The Boys arrival- Part 1

As it's been a long time since I wrote on this blog, I wasn't particularly worried about "updating" my life, because to be perfectly honest I didn't think anyone was still reading anyway!  But Kate (who was wondering what on earth happened to me) was curious for an update and the more I thought about it the more I realised that many of my friends don't necessarily know the details of the exciting first half of last year.

So I thought I would record it, not just for those who are curious but also so that I have a permanent record of that time.  Not that I am likely to forget!

It all began with our twenty week scan.

Leading into the twenty week scan there were two questions.  The first was of course "Are they healthy?" This was less of a concern for us, because two weeks previously I had a slight bleed and had gone in for an emergency scan.  Both boys were alive and kicking.  So the second question was much more the centre of our minds: What was the gender of the babies?

The U/S tech would go down in the history of our family as "The horrible one".  She had limited social skills and was very brash.  She did lots of scanning and commented that one of the babies (the higher baby) was smaller than the other.  "Is that something to worry about?" we asked.  I don't remember how she answered but it was very vague, and gave us the impression that while it wasn't ideal it wasn't something to worry about.  Near the end of the scan we asked "What's the gender?"  We expected her to get her wand back out but she said briskly "Oh, you want to know the Gender?  Two boys".  "You don't need to check?" I asked and she laughed and said "I knew within five seconds".  She then left the room and Tim and I just stared at each other.  I don't know why but we were in shock.  Two boys?

She came back in and asked "When are you seeing your doctor?"  Two days time we told her.  She said okay and we left, excited to tell friends our surprising news.

So two days later when we came in to see our doctor, we did not think for a second that we would have bad news.

He asked if we knew that Baby B was small.  We said yes, but said that we knew it wasn't a problem.  He gave us a look you never want to see a doctor give you and said, yes, it's a problem.  Baby B was 2 weeks smaller than he should be.  That was a pretty serious size discrepancy and suggested he could be sick.  The doctor told us his blood flow and heart-beat were good, so it was unlikely he was going to die in the next week or so, but there was a good chance that he wouldn't make it.

Even now as I write this I can still see that room.  The bed, the blood pressure machine, Dr T with his round glasses and sad face.

Tim asked what were the chances that he wouldn't make it.  The Doc resisted giving a number until Tim insisted and he said there was a 30-50% chance that we would loose baby B.  We would come in for an ultra-sound two weeks later and we would know more then.

How do you process that?

I left the room in tears.  We both couldn't believe it.  We loved these babies so much. We were so excited for them, everyone was so excited.  And we might loose one.  We couldn't bare the thought.

We told a few people our news (as well as our family) but decided to keep the news fairly private.  This was hard, because everyone still talked about the boys in an excited fashion.  But in the end that was good.  Because I found after the initial shock wore off, I didn't want to dwell on what might happen. I couldn't face the thought of loosing my precious little boy, and so I just didn't.  He had to be okay, he just had to make it. So I just held onto that thought, and told him every day that he had to keep growing.  And I prayed like I'd never prayed before.

And two weeks later we went in for another scan.  A specialist came in to talk to us, and she had good news.  Baby B had caught up a little.  He was now just 8 days behind.  He still was very small, and there was a good chance this pregnancy would end early but the chances of his survival had improved drastically. It was such an answer to prayer.  We were so happy, and declared that lovely specialist our new favourite person!

We were now on fortnightly scans and doctors appointments.  Time ticked by and every week was another victory, every scan a wonderful reason to celebrate.  Because every healthy week in the womb meant a greater chance of healthy babies.  24 weeks, 25, 26, 27, 28 (this was the point that the doctor said he would be happy to deliver if Baby B was in trouble, so this was a huge week for us), 29, 30 (we started 3 weekly scans at this point because Baby B was still so small), 31.

And at 31 weeks, and 4 days, the drama started again...

BG

The Lie of a Productive Day

Yesterday was a very different day for me.  Spending the day with my Dad meant that I was spared the bulk of my usual child-minding duties.

I did some thinking about some ministry things I needed to organise.

I wrote and sent an email to someone at church.

I started collating photos together for a photo book I'm creating.

I organised some things for the boys first birthday party.

Hey, I even started a blog post ;)

And all day I kept thinking:  "Wow, what productive days I have when I don't have to look after the boys as much"

But at some stage during the day I began to realise that these thoughts were wrapped up in a lie.

The lie that a day of looking after twin baby boys is somehow unproductive.

You see, a normal day for me does not involve important emails, or organising, or getting through tasks on my to do list.  If I can get one thing done each day then that is pretty great.

But the lie is that the time with the boys is not productive.

As I feed and change and dress I am keeping them alive and healthy.  As I play and talk and laugh I am helping their emotional development.  As I speak I am teaching them language.  As I read to them I am sharing a love of literature.  As I walk them though the neighbourhood I am helping them to see and understand the world.  Through it all I am showing them that they are very love.

And that doesn't even include the more deliberate instruction that are through the day.  The prayers that I pray, the stories that I read,  the general words about God and his role in this world that they are so enthusiastically taking in. True, at ten months they are not necessarily understanding what I say or mean but it's all practice, practice for me and practice for them.  Practice at letting God be talked of in everyday life (Deut 11).

What a productive time it is!

It reminds me of the lie I used to find myself caught up in when I worked in ministry.  Organising a meeting, finishing a roster, writing a Bible study.  I felt very productive as I did them, and of course they were important.  Yet sitting down with someone and reading the Bible often did not.  It wasn't urgent, it wasn't measurable.  But I knew from my own experience and from watching others who I had the privilege to teach that it made the world of difference.  One hour with someone one to one was as significant and important as standing up before a crowd to speak.

Time given to fostering relationships doesn't always seem productive.

But the truth is that relationship time is often the most productive of all.

BG