When Wil and I got married, I already had three kids and didn’t plan on having more. In fact, it was one of the reasons I almost didn’t go out on a date with him—he said he wanted kids. But, he assured me that it wasn’t a deal breaker and convinced me to go out with him anyway. After we’d been married for a little while, and I saw him be a dad to my kids, my thoughts changed. He needed to have a baby, and I wanted to have one with him. The only problem was that I had had such problems in my pregnancies that I had my tubes tied during the delivery of third. So, it just didn’t seem likely that we’d be able to pull it off. But, miraculously, I discovered that my insurance covered IVF at almost 100% for six cycles. For those of you who know the fertility industry, you know that’s really unheard of.
So, we dove in.
I won’t go into all of the details, but four IVF attempts, a year of injections, mood-altering drugs and two different clinics later, I was pregnant. At the first ultrasound we were told it was twins. Wil and I were bowled over. We were so excited! Admittedly, I was a bit scared. I knew how rough it was for me to carry single babies—I always wound up with a life-threatening case of toxemia that required my babies to be born several weeks early. So, how would it be for twins? But, I put it in God’s hands and decided to enjoy the ride.
A week later I had a second ultrasound. This one was to make sure the babies had developed properly so the fertility clinic could release me into the care of my OB. The technician started the u/s and said, “There’s one. There’s two.” Then Wil saw it first, “THERE’S THREE!” There was a third little baby, not necessarily smaller than the rest, just kind of tucked up high and out of view, and all three little hearts were beating—we were having triplets.
People ask me how I felt at that moment; it’s almost impossible to describe. Here’s an honest look at the immediate thoughts that ran through my mind:
• Three babies—I’m so blessed.
• How will I carry three babies?
• My Mom’s going to kill me. (See guest post by Grandma Party.)
• What if I die trying to carry them and none of my kids have a mom?
• What does Wil really think?—I couldn’t tell for sure because he was flat on the floor. (J/K)
• How will we afford this?
• I get to name THREE babies?
• I hope there’s at least one boy and one girl.
• How will I tell the girls?
• What will they think?
• Okay, what do I need to do to keep them safe?
I don’t remember ever thinking about how I would care for three babies. It just wasn’t an issue. I’d do it—whatever it took. I was more concerned about the things that were out of my control—like my health. I didn’t want my body to be the reason they were born too early—I didn’t want to cause them pain and suffering. So I started to pray. And I dialed the phone. It was time to call Grandma Party. I knew how she’d feel. She’d feel the fears I did, only more so. You always worry more about your kids than you do about yourself. And, being that she could do nothing to affect the situation, she’d feel helpless. I knew she’d lay awake at night worrying, unable to sleep as thoughts of the horrible possibilities went through her mind. I considered not telling her until I absolutely had to. But, I realized that she needed time to adjust, and that I should give her that time before things got scary. So, I called her and asked her pull over because I had something to tell her.
She was silent when I told her. I knew how she felt and I ached for her. I wished I could do something to make her feel more secure with the whole thing, but I knew she was right to be afraid. I could tell her that everything was going to be okay, but how could I be sure I was right. She withdrew from me for a while. She just couldn’t face it and I understood. I gave her about three months and then I decided it was time for a little tough love. I told her to cut it out. I said it was time to get on board. She said, “Okay.” And that was it. She turned into the excited, happy Grandma Party she’d always been. Phew!
Amazingly, even though I did develop pre-eclampsia and they had to be born eight weeks early, it never did get as bad as I feared. I suffered with high blood pressure and massive swelling for weeks after the birth, but they were here and they were healthy—and I was healing. What more could I have asked?
Thanks so much for letting Grandma Party and I share our stories! Oh, in case you’ve missed the story in the past, Grandma Party is what my daughter, Natalie, started calling my mom when she was about 3. It came about because there were a few weeks that we went to several parties and I’d say, “We’re going to a party and Grandma’s going to be there.” Over the next weeks, whenever we got in the car to go anywhere, she’s say, “Grandma? Party?” And it stuck.
I’ve shared here in the past about my family blog and about my writing career—I write Christian fiction for tween-age girls. Since then, my life and career has gotten much more public, so I’ve made the decision to make my family blog private. I don’t want to exclude anyone, though. So, if you’d like access to What a Trip! please email me at firstname.lastname@example.org. I still have my writer’s blog www.nicoleodell.blogpsot.com. Visit my website, too www.nicoleodell.com. I also have a website for “tween-age” girls: www.scenariosforgirls.com with giveaways, polls, advice columns, etc. Come check things out!
Be sure to vote for your favorite blogs for the First Annual Multiples and More Blog Awards listed on the right! Have a great weekend MoMs and Dads!