God Works in Very Mysterious Ways...

Last night in my bible study, we were talking about our personal stories, our own personal time-lines and how we can look back and see God with us through the toughest parts of our lives, even if we didn't see it at the time. It made me think about my entire journey to motherhood (the struggle with infertility, the joy of getting pregnant, the difficulties of pregnancy, an emergency c-section, the world of the NICU, and raising preemie triplets) in an entirely different way. So I decided to write my Journey To Motherhood again- with a different twist. This time, I'm going to look at all the ways God has used the experiences for my good and for his ultimate glory. It is a bit long- so bear with me.

The Diagnosis


Lets go back to my diagnosis of PCOS in 2009. God was ALL over that situation. The day I got my diagnosis, I was on my way to the LYFE conference at Baptist Bible College in Clarks Summit PA with a group of my sisters in Christ. My doctor called me and gave me the news while I was in the car. As I broke down crying, the women I was riding with shared their stories, their journeys to motherhood. Some were easy-going, others were heartbreaking. I learned so many things about the women riding in the car with me.

It never ceases to amaze me to see God’s hand in things. Not one speaker in the conference was slated to talk about infertility or motherhood. Yet workshop after workshop, I heard over and over the faithfulness of our loving God. I heard from women who, by the very grace of God, overcame infertility. I heard from women who were still feeling that ache, the pain I was feeling. They were just trying to survive. And I heard from women who, after years of trying, never got the opportunity to be a mother and had to reconcile how a God who loves us SO much (and oh, how He loves us…) can deny a woman that joy. I got much more out of that conference than I ever expected.

Dealing with Infertility


I can't really begin to describe the pain of facing infertility. But I can see how God used this in my life to bring me closer to Him and also, closer to my sisters in Christ. I was able to connect with women at my church on a different level. I learned about some of their struggles and how they overcame them. I joined a support group shortly after my diagnosis. The ladies I've met through this group are now some of my dearest friends. And we were there to encourage one another. I got the opportunity to encourage and help other women in the same situation. I was able to share the Good News about God. I considered it almost a ministry for me. I shared how God had been faithful to me and how I knew He would be faithful again. I was also able to reach out to other Christian women going through similar circumstances and fill my own cup, so to speak.

The Pregnancy


When I found out in March of 2010 that I was going to be the mother of triplets, I was in shock. To say I was in shock is probably the understatement of the decade. I couldn't wrap my mind around it. Never in a million years did I think I would have triplets. Nor did I want triplets. It has taken a lot of prayer and forgiveness on my part to reconcile those feelings of guilt for not wanting triplets. But God knows better than me. He has blessed me over and OVER with these children. But we'll get to that later. Right now- I want to focus on my pregnancy.

As multiple pregnancies go, mine was considered "easy". I'd love to know who decides stuff like that- but I'm going with it. Many women wait until they are in their second trimester before sharing the news. I didn't really have that option. I was measuring 16w pregnant at 8w. By the time I knew I was pregnant, I was already needing to buy maternity clothes. I barely had time to come to grips with how my life was about to change before everyone knew about it. I had to use the wisdom and discernment God gave me to sift through the "advice" people felt the need to give me. I love how when you are pregnant people who have never even held a baby feel the need to tell you how to be a parent. It doesn't get any better once the baby is here either... haha...

My pregnancy progressed rather smoothly. It was as routine as a multiple pregnancy gets, I was told. My babies had great positions. They were each in their own sac with their own placenta. The placentas were high, which I was told was "really lucky" because it meant the chance of certain problems was now much lower. We know that luck had nothing to do with it. God determined how they would be positioned in my uterus. He "knit them together" in just the right place as Psalm 139 tells us.

I was blessed to have relatively few problems. I developed gestational diabetes and Bells Palsy, but I wasn't on mandatory bed rest until the last few days of my pregnancy. And even then, when I was in the hospital, I was allowed out of bed for short times.

The Delivery


Nobody expected me to go into labor when I did. I was by myself in the hospital room. Well, that's not entirely true. My nurse was there. I loved Debbie. She was wonderful. Up until that point, my nurses had all been about 12 years old. Okay- I exaggerate. But they were all very young, and only one of them had a child. Sufficient to say- they really didn't know what to say to me. Debbie was about the same age as my mother, and we got along splendidly. She was very maternal, which is exactly what I needed that night. The plan was for my mother to join Mark in the delivery room with me. Well, because it was an emergency, they wouldn't let her. I was furious- but the decree had been made. It was wonderful having a motherly figure in the delivery room with me. After the babies were born, she went to the NICU often to keep track of how well they were doing. So that is one way that God looked out for me that night.

Another way came in a very strange circumstance. On the way to the O.R., the wheel on my bed broke. This made getting me into the O.R. almost comical. You may be asking how this could possibly be a good thing. Well, after they transferred me to the gurney on which I was to be operated, that bed couldn't be brought back to my room. It had to be repaired. So they had to wheel the second bed in my room down to get me. They didn't have another bed to put in that room, so my double occupancy room became a single occupancy room. They couldn't put a roommate in there with me. You might be thinking, "Having a single room is nice, but how bad would it be to have a roommate?" Well- recovering from a c-section is hard enough, but add to it a woman who has her baby rooming in with her while mine were whisked off to the NICU would be devastating.

God looked out for me in another big way that night too. If I had gone into labor the day before or the day after, my doctor would not have been there to do the surgery.

The NICU


Our NICU experience was one of the hardest things I have ever experienced. Up until that time, it was without a doubt the hardest thing I had ever experienced. No matter how they might try, nobody can prepare you for the NICU world. Even if you've had a tour, when it is your baby (or in my case babies) in there, it is as if time stands still.

God completely took me out of my comfort zone starting the moment they were born. I have worked with babies my entire adult life, and throughout my teenage-hood. I knew enough about babies to know having my own would be the most difficult thing I'd ever do. I had no idea how right that was.

Most people have never seen a baby as small as my biggest one was. And I thank God for that. Seeing a 4 lb baby is terrifying. Seeing a 2 lb baby is even scarier. Having those tiny little babies belong to you is indescribable.

Nobody can prepare you for holding a 3 lb 5 oz baby or to see your 4 lb son hooked up to tubes because his little lungs don't work right yet. Nobody can prepare you to see your 2 lb 4 oz miracle daughter, with skin so pink it was almost translucent.

And nobody can prepare you for the emotions you will feel. The NICU is a roller coaster ride on a good day. Any victory your child has is bittersweet because right next to him or her is another little miracle struggling for life. The guilt I had when I had 3 relatively healthy babies and the baby in the isolette next to one of them was dangerously close to death is a strange thing, but it is something I've found is common among NICU parents.

 God also taught me a lot during those days. I learned about patience. Preemies do things in their own time, when they are ready. Not a moment before. I learned about compassion. What do you say to the parents of the other babies? I learned just how precious life really is. And I learned to fully rely on God. I couldn't do it in my own strength. It's not possible.

As amazing as God's support was during their NICU stay, the most amazing thing happened to me afterwards. I am able to help other women who have children in the NICU. I am able to help other mothers, whether they have one baby or multiples. I am an advocate for them when they need it, I am a friend to listen, I am a survivor to help them through the darkest days.  Through God, I am able to tell them our story. I can give them hope.

Coming Home


Ashley came home after 24 days. Brent came home after 42 days. Carolyn came home after 58 days. Writing it out like that makes it seem so short, and yet so long at the same time. Coming home was exciting and terrifying. Ashley and Carolyn were both only 4 lbs when they came home.

Nobody I knew had every held a baby that small. We had to learn how to use the Apnea monitors and what to do if they sounded alarm. I had to recognize my own limitations and learn to ask for help because I was physically unable to do many things at that point.

And Beyond...


God has used my children to change my heart in ways I didn't even know it needed to be changed. I never realized how passive I was before I had my children. I never realized how much I let people simply walk all over me because I didn't want to rock the boat or hurt their feelings by telling them how I really felt. I have learned how to set boundaries, and more importantly, that setting boundaries isn't selfish. I had to be their advocate because they were too little and frail to do it for themselves. I had to develop a thick skin when people called me crazy for the rules about visiting, like hand washing, sanitizing, wearing a makeshift gown and mask if you even thought you might be thinking about getting sick.



I've learned I need to make time for myself, for my relationship with God and for my relationship with my husband. I need to spend time with other Christian women. I need to be in the word of God. I need to take care of myself. I've learned that I have needs, and that having needs isn't selfish.


I've learned little things about myself like I really don't like roller coasters. I'm happy to go to a theme park, hang out in line and chit chat and visit, and simply step through to the other side of the platform and wait for a few minutes while you ride the ride. I don't like scary movies and I'm not afraid to say "No, I don't want to watch that. Can we watch something else?" For people who are assertive, they may not seem like big things- but they are victories to recovering doormats like yours truly!

God is continually working on me. I am learning what James means when he tells us to "consider it pure joy, brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds because we know that the testing of our faith produces perseverance." (James 1). I look forward to finding out what else God has in store for me and my family because we all know that God works in some very mysterious ways.

Because I Struggle Too...

I struggle with depression and anxiety. I have for as long as I can remember. I am also a Christian. I love God, and I love Jesus. My relationship with Him is paramount in my life. Many people (especially those who have never experienced the pain of such issues) believe that you cannot be a true believer and have depression or anxiety issues. Why would you be depressed? Jesus is all you need! 

That is taking, "Jesus is all you need." way out of context. Would anyone in their right mind say to a cancer patient "Don't go to a doctor. Jesus is all you need." Of course not! A reasonable (key word there- REASONABLE) person would encourage someone struggling with an illness or disease to seek help for it. To look for a treatment or a cure. A mental illness is just as real and debilitating as cancer, and should be given the same response. 

Yes, God is able (more than able) of healing every infirmity of every person on the planet without even finishing the thought. Why He chooses to heal some and not others is not my business. But I do know that God has given us medical knowledge and medication to help us. We are not weak Christians for availing ourselves of things God has given to us to improve our lives. 

The past few weeks have been really hard for me. I don't know why. My "black cloud" as I have affectionately named it, has been around more than I care to admit. Thankfully, it has seemed to move on for the time being. I know it can come back at any moment, but I also know that God is faithful and won't allow something in my life that He will not walk through with me. Notice I did not say He won't give me more than I can handle. I hate the expression "God won't give you more than you can handle." It's not true. He gives us more than we can handle ALL the time. If we could handle it all on our own- we wouldn't need a Savior.

What Do You Mean You Never Wanted Triplets? How Can You Say That Now?

I never wanted triplets. There. I said the ugly truth. In case you missed it the first time, I'll say it again. I never wanted triplets. Some of you may have gasped when I said that. But notice I did not say "I do not love my children." Or "I wish I didn't have triplets."  Those statements are very different from my first.

I do love my children. And I love being a mother of triplets. I feel extremely blessed that God has entrusted me with so precious a gift. But I did not choose it, and I don't feel guilty for admitting that.

At the same time, I think if you want triplets, you are out of your ever loving mind. No, that isn't entirely true. A lot of the women I encounter have no inkling of what my life is like. I am not saying it is more difficult than theirs, mind you, just different.

They see my healthy miracles at almost 15 months old and have no idea what we went through to get where we are today. They don't know it took 9 months and several rounds of powerful fertility drugs to even get pregnant. They don't know I developed gestational diabetes and Bells palsy, and was on hospital bedrest for the last week of my pregnancy, which ended way too soon at just over 31 weeks.  They didn't feel the fear of holding a newborn who was barely 3 lbs, or experience the agony of not being able to hold their son for nearly a week, or their daughter for 19 heart-wrenching days. Most people have no clue what the journey through the NICU is all about. And for that, I praise God.

These are just some of the trials that our family faced in the beginning of our children's lives. Do I wish things were different? Absolutely not. But I didn't choose them either.

Women need to understand that how they feel about their pregnancy does not necessarily have any correlation to how they feel about their child or children. Not every woman has that "pregnancy glow". And not every woman enjoys being pregnant.

Discomfort in pregnancy and childbirth is part of the consequences of original sin. God tells Eve (and all of us) in Genesis 3:16, "I will greatly increase your pains in childbearing, with pain you will give birth to your children." It isn't supposed to feel good. And it is okay to admit that. It is okay to say you don't like being pregnant, at least not all the time. It's okay to say you are uncomfortable. In fact, if more women expressed these feelings, maybe it wouldn't be so taboo.

Part of me wants to apologize for ruffling anyone's feathers, but honestly, I don't think that would be such a bad thing. If what I said made you uncomfortable, I'm glad it made you feel something. I just pray you don't let it stop there. Ask God to search your heart, to reveal to you the real cause of the discomfort and hopefully, you will learn something new about God. Just maybe, you'll learn something about yourself too.

The Paradox of Romans 7:18-20

 ¹⁸ For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature.^[a] For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. ¹⁹ For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. ²⁰ Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it."


Those verses both comfort me and frighten me. As a new creation in Christ, I should be able to "put to death whatever belongs to [my] earthly nature" (Col. 3:5.


I know getting up early and exercising is good for me on many levels. It provides stress release and it is also helping me take care of my body, the temple God has entrusted me with (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). Yet, I don't feel like leaving the warmth of my bed when the alarm rings. I know that spending time planning and preparing healthy meals for me and my family is good for all of us, yet watching TV can be SO tempting. I tell myself that I "just don't have the time" to do these things, but that is a lie. I find time to do a lot of things that I want to do. Play video games occasionally, read a book, watch TV. 


I am constantly reminded that I cannot do it on my own, and I don't think that is a bad thing, necessarily. We are told in 2 Corinthians 12:18 that  “[His] grace is sufficient for [us], for [His] power is made perfect in weakness.”


So why is it so hard to just do the things we know are right? Why do we keep doing the things we know aren't? I wish I had the answers. Preview

Soup for the Soul (or should it be coke for the soul?)

Last Saturday, the ladies at my church had their annual Soup for the Soul luncheon. For those of you not familiar with this, it is a time when a bunch of ladies get together for fellowship, fun and food!

This year’s theme was Having an Attitude of Gratitude. Because I am friends with the organizers of this event, I got sucked into the skit. Okay, well, maybe not sucked in. I did enjoy it. But being in a skit in front of a lot of people is definitely out of my box. But anyway, I agreed. I was asked which person I wanted to be. I told them it didn’t matter to me. So I was told I was “the third person entering that isn’t Jesus.” Okay. I can do that. So I went home and watched the skit. Here it is so you can watch it too, if you want. 

Coke Skit

Unbeknownst to the organizers of this event, I have been struggling with the issue of gratitude. Several of my friends who have babies around the same age as my precious lil ones are either planning to, trying to or are already on their way to having another baby. And while part of me is happy for them, part of me is envious, jealous that I probably will never experience that again. It makes me think of all the things I’ve missed out on as a mom of preemies, things that most moms take for granted. Little things like actually being able to take your baby home with you when you leave the hospital. Or experiencing the third trimester. Or things that I know seem trivial in the grand scheme of things, like getting a cute travel system, or being able to decorate a nursery. And on top of struggling with all of these, I feel guilty about feeling like that at all because I should be grateful for what I have.

God really is so good. If you have watched the skit, you will notice that my character (the third person to come in that isn’t Jesus) is thankful for what she receives. Not only is she not bitter when someone gets more than she does, she is excited for that person. I want to be like her.

I wish I can say that doing that skit magically changed my thinking and that I no longer feel like I missed out on something, but I do have to say that whenever those thoughts creep into my head, I remember 2 Corinthians 10:5 “We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” I know now that those thoughts telling me “You missed out on something.” “You deserve more than this.” “God is giving other people more than He is giving you.” Thoughts like that, they are not from God. They are lies that Satan is telling me.

Now, I’m not someone who blames Satan when every little thing goes wrong. But I am well aware that we, as Christians, are under his attack; he wants us to feel deprived; he wants us to be angry with God.

Well, I’m not going to believe his lies anymore. I am making a conscious choice to be thankful for my children and happy for my friends who are expanding their families. It’s not going to be easy, but this life isn’t supposed to be. 

My Journey To Motherhood

Some women have no problem getting pregnant. They decide one day they’d like to have another baby, their husbands look at them and boom- 9 months later, a bundle of joy arrives. I am not that woman. In fact, most women are not “that” woman.

When I got married 4 years ago, I was ignorant. I was uninformed as to how my body worked and how it was supposed to work and most importantly, that my body did not work the way it was supposed to work. When my husband and I decided it was time to start thinking about having children, we had no idea the journey we were about to undergo, the heartache we would experience, and the joy that ultimately would be ours in the birth of 3 tiny miracles. But let me begin at the beginning.

I met my husband Mark when I was 19. We instantly knew we were “meant to be”. We married 3 years after our first date, on June 12, 2007. We knew we would want kids, but we also wanted to enjoy being married first. So we enjoyed almost 2 years of wedded bliss before that we heard that clock start ticking.

It was February of 2009. I was going for my annual GYN exam, but this time, I was going to tell her I was ready to come off the pill and see what happened. I expected to get my period or to get pregnant. I did not expect to be diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) a few months later. For those of you who do not know what PCOS is WebMD describes it as

“PCOS, or polycystic ovarian syndrome, is a common hormonal disorder in women that with interferes with the growth and release of eggs from the ovaries, or ovulation. It is the most common cause of infertility among women. PCOS occurs when a woman's body overproduces sex hormones, called androgens. The hormone imbalance prevents fluid-filled sacs in the ovaries from breaking open and releasing mature eggs. The fluid-filled sacs bunch together, causing many tiny cysts. Symptoms of PCOS include missed periods, abnormal facial and body hair growth, acne, and weight gain.”


This diagnosis rocked my world and shook me to the core. Now not only was I not pregnant, I may never be pregnant. I may never be able to carry a child within me. I may never be able to be a mother- the one thing I wanted more than anything in the world. In order to get a handle on things, I decided to go back on the pill for a while.

As always, God used this time in my life to draw me closer to Him. When I got diagnosis, I was on my way to a ladies’ retreat with my church. As I broke down crying in the car, the women I was riding with shared their stories, their journeys to motherhood. Some were easy-going, others were heartbreaking. I learned so many things about the women riding in the car with me.

It never ceases to amaze me to see God’s hand in things. Not one speaker in the conference was slated to talk about infertility or motherhood. Yet workshop after workshop, I heard over and over the faithfulness of our loving God. I heard from women who, by the very grace of God, overcame infertility. I heard from women who were still feeling that ache, the pain I was feeling. They were just trying to survive. And I heard from women who, after years of trying, never got the opportunity to be a mother and had to reconcile how a God who loves us SO much (and oh, how He loves us…) can deny a woman that joy. I got much more out of that conference than I ever expected.

Fast forward to August 2009. This is when we decided to actively try to conceive (TTC). I go off the pill and nothing for 3 months. No surprise there. My regular OB sends me to a reproductive endocrinologist. After a few tests, we start Clomid. Absolutely no response. So we move on to injections. I didn’t expect to respond well to them either, but I did. I had 4 eggs ready to go. I still didn’t think I’d get pregnant that time. I knew women who had 4 eggs ready several times and never got pregnant. So I was cautiously optimistic about the whole thing, praying for peace and strength throughout this whole ordeal.

Then the day comes for me to take my pregnancy test. I wake up early that morning, scared to death. I finally take the test and I see the most beautiful two lines in the world. I’m PREGNANT! I run into the bedroom, jump on the bed and tell my husband.

But the real surprise came a few days later at my first ultrasound. We’re sitting there, in indescribable anticipation, waiting to see our child for the first time. The doctor looks at the screen and says

“Yup. There’s one.”
We’re having a baby!
“Oh wait, I see two.”
Twins?

“Wait, I take that back.”
Was one a shadow?
“I see three.”

I was terrified. I had no idea what would be in store for my growing family. I hate to admit it, I was a little angry with God at that point. I couldn’t imagine how I was going to do this. Then I heard Him say to me, “I’ve brought you this far. I’ll take you the rest of the way, if you let me.” I had a long, hard, journey of faith ahead of me.

My pregnancy was “easy” as far as multiples are concerned. I developed gestational diabetes at 16w, but that was easily controlled by diet. Besides that, everything went smoothly until I hit 29w. That night I went into the bathroom and saw that half of my face was sluggish. My husband and I went to the ER. We didn’t know what to think, but stroke and heart attacks are more common in women with multiples, so we weren’t taking any chances. Thank God it was “only” Bells Palsy (“paralysis or weakness of the muscles on one side of your face.” WebMD). So I was sent home with an eye patch and eye drops, and told that it should clear up on its own after delivery.

Smooth sailing for another week or so, until Wednesday, August 25. At a routine visit with my high risk doctor, it was decided my BP was just a little too high- not dangerous, but high for me- and he wanted me to be in the hospital under observation. So the next morning I was to report to Labor & Delivery for 24-28 hour monitoring, I’d be likely going home on Friday. My trio had other plans.

The next morning (Thursday), I woke up to a gush of fluid. I thought my water broke. So we rushed to the hospital. Thankfully, it wasn’t my water breaking. We still don’t know what it was, actually. But since I was there, they put me on monitors and we waited for a bed to open up.

Later that night, I started contracting. Mild contractions, but not enough to cause cervical changes. They decided to give me the steroid shot to mature the babies lungs, just in case we delivered. After a round of terbutaline (the medicine from Hell), my contractions stopped (of course, it made my heart race to 130, so they stopped it- but it had done its job). The next morning, I started contracting again, this time- I dilated to 2. They gave me magnesium sulfate. If terbutaline is the medicine from Hell, mag sulfate is from the 9th circle of Hell. It made me feel like an elephant was sitting on my chest and nearly stopped my breathing. But, it also stopped the contractions… for a while.

Everything seemed good. It’s 9:30 pm Friday night. My parents are with me in the hospital, my in-laws had just left. It’s been decided that I am in for the long haul. Confined to the hospital bed until I deliver in hopefully 2-3 weeks. So I decide to send my husband home to get a few things, since we hadn’t been home since Wednesday. The plan was for him to go home, shower, get a good night’s rest, and come back in the AM with my hospital bag. No one anticipated what would happen next.

Everyone had left. I was finally alone (and loving it!). I hadn’t been alone in 3 days, so the quiet was very nice. It was just around 12:30, and I was thinking how nice it would be to go to sleep. I page the nurse to help me to the bathroom. And that’s when everything changed. As I’m walking out of the bathroom, I feel a gush of fluid. It felt exactly the same as Thursday morning, so I didn’t think anything of it. But the nurse insists we call the doctor.

Of course, the doctor on call has the biggest hands I think I’ve seen on a man ever. (You moms know what that is like). But I had dilated to almost 4, and Baby C’s sac had ruptured. It’s show time!

I have the nurse call my husband. I was too upset to even speak. I’m 31weeks 1day pregnant. These babies are coming too early! It’s just too early!

It frightens me to this day how real and strong denial is. I was adamant about not having those babies. The nurse finally had to say to me, “Honey- I don’t mean to be mean. But if you don’t accept that these babies are coming tonight, I’m afraid you’ll have a nervous breakdown.” As they were wheeling me into the OR, the reality began to set in…

It is amazing how fast and furiously people work when a woman with triplets is about to deliver. My husband arrives and they give him a gown, hat, mask. As they start to wheel me down to the OR, the wheel on my gurney breaks. So now, my husband and the two nurses are trying to keep me calm and get the bed into the OR. At the time, we were really frustrated that the bed broke. (But God knows what He’s doing. Because the bed broke and they didn’t have another bed available, my double room became a single room for the remainder of my hospital stay. I’m so glad because I couldn’t imagine how it would have felt to have a roommate with her new baby in her arms while my three were in the NICU)

The OR was a madhouse. There were 19 medical personnel in the delivery room. 3 neonatologists, 3 pediatricians, 6 nurses for the babies, 2 anesthesiologists, 3 surgeons, and 2 nurses for me. To say it was chaos is an understatement…

So Saturday, August 28, 2010 my 3 miracle babies were born. Ashley at 4:45, weighing in at 3 lbs 5 oz, Brent at 4:46 weighing in at 4 lbs even, and Carolyn at 4:47, weighing in at 2 lbs 4 oz.

We got to see them before they were whisked away to the NICU. We only heard Ashley and Brent’s first cries. There wasn’t enough room in the OR for three teams of personnel to work on the babies, so Carolyn’s team moved to a room across the hall after she was born.

That’s the beginning of our story. My little miracles are going to be 14 months old on Friday. They are healthy, home and wonderful. I could write forever about the NICU stay, which lasted 24 days for Ashley, 42 days for Brent, and 58 days for Carolyn. The agony of having to wait 7 days to hold my son, and 19 days to hold my tiny Carolyn. Thank God I was able to hold Ashley the day they were born. I could write volumes on what it was like when they came home. But I won’t. At least not right now. I am interested in what you are interested in. What do you want to know about the life of a M.O.M (mom of multiples)? Feel free to e-mail me if you have any questions or anything you’d like to know. Since this is my first post, and I have no idea how many people will read this, I can only say I’ll do my best to answer everyone.