Ring or Bracelet?

We continue to receive shocked comments on how small the boys are and advice from previous NICU parents to take plenty of pictures when they are small. They say that it is easy to forget how small they were as they grow. Well here are a few more pictures demonstrating their small size. What you see on their wrists or arms is my, Sterling's, wedding ring.

Makaio

Makaio

Kekoa

Kekoa

I thought I would give you all a couple of pictures of each because one is just not enough. It is amazing to see all the extra space around the ring on the wrists. It just slipped right over their little hands. They are so tiny. They are doing well and are ten days old today wearing their first piece of jewelry: a ring, or maybe a bracelet.

Like Father Like Son

We hope that none of the blog readers out there get sick of us posting pictures all of the time. We just think that the boys are so cute that we can't help but snap a picture or twenty every now and again.

In fact this morning I boldly asked our nurse to be objective and tell us if she thought the boys were weird looking or if she thought they were cute. Of course I wanted her to be honest but part of me thought, "If she says they are weird looking, I might knock her out." She said that she thought they were cute and that she specifically asks to take care of the boys each time that she is working.

By this point you are probably wondering what in the world the post title has to do with anything, right? As many of you know, Sterling generally sports a beard. I don't blame the boys for wanting to be like their dad because he is such a wonderful man, but this is taking it to the extreme...facial hair already!!!

S. Sheffield

M. Sheffield

K. Sheffield

Believe me, if I could kiss their faces like I'm kissing Sterling's, you would have a picture of that also.

Anyway, if you look closely at the boys' chins you will be able to see the white beard hair that they have developed at such a young age. That hair is actually called lanugo and is generally gone by the time a term child is delivered. Since the boys came so early there wasn't time to lose the hair and thus all three of my guys have beards.

Naked in the NICU

Let the competition begin! Two twin boys in separate rooms in the NICU could not be competitive from birth, could they?

We came into the NICU the other morning to find Kekoa had removed one strap on his diaper and seemed to be working on the other. We thought that was pretty cute, but Makaio was not having any of it. He one upped Kekoa by completely escaping his diaper that very night. We came in the next morning to find this note from the nurse on his white board:

That's right! He wiggled totally out of his diaper. However, the mean nurse made him put his diaper back on, but warned us that this may be a sign of things to come. Having been raised in a house with seven sisters and no brothers, I, Sterling, have little experience in this area. Fair warning might be a good thing. Life could be very different with a house of boys. This morning the doctor pulled me aside and said that she liked the note. She said now I can't be surprised when my boys come home and say they got in trouble for streaking. The boys are providing entertainment for us and the entire NICU staff.

So, let the competition begin. I guess boys will continue to be boys.

Happy Birthday Babies

"Happy Birthday. Happy Birthday babies. Oh, we love you so!" June 8, 2010 marked one week of life for our little guys and oh how we celebrated. The boys were fast asleep in their beds for most of the day, Sterling and I stared at them while they enjoyed their rest and the nurses and doctors stopped by for rounds (although we like to think that they came to celebrate). All in all the party was a hit. The boys behaved themselves on their one week birthday and had great nights to compensate for all of the partying.

Here is a picture of each of the boys literally "living it up" on the one week anniversary of their birth into this world.

Kekoa

Makaio

Notice how both of them perform the I'm too Sexy pose by putting both arms behind their heads and showing off their muscular chests! How could anyone resist that cuteness?!

Proceed with Caution

Being a new mother brings something new each and every day. For those of you that know me well know that I am a "worry-wart." I worry about everything. The other problem that presents itself is that I try to self-diagnose my issues and then I usually end up convincing myself that I have the worst sickness or disease known to mankind and then the worrying really takes over.

As many of you mothers know, breastfeeding comes with its own set of unknowns and complications. At first I was worried that my milk wouldn't let down and that I would have to go to the emergency room to get some help. Then I worried that I wasn't producing enough milk (mind you, this was only four days after I had given birth). The next thing I worried about will demonstrate just how capable I am of taking things to the extreme.

Every night I have three different alarms set to wake me up so that I can pump. The first alarm goes off at 1:30 am, the second alarm at 3:30 am and the final alarm goes off at 5:30 am. After the final alarm I am usually so sick of sleeping in two hour increments that I generally stay awake after that. Anyway, I woke up at 3:30 to pump and because I wasn't producing as much milk as I thought I should be, I started to panic.

I was certain that I would never be able to feed the twins and that I would have to just feed them formula after all. Not that mother's who choose formula over breast milk are bad mothers, it is just that as long as I can remember my mother has been saying "Breast milk is best." So of course I was going to be the worst mother that ever existed and my children were going to be malnutritioned and I would never be able to look my mother in the face again.

Now that I was on a roll, why stop here. I did a quick inspection of my breasts to see if they were still rock hard and of course my suspicions were right, in my worried state, I was certain that I had cancer. Why else would I have golf ball sized lumps in my breast that were as hard as golf balls and were not going away? I still managed to pull myself out of bed, pump and luckily enough by the time I crawled back in bed I was too tired to worry any longer.

As soon as we arrived at the hospital the next day I asked the boys' nurse if she could call the lactation consultant and have her come and answer some of my questions. The consultant came, I expressed my worries about breast cancer and suddenly my diagnosis had gone from cancer to engorgement. I was relieved.

The craziest part about pregnancy, especially with twins, is that if you clung to modesty before, you might as well throw it out the window. I learned this lesson so thoroughly that when the consultant asked if she could touch my once cancer infested breast I had no problems lifting up my shirt and exposing myself. The most embarrassing part is that when she was checking the lumps to see if it was a normal state for six days post delivery, I was so engorged that milk started dripping all over the both of us.

I guess she was right after all, I was engorged.