If we had been normal people, the boys would have been born today, or around this day. Today would have been 40 weeks.
But of course, with twins, a full gestation is 37 weeks. So they would have likely come before today, even if the end of the pregnancy hadn’t gotten, um, turbulent.
The boys are now just over a month old. They are damned cute.
We have had a parade of friends and family, helpers and visitors, and it’s been wonderful.
Here’s Cask and my mum. She says she wants to be called Gramma. But I sort of want to call her Grammum.
Here’s Grandpa, just before, and just after, Loyal ripped a tremendous fart in his lap. We have never celebrated so much over bodily functions.*
We’ve been home now for a number of weeks, and we are still getting settled into routines. We are loosely following a three hour feeding schedule, though we are allowing the boys to sleep longer at night. Our pediatrician said she was amazed at how much weight the boys have gained week over week. So whatever we are doing, we are doing well. She said if the guys want to sleep at night, let them. We still have at least two bleary-eyed night time feedings. But Dave and I switch off, allowing us both to get at least a five or six hour stretch of sleep.
In between feedings, the guys are usually asleep. They perk up before feedings and get very animated when they are hungry. And sometimes, they stay alert after we feed them, when they are all blissed out and milk drunk. We sometimes get fleeting smiles when they are relaxed with a full tummy.
So far, and I’m hesitant to even say this…the boys have been very easy to take care of. They don’t fuss much. And when they do fuss, there is almost always a reason. And really, there are only three or four reasons why they might get crabby. When you eliminate those reasons, they stop fussing. For the most part, they sleep.
Cask does seem to articulate his whole digestive process, which has been totally entertaining. He grunts more than a barnyard full of piggies. When he is hungry, he desperately, frantically wants to be fed. But then after every swallow, he makes a little contented gulp sound. Then his system starts responding, and he starts squirming and grunting. Then his face turns red. And he grunts and squirms. And it could go on for a very long time. And he sometimes cries, which is a little heartbreaking. It shouldn’t be such an ordeal to poo.
For Loyal, he is mostly quiet and super observant. Until he’s pissed. He doesn’t ramp up his fussing. When he cries, he just belts it out. And his shrieks can be earsplitting. But they are also cute as hell, because he sounds like a little squeaky toy.
Both of them calm down so quickly that their crying doesn’t throw us into a panic. We haven’t had hours of mindless crying. We’ve needed to hold or soothe our boys, but I haven’t yet lost my shit wondering what the hell might be wrong with either of them.
I sort of realize that we are very lucky, or at least, we have been lucky so far. We’ve been able to take these guys to the farmers market, we’ve gone for long drives, we’ve taken them to the park a couple times.
So far, they have been really, really good on all these excursions. They are super mellow. If they want to eat, we feed them. If they need to be changed, we change them. If they flail around and wake themselves up, we swaddle them tight and they usually fall back asleep. They are really good babies.
I feel like this quiet, mellow stage is temporary. Soon enough, they are going to be more awake. They will become more aware, and they will need much more interaction.
And maybe they become little hellions. Who knows? They’ll still be pretty cute.
*(This might be an exaggeration. We have always done a lot of celebrating about bodily functions in our household).