COUNT ‘EM, FIVE BUNDLES OF JOY
Rocky start: All five of the quintuplets were born prematurely, but are healthy Chaos: The Kempels juggle bottles, change diapers (80 of them a day!)
Let the sleepless, joyous chaos begin.
After two and a half long months in the hospital, all five of the Kempel quintuplets are finally home.
Once plenty of space, Chad and Amy Kempel’s three-bedroom, 1,550 square-foot house in this quiet town northwest of Tracy is now bursting with children and cats, toys and gear. And the couple wouldn’t have it any other way.
The Kempels initially held off on buying infant supplies because they feared for the fate of the babies, born 13 weeks early after a rocky pregnancy and a protracted and ultimately losing battle with Kaiser to go out of network for prenatal care. They already had lived one nightmare with the devastating loss of their twins Marshall and Spencer hours after their birth 18 weeks early in 2013.
“We were terrified,” Chad said of the very real possibility that it could happen again.
But the babies, all five of them, are here. Not technically due until mid-April, Lincoln, Noelle, Grayson, Gabriella and Preston appear to be thriving. Just one, little Grayson, needs an oxygen tank to breathe, but that shouldn’t last long, doctors say.
While they’re over the moon so far, the Kempels know it’s too soon to tell whether any of the babies have long-term issues such as cerebral palsy or developmental delays, not uncommon for multiples born so prematurely. But so far their vital signs look good. Born in January at roughly three pounds each, the quintuplets all now weigh at least six pounds, with a few clocking in north of seven.
They’re also developing into distinct little people. Preston is fussy and always wants to be held. Gabriella is laid-back and goes with the flow. Lincoln has a bigger forehead. Noelle’s complexion is a bit darker.
“It’s amazing,” Chad said as he soothed Preston and gazed at the other four, snoozing peacefully in infant seats that bobbed up and down, side to side. And exhausting. Asked to describe a typical day, he and Amy — who underwent fertility treatments to conceive after struggling to become pregnant — looked at each other and broke into delirious laughter. Like many other babies, the quintuplets each take a bottle every three or four hours, downing an eye-popping total of 40 per day. The couple hasn’t hired help and even with two adults handling two babies at a time, it can take close to an hour to feed all five. Add diaper changes — roughly 80 each day — and almost as soon as they’re back in their cribs or carriers, the cycle starts again.
Chad forgets to eat. Amy can’t remember what day it is. Showers feel like a luxury. Laundry and dishes never end. Some friends bring meals and offer assistance, and Amy’s mom, Flo, who retired last Friday and lives in Castro Valley, comes out several days a week to help.
But doctors have cautioned against allowing too many people and their germs to come into contact with the babies’ sensitive immune systems, so the couple is mostly going it alone for now. A sign posted on the front door warns visitors to turn back if they are sick and to wash their hands and remove their shoes immediately upon entering.
During the pregnancy, Chad and Amy repeatedly asked Kaiser for permission to see an out-of-network doctor in Arizona with significant experience delivering quintuplets. Kaiser denied the requests, and the couple worried the doctors and nurses wouldn’t be prepared to care for the infants. But the delivery was smooth, and the couple have bonded with the nurses who have watched over the babies since their birth.
“We could not hold back tears when we said goodbye to them,” Chad said. Now the couple is on their own.
“Whoever is crying first, we tackle those ones first,” Amy said of the inevitable triage taking place.
They rearranged the house, with the babies taking over the freshly painted blue and pink master bedroom, five cribs now lining the walls. Chad often sleeps on a rollaway bed in the center of the room, wanting to be close in case one of the monitors attached to the babies’ tiny feet beeps or Grayson’s oxygen tank runs low. The family is close to acquiring a 15-passenger van. Chad even looked into whether he’d need a commercial license just to transport his own family. (No, mercifully.)
Still, the couple are settling into their new, surreal lives as parents of seven. Their two older daughters — Savannah, 3, and Avery, 21 months — appear to be taking the upending of their lives in stride. The family’s cats — Riley and Kingston — are entirely unperturbed.
“They’re so loving,” Amy said of the older girls, who go to preschool and daycare until about 4 p.m. each day, giving their parents a chance to focus on the newest additions.
When she gets home, Avery pokes her head into the five infant seats lining the walls of the living room and gently kisses each baby. Savannah talks to them, announcing, “Hi! I’m Savannah!” every day, lest they forget who their big sister is.
Late afternoons and evenings can feel a bit like an episode of Survivor, but the family is getting into a rhythm.
One recent day, Amy sat on the couch feeding two babies while a third squawked anxiously for her turn. Amy’s mom changed a fourth baby’s diaper while Chad settled a fifth just-fed baby into his carrier. Avery nearly tripped on Grayson’s oxygen cords. Savannah wanted orange juice and an iPad and to talk about mummies. (Her preschool had just studied Egypt.) It was pandemonium. And it was perfect.
“It’s really loud,” Amy said, smiling tiredly. “There aren’t enough hours in the day.”
Nights can be rough. “It’s just so hard when you’re so tired,” Amy said, leaning over to smooch Chad on the cheek. “You have no patience.”
At some point soon, Chad will have to return to work as a systems engineer for San Mateo County and they will find a new normal. But the couple say they are ready for anything.
“I think we have a strong foundation,” Chad said, holding Amy’s hand.
They don’t know what the future holds, and the thought of taking even small trips seems laughable at the moment.
“We can’t even imagine going to the park two miles away right now,” Amy said.
But when the blurry-eyed early years are passed and the quintuplets are worried about making the varsity team or getting into the right college or landing a job, Chad plans to pull out photos from their first days in the hospital, when every second felt like a battle.
“I just want them to know,” he said, tears in his eyes, overwhelmed for a second by the weight of it all, “that anything is possible.”