He knows

I've been reading, this week, a book called "When You're Expecting Twins, Triplets or Quads" by Dr. Barbara Luke. Unlike the "What to Expect When You're Expecting" series, Luke's book is HELPFUL. Dr. Luke runs clinics for moms of multiples, and the twins born to moms who've followed her program tend to weigh, at birth, 20% more than the average for twins.

I appreciate both the weight of her research, and the encouragement of her words. And I'm discovering tons of fascinating facts, like:
-twins develop faster in utero than singletons; they tend to be a few weeks ahead of their gestational age, developmentally, preparing them for their almost-certainly-shorter gestation.
-multiples born to moms who've given birth before gestate longer. This is because they don't have to stretch out the uterus themselves; it's already been stretched out, and they can grow faster without an un-tried uterus restricting them.
-bedrest - or at least REST, lying down - actually does do some good. It takes the strain off your heart, allowing more oxygen to circulate through your and your babies' bodies, and off of your kidneys (since they have more blood flow), allowing your body to more quickly and easily filter and eliminate fluids. Given that a twin mom sees TWICE the increase of blood volume that a singleton mom does, this is important.
-while breastmilk is great for preemies, if they're very, very premature, even breastmilk can be bad for them, because their digestive system is too immature to handle it. Weird. I've thought about immature hearts, lungs and brains, but never immature guts.

Anyway, those are just a few things I've learned recently. I feel like I'm taking a crash course on multiple pregnancies, births and childhoods!

But maybe the most helpful thing in this book is when the author talks about how parents, upon finding out that they're pregnant with multiples, go through the five stages of grief: shock, denial, anger/depression, bargaining, and acceptance/adaptation. Reading that was helpful, because I was able to look back over the last few weeks, and see that cycle at play in myself. For instance, a few hours after we first found out about the girls, I found myself sitting on a couch, feeling too shaky to stand up. I recognized that I was coming off of an adrenaline high, and later that night I cried so hard that I gave myself a real (not Braxton-Hicks-ish) contraction. (So I stopped crying, realizing, in an oddly cold-blooded moment, that I hadn't the right to cry so hard when it might hurt my babies.) Denial was the days I had myself convince that at least one, if not both of them, were going to die, and so it all didn't matter anyway. Anger and depression followed as I looked at the prison term/hospital stay ahead of me. Then bargaining: "But at least if I go do this, you can promise me they'll be okay, right?" And now, though there's still a slight hope we'll find out that they aren't sharing a sac, I'm planning my next weeks' menus so that I can double every meal between now and when I'm hospitalized, hopefully leaving my husband and oldest children with a freezer full of yummy, nutrious stuff for them to eat while I'm gone. I guess that's acceptance.

I also appreciated that Dr. Luke pointed out that new information or changes can knock you back a few steps. That explains why, after my ultrasound last week, where we again failed to find a membrane separating the girls, I felt depressed for several days. I hate the feeling of being depressed. I'm not used to it and I don't like it. But at least now I know that it's not abnormal, given the circumstances.

Anyway, I guess it's enough to say: education helps. Living each day as it comes helps. Thinking of the future only insomuch as it's today's duty to prepare for it helps. Knowing how many people there are praying for us helps. Eating well and resting because TODAY that's how I can take care of my babies helps. Enjoying being with my toddlers because today I get to be with them helps. Going on a date with my husband (go see Enchanted, it's lovely and funny!) helps. Thinking about how Jesus completely understands helps.

Actually, that last one helps a LOT. Every time I cringe at the idea of how painful the next few months will be, I remember that my Lord also - eyes wide open - walked to his own place of suffering. When I feel like the hospitalization is a prison sentence, I remember my mom's thought that it's more like a rescue mission, as the shepherd left the ninety and nine where they were safe in order to go after the one. When I wince at the idea of a c-section, I remember that the Lord knows what it is to bear scars for the sake of his children. When I think about the dark valley ahead, full of sleepless nights and tears and and terror and loneliness, I can know that my Lord doesn't just order me to go there, and won't just be with me, but has actually walked that road himself. As the friend says at the end of Lawhead's Byzantium, "He knows, Aidan. He knows."

That is my comfort. I am finally learning with my heart something I've long known with my head: that it's the Incarnation that makes suffering bearable. I don't have the answer to the problem of pain, but I know that the One who does had the integrity to bear the brunt of it himself. So if he knows, and he walked through it, I can walk through it too. But only because He's there and He knows. I feel like a little kid, who doesn't want to get my shots, but who can do anything if her dad is beside her, holding her hand. If He's there, it will be well.

Oh, but help, I don't want to do this. Thy will be done, Lord, not mine.