little Girls” when I was born, for putting up with me during my teenage years, for lasting no more than 15 seconds before bursting into tears when I call to tell you about your grandsons.

To Jon – here’s to our family. You were born to play this game.

A mother bear with her cubs is in her most aggressive state. Mother bears are dedicated to protecting their cubs and will attack if necessary.

I once played a mama bear. Literally. It was for a children’s theatre program during my junior year of college. Do you know what a 19 year old knows about the devotion of a mother to her cubs? In my case – absolutely nothing. I couldn’t even keep fish alive at that age. (Ok, I still can’t keep fish alive. But I’ve done well with reptiles and mammals since then.) It obviously wasn’t a very inspired performance…

Years before that performance, my high school self was in Lake Arrowhead (home of the infamous Blue Jay incident) with a friend. We peered down on my mother handling a “misunderstanding” with an unfortunate deliveryman. “Never mess with a mom,” my friend sagely stated. Now I understand what she meant.

The doctor called me yesterday morning, asking me to call him back as soon as possible (finishing his message with a quick statement that the boys were fine). I walked into the NICU three minutes later. Search needed a blood transfusion.

His hematocrit levels had tanked. Hematocrits are the proportion of blood volume that is occupied by red blood cells, delivering oxygen to the body. A drop in levels isn’t abnormal for premature babes, but the significance of Search’s drop was. The doctor didn’t know what had caused it. They needed to do additional labs and cultures to find out if he had hematosis (something destroying the red blood cells), an infection or some other rare disease causing a deficiency.

They drew a large amount of blood to test. They hooked Search up to an IV to give him a bag of O- blood. They injected him with antibiotics to stem any possible infection. They inserted a catheter to get a sample for a urine culture. They performed an ultrasound on his brain to check for any bleeding. His arm was wrapped in a sterile gauze arm board to prevent any kinks in the IV. Through it all, they poked and prodded him, kept him awake and generally stressed him out.

And through it all, I couldn’t hold him. I couldn’t soothe him and tell him everything was going to be okay. Because of all the medical stimulation, it was best to leave him alone in his isolette. Because his temperature had dropped, we couldn’t open the doors of his isolette to hold his hand.

And that hurt the most.

I didn’t like giving up control during my pregnancy, not knowing what was happening next. But I absolutely hate feeling like I can’t protect my baby. Why can’t I simply fix it? Why should he have to suffer?

I sat beside him. Just staring into the isolette. Telling him I was there. Letting him know everything would be okay. Praying he could hear my voice through the sterile plastic walls. Needing him to know that he wasn’t isolated in the isolette. Willing my wrath upon any germ, bacteria, virus or medical malady unknown to me that dare threaten my child.

I returned to the NICU this morning. Search was doing great; his numbers had gone up where they should rise and dropped where we wanted decreases. We still don’t know why his hematocrits dropped so suddenly, but the doctor assured me he was healthy as he scooted around, pink and plump, in his isolette.

I held him just to be sure. And like a mama bear, I will do everything I can to protect him. Against all villains no matter how large or small.

And you know what? This evening after his bath, my little man opened his eyes wide and smiled at me. A real smile. Then he fell asleep – soundly, securely and safely.

My son christened me into the world of moms with boys today. He peed on me. (Oh, I am a mom of constant sorrow…)

Pee Pee Teepee

I’d heard tales of such things before, laughed at them. There is even an available item out there called a “pee pee teepee – a must have diapering accessory for newborn boys.” (Yes, that pattern is indeed a wiener dog.)

Destroy managed to wiggle one leg out of his diaper while I was holding him. (We have brilliant and mobile children.) As an added bonus, he left an odiferous gift in the dangling diaper. Being a good mom, I was attempting to reattach a clean diaper to the little rascal. But as the stories go, as soon as I removed the dirty diaper and Destroy experienced the naked freedom of open air, the spigot opened. And he peed on me.

Destroy is only three weeks old. And as the pee pee teepee says, it’s meant for newborn boys. So for the next installment of family stories, I thought I would provide one from my own childhood – it’s related, even if it doesn’t involve a newborn.

Uncle Paul was five years old. Mom had finished reading aloud for the night and tucked my brother and me into bed. Paul fell fast asleep for the night. (I fell asleep too, but later woke up right quick.) Several hours later, Paul realized he had to pee. (Here’s where the phrase “follow the light” takes on a whole new meaning.)

Paul got out of his big boy bed and headed for the door. Yet, instead of going right – to the bathroom – Paul saw a light down the hall to the left. Turns out, our dad was lying on the floor, watching TV in the living room. In his still sleeping state, he followed the light.

Paul followed the light and trudged out toward the living room. He stopped in front my dad, dropped his drawers and started peeing.

Our dad started squealing in the highest pitched voice I have ever heard. “PAUL! PAUL! SHEEET!!! (this is a cussword shouted with a thick Italian accent) PAULINO!!!” (This is where I woke up.) Dad scooped Paul up and rushed him down the hallway. Completely oblivious, Paul continued peeing haphazardly about him – on the walls and on our dad. Our dad continued screeching, “PAUL! PAUL! SHEEET!!! PAULINO!!!”

Finally, they made it to the bathroom. Dad set Paul down in front of the toilet to finish his business. Paul promptly pulled his pants back up, turned around and walked back to bed. Dad was left standing in the bathroom trying to clean himself up and process what had just occurred.

I don’t think the pee pee teepee would have helped in that situation…

Thanks a lot Destroy. And oh, Brother, where art thou? Given the amount of diaper changes necessary, I’m sure you will pee on me soon enough. But know this: you will forever be my favorite soggy bottom boys.

Well, let’s be serious – obviously no actual rubber duckies were involved. They’re about the same size as our pint-sized water baby.

Search had a bath earlier this week. This wasn’t his first foray into the suds, but it was the first such adventure with Mom and Dad. He is one slippery little dude. But it is clear that he is a fan of the water. Someday I bet it will only take one parent to bathe the baby, but for now it takes two (and the added advice from the nurse).

First, you wash the babies hair. My babies have lots of hair – enough to visibly have bed head. I have never seen Search looking so relaxed. He remained calm and cozy in his blanket while we massaged his little head. His body language clearly expressing the thought, “Yes, they all cater to ME.”

They all cater to ME

After ensuring the quality of his luxurious locks, we lowered the little man into his tub. Ever the fan of his food, he assisted by holding tightly to his feeding tube. One of us held the slippery squirmer as best we could and the other applied soap and water. I have no doubt that as he gets older, splashing will be de rigueur when it comes to bath time.

We did have to endure a bit of screaming. At first I thought he was scared or getting too much stimulation. But one of the bath rituals in the NICU involves removing the sensors. Since they’re attached with stickers, I imagine this part of tub time is a lot like having multiple band-aids ripped off. Yeah, I’d be cranky too.

Search – I apologize now. I’m sure you will be less than thrilled with these photos when you’re older. And I promise to take photos of Destroy’s first bath with Mom and Dad as well. Because who in the world could resist such precious soggy bottom boys.

During his prior dunking, the never satisfied to be still Search, gripped the sides of his tub so tightly that his nurse had a dickens of a time prying him loose. He then attempted to stand up. Search’s aqua affinity from his bathing adventures present three possibilities: (1) You are currently reading about the next Michael Phelps, (2) Search feels his crawling efforts are beneath him and it’s time to walk or (3) how difficult could it really be to walk on water?

We bought a new car today. And with a heavy heart, I said goodbye to my trusty 1998 Honda Accord.

Farewell Friend

Sadly, this new car process turned out to be an all day event (broken up by our visits to the boys, of course) so today’s originally scheduled blog post has been postponed until tomorrow. But don’t fret – now you also get to look forward to reading about the whole new car back-story.

PS. I now drive a 2011 white Honda Pilot. Yes, I’m an SUV mom now… In my defense, I do have two kids.

Jon hit it in February. I’m rushing toward it in November. But today, it’s all about the twins. The big 3-0. Search and Destroy are 30 weeks along today. Even though they’re only two weeks old, they’re considered 30 weeks since preemies have an adjusted age based on their expected due date.

Both show extreme spirit, so if all continues along this path health-wise we hope to have them home in about six weeks. This morning Destroy was sleeping soundly on his tummy when the doctor came to examine him. Much to Destroy’s dismay, the doc put him back on his back. Destroy proceeded to squirm and fidget up the side of his bunting to return to his tummy. His half cries/squeaks clearly stated, “Put me back the way you found me!”

In contrast, his brother is working to perfect his little angel eyes. During Kangaroo time, Search likes to pull his head back and look up at us. It’s sweet, but it also correlates to a drop in his heart rate so we discourage it. Today when I went to turn his head, he looked up at me – eyes wide open and both tiny hands tucked under his chin – with a perfect “I could never do anything wrong” expression. Apparently, no one told our little inchworm Search (who decided to celebrate today by bringing his weight up to 1,030 grams) that he’s still too young to leave the NICU.

Search has also progressed from merely scootching his little tushy straight up in the air to adding an arched back and pressing himself forward. He is developing quite a repertoire, what with the previously acquired tube-ripping-out talent. Naturally, he still can’t crawl (though he’s sure trying) so he has turned himself into the Hungry Caterpillar. At this rate, I highly doubt he’ll be all that far behind his peers in the mobility category.

Both boys continue to tolerate their feedings extremely well. Out of all the wires they keep trying to rip out, the one they don’t seem to mind is the feeding tube. Instead of pouting and pulling at it, they simply lovely wrap their little fingers around the feeding tube and hold on tightly. I am envisioning many future trips to Costco with two growing boys in the house. Rumor has it bottle feeding may be as soon as two weeks away.

Luckily, we seem to be trending upward in size. We’ve been expecting their weight to start rising since they’re doing so well with their food. (Well, the nutrients they retain and don’t poop out.) As I mentioned, Search has plumped up to 1,030 grams and Destroy is up to 1,055 (about 2.3 pounds each).

All these feedings bring us right back around to pooping. The twins also excel at pottying. (Oh, are they going to love me for this blog when they’re older.) Regularity shows the nurses and doctors that their little gastrointestinal tracts are functioning properly. Both my little men are in big boy diapers. At first I worried that their gastrointestinal tracts were functioning too well – I thought they might never gain weight based on the not-so-little gifts wrapped so nicely in the aforementioned big boy diapers.

Yesterday, I changed Search’s diaper after I held him – he was quite wet. The nurse suggested we turn him onto his tummy to tuck him in for the night. (Both Search and Destroy love sleeping on their tummies and can do so because of the 24/7 monitoring in the NICU.) In the few seconds it took me to flip the little squirmer, his diaper was fully soiled. And I do mean that literally. His diaper was full – practically soaked through the outside. The nurse took one whiff, smiled and said, “That’s all you mom.”

Jon and I are getting quite good at diaper changing. But the boys are also getting more creative. When changing Destroy’s wet diaper yesterday, I put a new diaper under him and picked up the wipes. When I looked back, his bed bunting was soaked. Not just one small area – the entire bunting was a misty yellow. The fresh diaper, on the other hand, completely bone dry. Little Destroy had managed to pee out the side of his diaper. Medical professionals say they’re too young for emotions and that it’s likely just gas – but I still say Destroy smiled. He seemed pretty pleased with the mess he made.

It’s still rough – being in parenting limbo. But with each day, I’m starting to feel more like a parent. We’ve got our routine down and I’m learning the boys signs (like an apnea episode is a pretty clear sign that someone needs their diaper changed). Both are opening their eyes a lot more. And even if they can still only see hazy shapes, it’s heartwarming to think they’re looking to see that their parents are visiting.

Although, Search may also be looking to find the best escape route…

Search: 30 Weeks

Destroy: 30 Weeks