Recently I have been feeling like maybe there was a mix up. I think that maybe God meant to give me Juliet and James one at a time.
Hear me out….I know that both of these children were designed with me in mind. I was literally MADE to be their Mom. But it has occurred to me that maybe I was not made to be a *twin* mom. For the last month or so it has just been feeling like a LOT. My house is a mess, my car is a mess, I am constantly texting my boss and asking her to answer questions that she’s already answered or to clarify things that she’s already clarified. I am always 15 minutes late. AND THEN THERE ARE THESE CHILDREN. Lord, hear our prayer.
I took the kids to Starbucks with a friend yesterday and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. My friend’s child sat nicely in her mama’s lap. She signed when she wanted food. She even used please! I watched in awe, and was then jostled back to life when James bit my knee. For the next 45 minutes or so, I watched my children skitter around of the ground like feral raccoons foraging for half-eaten cheerios.
When I put them in the car, I came to the realization that my children are a little rough around the edges. Juliet is basically a WWE prize fighter and she will cut you for a bite of whatever you are eating. James is a high-risk stealth climber who is constantly antagonizing his sister and sporting a perpetual black eye. Twins be scrappy.
I was lamenting my sorrows, my overwhelmed heart, and my inadequacy by loudly crying in the car after my late night solo trip to the grocery store. I was telling God that since this twins thing was HIS idea, HE needed to figure out how to fix it. NOW.
I took a breath to gear up for another round of sobbing when I heard the radio say, “Judges 6:14 says, ‘The LORD turned to him and said, “Go with the strength you have and deliver Israel from the grasp of Midian. I am sending you!”
Go with the STRENGTH YOU HAVE. Not the strength you want. Not the strength you think that you might have later if you just try a little harder….the STRENGTH YOU HAVE. Maybe God isn’t sending me to deliver Israel from the grasp of Midian, but the task still seems disproportionate to my ability. But it doesn’t matter. I am called to go with the strength I have. God said, “I am sending YOU.”
A kind friend lovingly told me, “You know, humans weren’t designed to have litters. Every day you are doing something that is beyond the expected bounds of your species.” I laughed until I cried. It is hard. It is worth it. It is beautiful. It is CHAOS. I will try. I will fail. I will go with the strength I have.
Hear me when I say, “If we can do this, anyone can.” ANYONE. A N Y O N E. Brett and I are not historically healthy eaters. Because of bedrest and new babies, I probably cooked about 20 times in ALL of 2017. We drank too much coffee. We ate out approximately 1 bazillion times a week. Probably 90% of our diet was processed crap…and that’s what we felt like! Processed crap!
Around Thanksgiving I jokingly pitched the Whole 30 to Brett, fully expecting him to laugh in my face. Instead he said, “Yes! We have to do something. We are on the fast track to obesity” ….or something like that. It’s fuzzy. So I ordered the book, It Starts with Food. I was absolutely shocked at the horrors within. Lord a mercy. We were basically poisoning our bodies. Several close friends agreed to take the challenge with us and we decided to start our Whole 30 on January 2.
I am NO expert on the W30, so head over to https://whole30.com to get the specifics. In a nutshell, for 30 days you do not eat:
-ANY added sugar. Don’t come at me with honey or stevia or ANY of it. Hard pass.
-Alcohol…not even for cooking!
-Legumes. (Brett thought that skipping hummus would physically kill him. Great news–he’s still alive.)
-MSG. (Let’s be real. I don’t know anything about MSG. All I know is that if it’s on the label, we couldn’t eat it. Whatever. I’m so good at being healthy.)
Here are my twin-tested, busy mom guidelines for the Whole 30:
(This is not official advice. I am not a Whole 30 coach. I am merely a woman who has weaned myself off diet coke and oreos.)
-Prep like your life depends on it, because it does.
I generally sat down on Friday night or Saturday morning and meal planned for the week. I kept us stocked with tons of produce, compliant sausages, compliant nuts, compliant larabars, and eggs every single week no matter what. Then I would pick 4-5 meals out of the Whole 30 Fast and Easy cookbook or pinterest.
-Save money by shopping at Aldi first, then finish up your list at Sprouts.
This is an unpopular opinion but, skip Whole Foods. I’ve yet to spend an appropriate amount of money at WF. Maybe I’m doing it wrong? If I am, will you teach me how to do it right? Either way, Sprouts was our solution. Sprouts sells cheap produce and all those random health food items you can’t find at Aldi like ghee and coconut aminos.
-As always, the crock pot is your friend. Here are a couple links to our favorite slow cooker recipes.
-Never get hungry. Never, never, never get hungry. You’re going to need to think this one through. Keep nuts in your car. Hide some larabars at work. Hard boil a dozen eggs every week to keep in your fridge for hanger emergencies.
-Find your support system. We coerced some friends into doing it with us. If you can do that, I would recommend it. If not, at least tell everyone that you’re doing it and to refrain from tempting you. I could not/would not have done it if Brett hadn’t been 1,000% on board.
So, you’re def not supposed to weight/measure yourself during the program, but I’m a rebel. Today is Day 28. I am down 14 pounds and Brett is down 20. We are experiencing more energy, getting better quality sleep (when the tiny bosses allow us to rest) and waking up so much more easily in the mornings.
All of the physical side effects of the program are great, but I think the most important change we’ve made is reinstating family dinners. Because the food is healthy, the babies can basically just eat off our plates. We all sit down together every single night and even if it is only for ten minutes, it’s creating a habit that is essential to the growth of our family!
We are going to take a few days off, and then launch into our second Whole 30! If you have any suggestions or recipes, please let me know!
Confession: I’ve read six books on baby sleep this week.
Bigger confession: At one point I was reading one of these sleep books when I absolutely SHOULD have been watching James because he pulled the dog gate down on himself. Gold star, mom.
HEY, DID YOU KNOW THAT IT IS REALLY HARD TO GO NINE MONTHS WITHOUT SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT?
I won’t bore you with the details of the twins’ not-sleepingness. It is dull. And I’ve already recounted it to my mom, mother-in-law, sister, Bible study group, and best friend every single day for the past week. (Please forgive me, people I love.) So I’ll spare the internet. Suffice it to say that NO ONE in the Eichman house was sleeping and everyone was crying. Puppies included.
So I did what I always do. First, I completely lost my mind and sobbed hysterically. Second, I researched like my very life depended on it…and it kind of did.
I went to the library and literally checked out every single book that had anything to do with baby sleep or twins or both. Juliet screamed the whole time and I did not care that it was disruptive. I was a woman on a mission. I was wearing my metaphorical Leslie Knope hat (….and if anyone can find me a LITERAL Leslie Knope hat –SOLD.) A lady stopped me and said, “She’s being kind of loud for the library.” I said, “I completely agree. Would you like to talk to her about it?” OUT OF MY WAY, LADY.
I crowdsourced by putting out a desperate cry for help on facebook. People were kind and generous with suggestions and reassurance. I asked every single mom at work.
I prayed and asked about 20 people to pray with us. (PROBABLY could have skipped the other fifty steps and also the freak out and just gone straight to this…but that’s not really my brand.)
Brett and I had a date night on Friday, thanks to my mom. We went to Barnes and Noble and read MORE books about sleep. Those Eichmans. They know how to party.
Finally, I handed Brett a stack of books that I had gone through with sticky notes. I told him to read what I had hi lighted and let me know when he devised a plan because I was OUTTTTT. BYE.
Brett took over and devised a plan based on my research. This is why our marriage works. I run around like a chicken with my head cut off gathering ALL relevant information and then he comes in at the last second and does the actual decision making. It’s the only way we’ve ever gotten anything done, so we are pretty much excellent at this approach.
I also will not go into our sleep strategy because that is also BORING and basically irrelevant to everyone because what works for one person will likely never work for anyone else. I will simply link you to the book “Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child,” and let you know that if Dr. Marc Weissbluth ever needs a kidney he can contact me at email@example.com
But I’m starting to figure something out. I’m calling it the two week rule. Every two weeks I will have something new to freak out about. At the beginning it was jaundice levels, then breastfeeding, then SIDS, then breastfeeding, then SIDS, then constipation, then more breastfeeding and more SIDS, etc. More recently it was teething, then solid foods, then sippy cups, then sleep. Basically, there is always going to be something and (as long as everyone remains generally healthy) I can almost guarantee that it will be a different something two weeks later.
Parenthood requires a deeper kind of inner peace than I’ve ever been able to drum up before. It REQUIRES you to trust in things like yourself, your abilities, your spouse, and your support system. Because of my belief system, it REQUIRES me to trust that God will give me exactly the measure of grace I need for every hour. I am a person guilty of being tempest-tossed by my emotions. Motherhood makes short work of that. There’s simply no time. I can’t get as “all up in my feelings” as I once did because somebody pooped, somebody needs a bottle, and also when did the dog get vomited on?
Now, if I figure out exactly how to do this I will let you know. My transition from being emotionally-led to being spiritually-led is in some infant stages. All I know is that I will recite this passage from Lamentations 3 till I’m blue in the face.
21 This I recall to my mind,
Therefore I have hope.
22 Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed,
Because His compassions fail not.
23 They are new every morning;
Great is Your faithfulness.
24 “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“Therefore I hope in Him!”
25 The Lord is good to those who wait for Him,
To the soul who seeks Him.
26 It is good that one should hope and wait quietly
For the salvation of the Lord.
I will not be consumed by all the anxieties that come from the responsibility of loving babies. I will not be consumed by self-doubt. I will not be consumed by fear. God knows my anxious heart and loves me anyway. He will provide fresh grace and compassion every morning. That’s going to have to be enough for now.
I’m sure there’s a better and more beautiful way to wrap this up, but I really do have to go wash the vomit off of the dog.
Before kids, Sunday was my favorite day of the week. Brett and I would wake up, eat breakfast, catch a little bit of CBS Sunday Morning, make coffee or run through Starbucks, and get to church by 8:30. Brett is on staff at church and has some extra responsibilities, but we both participated in worship band. We both “do music” all week long, and it was so life-giving to do it TOGETHER on Sundays.
Flash-forward to December 2017, and prep for Sunday morning starts at about 7pm on Saturday nights. Laundry, bottle making, baby outfit choosing, diaper bag packing, adult ironing, and making a battle plan for when we are leaving, which car(s) we are taking, who has to stay for extra rehearsals, etc. I feel like General Eisenhower as I plan our attack.
We are no longer early. We are no longer even kind of on time. I no longer participate in worship band. Sometimes I don’t even feel like I participate in worship. We used to discuss the sermon/music on the drive home, and now there are times when I can’t even tell Brett what it was about because the babies and I had to leave to take a break in the hallway.
About a month ago, our pastor said, “Let us now go to the Lord in prayer,” and Juliet let out a burp that rattled the windows. I wanted to die. I prayed to be raptured from my seat. (Also…guys, she was SO PROUD of that burp. It was hard not to laugh.)
Two weeks ago the final straw broke the camel’s back. We got to church LATE, LATE, LATE for Brett’s rehearsal. I was trying to copy some music for him when Jules started shrieking. I picked her up to find apocalyptic poop. Everywhere. EV. REY. WHERE. I handed James to a friend and took Jules into the bathroom. I have never seen that much poop in my entire life. It was ALL over her clothes. I made the rookie mistake of putting her new, clean clothes on the changing table….and she laughed at me and kicked her legs and covered them in poop. The child was out of clothes. She was naked at church. Mama was done. Tapping out. I put her in a fresh diaper and her coat. I threw her in her carseat, grabbed her brother, and told Brett that the three of us were going home. And we were NEVER COMING BACK EVER. Because this isn’t relaxing! This isn’t worship! This is a mess. It’s a mess that he’s missing because he still gets to have a job and live his life. (It’s possible that I was a little dramatic and “all up in my feelings” at this point in the game.)
Of course, the babies fell fast asleep on our drive from the church to our house. So I sat in the driveway at our house flipping though my instagram feed. Glennon Doyle’s name jumped off the page, just like it always does. She was advertising some prints she’s selling for Christmas. One struck me right in my grouchy, defiant, hardened heart. It said, “Our family rule: Keep showing up.” Ugh. Shit, Glennon. Always calling me out.
IT IS SO TRUE. All we can do is show up. We bring our good stuff and our bad stuff and our chaos and our joy and our pain and our mundane and our WHATEVER. We show up, not because of what showing up will do for us, but because of what showing up might do for OTHERS. How am I going to be part of the living, breathing, hands and feet of Jesus Christ if I’m at home being a swamp monster? How will I minister to others? How will I hold up, pray for, and encourage friends? Most importantly, how will Juliet and James know that that is the goal if no one is showing them? Our “church people” prayed them into this world. Our “church people” lead the lives of service and love that I desperately wish for Jules and Jim.
So, the Eichmans are going to show up. We are going to do our best. We might spend the whole service in the hallway. It’s possible that we will be in our pajamas. It’s likely that we will be late. It’s almost certain that I will toss a baby at basically any person who walks into the door of Old Mission and say, “Hey! Will you give him a bottle real quick?” But Juliet and James are going to grow up at church.
Link to Glennon’s prints: http://momastery.com/blog/2017/11/19/gift-guide-for-love-warriors-2017/
Remember me? It has been such an incredibly long time since I’ve had time to write that I was considering just dropping it…but I am going to give it another go purely for scrapbooking’s sake.
October was a BLUR of marching band and ear infections. The babies turned six months old and Mommy was a frequent flyer at the pediatrician’s office.
James is crawling and he WILL NOT STOP until he has broken a bone. I just know that this is the one who is going to be doing flips off of the couch in a couple years. Jim is an acrobat.
Juliet waved and imitated, “Hi” nearly twenty times yesterday. She is my communication wonder kid.
We’ve boldly ventured into the world of solid foods….Jules is thrilled and James is inconvenienced. More time in the high chair = less time trying to crawl up the bookshelves. (Yes, they’re bolted down.)
They continue to bless me and challenge me in more ways than I ever, ever, EVER could have expected.
Here’s to the second half of their first year…and perhaps some more regular blogging?!
Monday and Tuesday nights were virtually sleepless. I thought the babies were teething…turns out they actually had ear infections but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
Wednesday I took the babies to Michaels for scrapbook supplies, because I document every second of their lives due to neuroticism. About 10 minutes into our trip, I felt like we were being followed by a man. He was small, shifty, and wearing a beanie. We bobbed and weaved thru the store, and he kept appearing by my side. We checked out at the register, and he grabbed one item and checked out behind me. We booked it to the next door Pier One and he followed. I remembered my boss’s advice to look for a woman because women always help each other. A woman stopped to compliment the twins and I asked her to help me. She walked me to my car and helped me load Jules and James into the back. She was supportive and validating. I drove directly to Brett’s school to sit in the band office.
I think that that half hour was probably the scariest half hour of my life. Every part of me felt like he wanted to take my babies. It never occurred to me to cry or to panic until I walked in the door of our house. I crumpled on the floor and sobbed. It felt like the worst could have happened, but we dodged the bullet. Nothing has ever frightened me more than the potential of harm coming to my littles.
Wednesday night brought another sleepless night, so we went to the doctor Thursday and got double diagnosed with ear infections and colds.
Thursday brought an incredibly kind meal from a friend, and roughly forty-five minutes of sleep.
On Friday I went to work, came home to grumpy babies, and realized that we were almost out of “boogie wipes,” which are wipes with saline in them and “boogie spray,” which is just saline spray. (ALSO–why are these remarkable products given such repulsive names? Ew.) We super duper had to go to Target. Like no choice had to go to Target. The thought of going to Target with two babies and without Brett was terrifying after my experience at Michaels but, the snot was abundant so we really had to go.
It took a few deep breaths, but we had a pretty uneventful trip. We grabbed our boogie related products and headed for the checkout. As we stood in the line, an older gentleman walked straight up to us. Every muscle in my body tensed and I grew three sizes as I put myself between him and my babies. He leaned over the stroller and said, “Oh, Mom. They are beautiful.” I smiled and thanked him, but stayed in my supersized pose. I’m pretty sure that everything about my body language was telling him to get lost. He kept talking. He said, “My grandbabies are twins. They are remarkable. You know something? All mothers are brave, but I think that God only gives twins to mothers with an extra measure of bravery. You’re doing a good job.”
F R I E N D S. I melted. MELTED. I basically turned into an Emilyjane shaped puddle right in the middle of the floor.
It felt so terrifying of being alone with the twins in public, and I seriously feel like God placed those kind words on that man’s heart to remind me that the world, while requiring an “extra measure of bravery,” is a good place.
As far as the illness goes, these babies have just been troopers. Despite the fact that they have been feeling downright rotten, they have been generous with the giggles and smiles. They’ve been fairly easy to please, as long as they are being held. Juliet has been a little bit sicker than James, but they’ve both been getting better and better. They are the sweetest loves in the world.
Juliet, James, and Mommy at the doctor. Our first Dad-free trip to the pediatrician was a *BIT* of a mess.
Mom & Jules after our amazing 45 minute night. It’s possible that she handled it with more grace than I did.
Last night was maybe the hardest night we’ve had in the last three months. Sweetest Juliet would. not. sleep. Would not even hear of it. She was up until 3:30. James needed about 20 minutes of snuggles at 4. Both were up at 6:45.
She took her normal two naps yesterday, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. She didn’t do anything weird all day. Her bedtime is typically about 10pm and she sleeps until 7am or so. But last night 10pm came and went…the 11pm came and went..then 12am…until 3:30am. I rocked her to sleep, and then the minute I put her in her crib she woke up with eyes like that little girl from The Exorcist. She was up and down and up and down. Not really mad, just wide awake. At about midnight I gave up, came downstairs and let her play. That backfired. What the hell do I know?
When God decided to give me two babies, he was like, “Well, ya know what? If I’m going to give her two, I’m going to go ahead and give her two that sleep.” I AM SPOILED. THESE BABIES LOVE TO SLEEP. They’ve been sleeping through the night on a regular basis since we defeated the colic monster at about three months.
Basically the only reason I’m sharing this is to cheer on the moms who have awake/sleep hating babies. You guys are some freaking heroes. I don’t know how you do it. I AM SO TIRED RIGHT NOW. I slept for a grand total of….maybe 40 minutes last night? I know that there are mamas who do this on the reg. Congratulations on having a real life super power.
I know that there will come a time where I think last night was funny. I’m not exactly there at this moment, but tell me your funny/awful “worst night ever” stories.
It is 9:30 am. This is her normal morning nap time…and here we are. Just eating a duck and being awake.
When I meet parents of older twins, they frequently tell me the same two things.
First they tell me to stick to our schedule. They almost always tell me how the schedule was the secret to their twin success. I completely believe them…but this has not been our experience. Maybe we are doing it wrong, but we basically have no schedule. They sleep when they’re tired and eat when they’re hungry. They come with us to rehearsals, games, appointments, and workouts. We are SO lucky that they are SO chill. At some point we may have to transition to a schedule but for now this is working for us.
The other thing twin mamas tell me is that the first year is a blur. This one is harder for me to swallow because this one scares me. I don’t want the first year to be a blur. I want to remember every moment of this. The noises, the smells (good and bad), the late nights and early morning, the milestones, the giggles and the snuggles.
Today I was standing in line at Costco next to a mama of a TINY. A little, little tiny. I’m guessing 3-4 weeks old. My heart started racing as I tried to remember what Jules and Jim looked like at that age. Nothing concrete was coming to mind. I pulled out my phone and flipped back to May and April. Okay. There they were. Skinny except for the giant cheeks. Tiny soft white blond hairs all over. Rarely crying because of the prematurity. Lots of naps. Okay. There they were.
I unloaded the $110 worth of formula (6 CARTONS, PEOPLE. That should get us through to next Monday. Jesus take the wheel.) and the kids into the car. I felt like crap. I called Brett and started crying. “I’m forgetting it!” I told him. “I’m not going to remember how sweet they are or how Juliet blows bubbles and gasps when I get her out of bed. I’m not going to remember how warm James feels when he naps on my chest or the way he smiles so big that I can’t feed him.” Everybody told me it would be a blur, but I didn’t believe it because the thought was too scary.
Because Brett is logical (annoying) he asked me what steps we could take to solve the problem. We talked about taking pictures, taking videos. I talked about how blogging/writing privately will help me remember. We talked about INTENTIONAL TIME. We are trying to carve out a little more time for the four of us to be together. The last couple months have been a lot. Brett’s work schedule is busiest in the fall. Last week alone he had two concerts, a football game, an evening rehearsal and a marching band competition that had him busy from 10am-3am. It’s a lot, but we LOVE it. He loves the students and would do anything to help them be successful. I work one evening a week, we host life group one evening a week, and then spend a large chunk of Sunday at church. This weekend appears to be a unicorn weekend. We are going to squeeze every drop out of it. I will take pictures and videos and try my hardest to clear the blur.
Do you have blur-clearing suggestions? What helps you remember the little, tiny things that you can’t stand to forget?
Every s i n g l e muscle in my body is on fire. Every darn one.
Yesterday was my first Stroller Strides class through Fit4Mom of Overland Park. It. Was. Awesome. Let’s break it down.
Workout: Okay. I am no newbie to a butt kicking workout. In college I went to spinning evvvvvvvery single day. After I got married I was in the gym at least four times a week. Then I got three jobs and got pregnant and the whole thing kind of fell apart. So, I’m pretty out of shape right now…and that’s okay! My focus has been elsewhere! But GUYS. This was the realest deal. The realest butt kicking deal. I cannot sit down today. I’m literally standing as I type this. The workout was full body plus cardio. I am a dork, so I forgot to wear my apple watch to monitor heart rate and such, but I’ll wear it tomorrow and let you know in a comment.
Cost: FRIENDS. This is might be the best part? I have combed through the interwebs looking for affordable options for Mommy and Me fitness. Yoga classes were running like $20-$30/class. This is totally fine for a once a month or even once a week thing…but I would like more workouts per week and a little more bang for my buck. STROLLER STRIDES IS $50/month FOR UNLIMITED WORK OUTS. There are Monday, Wednesday, Friday weekly offerings plus an additional two Saturdays a month. So, in the month of October that boils down to 15 available classes. That’s like less than $3.50 a class. BEAT THAT!
Community: I was so impressed by this. The instructor created an incredibly inclusive environment. There were mamas with defined biceps and amazing abs, but I never felt intimidated. Not once! She kept telling us to pick the pace that was right for your body today. It was so easy to load up the babies and take them with me. I wasn’t embarrassed when they cried, because it never failed that someone else’s peanut was melting down at the same time. Every body just *got it,* you know? ….also where else are you going to go and hear the instructor say, “Here is a modification in case you are worried about peeing your pants!” I mean, my vaginal delivery compadres feel me on this one. It’s real. Lord hear our prayer.
The mental health benefit was off the chain. Oh my goodness. I have been a postpartum depression-y mess the last few weeks. I’ve tried several things, and none have worked quite as effectively as this work out surrounded by other moms. I promise to tell me PPD story eventually….but not while I’m in the forest. My personal savior (JUST KIDDING, JESUS) Glennon Doyle tells us to write from our scars, not our open wounds…so I will get back to you on that one.
I’m also interested by my motivation for this workout. I’ve spent my entire life working out to lose weight. Not yesterday. Yesterday I was working out to move my body. I was working out to feel strong. I was working out to have fun with my kids and make friends. I was working out to push my body somewhere it hasn’t been in awhile and feel more like myself. It was good.
I read the news this morning at about 5am when James woke up. My heart sank into my stomach as I flipped through the CNN app. The heart that was already reeling from the violence in Lawrence.
Sometimes it seems that my own grief is selfish. Like I shouldn’t allow myself to be as hurt by this as I am. Like I take away from the importance of the pain of those who were there if I carry it myself. THIS IS FALSE. This insecurity is from the devil. We get to feel empathy. We have to feel empathy.
Today is hard. Today reminds me of December 14, 2012, when sweet babies were killed in an elementary school, and for the first time in my life I questioned the very existence of God.
Today is hard. I called my lawmakers. I am not going to try to change anyone’s mind but theirs. I recognize that social media is a toxic place for me, so I’m stepping away.
Today is hard. My church opened our meditation room to provide space for prayer and processing. We may go or we may invite Jesus to sit in our living room with us.
Today is hard. Today reminds me of the vulnerability of motherhood. It reminds me that the world I brought my babies into isn’t necessarily safe. It makes me squeeze them closer. Music helps me process. The words of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s “It’s Quiet Uptown” made me feel heard and supported:
“There are moments that the words don’t reach
There is suffering too terrible to name
You hold your child as tight as you can
Then push away the unimaginable.”
If you are struggling today, I’m holding space for you. Feel your feelings. Love your neighbors. And if you have any better ideas, let me know.
Today is hard. Let’s hold each other close.
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