Twinapalooza

Yesterday was Memorial Day. On many fronts. Most of you are Zuckerberged to me through the magic of The Social Network and so were party to my minute-by-minute account of the twins' arrival. Unlike Dillon and Reese, there was an actual labor. And though with Reese, we rushed to the hospital to avoid the Snowpocalypse, we had plenty of time before she arrived.

But yesterday, Eva's water broke around 2 p.m., and we found ourselves once again racing for the hospital. And we made it just as they were putting in the epidural. We'd barely arrived before Baby A was crowning - and subsequently born with one gentle push. And four-and-a-half minutes later, Baby B emerged feet-first.

Elyssa Anne arrived calmly, delicately, small-ly. Under six pounds, her features are doll-like. Her hands tiny with miniature fingers. Her feet, however, are long and thin and capped with monkey toes. Ethan Carter worked himself around into breech position, requiring the doctor to pull him out feet first and squalling for all he was worth. And while his sister basked peacefully under the heat lamp, he wailed himself fully red as a beet.

When Reese was born, I felt awe at the miracle of life, delivered in an instant into the room and the world. With Elyssa and Ethan, I felt awe at the magnificence of Eva, a determined vessel that nourished 13 pounds of baby. She was in the hospital on Sunday after straining a ligament under her belly, and I started to worry that her dedication to keeping the twins until late in her term was going to tear her to pieces. Yesterday, with quiet strength and grit, she delivered two lives into this mad world. She lay spent on the bed, listening to the music of two cries, and I thought, "Wow, what a woman."

Dear PenMen: Contemplations on Everyonceinawhile and Other Moments in Time

Seeing as how we might, at this point, be the only ones reading each other's blogs, I figured it was okay to directly address the two of you. Plus, I had this feeling of wanting to write, but what? And then I thought I could just write what I would tell Pen and M.

It's raining here right now, and while soothing, I find this greatly disappointing because I need to mow my lawn. I was all geared up for it, too: The First Mowing. But I know if I actually do that after the torrential rain (accompanied by copious thunder and lightning) that I will have wet grass stuck to my ankles and big clumps of grass clippings to dig out of the bag. That seems like not the experience to have for The First Mowing, and so I will think of my ever-growing lawn as a verdant carpet instead of an overgrown grass pouf to ease my conscience.

I finished reading this book last night that was so good - one of my indulgently trashy romance novels. And sometimes, they're just like reading candy - totally empty calories that go in and pass through with no real nutritional value. But everyonceinawhile, I find one that's more like...designer candy. Still no real nutritional value, but something extra luxurious about the indulgent experience. I think it could have to do with the fact that Mom and Dad went to see Anna, and I was blissfully alone and slept on the couch when I got home and then woke up and read and read and read - skipping dinner - until I finished. That's the kind of reading one needs to do everyonceinawhile to really fortify the soul.

Yesterday was a fantastical, magical day at work. Everyonceinawhile, a very great while in fact, the stars align in this way that you get exactly what you work so hard for the other 3oo-some-odd days of the year. To get a story in the ACRONYM Today is something of a Holy Grail of PR. And then, to find out later that the pitch you made to a certain other nationally renowned publication like FOUR-BES, actually got picked up, too? Well, it just doesn't get any better than that. Except that it happened to be my three-year anniversary with the company, and The Linguista and I went to my favorite Mexican restaurant and drank frozen margaritas at lunch.

The Exotic is getting so close to her due date, and it's starting to make me a bit sad. What will I do without her calming presence in the office? She does yoga so I don't have to, and she offers me zen-by-proxy when I need it. I think I will feel spectacularly off when she's on maternity leave.

I am, however, excited about the next couple of months, which are rife with the kind of adventures I never have. On Monday is David Gray/Ray LaMontagne, the dreamiest of dream concerts. I'm taking one of the Big City interns with me, and it will be delight. And then we will enter the string of weeks from September to October when I have something all the time rather than everyonceinawhile to keep me occupied. Like a trip to D.C.! Mountain Day! Dallas to see Joel McHale with my Texas Twin in our Texas office! Valle Crucis! Company retreat! Oh my! Plus there are two volunteer events on my calendar in September and one in October, plus dinners and drinks with friends (yes! friends!). At times like these, I feel like...maybe I'm doing a better job than I think of carpe diem and not letting the fact that I'm not exactly where I want to be on The Great Life Continuum keep me from doing things that make this place on it so much better.

Despite the rain, I think it's time to pack the Rav and take a load over to My House where I will clean the bathrooms and dress them nicely with the bathmats and matching towel sets I purchased last week. And then I will stand back and contemplate that I could actually be moving soon in a way that is good and comfortable. And then I might be able to think about new companions for my sad heart - still so hard to let go of Kudzu, but so clear to me that I need that comfort from the four-legged varietal.

Wishing you both everyonceinawhile days.

xo,
Ash

Name Game

Dillon's friend Luke has a new baby brother.

Dillon: What's Luke's brother's name?

Eva: His name is Zane.

Dillon: But why?

Eva: Well, because Luke's mom and dad liked that name.

Dillon: Well, if I have another baby, I'm going to name it Fred the Kong.

Dear Addie:

While you haven't quite made it here yet, you're so close to joining us that I'd like to go ahead and celebrate this Mother's Day with you. I would like to start by thanking you for turning of your own volition into proper arrival position so that your mom didn't have to undergo this sort of terrifying sounding process to get you that way.

Soon you will be with us, with your cherubic newborn cuteness overwhelming us all. And your arrival will mark the point where your mom becomes, well, a mom officially. You won't ever think about it for a long, long time, but there was life before you for your mom. While you're growing up, she will always just be "Mom" and you'll never think about who she was before that. That's where I come in, because I knew your mom before she was Mom. When she was just Kim. Okay, that's not true. She was never *just* Kim because she was always in possession of a larger than life personality. And a wildly hilarious sense of humor. And a stellar rendition of "It's So Unusual" that she sang in a smoky, smoky karaoke bar in this little seaside town that will be so far from where you grow up that you'll keep forgetting where it was that your mom went to school.

But know this, dear Addie. That you are going to have the coolest mom who is going to love you so much more than she can say. And she's going to make you laugh and tell you crazy stories that are the figments of her imagination. She's going to teach you how to read and how to play the trombone and how to make sock monkeys. She's going to sing you "Me & Bobby McGee" like it's a lullaby, and you won't know until you're at least 15 that Janis Joplin lullabies are rad. She's never going to make you eat things you don't like - especially baked beans. And mayonnaise. She's going to drive you around in her car with the fuzzy steering wheel while the two of you sing "Got to be Startin' Something" and she's going to take you to Krispy Kreme where you'll buy donuts with the spare change in the car.

On this Mother's Day - your first - I wish you safe passage into this world. I wish you to know how loved you are already, and how much more loved you'll be in the coming days, weeks, and years. I wish you a good beginning to a life that will be filled with happiness and imagination and love. And I wish you good friends - the kind of friends your mom and me are. The kind of friendship that happens almost by magic, that is some unseen powerful force, that will carry you through the best and the worst. That will have you saying for years, "Remember that time we..." and loving that you have the past, the present and the future to be friends.

Happy Mother's Day, Addie. And Happy Mother's Day to my beloved friend Kim.

Love,
Ashley

Reese Marie

Reese Marie
March 2, 2009
1:45 p.m.
7 lbs., 12 oz.
19 inches

And for the record, I went back there. I was present at the moment of birth and it was both transcendent and educational. It took awhile for the adrenaline to wear off...for the come down after it all. But, now that I'm back at home and have a moment to reflect, it was really quite beautiful. And I miss her already.

Just Me & the Boys: An Update

For some reason - is it because I' m a girl? - I keep getting asked if I want to go back to the labor and delivery room. Umm. No. I do not. Like, why is it okay for my dad and Eva's dad and brother and (although less surprisingly) The Barrister to park it in front of daytime TV? But me? They keep prodding. "You can go back if you want." Why would I want to go back there? I want to see the baby, sure. But after it's ungoopified and smelling nice and wrapped in swaddling clothes. I do not need to see the actual emergence into the world. That is all.

And for the record, an epidural is in place and I expect we'll be getting push reports from "back there" before long.

Labor & Delivery

At the moment, The Barrister and I are sitting in the waiting room watching snippets of Dr. Phil addressing the Octo-Mom in his typical incongruous metaphors. I can't really pay attention. Part of me want to go back to sleep...seeing as how we fled the storm of the decade that unceremoniously dropped six-plus inches of snow at home and arrived at Anna's just before 9 last night. And then got up at 6:30 this morning to get ready for the baby's arrival. Not that this chair is all that comfortable, but I am rather tired.

I walked back to the delivery room to say hello to Eva...she's having contractions about ten minutes apart. It was cool to hear the baby's heartbeat. But the machines, the tubes, the hospitalness of it all. I'm content to be stuck with Dr. Phil and now experts on rosacea. Mom had suggested that I might want to stay in the delivery room...but. No. I think I'll wait until Reese is here and wearing a cute little hat before I get involved. Stay tuned...

It's a...

Every girl needs great shoes.

Sugar and Spice or Snakes and Snails?

Please do not be deceived by its less-than-recent mention here at the Jungle: a new niece or nephew is well on her/his way. Eva's sporting a lovely bump, the greenness has subsided, and she's starting to eat again. It's hard to believe that the arrival is just five months away.

Monday is the big day for discovering the nieceness or nephewness of the new baby - provided that her/his modesty doesn't overcome the power of the ultrasound.

That being said...any guesses on the identity of my new lambie?

Great Expectations

It is with great pleasure that I announce that I'm going to be an aunt for the second time around. Justin and Eva are adding another one to the fold, and their family of three will be four come March.

They heard the baby's heartbeat early last week, and the doctor pronounced it strong and healthy. Unfortunately for poor Eva, she's feeling a bit green.

And me? At first, I felt trepidations - what if I don't connect with the new baby like I have with Dillon? And then, I remembered the day Dillon arrived, a totally unknown quantity, sparking the deepest, most unconditional love. And then I thought...I can hardly wait.

She is 16 Going on 17

Yesterday, I debated about whether or not to post about the ongoing media maelstrom surrounding the Spears family and its latest announcement that its youngest (and most wholesome) member of the family is pregnant. At 16. But I just can't help myself.

As everyone knows by now, unless you live under a rock, Jamie Lynn Spears is pregnant with her 19-year-old boyfriend's baby. A fact she and Mama Spears decided to disclose to the world on the cover of OK!.

All day as the headlines rotated on Yahoo! and the news tidbits appeared on Perez Hilton, I couldn't muster any snark at all about the situation. In fact, it made me almost sick to my stomach. While I don't want to sit here and judge her, I felt weird about seeing her on the cover of a magazine making her teenage pregnancy announcement and somehow making it seem normal?

When I was looking for a photo to post with this, I found the pregnancy story with a comment thread. One girl had written that she was happy for Jamie Lynn and that she thought she seemed responsible and would make a good parent. And I wondered - and it's impossible to really know - if I would've thought anyone would've made a good parent when I was sixteen. And now that I'm older, I know how very silly and stupid you are when you're sixteen. Though STGD pointed out that JLS has lived in the spotlight and probably does have a slightly elevated maturity, it can't be discounted that she still is just 16.

Maybe this is going to be the new norm. Maybe we're going to get all Victorian and go back to settling down before turning into old maids at the ripe old age of 18. Man, I am a spin-ster.

Remember Sam?

You may recall my request for thoughts and prayers for my friend Laura's son Sam, who was in neonatal ICU back in August just after he was born. I was catching up on Laura's news from her blog, and thought you might like to see how well he's doing.

All these happy little baby boys - Sam and now Pen's Nicholas and Andi's Wyatt. The next generation of heartbreakers.

Update on Little Sam

Over the last few days, Sam has been getting better and better. The doctors have taken him off the respirator, and he is improving "by leaps and bounds," according to Mommy and Daddy. Further tests need to be run to confirm there are no further complications, but he may get to go home by the middle of next week. Laura and Russ have both been able to hold him and feed him - and Laura's been able to change a diaper (lucky her!). It looks like Sam is only getting stronger. Thanks for pulling for him! I know Laura appreciates it.

Good Thoughts Requested

My very good friend from college - and specifically from the hallowed halls of Oak Hill - Laura had her third baby last Wednesday, August 1. Samuel Owen is her first boy, weighing in at 6 lbs., 11 oz. and measuring 19.75" long. Little Sam is having trouble breathing on his own and is in NICU on a respirator. Please keep him, his mother and father, and his two big sisters in your prayers and good thoughts.

Them's Fightin' Words

When I arrived at Eva & Justin's house last week, I interrupted play group. This means that I walked into the kitchen filled with four mothers and six children. Eva had warned me, knowing that there's no love lost between me and other people's children.

I was handling it pretty well, seeking refuge at one end of the kitchen table and trying to make polite conversation and keep up with talk of Exersaucers and Johnny Jump Ups. Eva had just finished feeding Dillon and handed him off to me to take one of the other mothers to see a project she'd been working on. He fussed, and I checked his diaper and confirmed that it was wet. I said as much aloud.

That's when one of the mommies totally overstepped bounds. In this voice one would use to speak to a child, she said, "Since Auntie Ashley is holding Dillon, will she change the diaper?"

In my head, I turned to her and said, "Don't patronize me or I will cut you." But in real life, I simply gathered Dillon up and headed off to change him. And she followed me. Standing over my shoulder, she cooed to her own infant, as though giving her approval, "Look at Auntie Ashley go!"

I held my temper in check, but I was so enraged that I couldn't quite get over it. What was it about this woman's ridiculous behavior that had me itching to lash out at her? Perhaps it was due in part to facing one of those moments when I felt more Bridget Jones-esque than ever, surrounded by the Mom Squad with their infants and toddlers, and me wondering if they were feeling sorry for me or thinking "tick tock, tick tock." But more than that - because I didn't feel this Hulkish rage toward anyone else - I think it was her condescension to insinuate that I would be too squeamish or too inept to change a diaper. And no disrespect to the moms out there, but rocket science it ain't.

I couldn't help thinking about the book I blogged about recently that called women on the carpet for being stay-at-home moms. In that moment, I found myself faced with the complete opposite opinion - someone who thought that they could talk down to me, treat me like a child, because I am unmarried and childless. I was angry at the woman, and I was angry at myself because, what does her judgment matter to me? She isn't someone I know, and certainly (after this) someone I respect. Why should I allow her to make me feel so inadequate about myself? It was dispicable, really.

But there, with her cooing her baby-talk commentary, I seriously considered punching her in the mouth. And I'm pretty sure I'd have been sent to timeout.

A Mistake in Judgment

I came across an article on Yahoo last night about a new book called The Feminine Mistake by Leslie Bennetts. I couldn't find the same article this morning, but I did find this insightful piece about the book on Salon.

In the book Bennetts makes a call to arms for young women not to sacrifice career in order to stay at home with children. Her argument is rooted in staying self-sufficient, maintaining earning power (which drops 37% after just three years out of the workplace) and being prepared for a husband or partner who loses his job, develops a drug, alcohol or gambling problem, or skips out on the marriage for a newer model (usually one, according to Bennetts, who is more career-minded).

Bennetts' arguments are not new. In fact, this debate has been going on since women entered the workplace, and I suspect it will go on for generations to come. In my view, the stay-at-home or stay-at-work choice is intensely personal. I have close friends who come down on both sides of the fence for reasons that are personal and economic. So that is not why I call attention to this article.

Instead, I call attention to the crux of the first paragraph of Joan Walsh's review: If female fear and self-doubt were ever eradicated, the publishing industry would collapse....no matter the issue, the premise is pretty much the same: We're doing something wrong. And in the article I read last night, Bennett was quoted as saying, "Women are so defensive about their choices." Well, no wonder. We're under attack from all sides for what we did or didn't do.

Look at me. I'm 27-going-on-28, unmarried and childless. For every person who thinks I'm living the life, there's someone to judge me as inept, incomplete, or just plain sad. A career may be completion to some, and for others, I simply haven't found my purpose until I have a baby. There's judgment for all of our choices, and most of the time, they come from other women.

We have so many choices today - which is a blessing and a curse. Believe me, I'm thankful for that - if I ever needed further convincing, I could revisit my Women's Lit text or rent HBO's Iron-Jawed Angels to reaffirm that we've got the long end of the stick. But because our place isn't dictated by society anymore, it's dictated by us. Which puts an enormous amount of pressure on choosing a direction.

The freedom to choose has also given birth to some sort of inherent insecurity about those choices. Instead of banding together and supporting each other and embracing the classic viewpoint that it takes all kinds, we spend our time defending ourselves to each other in case anyone should think we've failed womankind by taking a certain path.

All this to say that I find people like Bennetts distasteful. Her need to push her lifestyle choice to the front, to suggest that anyone who doesn't go that way is damning herself to a life of misery, points to insecurity rather than certainty. I know several stay-at-home moms who are very happy, in healthy, stable relationships and very fulfilled by the time they spend with their children. I also know a number of women who work every day and love and support their children just as much as the stay-at-homers.

Beyond the Mommy Wars, the pressure to have the right career, choose the right husband, be the right kind of homemaker is overwhelming. The Have It All Agenda is still out there, providing the illusion that we can have it all with no sacrifice - and that anything short of the sum total of all the facets of wife, mother, career woman, and individual - doesn't add up.

Yet, I think of the women I know and the choices they've made - my mother who gave up an excellent job to stay home. Pen, who stays at home and Andi, who is a working mom. Niki, who's pursuing law, and Jenn, who's pursuing social work. All of the women who read this blog and are career women, students, writers, mothers, wives, friends. And I'm proud of them all for making the decision that was right for them. No judgment. Other than I think you're all amazing women.

A Very Happy Announcement

I am overjoyed to announce that my nephew Dillon Bradley arrived today at 4:47 p.m. at Northside Hospital, shown here with his proud papa. He weighs 8 lbs., 6 oz. and is 21.5 inches long. According to Mama, he is very bald except for some light fuzz and has blue eyes. According to Justin, he is perfect. So far in life, he does not like baths - he told me so over the phone.

Eva is tired, but doing well. A mishap with her first epidural gave them a scare and briefly put her in terrible pain. But after that, the delivery went fairly smoothly. Eva did admit that at one point, she demanded that the doctor pull him out instead of making her push again, but I guess they settled that score.

Everyone is happy and healthy. And this aunt is already madly in love.

It's 4:30 a.m. on a Tuesday

A line from my favorite Counting Crows song "Perfect Blue Buildings" shows that my nephew already has good taste in music. Since that's when he started to make his appearance. Eva started labor around 4 a.m. this morning - oddly enough on her due date and just prior to being induced. Contractions reached about 4 minutes apart by the time they went to the hospital at their scheduled appointment at 6. I spoke to Justin while the nurses were prepping the delivery room, and he sounded good. I, on the other hand, almost started to cry. Updates as they come...

Dillon's Day Has Come!

Justin and Eva went to the doctor today and have been scheduled to induce tomorrow morning! They're checking into the hospital bright and early at 6 a.m. to start the process. Dillon could make his appearance any time after they administer the pitocin, but the doctor advised them it would probably be early afternoon. After much family debate, I am sadly not going to go for the birth due to time and travel constraints. But I did buy a plane ticket to fly into Atlanta on Thursday evening so that I can visit with him once he's at home - and I can stake sole claim on him since everyone else will already have seen him. Birth announcement to follow as soon as I know something. I'm already on pins and needles with anticipation!!

Taking His Own Sweet Time

Eva had her weekly doctor's appointment with the man who's gotten us all a-flutter about the baby's arrival the past two visits. Despite his predicition of a weekend arrival, all was quiet on the western front and Dillon stayed put.

Today he declared that she had made progress and dilated to two centimeters. (I feel like the Count - TWO! TWO CENTIMETERS!) And she could go any time now - just like he's been saying. Next Tuesday is her due date, and if she hasn't gone before then, she has the option to induce. Now, this seems really strange to me. Shouldn't the doctor make the call whether or not he's going to induce? Shouldn't that be an educated medical decision and not when-do-we-want-the-baby's-birthday-to-be? No word yet on what decision the expectant parents will make. But I must say, a Tuesday birthday would be most inconvenient for Auntie Ashley, Dillon, and if you could see fit to come out, say, Friday night, that would be most appreciated. I'll buy you something nice. I promise.