With our laptop being fried, I’m a little late in posting photos and such (I’m blogging from work on my break right now), but I did want to get some photos up from last weekend, when my parents were here visiting their two favorite little dudes…

Another shot of Wes's first teeth

Is it me, or is he absolutely adorable?

Grandma being careful not to give Wes too much

Wes LOVES Mum Mums (thanks for the rec, Jenny!)

Max getting some love from Grandpa

Serious Max

Happy Max

Wes and Grandpa

Grandpa reading Max "Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb"

Two little baldies reading Dr. Suess

Ironically, Wes was wearing his monkey jammies

Max's favorite face now - he's feeling out his new teeth!

Squeaky clean

Kerry

Yesterday I changed the main color of the blog from green to purple in honor of the Nov 17th Fight For Preemies day.  Afterwards, both Kerry and I thought - why not keep it this way through the end of the month – it is Prematurity Awareness month after all.  So, for the remainder of the month, the site will be purple and will have banners dedicated to the March of Dimes.  Please follow the banners and read up of all that is and all that can be done to help fight prematurity.  Thank you!

Jeff

You’ve all read about how I have guilt issues regarding Max and Wes’s early arrival, but I don’t think I’ve ever conveyed it to the general public (and those who’ve never had experience with premature birth) exactly what it means to me that I am a parent of preemies.  When I posted my birth story, I was on a large amount of drugs to control the pain of both the c-section and the cerclage removal.  As I said in that post, I was “blissfully unaware” of how I would feel days, weeks, and months after the birth of our boys.  I definitely wasn’t prepared for the feelings of guilt, sadness, jealousy, anger, confusion, and fear that I would feel just because Max and Wes were born prematurely.

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It means that a good majority of the maternity clothes I waited three years to buy sat in my closet, barely worn or not worn at all.  This includes the jeans I spent a RIDICULOUS amount of money on because they made my very large pregnant booty look fantastic.

It means that the “list” I had taken several hours to excitedly write out was obsolete.  I didn’t have time to pack my hospital bag with fuzzy slippers, nursing tanks, and my good luck charm (that I had taken with me to the egg retrieval, embryo transfer, and every single doctor’s appointment I had). 

It means that my childbirth experience was extremely traumatic.  I never got to experience labor or contractions (that I could *really* feel anyway).  I never felt the excitement of being told that I was fully dilated.  I was in an operating room – scared and immensely worried about the health of both myself and our unborn children.  Would they be too small?  Too underdeveloped?  Too weak?  Would their lungs be strong enough to take those first few breaths?  Would I hear them cry?  Did I wait too long to come in (since my water had broken almost 12 hours before)?  Would there be infection?  Would I lose too much blood?  Would I die – never being able to know the joy of being a mother?  I’m sure that time was hard for Jeff, too.  The moment we had both waited so long for was stolen from us.  Instead of seeing my husband’s eyes fill with tears of happiness, elation, and pride, I saw them fill with tears of worry, nervousness, and empathy.  He didn’t get the chance to proudly march our boys into a waiting room full of anxious family members.  Instead he had the duty of calling our family and friends to tell them that our boys were born early, and to ask them to pray that everything would be okay.

It means that the first time I got to hold our boys wasn’t moments after giving birth to them like I had imagined, it was almost two full days later.  I realize that we were incredibly lucky to have gotten the chance to hold them so soon, as other parents of premature babies are forced to wait days, or even weeks before holding their little one(s) for the first time.

It means that even though we were freaked out about “not being ready” for the boys to come home, it didn’t matter anyway as they spent the first 43 and 51 days of their lives in a small room in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Swedish Hospital.  Their “coming home outfits” didn’t fit until they were almost four months old.

It means I was cheated out of my much-anticipated maternity leave.  I spent virtually every single day of my maternity leave in Max and Wes’s NICU room.  Most of the time during the week I was alone.  Some of the time I was with a friend, a nurse, a respiratory therapist, the social worker, or the NICU Chaplin.  I didn’t get to hold the boys much during the day because I wanted to save the few precious minutes that we got skin-to-skin contact with them for when Jeff was with me at night.

It means that instead of toting our boys around town once they were discharged from the hospital, we were toting their oxygen tanks behind us as we carried them from room to room.  Even the most simple task of changing one of their outfits was a chore because of all of the tucking and looping and disconnecting tubing we had to do.  Don’t even get me started on bath time.

It means that (because of their compromised immune systems) we can’t take them out during RSV season, which runs for 7-8 months out of the year (during the cooler months), until their lungs are a little more mature.  This means no dinners out as a family, no birthday parties, no large family gatherings (as the risk of them catching an infection or cold is too high – especially if there are children there), etc.  This will be the first Thanksgiving in Jeff and I’s almost 9 years together that we aren’t with his family for Thanksgiving, and that saddens me to no end. 

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With all of that said, it also means that we are some of the lucky ones.  We are the parents who actually got to bring home their babies from the NICU.  The ones who didn’t have to worry about making funeral arrangements and/or picking out a casket for their child(ren) during what should have been one of the happiest times in their lives.  The ones who don’t have a nursery filled with a crib (or cribs), dresser, toys, clothes…but no baby (or babies).  Saying that we are thankful and grateful and incredibly blessed to be among “the lucky ones” is an understatement.  It is something that both Jeff and I will never ever take for granted.  Ever. 

We blog for the preemies and families that were not so lucky.

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Looking on the positive side of our “situation”, it also means that I have a plethora of maternity clothes that I have been able to loan to friends and family – some of them BRAND NEW!

It means that I had less junk to haul back to our house after I was discharged.  Unless you count the countless bouquets of flowers, baby clothes, and gifts from friends and loved ones.  I had so many flowers in my room that I actually had to leave some behind for the nursing staff (or Jeff’s allergies would have gone berserk).

It means that I never got to experience an attempted vaginal delivery (both boys were breech).  Can you imagine???  Ouchie.

It means that unlike some women, I will ALWAYS remember the first time they handed me our little Wes (and handed Jeff our little Max).  I will forever have the look on Jeff’s face etched into my memory.  The tears that flowed out of both of our eyes because we were holding our little miracles.  So unreal.

It means that we had extra time to get our house and our lives ready for the invasion of Max and Wes.  We got more time to cuddle in bed – just the three of us (Rex).  More time to prepare for the chaos that has since taken over our lives.  Looking back, I wish we would have taken Debbie and Jan’s (our primary nurses) advice to “catch up on sleep while we can” because God knows I would now kill for those few extra hours of sleep we were getting every night!

It means that our boys got to spend their first three months at home with their daddy as their primary caregiver.  Jeff probably wouldn’t have taken 12 weeks off work (unpaid) if I had been able to be home with them, and I wouldn’t take that time away from my husband for anything.  I strongly believe that time with their daddy was both needed and wanted by both Jeff and our children.

It means that when they no longer had to rely on oxygen, things seemed a hell of a lot easier.  We could actually carry the boys from room to room without tripping over tubing or bumping our elbows on the door jams.  We reveled in the glory of no oxygen tanks for a good month after they were gone (and by “gone”, I mean not hooked up to the boys anymore – the oxygen company was full of excuses as to why they couldn’t pick up our tanks, so Jeff had to drive the tanks to them!).

It means that we get more quality time as a family of five (Rex).  Time when we get Max and Wes allllll to ourselves.  Time when we are the only ones who get to see the way they reach out to each other from across the floor, grasping each others’ hands tightly and not letting go until a new toy appears.  Time where we take in the giggles, the tears, the massive blowouts, the pouty lips, the screaming fits, the wide-eyes, the babbling, the crying – everything we had ever hoped for during those three long years.  Three long years of treatments, drugs, needles, tears, money, doctors, catheters, tears, money, “special little rooms” and “special little cups”, more doctors, nurses, tears, money, counseling, pregnancy announcements, baby showers, tears, and money.  We get our Hail Mary.  Our miracles of science.  Our perfect, healthy, happy, cuter-than-all-getout – Maxwell Allen and Weston Skinner.

Kerry

Would I have ever dreamed that we would have two amazing little boys?  No. 

Once we were pregnant, could I ever have imagined the struggle ahead of us?  Absolutely not. 

But the reality is that nearly 500,000 babies are born preterm every year in the United States, nearly 20 million worldwide.  Those numbers are not even the scary part for me – having gone through the heartache of having Max and Wes being born 10 weeks early was the scary part.  Every day you worry.  Every single day.  Hell, I still worry, even though our boys are doing so great. 

The day our boys were born, I wasn’t able to imagine that they would one day be our handsome, growing, laughing, smiling boys that they have become.  Seeing how frail and helpless they were was so draining for me (us), both physically and emotionally.  The care the boys received immediately after they were born was nothing short of amazing.  The care Kerry and I received from the hospital staff helped to keep us in the right frame of mind so that we could better provide for our boys when they needed it the most.  Today I just can’t help but be excited and anxious for which amazing milestone will happen next!  To go from hopeless to hopeful in a few short months is very sobering. 

Not all preemie stories have the happy ending ours has had, and we are thankful every single day that we are some of the lucky ones.  Today we blog for EVERY preemie – those we know, and those we don’t.  Those who have lived, and those who have passed.  We blog because of how much this has changed our lives.  We blog to raise awareness.  We blog because this was the path that was chosen for us. 

Jeff

 Today, we blog for our little miracles, Maxwell Allen and Weston Skinner.

Max

Wes

We blog for Emma.  For Hudson and Miles.  For Dylan.  For Drew and Regan.  For Jackson.  For Noah and Zach.  For Ethan.  For Dylan and Carter.  For Madeline.  For Avery and Kyla.  For the other preemies of friends who we may have forgotten…we blog for you, too.

According to the March of Dimes report on premature births, nearly 13 million babies worldwide are born prematurely each year.  This means about 9.6 percent of all babies born experience a preterm birth.  Half a million of these premature births are in the United States.  More than one million premature babies die each year, and those who are lucky enough to survive often face serious health challenges and risk lifelong disabilities.

On Tuesday, November 17th, you can show your support for March of Dimes Fight for Preemies by blogging about a baby you love, or blogging about prematurity to help raise awareness about premature births.  The Fight for Preemies is being organized by Bloggers Unite and the March of Dimes to raise awareness of the crisis of premature birth. Bloggers are invited to get involved by spreading the word about the Fight for Preemies and to post a blog on November 17th (remember that November is Prematurity Awareness Month).  We invite and encourage everyone who reads our blog to either blog about a preemie today, or leave a comment in this post on how you’ve been touched by a preemie, whether it’s Max and Wes, or another precious baby (or babies).

Jeff & Kerry

I know I had promised that I would upload more pictures from last weekend with my sister, but our home laptop finally bit the dust, and I’m too impatient to upload photos from our s-l-o-w desktop (Jeff brought home his work laptop this weekend, thank goodness).  We’ve had a busy week!  Kristy left on Sunday night, and we had many restless nights during the work week because of a little thing called teething.  I’m hoping those sleepless nights are behind us for a few weeks/months since Max and Wes now have two tiny little teeth that just broke through the gums a few days ago.  Another big development with the boys is that they are both crawling, which they just seemed to “get” overnight.  It’s so fun to watch them “race” to get a certain toy or book – they are VERY competitive!

My parents are here for the weekend, so I don’t want to take too much time writing, but I will leave you will some pictures from the last week…

Wes "performing" for Aunt Kristy

It's true, Max is a boob man

Wes LOVED Aunt Kristy's iPhone!

And Max loves his Aunt Kristy

M&W with Aunt Kristy and Great Aunt Jan

Wes wondering who that handsome devil is in the mirror

I'm not sure Wes appreciates being the "Free gift with purchase"

Awww, the BoGo returns (thanks for the onesies, LeAnn)!

Our friends (who live in Texas), Jeff and Whitney, brought over their 11 week old, Tyler, to visit - he's a big boy!

I had so much fun holding little Tyler!

Kerry

Thursday – We spent a couple of hours outside with our boys, enjoying the crisp fall weather while the fire department inspected our house to make sure we didn’t have a gas leak, carbon monoxide, or radon.  We will never know for sure, but we think the smell was the glue or solvent fumes coming over from our next-door neighbor’s (dead guy, for those of you who’ve heard us talk about him) hardwood floor installation.  Max and Wes LOVED the flashing lights of the fire truck, and we were really relieved that it wasn’t anything serious – better to be safe than sorry, right?

Friday – My sis flew in for the weekend!  Before I went to pick her up from the airport, Jeff and I took advantage of the beautiful night to take some pictures of our favorite little dudes.

I went to pick Kristy up from the airport Friday night, and we went straight to Michael Jackson’s This Is It – and it was sooooo good!  I’m so glad I could count on my sis to see the movie with me (and enjoy it as much as I did), because God knows Jeff would have never watched it with me.  A little Kerry trivia for those of you who don’t know my love for MJ – in elementary school, I once got my name written on the chalkboard with three, yes THREE, checkmarks for insisting that Michael Jackson was my brother.  The teacher wanted me to tell everyone that I lying about the “fact” that he was my brother, and I refused – so I stayed after school for almost an hour.  Good times.

Friday night was a rough one for the boys.  Kris and I came home to Jeff cuddled on the couch with Max and Wes (Kristy wasn’t upset by that at all, that way she didn’t have to wait until morning to see her little nephews).  They both would NOT sleep to save their lives, and we couldn’t figure out why…until we saw this.

Wes's first teeth

We haven’t been able to get a good shot of the inside of Max’s mouth, but it pretty much looks the same.  Ouch!  That would certainly explain why our normally-good-sleepers are VERY fussy and inconsolable lately.  Not very good timing, considering I was just bragging to Kristy about how adorable and sweet they were both being lately…

Saturday - The five (six, including Rexy) of us enjoyed some time with our little dudes in the morning, and then headed over to one of our favorite restaurants for lunch outside.  It was in the 70’s yesterday, which is almost unheard of this time of year (in Colorado), and boy did we soak up some sun! 

More pictures to come later today…

Kerry

Maybe Jeff can fix the alignment (I gave up), but I’ve been meaning to post these pictures for awhile now, and just kept forgetting.  Before photo courtesy of K23 Photography and second photo courtesy of Jamie Schwaberow.

Kerry

November is Prematurity Awareness Month

Did any of you know this???  I didn’t until just a few months ago when I received an invitation to the March of Dimes Signature Chefs Auction (which is tomorrow here in Denver).  I would have LOVED the opportunity to attend this amazing fundraising event, but an individual seat was $150, and we just couldn’t afford for both Jeff and I to go.  =(

Had Max and Wes not been born 10 weeks early, I probably never would have known that 543,000 babies are born prematurely each year in our country.  That’s one in eight babies.  Isn’t that insane?

There are so many things to say about preemies – the whole concept of a “preemie” is hard for a lot of people to grasp.  Hell, it is still hard for me to grasp sometimes, and I’ve had almost nine months of experience with our children.  I’m not saying people are ignorant or stupid, but I’ve heard the most bizarre things when I tell people that Max and Wes were born early.  From “oh, you’re so lucky you didn’t have to be pregnant the whole nine months” (which REALLY pisses me off, by the way) to “is there anything wrong with them?”.  

We were among the lucky ones – Max and Wes, although a little bit behind developmentally and size-wise, are happy and healthy little dudes.  For each “happy and healthy” preemie, there is a preemie out there who is struggling with even the most seemingly insignificant stages of growing older.  For each “happy and healthy” preemie, there is one who wasn’t as lucky.  One who was born too early, too frail, too sick…and taken too soon.

I say it all the time, and I’ll say it again…we are so incredibly blessed.  There are sooooo many things that could have gone wrong when we first discovered that Max’s water sac was protruding from my cervix.  The fact that I was able to keep our precious boys inside me for six weeks after my cerclage was nothing short of a miracle.  I’ll be forever in debt to Dr. Heybourne and the perinatology staff at Pediatrix for helping me do so – as well as my amazing husband, Mom, and friends who cared for me while I was on bed rest.

And the Swedish nurses, neonatologists, and NICU staff are our heroes as well.  I’ll never forget the amazing care that our boys received during their 43 and 51-day stints in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.  I’ll never forget the compassion and love Jeff and I were shown while Max and Wes were there.  Those first few months were probably the most stressful, sad, confusing, and worry-filled times in Jeff and I’s lives - but - with the support of the NICU staff, our family, our friends, our respective online communities, and our blog followers – we made it through.  I can’t thank you all enough for that.

Most parents (of full-term or healthy babies) get to bring their newborn children home several days after they are born.  They get that time to bond with their newest family members…to get to know them in a way that only parents can know…and Jeff and I will never know what that’s like.  We got to know our boys through holes cut in the plexi-glass of an isolette (and the 30-40 minutes a day we were “allowed” to actually hold them).  There was almost constantly someone in the room with us, so we never really got any quality family time together until after Max and Wes came home – when they were almost two months old.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be over the “unfairness” of it all.  Being cheated out of my maternity leave (since I spent it all at the hospital), having to be so careful with regards to Max and Wes’s health (especially since being denied for Synagis), and actually being jealous of my friends – and even random strangers – who make it to full-term (yes, this happens…I don’t know why, but it does).  

That said, we are so very lucky.  More to come (in the coming weeks) on prematurity awareness, but for now I’ll leave you with some of the first pictures that were taken of our sweet, sweet little boys.  Look at how far they’ve come…

Maxwell Allen – 8 days old

 Max – 8 months old

Weston Skinner – 8 days old

Wes – 8 months old

Kerry

Despite the desire to have all the coolest baby stuff, I think we both realized that the “Want” (below) is not practical.  Honestly how often would we have ever lugged it around…probably not very much.  And as much as we both like the idea behind the hook on high chairs, you can’t really angle them at all to get a better sitting position for a feeding.  We read everyone’s comments and found that the Fisher Price Healthy Care line of chairs is a popular choice.  So it looks as if we may have decided on this one:

It gets great reviews on a number of sites, mostly 4 and 5 stars, and seems to be really easy to clean.  We are going to pick one up tonight to test it out.  Worst case, we don’t like it and we take it back.  Major upside is the price, at only $27.99.

Does anyone have any experience with this exact one?  Thought or concerns?

If anyone is in for a good laugh (or not) go to the Fisher Price site and take a look at the “Better for Mom” section.  A little sexist maybe?

Jeff