Kangaroo Love

Kangaroo Time is wonderful. That's all for now.

...OK, one more thing. So in the process of cleaning up the moldy grossness that was my basement, I decided to go full-on biohazard. I took off my shirt before I went into the basement, and I was wearing jeans that I"d been planning on chucking anyway (they're old and huge and have holes in them). Plus a pair of old running shoes that the cats had peed on[not recently, but there was a faint funk] (another trashcan candidate), a mask, respirator, and gloves, and I was ready to go. So as I hauled nasty bags of crap to the curb, I realized:

I'm shirtless and wearing old jeans, elbow-length rubber gloves, a respirator, and goggles. Holy crap, my neighbors are going to think I'm cooking meth.

One Week

The twins are one week old today. At this point, age is a weird thing. When you're, say, fourteen years old, that's it - you're fourteen. When you're a preemie, though, it's more complicated. The twins were born at 30 weeks, 4 days, but for developmental purposes, they drop the 4 days and use the "gestational age" to track development. So the boys are now "at 31 weeks gestational age"; a full-term mom would be looking at about 2 more months of pregnancy. We could be looking at 2 more months of NICU care.

I am - frankly - terrified of the coming NICU bills. I mean, I'm insured (thank goodness), but -- let's just say -- 2 babies x $7,000/day x 60 days = $840,000. I kinda pulled the monetary estimates out of my butt, but I have no idea. Hoping that my wife's insurance will cover this; it might be worth extending COBRA for her by a month or 2, just for the additional "insurance bandwidth", so to speak.

Of course, the money concern is real, but it still takes a backseat to the joy of babies. Held Baby A last night during Kangaroo Care; he made little fists and pulled at my chest hair.