The Quandary of Quintuplets : Couple Faces the Perks and Perils of Parenthood--5 Times Over

With newborn quintuplets, tranquil moments for Marcella and Ramon Quezada are brief and elusive, nanoseconds when five stomachs are content, five mouths are closed, five diapers are dry, and five little bodies are tucked into five little beds.

The other 86,399 seconds of the day blur into one giant maelstrom of feeding, diapering, soothing, sleeping and cleaning.

“Either you wish you only had one baby or you wish you had more arms,” Marcella said with a sigh during a brief pause in Saturday’s 11 a.m. cycle, the fourth of the day.

The first three feedings were less than ideal. Kimberly, who on Friday was the last of the brood to come home following the group’s Feb. 9 birth, was not yet adjusted to her siblings’ sleeping schedule--in other words, she was waking noisily just as the others were dosing contentedly.

If their parents and grandparents are all on duty, then Tiffany, Patricia, Andrew and Raymond usually take 45 minutes to eat and get changed before a three-hour sleep.

But Friday, their first full day together since their time in utero, was spent adapting to life on the outside and getting hauled downtown so two of the siblings could have a TV screen test.

So the wee Saturday morning hours that make for difficult feedings under any circumstances were all the more trying as one child or another seemed to always be waking up, spitting up or piping up.

After moving from crib to crib to crib to no avail, Marcella and Ramon gave in to the children’s preferred sleeping arrangement, and made a bed on the floor--for themselves. The babies, nestled together, took their bed.

Or at least that was the idea before Andrew, already establishing himself as the needy one, started crying until his mother wrapped him in a blanket and hugged him next to her.

Ramon tried to handle the 2 a.m. feeding by himself, holding one child and one bottle on each arm, changing them and moving on to two more before taking little Kimberly on her own.

Marcella, letting her husband sleep through the 5:30 a.m. cycle, had a different technique. She put each baby on the bed, and attempted to feed them all at once by propping a bottle into each of their mouths with a rolled-up blanket as she darted between them to adjust, tilt and wipe.

By later in the morning, the parents abandoned stoicism and called upon all available hands. With four grown-ups, all goes much smoother.

Order is important: Making the mistake of feeding the last shift’s last baby first ensures three howling children who have had to wait much longer than their usual three hours between meals.

Raymond, already in Grandpa Mario Lopez’s arms, cooperatively drank down his meal. Meanwhile, Papa Ramon struggled to keep Patricia from pushing away her bottle. Andrew was left to Aunt Feliciana, and Marcella patiently fed Tiffany. Kimberly, still not quite used to the routine, continued to sleep.

Within 15 minutes, the first was ready for the inevitable next step.

Marcella stood her post at the head of the changing table and took the children as they were delivered to her.

Her movements, already five times as practiced as those of most new moms, were quick and deliberate, yet able to account for variation--the way an assembly-line worker adjusts for an upside-down piece.

Unsnap sleeper. Insert pacifier as child begins to cry--whoops! Insert pacifier again. Remove soiled diaper. Quiet child. Wipe. Quiet child. Powder. Quiet child. Hurry, hurry, hurry--there’s another one already beginning to cry! Snap on new diaper. Change wet sleeper. Clean spit-up. Quiet child. Reinsert pacifier. Kiss child. Tuck in bed.

Next!

The amount of necessary materials is considerable. Eight feedings per day means 40 bottles, 120 ounces of formula, 40 diapers, 20 sleepers and two loads of laundry.

When all the children are down--if they indeed stay quiet--their parents have just enough time to clean off the changing area, start a load of laundry, wipe off counters, ready the next batch of bottles and maybe, just maybe, return a phone call, or write a thank-you note or a birth announcement.

But even in the middle of the mess--with two crying children, one losing his last meal all over the changing table, one hiccuping, with no hope that Mommy would have enough time at the moment to rub her back and one poor soul trying to sleep--an exhausted Marcella smiled.

“Either you smile or you cry,” she said.

One day down, 4,710 to go before adolescence.