Here are some photos of the babies' births and the first couple of days afterward.
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Monday, May 9, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
A Birth Story for Mother's Day
Go time...
If being wheeled into the OR wasn't strange enough, arriving there was akin to an out-of-body experience. There were a dozen people in there, not counting me or the on-call doc who was still stitching another mom who had given birth.
There were nurses for me, nurses for the baby, the anesthesiologist, a doc from the NICU whose name I didn't catch, me, Scott, the cameraman, and Scott's mom with a camera. Everyone was in gowns and masks except for me -- I was still in a hospital nightie with a bare bum which was resting in a swap of amniotic fluid.
Thankfully, though I could feel the increasing pressure with the contractions, I was not feeling the urge to push. I think that had I not gotten the epidural, Baby A might have been born in the hallway because the urge to push is pretty undeniable. Super Nurse asked if I was comfortable and could hang on until the doc got there. I said, "Yes. As long as he's not going to be an hour."
Then she asked if I wanted to do a practice push. I laughed and responded, "Not until there's someone here to catch!"
About that time, the someone to catch came in and introduced himself. If you recall, he met Scott earlier while I was sleeping. This time, I was very awake. He also asked for a practice push, so I did. About .5 seconds into the push he asked me to stop (which I could do, thanks to the epidural -- if I hadn't had the meds, Baby A would have hit the floor) and he quickly suited up.
Two pushes later at 11:47 a.m., Juliet Diana came into the world weighing 5lbs 8oz and measuring 19 inches long. Scott cut the cord and she was held aloft so that I could get a quick peek at her before getting to work to deliver Baby B.
First, the doctor needed to break Baby B's water. Well, she was hiding way up at the top of my uterus, starting to come down head first. But way up there. Not that Juliet had really come down too far -- apparently I accomplished the amazing feat of dilating to 10cm before she dropped, but this is common for my deliveries -- both Milo and Violet stayed high until I started pushing, then they were delivered quickly, managing to keep their little (ha!) heads nice and round.
So little miss hiding-way-up-there necessitated the doc getting his hand way up there, too, in order to hook her bag of water. The first attempt led to a trickle, so he made a second attempt, which led to a river which flowed so fast I involuntarily gasped, "Woah!"
According to Scott's mom (the OB nurse of some 30 years), once they know that Baby B is coming down the right direction, the OR relaxes. We certainly found that to be the case. The doctor and Super Nurse did a little bit of external repositioning and asked me to start pushing like mad, contractions or not. As she was crowing, they let me take a moment's rest before the final pushes.
Nine minutes after her sister (11:57 a.m.), Willa Caroline came into the world weighing 6lbs 6oz and measuring 20 inches long, completely covered with cheesy vernex. I was surprised that there was so much difference in their weights -- generally, the docs won't let you deliver vaginally if they think that Baby B is more than half a pound heavier than Baby A. Maybe it's a good thing we hadn't had that last growth ultrasound after all?
The nurses worked on the babies as I delivered the placentas and was repaired -- it's very odd to feel the tugging of stitches and have no associated pain. My tear was a second degree tear, but I didn't really feel it during recovery, thank goodness. Given that my first two babies were nearly 3 pounds bigger than Juliet, I'm guessing my tear had more to do with Dr. Large Hands than it did the actual births, but I'm not going to complain at all because I was able to deliver them the way I had so very much wanted.
Both babies did great -- Juliet had APGARs of 9/9 and Willa's were 8/9. Neither needed NICU time, both came back to the suite with me. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect twin delivery and am so very thankful and appreciative of the doctors and nurses who trusted me and my body to do it.
And that's my birth story for Mother's Day. I continue to be amazed by the four (FOUR!) little people Scott and I have brought into our lives. Every day fills me with more joy than I thought possible; I am continually humbled by the sheer force of their spirits. I feel pretty certain that I am the luckiest mama in the world.
Happy Mother's Day to all!
If being wheeled into the OR wasn't strange enough, arriving there was akin to an out-of-body experience. There were a dozen people in there, not counting me or the on-call doc who was still stitching another mom who had given birth.
There were nurses for me, nurses for the baby, the anesthesiologist, a doc from the NICU whose name I didn't catch, me, Scott, the cameraman, and Scott's mom with a camera. Everyone was in gowns and masks except for me -- I was still in a hospital nightie with a bare bum which was resting in a swap of amniotic fluid.
Thankfully, though I could feel the increasing pressure with the contractions, I was not feeling the urge to push. I think that had I not gotten the epidural, Baby A might have been born in the hallway because the urge to push is pretty undeniable. Super Nurse asked if I was comfortable and could hang on until the doc got there. I said, "Yes. As long as he's not going to be an hour."
Then she asked if I wanted to do a practice push. I laughed and responded, "Not until there's someone here to catch!"
About that time, the someone to catch came in and introduced himself. If you recall, he met Scott earlier while I was sleeping. This time, I was very awake. He also asked for a practice push, so I did. About .5 seconds into the push he asked me to stop (which I could do, thanks to the epidural -- if I hadn't had the meds, Baby A would have hit the floor) and he quickly suited up.
Two pushes later at 11:47 a.m., Juliet Diana came into the world weighing 5lbs 8oz and measuring 19 inches long. Scott cut the cord and she was held aloft so that I could get a quick peek at her before getting to work to deliver Baby B.
First, the doctor needed to break Baby B's water. Well, she was hiding way up at the top of my uterus, starting to come down head first. But way up there. Not that Juliet had really come down too far -- apparently I accomplished the amazing feat of dilating to 10cm before she dropped, but this is common for my deliveries -- both Milo and Violet stayed high until I started pushing, then they were delivered quickly, managing to keep their little (ha!) heads nice and round.
So little miss hiding-way-up-there necessitated the doc getting his hand way up there, too, in order to hook her bag of water. The first attempt led to a trickle, so he made a second attempt, which led to a river which flowed so fast I involuntarily gasped, "Woah!"
According to Scott's mom (the OB nurse of some 30 years), once they know that Baby B is coming down the right direction, the OR relaxes. We certainly found that to be the case. The doctor and Super Nurse did a little bit of external repositioning and asked me to start pushing like mad, contractions or not. As she was crowing, they let me take a moment's rest before the final pushes.
Nine minutes after her sister (11:57 a.m.), Willa Caroline came into the world weighing 6lbs 6oz and measuring 20 inches long, completely covered with cheesy vernex. I was surprised that there was so much difference in their weights -- generally, the docs won't let you deliver vaginally if they think that Baby B is more than half a pound heavier than Baby A. Maybe it's a good thing we hadn't had that last growth ultrasound after all?
The nurses worked on the babies as I delivered the placentas and was repaired -- it's very odd to feel the tugging of stitches and have no associated pain. My tear was a second degree tear, but I didn't really feel it during recovery, thank goodness. Given that my first two babies were nearly 3 pounds bigger than Juliet, I'm guessing my tear had more to do with Dr. Large Hands than it did the actual births, but I'm not going to complain at all because I was able to deliver them the way I had so very much wanted.
Both babies did great -- Juliet had APGARs of 9/9 and Willa's were 8/9. Neither needed NICU time, both came back to the suite with me. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect twin delivery and am so very thankful and appreciative of the doctors and nurses who trusted me and my body to do it.
And that's my birth story for Mother's Day. I continue to be amazed by the four (FOUR!) little people Scott and I have brought into our lives. Every day fills me with more joy than I thought possible; I am continually humbled by the sheer force of their spirits. I feel pretty certain that I am the luckiest mama in the world.
Happy Mother's Day to all!
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Watching the Lights Go By
At around 6:00 a.m., the Evil Pitocin was started. I call it Evil Pitocin because I needed it to go into labor with Milo and can't say enough about how much I disliked how quickly the contractions settled in -- from 0 to 90mph in 30 minutes. Aware that using the Evil Pit caused my uterus to hyperstimulate with him (have contractions with two peaks), I had discussed the timing of my epidural very carefully with the night nurse.
I had decided that I only wanted to labor until just after the shift change without the epidural, since it was going to be necessary when Dr. Frying-Pan-Hands delivered the twins. I figured that any great anesthesiologist would love to come in on call on Monday morning and administer my epidural, right? Actually, I was mostly interested in having a "fresh" doctor because getting my epidural with Milo was rather, ummm... difficult. As in it took eleven tries.
Shift change rolls around and I still can't call my contractions any more painful than a 3 on the pain scale. And they aren't assembling into any ordered pattern at all. They were coming every 3 minutes, 5 minutes, 2 minutes, 7 minutes... You get the picture -- like a middle school orchestra plays through a piece of music for the first time -- not paying any attention to the conductor.
At shift change, we were given a treat -- a nurse whom Scott has known since he was a child and who also staffed Violet's birth came in as our nurse for the labor and delivery. We were thrilled!
The anesthesiologist come in, introducing himself and surveying my back. He proclaims it acceptable, saying, "We'll get this one on the first try!" And he did. Whew!!! I was honestly more worried about the epidural than the delivery. Not only that, but it appears to be a perfect epidural -- I can move and sense the pressure of the contractions, but feel none of the ouchies. After this experience, I can now understand why a woman would want an epidural. Don't get me wrong -- I still preferred my un-medicated birth with Violet, but this was a thousand times better than the way I felt with Milo.
Of course, as soon as the epidural was effective, I was overcome with nausea. Super Nurse put something into my IV that got rid o the nausea, but also put me to sleep for a couple of hours. Poor Scott had yet to close his eyes, but I was out deeply enough that I didn't even know that the on-call OB came in to chat with us about what was up. I surely hope Scott told him what I wanted. I think he did, though, as everything was pitch perfect all day.
At some point, S and the cameraman popped back in, wondering if there was a timeline for the day as no one really knew how long it would take. Super Nurse said, "Well, this isn't her first, so she could go from 2-10 pretty quickly. It doesn't usually happen that way and she's about 4 right now, but you never know."
I did rouse when Scott's mom came in to see how we were doing, mostly because I wanted to know how Milo and Violet were after their adventure of the previous night. About that time, I began to notice that the head lead on Baby A was moving. I could feel it twisting and turning and it occurred to me that A's head night be turning to get into place for delivery, so I said something to Super Nurse. She decided to check my progress and very quickly said, "Yep. She's complete."
Scott's mom decided to postpone the meeting she was about to attend and stuck her head out the door to let S and the cameraman know it was time to gown up. Scott climbed into the surgical jumpsuit, claiming that he looked "like a garbage man."
I was given an attractive shower cap, too, just before the bed went mobile and I was pushed into the OR. You always see shots in movies as a patient is being wheeled into surgery, dramatic music rising, weeping spouses begging the character to, "Hang on! I can't lose you!" and the camera pans to a shot of the lights whirring by overhead, clearly the patient's view. Aside from the melodramatics, the view of the lights is accurate, I can now vouch. I had that thought as I watched the lights go by...
I had decided that I only wanted to labor until just after the shift change without the epidural, since it was going to be necessary when Dr. Frying-Pan-Hands delivered the twins. I figured that any great anesthesiologist would love to come in on call on Monday morning and administer my epidural, right? Actually, I was mostly interested in having a "fresh" doctor because getting my epidural with Milo was rather, ummm... difficult. As in it took eleven tries.
Shift change rolls around and I still can't call my contractions any more painful than a 3 on the pain scale. And they aren't assembling into any ordered pattern at all. They were coming every 3 minutes, 5 minutes, 2 minutes, 7 minutes... You get the picture -- like a middle school orchestra plays through a piece of music for the first time -- not paying any attention to the conductor.
At shift change, we were given a treat -- a nurse whom Scott has known since he was a child and who also staffed Violet's birth came in as our nurse for the labor and delivery. We were thrilled!
The anesthesiologist come in, introducing himself and surveying my back. He proclaims it acceptable, saying, "We'll get this one on the first try!" And he did. Whew!!! I was honestly more worried about the epidural than the delivery. Not only that, but it appears to be a perfect epidural -- I can move and sense the pressure of the contractions, but feel none of the ouchies. After this experience, I can now understand why a woman would want an epidural. Don't get me wrong -- I still preferred my un-medicated birth with Violet, but this was a thousand times better than the way I felt with Milo.
Of course, as soon as the epidural was effective, I was overcome with nausea. Super Nurse put something into my IV that got rid o the nausea, but also put me to sleep for a couple of hours. Poor Scott had yet to close his eyes, but I was out deeply enough that I didn't even know that the on-call OB came in to chat with us about what was up. I surely hope Scott told him what I wanted. I think he did, though, as everything was pitch perfect all day.
At some point, S and the cameraman popped back in, wondering if there was a timeline for the day as no one really knew how long it would take. Super Nurse said, "Well, this isn't her first, so she could go from 2-10 pretty quickly. It doesn't usually happen that way and she's about 4 right now, but you never know."
I did rouse when Scott's mom came in to see how we were doing, mostly because I wanted to know how Milo and Violet were after their adventure of the previous night. About that time, I began to notice that the head lead on Baby A was moving. I could feel it twisting and turning and it occurred to me that A's head night be turning to get into place for delivery, so I said something to Super Nurse. She decided to check my progress and very quickly said, "Yep. She's complete."
Scott's mom decided to postpone the meeting she was about to attend and stuck her head out the door to let S and the cameraman know it was time to gown up. Scott climbed into the surgical jumpsuit, claiming that he looked "like a garbage man."
I was given an attractive shower cap, too, just before the bed went mobile and I was pushed into the OR. You always see shots in movies as a patient is being wheeled into surgery, dramatic music rising, weeping spouses begging the character to, "Hang on! I can't lose you!" and the camera pans to a shot of the lights whirring by overhead, clearly the patient's view. Aside from the melodramatics, the view of the lights is accurate, I can now vouch. I had that thought as I watched the lights go by...
Friday, May 6, 2011
So We Waited...
The words that slipped from my mouth to the receptionist at the birth care center seemed utterly surreal, "Hi. I'm 37 weeks pregnant with twins and my water has broken. I'm not in labor yet. Oh, by the way, I have called S. from the hospital and she will be here with a camera person shortly. They are completely OK to come in to triage or our room, wherever we are when they get here. And there should be a note in my file that my OB is planning to deliver me, even though she's not on call. And I'm Courtenay..."
I'm not sure which part was more crazy -- that the twins were on their way or that the little flighty introduction I gave the poor receptionist made me sound like I was Mariah Carey and we were checking into the celebrity wing of the hospital in L.A. whilst surrounded by paparazzi. In any case, I felt a wee bit self-conscious giving that whole self-important blah, blah, blah...
We were shown back to Room 2, the site of many of our non-stress tests. The tech asked a few questions, gave me a hospital gown and scooted out of the room to let me change. I made Scott take one last belly shot for the sake of weird science, and used the toilet. When I was attempting to stand up without dribbling amniotic fluid down my leg, our nurse arrived, escorted by a newly-minted charge nurse who just happened to be the daughter of a friend and who had staffed Violet's birth. I'm not sure who was more excited -- us or her.
I apologized profusely for leaking on the floor.
After going through the admission paperwork, I was hooked up to the old familiar monitors. Baby A was in the same spot as always, Baby B was sliding up and down the right side of my belly, naturally. I was not contracting in any pattern, commenting that the contractions I was having were less painful than the Braxton-Hicks I'd been having all week.
About this time, S and M (the cameraman) showed up for a quick interview, both looking tired and excited. I apologized for calling them out of bed, but neither seemed put out by it. M decided that he was going to shoot clocks throughout the piece, so, though I have no clue how long I was actually in triage, the video has the proof!
After confirming that my water had indeed broken, the nurses helped us organize our stuff and head to the suite where I would labor. Because I was having twins, the delivery would take place in an operating room in case we needed swift medical intervention, but I was able to labor in the comfort of a birthing suite, followed always by the swoosh-swoosh of the monitors.
I was still not contracting with any urgency, still only dilated to about 2cm. They started an IV with my antibiotics and fluids. My OB arrived on the scene, also looking sleepy. She explained that as luck would have it, the next morning was the only morning that she had surgery scheduled all week and, due to that, the on-call doc was going to have to do the delivery. I blinked and asked who the doc was...
Fortunately for us, the on-call doc was an OB who had been practicing longer than I've been alive -- so back in the day when they delivered breech babies vaginally instead of automatically checking the box for a c-section. I sighed with relief knowing that my body could deliver both babies vaginally if the doc was amenable and that the on-call doc was amenable. As she placed a scalp lead on Baby A, I mused that my OB has tiny delicate hands and the on-call doc towered over Scott and had hands the size of polar bear paws. I shuddered a little and decided that I was glad that I was going to have an epidural.
And then the waiting began. My doc decided not to start the pitocin right away to see if my body would get into a good labor pattern on my own. I didn't think that it would and had a deja vu moment as I remembered back to Milo's birth. My water broke then, too, and labor didn't start. Pretty much like it was going so far with the twins.
And so we waited. Scott and I were far too awake to relax, he was bouncy with anticipation. My contractions weren't painful, strong, nor long. So we waited...
I'm not sure which part was more crazy -- that the twins were on their way or that the little flighty introduction I gave the poor receptionist made me sound like I was Mariah Carey and we were checking into the celebrity wing of the hospital in L.A. whilst surrounded by paparazzi. In any case, I felt a wee bit self-conscious giving that whole self-important blah, blah, blah...
We were shown back to Room 2, the site of many of our non-stress tests. The tech asked a few questions, gave me a hospital gown and scooted out of the room to let me change. I made Scott take one last belly shot for the sake of weird science, and used the toilet. When I was attempting to stand up without dribbling amniotic fluid down my leg, our nurse arrived, escorted by a newly-minted charge nurse who just happened to be the daughter of a friend and who had staffed Violet's birth. I'm not sure who was more excited -- us or her.
I apologized profusely for leaking on the floor.
After going through the admission paperwork, I was hooked up to the old familiar monitors. Baby A was in the same spot as always, Baby B was sliding up and down the right side of my belly, naturally. I was not contracting in any pattern, commenting that the contractions I was having were less painful than the Braxton-Hicks I'd been having all week.
About this time, S and M (the cameraman) showed up for a quick interview, both looking tired and excited. I apologized for calling them out of bed, but neither seemed put out by it. M decided that he was going to shoot clocks throughout the piece, so, though I have no clue how long I was actually in triage, the video has the proof!
After confirming that my water had indeed broken, the nurses helped us organize our stuff and head to the suite where I would labor. Because I was having twins, the delivery would take place in an operating room in case we needed swift medical intervention, but I was able to labor in the comfort of a birthing suite, followed always by the swoosh-swoosh of the monitors.
I was still not contracting with any urgency, still only dilated to about 2cm. They started an IV with my antibiotics and fluids. My OB arrived on the scene, also looking sleepy. She explained that as luck would have it, the next morning was the only morning that she had surgery scheduled all week and, due to that, the on-call doc was going to have to do the delivery. I blinked and asked who the doc was...
Fortunately for us, the on-call doc was an OB who had been practicing longer than I've been alive -- so back in the day when they delivered breech babies vaginally instead of automatically checking the box for a c-section. I sighed with relief knowing that my body could deliver both babies vaginally if the doc was amenable and that the on-call doc was amenable. As she placed a scalp lead on Baby A, I mused that my OB has tiny delicate hands and the on-call doc towered over Scott and had hands the size of polar bear paws. I shuddered a little and decided that I was glad that I was going to have an epidural.
And then the waiting began. My doc decided not to start the pitocin right away to see if my body would get into a good labor pattern on my own. I didn't think that it would and had a deja vu moment as I remembered back to Milo's birth. My water broke then, too, and labor didn't start. Pretty much like it was going so far with the twins.
And so we waited. Scott and I were far too awake to relax, he was bouncy with anticipation. My contractions weren't painful, strong, nor long. So we waited...
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Into the Unknown
Instantly life sped up. Scott flew out of the bed, thanking his intuition for not taking the Ambien, and we started planning what our next steps were.
"We've got to call someone to watch the kids. Should we have someone come here? Should we take them somewhere?"
"What about the dogs? They're going to have to stay outside for the night."
"Must call S. from the hospital so she can alert the camera crew. Yikes! We'll be waking them in the middle of the night..."
"I'm going to be a little vain and take five minutes to put on some make-up. I think we're going to be up all night and I just don't want to look like Frankenstein's monster on TV."
I got myself ready and Scott bustled about dressing himself, loading the few things that needed to be loaded in the van, and finally carrying each of our children through the cold rain to their car seats.
By the time I got to the van, they were both wide awake and grinning from ear to ear. In unison, they squealed, "I love you, mommy!" as I ungracefully climbed into my seat and onto the thick beach towel Scott had laid out to soak up the amniotic fluid.
"Do you know what we're doing up in the middle of the night?"
"Daddy says we're having the babies!!" Violet pealed, her smile shining in the darkness like a beacon. Milo shouted, "Yay for babies"
And we were off in the night to meet Scott's mom at the birth care center so that she could take the kids and we could get admitted. i still was not contracting.
I placed the call to S. from the hospital, she answered sleepily, but became quickly excited when I told her that my water had broken. She said she'd get the ball rolling with the film crew and wished us good luck for a safe drive through the downpour. I called my mom and told her what was up, asking her not to drive out in the middle of the night because I wasn't actually in labor yet, so I anticipated a lunchtime arrival of the babes.
We pulled up under the awning of the birth care center and Scott's mom came out, looking both sleepy and excited. I kissed each of the kids good night, feeling very sad to send them along, even though they were bursting at the seams with pride and excitement. I was remembering how hard it was for me to miss Milo for the few days I was in the hospital with Violet's birth.
It was cold out, and in the whirlwind to get to the hospital, I had not grabbed a jacket, so I shivered in the cold wind as Scott closed the van doors on our family of four for the last time.
We made our way into the darkened lobby of the birth care center, taking deep breaths as we stepped off the edge into the unknown.
"We've got to call someone to watch the kids. Should we have someone come here? Should we take them somewhere?"
"What about the dogs? They're going to have to stay outside for the night."
"Must call S. from the hospital so she can alert the camera crew. Yikes! We'll be waking them in the middle of the night..."
"I'm going to be a little vain and take five minutes to put on some make-up. I think we're going to be up all night and I just don't want to look like Frankenstein's monster on TV."
I got myself ready and Scott bustled about dressing himself, loading the few things that needed to be loaded in the van, and finally carrying each of our children through the cold rain to their car seats.
By the time I got to the van, they were both wide awake and grinning from ear to ear. In unison, they squealed, "I love you, mommy!" as I ungracefully climbed into my seat and onto the thick beach towel Scott had laid out to soak up the amniotic fluid.
"Do you know what we're doing up in the middle of the night?"
"Daddy says we're having the babies!!" Violet pealed, her smile shining in the darkness like a beacon. Milo shouted, "Yay for babies"
And we were off in the night to meet Scott's mom at the birth care center so that she could take the kids and we could get admitted. i still was not contracting.
I placed the call to S. from the hospital, she answered sleepily, but became quickly excited when I told her that my water had broken. She said she'd get the ball rolling with the film crew and wished us good luck for a safe drive through the downpour. I called my mom and told her what was up, asking her not to drive out in the middle of the night because I wasn't actually in labor yet, so I anticipated a lunchtime arrival of the babes.
We pulled up under the awning of the birth care center and Scott's mom came out, looking both sleepy and excited. I kissed each of the kids good night, feeling very sad to send them along, even though they were bursting at the seams with pride and excitement. I was remembering how hard it was for me to miss Milo for the few days I was in the hospital with Violet's birth.
It was cold out, and in the whirlwind to get to the hospital, I had not grabbed a jacket, so I shivered in the cold wind as Scott closed the van doors on our family of four for the last time.
We made our way into the darkened lobby of the birth care center, taking deep breaths as we stepped off the edge into the unknown.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Yes, I'm Fine... Actually, My Water Broke
Sunday, April 17 dawned like any other muddy spring day here in Iowa. The mischievous sparkle of a spring snow that had dusted the previous morning was long gone, but the whine of the spring wind wrapped itself around the house, making a melancholy song.
I was restless. And very uncomfortable, perhaps more uncomfortable than I had been during the entire twin pregnancy. Uncomfortable enough to need a shower, breaking my one-ness with the couch for long enough to actually shave my legs. That is, by the way, a real feat for a beyond hugely pregnant mama in a smallish shower. Yes, I felt absolutely compelled to shave my legs.
My pelvic bone felt like it was breaking in two and I was actually flopping around on the couch like a turtle on it's back. I chanted silently every time I moved, "One more week. Hang on for just a little longer..."
Scott's parents brought dinner that night. I think they were missing my lovely Milo and Violet, but it was nice to eat something not frozen, then warmed or carried out from who-knows-where. I commented to his mother that I was feeling about done with being pregnant, that 37 weeks was tomorrow.
TMI alert (sorry, Dad): Shortly after they left, I discovered I was losing my mucous plug. I laughed loudly from the bathroom. Scott misheard and thought I was calling for help, so he came bounding through the house like a herd of elephants to see what was up. I said, "I'm losing my plug here. That just means I'm moving closer to labor, but it could be hours or weeks. Not a hard sign of anything."
Still, even though I was approaching labor and delivery for the third time in my life, the excitement began welling. It may sound naive, but I felt pretty certain at that moment that I wasn't going to make it to 38 weeks. Scott seemed to sense my restlessness and decided that it was the night for him to stop taking the Ambien -- just in case.
Neither of us fell into a deep sleep. The girls were having a dance party, using my bladder for a trampoline, so I was up four times to use the bathroom before 1:00.
At 1:20, as I was laying there in the darkness, listening to Scott's breathing become rhythmic and deep, I felt the telltale POP and a small gush. I quickly rolled out of bed, not wanting to flood the mattress. Scott stirred slightly. I made my way to the bathroom in a trance. Sat down, could tell that the trickle of liquid was not coming from my bladder. Sleepwalked back to the bedroom, where I stood poised at the foot of the bed, not quite sure how to wake Scott.
He roused slightly, and asked a perfunctory, "You OK?"
I stammered, "Yes, I'm fine... Actually, my water broke..."
I was restless. And very uncomfortable, perhaps more uncomfortable than I had been during the entire twin pregnancy. Uncomfortable enough to need a shower, breaking my one-ness with the couch for long enough to actually shave my legs. That is, by the way, a real feat for a beyond hugely pregnant mama in a smallish shower. Yes, I felt absolutely compelled to shave my legs.
My pelvic bone felt like it was breaking in two and I was actually flopping around on the couch like a turtle on it's back. I chanted silently every time I moved, "One more week. Hang on for just a little longer..."
Scott's parents brought dinner that night. I think they were missing my lovely Milo and Violet, but it was nice to eat something not frozen, then warmed or carried out from who-knows-where. I commented to his mother that I was feeling about done with being pregnant, that 37 weeks was tomorrow.
TMI alert (sorry, Dad): Shortly after they left, I discovered I was losing my mucous plug. I laughed loudly from the bathroom. Scott misheard and thought I was calling for help, so he came bounding through the house like a herd of elephants to see what was up. I said, "I'm losing my plug here. That just means I'm moving closer to labor, but it could be hours or weeks. Not a hard sign of anything."
Still, even though I was approaching labor and delivery for the third time in my life, the excitement began welling. It may sound naive, but I felt pretty certain at that moment that I wasn't going to make it to 38 weeks. Scott seemed to sense my restlessness and decided that it was the night for him to stop taking the Ambien -- just in case.
Neither of us fell into a deep sleep. The girls were having a dance party, using my bladder for a trampoline, so I was up four times to use the bathroom before 1:00.
At 1:20, as I was laying there in the darkness, listening to Scott's breathing become rhythmic and deep, I felt the telltale POP and a small gush. I quickly rolled out of bed, not wanting to flood the mattress. Scott stirred slightly. I made my way to the bathroom in a trance. Sat down, could tell that the trickle of liquid was not coming from my bladder. Sleepwalked back to the bedroom, where I stood poised at the foot of the bed, not quite sure how to wake Scott.
He roused slightly, and asked a perfunctory, "You OK?"
I stammered, "Yes, I'm fine... Actually, my water broke..."
Monday, April 11, 2011
36 Weeks and What Am I Doing?
Hanging out on the couch during the day on modified bedrest. Yep, I got the order on Thursday because my blood pressure has been elevated for a couple of weeks -- not really any higher than it went when in the last weeks of pregnancy with Milo and Violet, but wasn't carrying around a 54cm belly those pregnancies and I am now.
54cm. That's sort of crazy -- that's like being a year + 2 weeks pregnant with a singleton. Even on the message board for multiples and twins I have a huge belly -- for twins. Kinda right on for triplets, though.
How big is my belly? So big that my doc couldn't use the drop down choices on her charting software because it only goes to 50cm. So she had to put my measurement in the notes section instead. D'oh!
So, what have I learned about modified bedrest?
1. My dogs are dang gassy all day.
2. Daytime TV stinks, too.
3. My own ankles have returned!
4. It is exhausting trying to relax all day. Yeah, that seems like an oxymoron, but it's not.
5. I adore my hubby, who has been doing it all since Thursday. Including getting stuff done that I simply couldn't get to. He is clearly more efficient than I am... Yay, Scottie! You rock, my love!
6. My kids think this is a great opportunity to have me play with them since I'm essentially a hostage of the couch. Yes, I had to institute a rule that mommy is not to be covered in toys. Or cracker crumbs.
7. These same children also believe that they need to sit so closely to me that I'm not exactly sure where they end and I begin. This also leads to much belly squashing and an occasional war for what's left of my lap (there's not much there).
8. I'm kinda having to force myself to eat because I'm just not too hungry since I'm expending the energy of a sleepy sloth.
9. I am actually considering playing Milo's DS. Of course, then my excuse of "I don't know how to use a DS, so I can't help you" is out the window, but only if he catches me. He has Lego Harry Potter and that seems way more interesting than solitaire on my phone.
10. I can't seem to think of a 10th thing I've learned while confined to my couch... Perhaps my brain is already turning to mush?
54cm. That's sort of crazy -- that's like being a year + 2 weeks pregnant with a singleton. Even on the message board for multiples and twins I have a huge belly -- for twins. Kinda right on for triplets, though.
How big is my belly? So big that my doc couldn't use the drop down choices on her charting software because it only goes to 50cm. So she had to put my measurement in the notes section instead. D'oh!
So, what have I learned about modified bedrest?
1. My dogs are dang gassy all day.
2. Daytime TV stinks, too.
3. My own ankles have returned!
4. It is exhausting trying to relax all day. Yeah, that seems like an oxymoron, but it's not.
5. I adore my hubby, who has been doing it all since Thursday. Including getting stuff done that I simply couldn't get to. He is clearly more efficient than I am... Yay, Scottie! You rock, my love!
6. My kids think this is a great opportunity to have me play with them since I'm essentially a hostage of the couch. Yes, I had to institute a rule that mommy is not to be covered in toys. Or cracker crumbs.
7. These same children also believe that they need to sit so closely to me that I'm not exactly sure where they end and I begin. This also leads to much belly squashing and an occasional war for what's left of my lap (there's not much there).
8. I'm kinda having to force myself to eat because I'm just not too hungry since I'm expending the energy of a sleepy sloth.
9. I am actually considering playing Milo's DS. Of course, then my excuse of "I don't know how to use a DS, so I can't help you" is out the window, but only if he catches me. He has Lego Harry Potter and that seems way more interesting than solitaire on my phone.
10. I can't seem to think of a 10th thing I've learned while confined to my couch... Perhaps my brain is already turning to mush?
Monday, April 4, 2011
Suck It Up, Sister!
I don't know why I do this... it frustrates me to no end, but yet, every pregnancy I end up doing it anyway. And I get darn frustrated every time. Sigh... Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment (in more ways than one).
What is my issue?
Those darn pregnancy message boards. Inevitably as I draw closer to my due date, I find myself stopping by a message board for women due about the same time I am during my afternoons home alone. And every day there is another woman *begging* to go into labor. At 34 weeks, 35 weeks, 36 weeks... You get the picture. It's not the same woman, either. Apparently, the idea that a 40 week pregnancy is average doesn't make sense to them. That if 40 weeks is average, some women will be 2 weeks early and some will be 2 weeks late and still be considered a "normal" gestational age.
Who on earth would want a baby that will go straight from her body to the NICU? When asked that question, most backpedal and say, "Well, I don't WANT a sick baby... but I do want to be done being pregnant." Because the extra three or four weeks to get to term will be unbearable? Right?
Simple fact: no woman is comfortable at the end of pregnancy, even if she has had a textbook pregnancy. She's slow and sore and can't sleep and has heartburn and might be swelling and, well, you get the picture. But we're ALL that way. A wise friend once told me that you go through the last month of pregnancy feeling so uncomfortable that you're ready to do anything, including delivering a baby through your ear, to get comfortable again.
I'm sort of on the fence about being induced at 38 weeks with the twins. Logically, I understand that it is usually safer for babies and mother for twins to come then, but on the other hand, if my placentas are still functioning well and my blood pressure isn't skyrocketing, I kind of have a hard time thinking it's OK to evict them before they say they're ready to come out.
I sympathize with the women who are just over being pregnant, really, I do. I can't sleep for more than 45 minutes at a shot before waking up in searing hip pain, then spending 30 seconds climbing out of bed to use the bathroom and another 30 seconds lowering myself back into the bed on my other side, only to repeat the cycle in another 45 minutes. I am winded to the point of needing to sit for 5 minutes upon arrival at my office -- the walk is uphill no matter from which direction I approach it. And right now, my daughters are in a race to see which will get their head down into my pelvis first, but both have miserable aim, so they are grinding their heads on the insides of my hipbones. And the heartburn? ATOMIC. So I get wanting to be done.
On the other hand, this is the last time I get to do this and, most of the time, I am in complete amazement at the crazy dance in mt belly. Which, I'm guessing will measure a full year pregnant at my next appointment. A FULL YEAR. So suck it up, sister, and imagine carrying my belly around for a while.
Yep, it is a good thing it's me and not you...
What is my issue?
Those darn pregnancy message boards. Inevitably as I draw closer to my due date, I find myself stopping by a message board for women due about the same time I am during my afternoons home alone. And every day there is another woman *begging* to go into labor. At 34 weeks, 35 weeks, 36 weeks... You get the picture. It's not the same woman, either. Apparently, the idea that a 40 week pregnancy is average doesn't make sense to them. That if 40 weeks is average, some women will be 2 weeks early and some will be 2 weeks late and still be considered a "normal" gestational age.
Who on earth would want a baby that will go straight from her body to the NICU? When asked that question, most backpedal and say, "Well, I don't WANT a sick baby... but I do want to be done being pregnant." Because the extra three or four weeks to get to term will be unbearable? Right?
Simple fact: no woman is comfortable at the end of pregnancy, even if she has had a textbook pregnancy. She's slow and sore and can't sleep and has heartburn and might be swelling and, well, you get the picture. But we're ALL that way. A wise friend once told me that you go through the last month of pregnancy feeling so uncomfortable that you're ready to do anything, including delivering a baby through your ear, to get comfortable again.
I'm sort of on the fence about being induced at 38 weeks with the twins. Logically, I understand that it is usually safer for babies and mother for twins to come then, but on the other hand, if my placentas are still functioning well and my blood pressure isn't skyrocketing, I kind of have a hard time thinking it's OK to evict them before they say they're ready to come out.
I sympathize with the women who are just over being pregnant, really, I do. I can't sleep for more than 45 minutes at a shot before waking up in searing hip pain, then spending 30 seconds climbing out of bed to use the bathroom and another 30 seconds lowering myself back into the bed on my other side, only to repeat the cycle in another 45 minutes. I am winded to the point of needing to sit for 5 minutes upon arrival at my office -- the walk is uphill no matter from which direction I approach it. And right now, my daughters are in a race to see which will get their head down into my pelvis first, but both have miserable aim, so they are grinding their heads on the insides of my hipbones. And the heartburn? ATOMIC. So I get wanting to be done.
On the other hand, this is the last time I get to do this and, most of the time, I am in complete amazement at the crazy dance in mt belly. Which, I'm guessing will measure a full year pregnant at my next appointment. A FULL YEAR. So suck it up, sister, and imagine carrying my belly around for a while.
Yep, it is a good thing it's me and not you...
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Belly Love
"Mama, I love your belly," Milo crooned as he wrapped his arms as far around me as they could get, which, considering my girth, wasn't very far.
"Me,too! And I love the babies!" Violet piped up, her cold little hands on my belly, one over each baby's back.
I love my belly, too. I love feeling full of life, even with all of the discomfort that comes along with an extreme pregnancy. I'm calling it that because the skin over my uterus is stretched to shiny, the stretch marks now climbing higher toward my cheat like tree limbs reaching for the sky. 50.5cm is what the doc told me on Thursday, chuckling and smiling. "You look cute!" Maybe it was because we were somehow wearing matching lime green shirts, though I guarantee that her trim figure is far cuter than mine.
We did not set an induction date yet, but that 38 week mark hits the day after Easter. I'm sort of in shock, though -- I made it to April! And I have no restrictions, other than the normal no alcohol, drugs, or banned foods.
We did get to see a very crowded ultrasound. I imagine that if there were only one in there, it would be really cool to see, but with two? It was hard to get measurements because someone was always moving or getting a limb in the way. We could only get a fuzzy shot of Baby A's little face because she was so low the tech had to shoot diagonally across my belly. Baby B would only reveal the bottom half of her face, but those shot show a generous pout -- clearly she has Violet's full lips. She also started the ultrasound in a race to the bottom with her sister, then slid up transverse, then slid back down vertex.
And their weights? Well, I'm sorry to say that anyone who has guessed Baby B to be smaller or under 5lbs is already wrong -- Baby A was 4lbs, 13oz and Baby B was 5lbs, 2oz. So I'm carrying nearly 10lbs of baby already.
No wonder it takes me forever to walk anywhere...
"Me,too! And I love the babies!" Violet piped up, her cold little hands on my belly, one over each baby's back.
I love my belly, too. I love feeling full of life, even with all of the discomfort that comes along with an extreme pregnancy. I'm calling it that because the skin over my uterus is stretched to shiny, the stretch marks now climbing higher toward my cheat like tree limbs reaching for the sky. 50.5cm is what the doc told me on Thursday, chuckling and smiling. "You look cute!" Maybe it was because we were somehow wearing matching lime green shirts, though I guarantee that her trim figure is far cuter than mine.
We did not set an induction date yet, but that 38 week mark hits the day after Easter. I'm sort of in shock, though -- I made it to April! And I have no restrictions, other than the normal no alcohol, drugs, or banned foods.
We did get to see a very crowded ultrasound. I imagine that if there were only one in there, it would be really cool to see, but with two? It was hard to get measurements because someone was always moving or getting a limb in the way. We could only get a fuzzy shot of Baby A's little face because she was so low the tech had to shoot diagonally across my belly. Baby B would only reveal the bottom half of her face, but those shot show a generous pout -- clearly she has Violet's full lips. She also started the ultrasound in a race to the bottom with her sister, then slid up transverse, then slid back down vertex.
And their weights? Well, I'm sorry to say that anyone who has guessed Baby B to be smaller or under 5lbs is already wrong -- Baby A was 4lbs, 13oz and Baby B was 5lbs, 2oz. So I'm carrying nearly 10lbs of baby already.
No wonder it takes me forever to walk anywhere...
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
It's Time!
Well, I've reached that all-important 34 week point. Why is that such a huge deal? Because if I go into labor now, they won't stop it. Chances are that the babes would need only minimal NICU time.
That being said, I do not feel like I'll be going into labor any time soon. I'm still relatively comfortable (except at nighttime) and haven't had any more episodes of contractions. Both girls are head down and active and I am growing exponentially. Probably because I've been hittin' the ice cream. My next non-stress test, ultrasound, and appointment are on Thursday and I can't wait to see how big the girls are now.
So I think it's time to start a baby arrival pool! I will deliver at 38 weeks (April 25th or so) because my doc won't let the twins cook any longer than that. I think her normal call day is a Tuesday, which would be April 26th, so let's call that the last eligible day for this little wager, shall we?
Give me your best guesses! How about answering the following:
1. Birth date
2. Birth time
3. Length of labor (Milo's was 12 hours -- 6 active, Violet's was 7 hours -- 3 active)
4. Baby A's weight
5. Baby B's weight
If you are normally an anonymous commenter, leave me a clue in your comment so I can figure out who you are. Like, "Your cousin from Russia" or something. Or your name, if you aren't afraid -- that would make it much easier. Like, "Jana K." or whatever.
I don't have any prizes for y'all (my prizes are the baby girls I'll get to meet), but if you are the closest predictor, I'll make sure to pimp out your psychic ability to anyone who cares!
That being said, I do not feel like I'll be going into labor any time soon. I'm still relatively comfortable (except at nighttime) and haven't had any more episodes of contractions. Both girls are head down and active and I am growing exponentially. Probably because I've been hittin' the ice cream. My next non-stress test, ultrasound, and appointment are on Thursday and I can't wait to see how big the girls are now.
So I think it's time to start a baby arrival pool! I will deliver at 38 weeks (April 25th or so) because my doc won't let the twins cook any longer than that. I think her normal call day is a Tuesday, which would be April 26th, so let's call that the last eligible day for this little wager, shall we?
Give me your best guesses! How about answering the following:
1. Birth date
2. Birth time
3. Length of labor (Milo's was 12 hours -- 6 active, Violet's was 7 hours -- 3 active)
4. Baby A's weight
5. Baby B's weight
If you are normally an anonymous commenter, leave me a clue in your comment so I can figure out who you are. Like, "Your cousin from Russia" or something. Or your name, if you aren't afraid -- that would make it much easier. Like, "Jana K." or whatever.
I don't have any prizes for y'all (my prizes are the baby girls I'll get to meet), but if you are the closest predictor, I'll make sure to pimp out your psychic ability to anyone who cares!
Friday, March 25, 2011
The Stressful Non-Stress Test
It is the third time that the nurse has been in the triage room, frowning at the monitor. She chats for a moment, then says she's going to find the on-call doc to see how to proceed.
I turn to the monitor, watching the double tracings of my babies' heart rates. Baby A's line is yellow and it dances all over the monitor as she kicks and swishes away in there. Baby B's line is green and it holds steady, varying between the same 10 beats per minute a non-reactive stress test.
I am thoroughly convinced that this is just what Baby B does. All three times she's been on the monitor, her strip shows less reactivity, yet I can feel her moving, listen to her hiccups amplified by the monitor, and know that she really is fine.
But she's not giving them the data they need on the strip, so the doc orders a biophysical profile, which is an ultrasound that looks for certain things: practice breathing, movement, muscle tone, etc.
I am still relaxed, for the most part, but had made the mistake of texting back to Scott when he asked, "How do they look?"
I texted, "Baby A looks gorgeous. Baby B is being a stinker and avoiding the monitor."
Seconds later, "Is she in distress?"
"No, too calm. Might be sleeping."
We text back and forth and I can hear his anxiety in his keystrokes. He's not with me because he's going to pick Milo up from school and I can tell that he is very concerned that he isn't by my side. It doesn't seem to matter that I tell him that I think everything is fine, he interprets this as cavalier and calls his mother, the OB nurse of 35+ years, (who has seen the strips and agrees with me) for a more expert opinion. So my darling worried hubby is causing me more stress than the non-stress test was.
Finally the ultrasound tech arrives and she starts looking around to see what's up in there. The best news is that both babies are vertex (head-down). I was pretty sure that they were, based upon the placement of their hiccups over the last week or so. This is a huge relief to me -- as long as A stays head down, I'll be able to deliver vaginally, yay! There is nothing wrong with delivering by c-section, but I'd really like to avoid having surgery if at all possible. I am intimidated by the recovery, particularly when I have two other children at home who will need a mom.
As we watch the screen, it is clearly apparent why Baby B was difficult to monitor -- she had pretty much folded herself in half and turned so that her back was away from the probe, hiding and playing with her foot. Side note: cutest thing on ultrasound ever to watch her reach for her foot and play with her toes...
Both babies passed the biophysical profile 100%, so I was finally released to my OB appointment, after three and a half long hours. I joked that I was at the hospital for less time when I delivered Violet.
The OB appointment? Well, my regular doc was on vacation, so I saw another doc from the practice who was very complimentary on my history with this pregnancy. She asked, "Did you go full-term with your first two?"
"They were both born at 39 weeks, plus a few days, so yep!"
"You'll be going full-term this time around, too. Great job, mama!"
So now two out of two doctors think that the girls won't arrive until their time to be evicted. I'm guessing that at next week's appointment (34 weeks + 3 days), I'll be setting an induction date for just after Easter. That date is coming both too quickly and far too slowly for my liking...
I turn to the monitor, watching the double tracings of my babies' heart rates. Baby A's line is yellow and it dances all over the monitor as she kicks and swishes away in there. Baby B's line is green and it holds steady, varying between the same 10 beats per minute a non-reactive stress test.
I am thoroughly convinced that this is just what Baby B does. All three times she's been on the monitor, her strip shows less reactivity, yet I can feel her moving, listen to her hiccups amplified by the monitor, and know that she really is fine.
But she's not giving them the data they need on the strip, so the doc orders a biophysical profile, which is an ultrasound that looks for certain things: practice breathing, movement, muscle tone, etc.
I am still relaxed, for the most part, but had made the mistake of texting back to Scott when he asked, "How do they look?"
I texted, "Baby A looks gorgeous. Baby B is being a stinker and avoiding the monitor."
Seconds later, "Is she in distress?"
"No, too calm. Might be sleeping."
We text back and forth and I can hear his anxiety in his keystrokes. He's not with me because he's going to pick Milo up from school and I can tell that he is very concerned that he isn't by my side. It doesn't seem to matter that I tell him that I think everything is fine, he interprets this as cavalier and calls his mother, the OB nurse of 35+ years, (who has seen the strips and agrees with me) for a more expert opinion. So my darling worried hubby is causing me more stress than the non-stress test was.
Finally the ultrasound tech arrives and she starts looking around to see what's up in there. The best news is that both babies are vertex (head-down). I was pretty sure that they were, based upon the placement of their hiccups over the last week or so. This is a huge relief to me -- as long as A stays head down, I'll be able to deliver vaginally, yay! There is nothing wrong with delivering by c-section, but I'd really like to avoid having surgery if at all possible. I am intimidated by the recovery, particularly when I have two other children at home who will need a mom.
As we watch the screen, it is clearly apparent why Baby B was difficult to monitor -- she had pretty much folded herself in half and turned so that her back was away from the probe, hiding and playing with her foot. Side note: cutest thing on ultrasound ever to watch her reach for her foot and play with her toes...
Both babies passed the biophysical profile 100%, so I was finally released to my OB appointment, after three and a half long hours. I joked that I was at the hospital for less time when I delivered Violet.
The OB appointment? Well, my regular doc was on vacation, so I saw another doc from the practice who was very complimentary on my history with this pregnancy. She asked, "Did you go full-term with your first two?"
"They were both born at 39 weeks, plus a few days, so yep!"
"You'll be going full-term this time around, too. Great job, mama!"
So now two out of two doctors think that the girls won't arrive until their time to be evicted. I'm guessing that at next week's appointment (34 weeks + 3 days), I'll be setting an induction date for just after Easter. That date is coming both too quickly and far too slowly for my liking...
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
The Nine-Month Marathon
I sort of suddenly occurred to me that within the next five weeks I'm going to have four children.
Four.
And two of them are going to be stuck on my boobs for months. How lame is it that I'm totally excited that I got a script from my OB for a new breast pump? My old one was purchased when Milo was born and used approximately 600 times during Violet's first year. It's looking a little sad... But I get to go pick out a new one, yay!!
We're busy prepping our cloth diapers. I just ordered wet bags, diaper pail liners, and cloth diaper-safe diaper cream. The only diaper supplies left to order are the all-in-ones for daycare, and those won't be really necessary until daycare time this fall.
So, up until now my focus had really been on making this a healthy pregnancy and on keeping the wee lasses inside as long as possible. With a negative fetal fibronectin test, I'm pretty much assured to get to 34 weeks without pre-term labor. Since the ruckus of early last week, my contractions have subsided tremendously, to the point where I'm not tracking them by the hour anymore, but by larger chunks of time -- like three in four hours. Boy am I glad for that!!
But now? Well, we're past the concern of having micro-premies. We're getting ever closer to having babies that would need minimal NICU time. They're busy putting on weight and practicing breathing right now. In fact, all the practice breathing leads to hiccups on one or both sides of my belly most of the day, which cracks me up!
I'm not going to officially say that we're in the home stretch, but I can definitely see that finish line up ahead. I won't wish the babies out for amything because this is really and truly my last pregnancy and, knowing that, this last month is bittersweet.
I have developed one new symptom: my ankles have been swelling a bit. It might not be apparent to someone who rarely sees them, but I've got crazy narrow ankles normally and they're swollen for me. I didn't really retain water with Milo or Violet, so this is new for me. I've been boosting my fluid intake to try and flush it out, but it could just be that I'll have to deal with this until the end. Oh, well, one can't expect to measure 47 weeks pregnant with no water retention, huh? It probably means my weight gain at Thursday's OB appointment will be a little shocking, but, again, my weight gain total will be less than it was with my other kids, so I'm not really going to complain. I might be limping over that finish line, but I'm going to get there!
Four.
And two of them are going to be stuck on my boobs for months. How lame is it that I'm totally excited that I got a script from my OB for a new breast pump? My old one was purchased when Milo was born and used approximately 600 times during Violet's first year. It's looking a little sad... But I get to go pick out a new one, yay!!
We're busy prepping our cloth diapers. I just ordered wet bags, diaper pail liners, and cloth diaper-safe diaper cream. The only diaper supplies left to order are the all-in-ones for daycare, and those won't be really necessary until daycare time this fall.
So, up until now my focus had really been on making this a healthy pregnancy and on keeping the wee lasses inside as long as possible. With a negative fetal fibronectin test, I'm pretty much assured to get to 34 weeks without pre-term labor. Since the ruckus of early last week, my contractions have subsided tremendously, to the point where I'm not tracking them by the hour anymore, but by larger chunks of time -- like three in four hours. Boy am I glad for that!!
But now? Well, we're past the concern of having micro-premies. We're getting ever closer to having babies that would need minimal NICU time. They're busy putting on weight and practicing breathing right now. In fact, all the practice breathing leads to hiccups on one or both sides of my belly most of the day, which cracks me up!
I'm not going to officially say that we're in the home stretch, but I can definitely see that finish line up ahead. I won't wish the babies out for amything because this is really and truly my last pregnancy and, knowing that, this last month is bittersweet.
I have developed one new symptom: my ankles have been swelling a bit. It might not be apparent to someone who rarely sees them, but I've got crazy narrow ankles normally and they're swollen for me. I didn't really retain water with Milo or Violet, so this is new for me. I've been boosting my fluid intake to try and flush it out, but it could just be that I'll have to deal with this until the end. Oh, well, one can't expect to measure 47 weeks pregnant with no water retention, huh? It probably means my weight gain at Thursday's OB appointment will be a little shocking, but, again, my weight gain total will be less than it was with my other kids, so I'm not really going to complain. I might be limping over that finish line, but I'm going to get there!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Hey, Look! It's a Freakishly Huge Pregnant Lady!
Hey! It's Sunday. I don't normally post on a Sunday, but after a series of unfortunate events (none of them mine, naturally), I ended up sleeping up on the couch through a loud, loud thunderstorm. Which apparently scared the poop out of Tess. And onto my toy room floor, grrr... So after cleaning that up, I'm wide awake for the day.
I thought I'd show y'all what one might look like if one were 47 weeks pregnant with one baby. Or what I look like 32 weeks and 5 days pregnant with two. Since my doc seems pretty convinced I'll carry to term, I have decided that my ultimate goal is to beat her previous "biggest belly" record of 56cm. Which I will do if I continue to grow at a rate of 2cm per week -- I'll hit 57cm at 38 weeks, or eviction time.
I hope I don't spoil your brunch by posting this pic...
I thought I'd show y'all what one might look like if one were 47 weeks pregnant with one baby. Or what I look like 32 weeks and 5 days pregnant with two. Since my doc seems pretty convinced I'll carry to term, I have decided that my ultimate goal is to beat her previous "biggest belly" record of 56cm. Which I will do if I continue to grow at a rate of 2cm per week -- I'll hit 57cm at 38 weeks, or eviction time.
I hope I don't spoil your brunch by posting this pic...
Monday, March 14, 2011
Guess Where I Spent the Night Last Night?
Labor and Delivery...
Don't worry -- the girls are still in here!
I started contracting (painless) around 6:30 last night and was contracting every 20-25 minutes. Called Scott's mom (the OB nurse) for advice around 9:00, she suggested calling L & D, which I did. They had me page the on-call doc, who didn't get back to me. D'oh! By this time, I'd drunk nearly a gallon of water and was falling asleep on the couch and it seemed like the contractions had stopped, so we went to bed.
Woke up at 2:30 to pee (hello, gallon of water) and noticed I was contracting again. Laid there timing them and realized they hit every 10 minutes, which was way closer than I was comfortable with, so we called the kids' college-aged sitter to see if she'd come over. Sweetheart that she is, she was at our house in 15 minutes in the middle of the night.
Went in and got registered for the hospital (hadn't done that quite yet, oops!) and got hooked up to the monitors, where they could see contractions every 7-8 minutes. And two very lovely, reactive babies, which was great -- nurse (who was very pregnant and darn adorable) said they were both doing very well. Then, naturally, they went on the run and both flipped head down during the monitoring, LOL, so she had to chase them for a while.
They did the group B strep test, a fetal fibronectin test, and checked for amniotic rupture. My water had not broken (yay), my cervix was only .5cm dilated and not effaced at all (yay), the fetal fibronectin test was negative (yay!) and they sent me home.
I knew I wasn't in labor, bur preterm labor can be sneaky, so that's why I went in -- neither the doc nor the nurse thought I'd made a bad decision, especially because the chances for pre-term labor go up when carrying multiples.
I have my regular NST and appointment with my OB on Thursday and part of me is wondering if she's going to take me out of work. If she does, she does -- my supervisor is fine with that. With 6 weeks till full-term, 4 weeks till no likely NICU time, if I'm pulled from work I feel pretty good about what I've been able to do to this point.
I was running a low-grade fever part of the evening, pretty sure I caught whatever the kids had last week. Plus, with Scott gone all last week, it was darn stressful -- even with my mom helping out.
I had jokingly told the girls that they weren't allowed to come until Daddy got back, perhaps I should have been more specific...
Don't worry -- the girls are still in here!
I started contracting (painless) around 6:30 last night and was contracting every 20-25 minutes. Called Scott's mom (the OB nurse) for advice around 9:00, she suggested calling L & D, which I did. They had me page the on-call doc, who didn't get back to me. D'oh! By this time, I'd drunk nearly a gallon of water and was falling asleep on the couch and it seemed like the contractions had stopped, so we went to bed.
Woke up at 2:30 to pee (hello, gallon of water) and noticed I was contracting again. Laid there timing them and realized they hit every 10 minutes, which was way closer than I was comfortable with, so we called the kids' college-aged sitter to see if she'd come over. Sweetheart that she is, she was at our house in 15 minutes in the middle of the night.
Went in and got registered for the hospital (hadn't done that quite yet, oops!) and got hooked up to the monitors, where they could see contractions every 7-8 minutes. And two very lovely, reactive babies, which was great -- nurse (who was very pregnant and darn adorable) said they were both doing very well. Then, naturally, they went on the run and both flipped head down during the monitoring, LOL, so she had to chase them for a while.
They did the group B strep test, a fetal fibronectin test, and checked for amniotic rupture. My water had not broken (yay), my cervix was only .5cm dilated and not effaced at all (yay), the fetal fibronectin test was negative (yay!) and they sent me home.
I knew I wasn't in labor, bur preterm labor can be sneaky, so that's why I went in -- neither the doc nor the nurse thought I'd made a bad decision, especially because the chances for pre-term labor go up when carrying multiples.
I have my regular NST and appointment with my OB on Thursday and part of me is wondering if she's going to take me out of work. If she does, she does -- my supervisor is fine with that. With 6 weeks till full-term, 4 weeks till no likely NICU time, if I'm pulled from work I feel pretty good about what I've been able to do to this point.
I was running a low-grade fever part of the evening, pretty sure I caught whatever the kids had last week. Plus, with Scott gone all last week, it was darn stressful -- even with my mom helping out.
I had jokingly told the girls that they weren't allowed to come until Daddy got back, perhaps I should have been more specific...
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Motivation
Alex Trebek: Motivation?
IASoupMama: What is that which I am lacking.
I am really struggling this week with the urge to just sit on the couch and snooze. I really am -- that's all I want to do right now.
I don't know why. I'm actually more comfortable this week than I was two weeks ago. Yeah, I'm slooo-o-o-o-ow and even slower, but I don't really hurt and am not waddling or anything. I'm just wiped.
Could be because I'm still taking antibiotics for the walking pneumonia. Although, I've had enough doses that one would think my nasal congestion should have cleared by now, but nope! I'm still mouth-breathing and snoring when I sleep because the only thing my nose can do right now is smell things that make me want to gag. Like pork roast. Blech!
Could be that, once again, my kids are sick. They've been running low-grade fevers this week. Milo was diagnosed with an ear infection, but they haven't had any new symptoms other than the fever.
Could be that it seems to be easier for me to tank up on fluids when at home, so I drink lots of water at the end of the day, which equals lots of bathroom trips over night.
Could be that Scott's out of town this week, naturally, so even with help from my mom I am still the only parent in the house. And, of course, my darling short people save their bestest whining and demanding for mom.
Could be that I'm lugging around a 42cm belly. I'm actually pretty happy to be lugging it around because the alternative is babies born too early. Although, watch out all of you moms of singletons who are due in May and whose posts I read on an online forum -- if one more of you complains about how huge you are, I just might come through my computer monitor and deck you. Heaven forbid you be 31 weeks pregnant and measure 31 weeks pregnant... No one is comfy by the end of pregnancy, that's why we're all so ready to face labor. But you don't know uncomfortable until you get to carry a full-term belly for three months...
Could be that my office is so warm it puts me to sleep. Well, I probably wouldn't be falling asleep if I was getting enough sleep at other times in the day, but since I'm not, the tropical warmth of my office is doze-inducing. And damp-inducing as I notice when I wipe sweat from my upper lip.
Anyway... Perhaps I'll find that magic that is motivation again. Although, I might need to really search through napping to get there...
IASoupMama: What is that which I am lacking.
I am really struggling this week with the urge to just sit on the couch and snooze. I really am -- that's all I want to do right now.
I don't know why. I'm actually more comfortable this week than I was two weeks ago. Yeah, I'm slooo-o-o-o-ow and even slower, but I don't really hurt and am not waddling or anything. I'm just wiped.
Could be because I'm still taking antibiotics for the walking pneumonia. Although, I've had enough doses that one would think my nasal congestion should have cleared by now, but nope! I'm still mouth-breathing and snoring when I sleep because the only thing my nose can do right now is smell things that make me want to gag. Like pork roast. Blech!
Could be that, once again, my kids are sick. They've been running low-grade fevers this week. Milo was diagnosed with an ear infection, but they haven't had any new symptoms other than the fever.
Could be that it seems to be easier for me to tank up on fluids when at home, so I drink lots of water at the end of the day, which equals lots of bathroom trips over night.
Could be that Scott's out of town this week, naturally, so even with help from my mom I am still the only parent in the house. And, of course, my darling short people save their bestest whining and demanding for mom.
Could be that I'm lugging around a 42cm belly. I'm actually pretty happy to be lugging it around because the alternative is babies born too early. Although, watch out all of you moms of singletons who are due in May and whose posts I read on an online forum -- if one more of you complains about how huge you are, I just might come through my computer monitor and deck you. Heaven forbid you be 31 weeks pregnant and measure 31 weeks pregnant... No one is comfy by the end of pregnancy, that's why we're all so ready to face labor. But you don't know uncomfortable until you get to carry a full-term belly for three months...
Could be that my office is so warm it puts me to sleep. Well, I probably wouldn't be falling asleep if I was getting enough sleep at other times in the day, but since I'm not, the tropical warmth of my office is doze-inducing. And damp-inducing as I notice when I wipe sweat from my upper lip.
Anyway... Perhaps I'll find that magic that is motivation again. Although, I might need to really search through napping to get there...
Friday, March 4, 2011
The Plague... The Plague...
Here's a riddle for you:
How many doctor's visits/calls in two weeks does it take to get a family of four (soon to be six) on the road to health and well being?
Answer: Four doctor's visits and two calls.
For some reason unbeknown to me, the plague of walking pneumonia has descended upon our mud-moated white farmhouse. Yes, all four of us are on antibiotics for this.
What??
It started Sunday when Violet started coughing. The poor girl sounded like a squeak toy, but insisted that she felt fine. Scott thought his throat might have been a little sore, but he was just going to keep an eye on it, so we went about our normal Monday stuff, had a normal Monday supper and a normal Monday bedtime.
My pregnant self got up to use the toilet at about 11:15, I had been barely dozing since laying down for the night and figure that before I fell into a hard sleep, I'd use the bathroom one more time. On my way back to bed, I decided to check on the the Squeaker to see how she was.
Not good. Poor babe was burning up. I made a trip downstairs for the thermometer. Checked her temp and it was just below 101. Made another trip down the stairs for some ibuprofen, which she took like a champ, but requested a drink. Made a third trip down the stairs for some cool water. And then a fourth when she asked for something to eat (crackers).
I rocked her for a while, but she was a squirmy mess who wanted to smile at me and say, "I love you, mommy!" and not rest. Then she asked to sleep in my bed. Given that I hadn't really been to sleep yet and it was 12:30, I assented and we climbed into the big bed, where poor little fever girl proceeded to flop all over, to sit up and lay down repeatedly, and to finally ask to go downstairs.
Knowing that Scott (Mr. Ambien) would be useless for a while and would likely get grumpy by Miss Wiggly, I reluctantly bid farewell to my pillow and brought her downstairs, where we watched Netflix over the Wii until 3:30, at which point I decided that Mr. Ambien's medicine had been in his system long enough that he was past the point of uselessness and would now be able to take care of Miss Wiggly so I could sleep until the alarm rang out at 6:30. At 4:30, he brought her back to our bed, where she crashed and we all slept like sardines until I got up for work.
Fast forward a few hours and daddy took Miss Wiggly to the doctor, where she was the first diagnosed with the walking pneumonia. Then he went to an appointment for himself, where he was the second diagnosed with it. Apparently, though I wasn't at the doctor, I was diagnosed, too simply because the bug is so dang contagious and my darling daughter had spent a crazy amount of time breathing her sick breath all over me during the days preceding the doctor's visit. Milo was retroactively diagnosed after a call to his pediatrician, too, since his strep (diagnosed the week before by doctor #1) was gone and the wet cough he'd had before the strep was still lingering, despite a full course of antibiotics.
So that takes us to three doctor's visits and one call. Well, two, as the pediatrician's assistant had written our phone number down incorrectly and I had to call back the next day, confused when they said, "It rang busy three times last night and once this morning." What? We have caller ID. But when you read a 9 and a 1, you dial a number that doesn't exist...
The fourth doctor's visit? That would be my 30 week appointment. Where we had an ultrasound that revealed that Baby A is now 3lbs 6oz and breech and Baby B is 3lbs 12oz and transverse. I have gained another 2 pounds (11 total) and my blood pressure was ok -- not super, but considering the stress of the plague, I'll take it.
So, anyway, I'm ready to see some healthy people around here!
How many doctor's visits/calls in two weeks does it take to get a family of four (soon to be six) on the road to health and well being?
Answer: Four doctor's visits and two calls.
For some reason unbeknown to me, the plague of walking pneumonia has descended upon our mud-moated white farmhouse. Yes, all four of us are on antibiotics for this.
What??
It started Sunday when Violet started coughing. The poor girl sounded like a squeak toy, but insisted that she felt fine. Scott thought his throat might have been a little sore, but he was just going to keep an eye on it, so we went about our normal Monday stuff, had a normal Monday supper and a normal Monday bedtime.
My pregnant self got up to use the toilet at about 11:15, I had been barely dozing since laying down for the night and figure that before I fell into a hard sleep, I'd use the bathroom one more time. On my way back to bed, I decided to check on the the Squeaker to see how she was.
Not good. Poor babe was burning up. I made a trip downstairs for the thermometer. Checked her temp and it was just below 101. Made another trip down the stairs for some ibuprofen, which she took like a champ, but requested a drink. Made a third trip down the stairs for some cool water. And then a fourth when she asked for something to eat (crackers).
I rocked her for a while, but she was a squirmy mess who wanted to smile at me and say, "I love you, mommy!" and not rest. Then she asked to sleep in my bed. Given that I hadn't really been to sleep yet and it was 12:30, I assented and we climbed into the big bed, where poor little fever girl proceeded to flop all over, to sit up and lay down repeatedly, and to finally ask to go downstairs.
Knowing that Scott (Mr. Ambien) would be useless for a while and would likely get grumpy by Miss Wiggly, I reluctantly bid farewell to my pillow and brought her downstairs, where we watched Netflix over the Wii until 3:30, at which point I decided that Mr. Ambien's medicine had been in his system long enough that he was past the point of uselessness and would now be able to take care of Miss Wiggly so I could sleep until the alarm rang out at 6:30. At 4:30, he brought her back to our bed, where she crashed and we all slept like sardines until I got up for work.
Fast forward a few hours and daddy took Miss Wiggly to the doctor, where she was the first diagnosed with the walking pneumonia. Then he went to an appointment for himself, where he was the second diagnosed with it. Apparently, though I wasn't at the doctor, I was diagnosed, too simply because the bug is so dang contagious and my darling daughter had spent a crazy amount of time breathing her sick breath all over me during the days preceding the doctor's visit. Milo was retroactively diagnosed after a call to his pediatrician, too, since his strep (diagnosed the week before by doctor #1) was gone and the wet cough he'd had before the strep was still lingering, despite a full course of antibiotics.
So that takes us to three doctor's visits and one call. Well, two, as the pediatrician's assistant had written our phone number down incorrectly and I had to call back the next day, confused when they said, "It rang busy three times last night and once this morning." What? We have caller ID. But when you read a 9 and a 1, you dial a number that doesn't exist...
The fourth doctor's visit? That would be my 30 week appointment. Where we had an ultrasound that revealed that Baby A is now 3lbs 6oz and breech and Baby B is 3lbs 12oz and transverse. I have gained another 2 pounds (11 total) and my blood pressure was ok -- not super, but considering the stress of the plague, I'll take it.
So, anyway, I'm ready to see some healthy people around here!
Friday, February 25, 2011
The Pregnant Elephant, aka Me
Well, it finally happened. Within the last week I have gone from comfy pregnant lady to feeling like a pregnant elephant. I am sore, tired, and just plain worn out. I am looking into pregnancy support belts - the more straps and elastics, the better. My belly was measuring 41cm last week, so I'm not exaggerating when I say I'm huge.
I have never been one to complain through pregnancy -- aches and pains are just part of the process. But, man, do I feel like I've taken a whiny pill in the last three days.
I've started plotting my errands so that I have the least amount of walking to do. And definitely the least amount of carrying, stooping, and crouching to do. I actually got groceries this week and refused to get dog food because I just didn't want to pick up the bag of food. I knew that Scott would be running to town at some point this week and could pick some up if needed. And we've resorted to giving the dogs Cheerios when we're REALLY out of food, so I was pretty sure they wouldn't starve. Turns out, they had plenty of food anyway, whew!
I've been walking by the laundry and pretending it doesn't exist. I don't mind folding and putting it away, but the last time I tried to carry a basket up from the basement to our bedroom, I felt like I'd run a mile. While carrying a manatee.
Forget scrubbing the bathtub. Or the floor -- I've been wiping up muddy dog prints by skating around on towel shoes. If it can get done from a standing position and requires lifting fewer than 10 pounds, I'm your gal. If not... well... I'm not your gal...
I kinda hate feeling like a weenie. But I hate feeling like a worried mama even more. I had a spell of Braxton-Hicks contractions on Wednesday evening that actually had me concerned. As in, concerned enough to chug 30 ounces of water and lay down to monitor them concerned. Thankfully, even though it felt like I'd had 5 contractions in the hour previous to monitoring, there were only two in the first hour of me lying down and one in the hour after that.
I assume that I just completely overdid it on Wednesday. As in, I worked, then got groceries and unloaded them, then picked up the kids, then came home and cleaned up dog barf while trying to give snacks to two very demanding children who must have worn their hollow legs. When I went upstairs to change out of my work clothes into something more comfy, I was followed by a daughter who insisted on picking out my shirt and socks, which made a three-minute clothing change into a 15 minute dose of frustration. At the end of which, a bawling boy-child came upstairs because he'd been asking me for more cheese crackers the whole time I was upstairs. Could I hear him? No. Did that matter to him? No. Did he like it when I reminded him that he was already holding a bowl and that he knew where the crackers were, so he could have gotten himself more crackers? No. More tears, and not just his.
By the time Scott came home, I was at my wit's end. And, apparently, my uterus agreed with me. I swear that every time Milo started moaning, I contracted. So I really didn't mind it when I banished myself to my bed to do some monitoring.
OK... 8.5 weeks to go... I can do this! I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...
I have never been one to complain through pregnancy -- aches and pains are just part of the process. But, man, do I feel like I've taken a whiny pill in the last three days.
I've started plotting my errands so that I have the least amount of walking to do. And definitely the least amount of carrying, stooping, and crouching to do. I actually got groceries this week and refused to get dog food because I just didn't want to pick up the bag of food. I knew that Scott would be running to town at some point this week and could pick some up if needed. And we've resorted to giving the dogs Cheerios when we're REALLY out of food, so I was pretty sure they wouldn't starve. Turns out, they had plenty of food anyway, whew!
I've been walking by the laundry and pretending it doesn't exist. I don't mind folding and putting it away, but the last time I tried to carry a basket up from the basement to our bedroom, I felt like I'd run a mile. While carrying a manatee.
Forget scrubbing the bathtub. Or the floor -- I've been wiping up muddy dog prints by skating around on towel shoes. If it can get done from a standing position and requires lifting fewer than 10 pounds, I'm your gal. If not... well... I'm not your gal...
I kinda hate feeling like a weenie. But I hate feeling like a worried mama even more. I had a spell of Braxton-Hicks contractions on Wednesday evening that actually had me concerned. As in, concerned enough to chug 30 ounces of water and lay down to monitor them concerned. Thankfully, even though it felt like I'd had 5 contractions in the hour previous to monitoring, there were only two in the first hour of me lying down and one in the hour after that.
I assume that I just completely overdid it on Wednesday. As in, I worked, then got groceries and unloaded them, then picked up the kids, then came home and cleaned up dog barf while trying to give snacks to two very demanding children who must have worn their hollow legs. When I went upstairs to change out of my work clothes into something more comfy, I was followed by a daughter who insisted on picking out my shirt and socks, which made a three-minute clothing change into a 15 minute dose of frustration. At the end of which, a bawling boy-child came upstairs because he'd been asking me for more cheese crackers the whole time I was upstairs. Could I hear him? No. Did that matter to him? No. Did he like it when I reminded him that he was already holding a bowl and that he knew where the crackers were, so he could have gotten himself more crackers? No. More tears, and not just his.
By the time Scott came home, I was at my wit's end. And, apparently, my uterus agreed with me. I swear that every time Milo started moaning, I contracted. So I really didn't mind it when I banished myself to my bed to do some monitoring.
OK... 8.5 weeks to go... I can do this! I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
They Have Names!!
So Scott and I have decided on names for the twins. You might have thought it would be an agonizing decision, one we spun round and round like a pebble in a rock polisher, but somehow it wasn't.
When naming Milo, we hadn't made up our minds until about an hour after he was born. With Violet, I had told Scott how much I loved Violet and he said he loved Genevieve. At the 20 week ultrasound, as soon as the tech announced "Grandma will be happy -- it's a girl!" Scott, with tears in his eyes, touched my rounded belly and said, "Hello, Violet..."
And this time?
Well, after the initial shock of knowing that there are not one, but two girls on the way wore off (OK -- who am I kidding? That shock really hasn't quite worn off yet), we sat in the waiting room as the ultrasound tech burned a copy of our ultrasound to DVD. Scott sighed, "Two girls..."
He is one of those daddies who really stalls on discussing a name until he knows the gender of his progeny, but I don't function that way, so I had been making suggestions all along, "How about Nmn Kkl? or do you like Kkl Wsd better?"
Anyway, back in the waiting room he looked at me and asked, "So I guess we'll be having a Nmn and a Kkl, then?"
"Well, actually I thought about Nmn Kkl and Hgf Bvm." Hgf is a name Scott has loved for years and, while not my most exactest favorite, I do like it and how it flows with Milo, Violet, and Nmn.
"Oh! I hadn't thought of that... I like Nmn Kkl a lot and love Hgf, but I don't really like Bvm."
"How about Nmn Kkl and Hgf Thq?"
"I love it!"
And that, dear friends, is how we named the girls. In three minutes after my 18 week ultrasound. About 9 weeks ago.
Oh, did you think I was actually going to tell you what their names are? HA-hahahahaha... Nope -- that will have to be a surprise to you. Sorry! Feel free to submit your guesses -- unless you are one of my online mommy friends to whom I have already spilled the secret -- that's cheating! You're also not allowed to tell anyone I know in real life...
Here are some hints:
1. Both are girls names, no unisex
2. They aren't rhyme-y or match-y, but sound nice with Milo and Violet
3. I love them and Scott loves them, so even if you don't, keep yer trap shut!
When naming Milo, we hadn't made up our minds until about an hour after he was born. With Violet, I had told Scott how much I loved Violet and he said he loved Genevieve. At the 20 week ultrasound, as soon as the tech announced "Grandma will be happy -- it's a girl!" Scott, with tears in his eyes, touched my rounded belly and said, "Hello, Violet..."
And this time?
Well, after the initial shock of knowing that there are not one, but two girls on the way wore off (OK -- who am I kidding? That shock really hasn't quite worn off yet), we sat in the waiting room as the ultrasound tech burned a copy of our ultrasound to DVD. Scott sighed, "Two girls..."
He is one of those daddies who really stalls on discussing a name until he knows the gender of his progeny, but I don't function that way, so I had been making suggestions all along, "How about Nmn Kkl? or do you like Kkl Wsd better?"
Anyway, back in the waiting room he looked at me and asked, "So I guess we'll be having a Nmn and a Kkl, then?"
"Well, actually I thought about Nmn Kkl and Hgf Bvm." Hgf is a name Scott has loved for years and, while not my most exactest favorite, I do like it and how it flows with Milo, Violet, and Nmn.
"Oh! I hadn't thought of that... I like Nmn Kkl a lot and love Hgf, but I don't really like Bvm."
"How about Nmn Kkl and Hgf Thq?"
"I love it!"
And that, dear friends, is how we named the girls. In three minutes after my 18 week ultrasound. About 9 weeks ago.
Oh, did you think I was actually going to tell you what their names are? HA-hahahahaha... Nope -- that will have to be a surprise to you. Sorry! Feel free to submit your guesses -- unless you are one of my online mommy friends to whom I have already spilled the secret -- that's cheating! You're also not allowed to tell anyone I know in real life...
Here are some hints:
1. Both are girls names, no unisex
2. They aren't rhyme-y or match-y, but sound nice with Milo and Violet
3. I love them and Scott loves them, so even if you don't, keep yer trap shut!
Monday, February 7, 2011
27 Weeks Down, 11 to Go!
So I didn't post anything last week. Not sure why -- I think I was busy and there were snow days and I was adjusting to my part-time schedule and there were OB appointments and other stuff that filled in all of the cracks of the week like the snow that crept under my kitchen door and climbed into a little pyramid next to my dishwasher during last week's blizzard.
But I had a 27 week appointment for the twinlets! It consisted of me gulping the orange glucose drink, having an ultrasound, heading upstairs for an OB appointment, and back down for a blood draw.
And I was followed by a TV camera for most of it.
What?
Yeah, you read that right. The hospital where I give birth buys local TV time a couple of times a year and airs a special devoted to one of their departments. The next one is going to be aired in May or June and will feature the Birth Care Center. And, as a loyal and respected employee at the Birth Care Center, my mother-in-law asked if they would be interested in following a family expecting twins for the special. And then suggested they contact us. After talking through the expectations of the piece, we agreed to do it, mostly as a fun keepsake for all of our kids. We'll be one of three families featured in the half-hour special.
So, anyway, I check into my appointment as per normal. Then I paused and said, "Umm... So X from the hospital and a cameraman are going to be showing up here any minute. They're here to film my ultrasound."
I have to admit that I felt a little goofy saying this, because I'm not a terribly important person in the grand scheme of all the things in the world, except maybe to my family. But even then, once I give the kids whatever they're asking for, my relative importance drops pretty fast.
I gestured over my shoulder to Scott, "Yeah, he's really Tom Cruise. We're just ducking in here to avoid the paparazzi."
The receptionist laughed and we headed to the waiting room, keeping a watchful eye on the door for our guests. I drank the orange stuff. It's not that bad -- personally, I'd do whatever I could to avoid throwing it up, because then you have to do the test all over again. Why do it twice if you don't have to?
Anyway, the crew shows up with a large cart of equipment. I notice them and guide them back to the ultrasound area, where our tech is pleasantly waiting. The other patients looked at me like I was an alien. Heck, who knows? Maybe I am.
They were filming documentary style, so all we did was have a normal ultrasound with a camera in the room for most of it. Thankfully, they stepped out shortly before the tech did the trans-vaginal portion to check my cervical length.
The results: Baby A was measuring 1 day behind, weighing 1lb 15oz. Baby B was measuring 4 days ahead, weighing 2lbs 4oz. My cervix is long (4cm) and showing no sign of funneling, which means that my physical structure is supporting the weight of my belly and the babies very well.
Upstairs for the OB appointment! My blood pressure was, once again, great. Even with the excitement of the camera crew and ultrasound, it was 122/76. Urine dip just fine, too. I lost a pound after the sinus infection, so my weight gain has been very modest -- 6-7 pounds. Considering that there's already 4 pounds of baby in there, plus two placentas and two amniotic sacs, I think I've lost weight. D'oh! It's not cause for worry unless the babies aren't growing, but that's so not the case, so no worries yet.
My doctor went over the ultrasound results and my physical results. Everything is currently perfect, so it was a typically fast and pleasant appointment.
This is where the film crew bid adieu, though they asked us to get in touch with them soon so they could do some filming in our nursery. Yeah, the one that isn't a nursery yet? There. This led us to a whirlwind of baby shopping and painting, with still more painting, sewing, and picture hanging to come.
I headed back down to the lab for my blood test. The poor phlebotomist couldn't get a vein in my left arm, so she drew from my right. Unfortunately, I did not pass the one-hour glucose tolerance test. So, on to the three-hour! Did that this morning and will let you know how it went down soon... Stop back for more!
But I had a 27 week appointment for the twinlets! It consisted of me gulping the orange glucose drink, having an ultrasound, heading upstairs for an OB appointment, and back down for a blood draw.
And I was followed by a TV camera for most of it.
What?
Yeah, you read that right. The hospital where I give birth buys local TV time a couple of times a year and airs a special devoted to one of their departments. The next one is going to be aired in May or June and will feature the Birth Care Center. And, as a loyal and respected employee at the Birth Care Center, my mother-in-law asked if they would be interested in following a family expecting twins for the special. And then suggested they contact us. After talking through the expectations of the piece, we agreed to do it, mostly as a fun keepsake for all of our kids. We'll be one of three families featured in the half-hour special.
So, anyway, I check into my appointment as per normal. Then I paused and said, "Umm... So X from the hospital and a cameraman are going to be showing up here any minute. They're here to film my ultrasound."
I have to admit that I felt a little goofy saying this, because I'm not a terribly important person in the grand scheme of all the things in the world, except maybe to my family. But even then, once I give the kids whatever they're asking for, my relative importance drops pretty fast.
I gestured over my shoulder to Scott, "Yeah, he's really Tom Cruise. We're just ducking in here to avoid the paparazzi."
The receptionist laughed and we headed to the waiting room, keeping a watchful eye on the door for our guests. I drank the orange stuff. It's not that bad -- personally, I'd do whatever I could to avoid throwing it up, because then you have to do the test all over again. Why do it twice if you don't have to?
Anyway, the crew shows up with a large cart of equipment. I notice them and guide them back to the ultrasound area, where our tech is pleasantly waiting. The other patients looked at me like I was an alien. Heck, who knows? Maybe I am.
They were filming documentary style, so all we did was have a normal ultrasound with a camera in the room for most of it. Thankfully, they stepped out shortly before the tech did the trans-vaginal portion to check my cervical length.
The results: Baby A was measuring 1 day behind, weighing 1lb 15oz. Baby B was measuring 4 days ahead, weighing 2lbs 4oz. My cervix is long (4cm) and showing no sign of funneling, which means that my physical structure is supporting the weight of my belly and the babies very well.
Upstairs for the OB appointment! My blood pressure was, once again, great. Even with the excitement of the camera crew and ultrasound, it was 122/76. Urine dip just fine, too. I lost a pound after the sinus infection, so my weight gain has been very modest -- 6-7 pounds. Considering that there's already 4 pounds of baby in there, plus two placentas and two amniotic sacs, I think I've lost weight. D'oh! It's not cause for worry unless the babies aren't growing, but that's so not the case, so no worries yet.
My doctor went over the ultrasound results and my physical results. Everything is currently perfect, so it was a typically fast and pleasant appointment.
This is where the film crew bid adieu, though they asked us to get in touch with them soon so they could do some filming in our nursery. Yeah, the one that isn't a nursery yet? There. This led us to a whirlwind of baby shopping and painting, with still more painting, sewing, and picture hanging to come.
I headed back down to the lab for my blood test. The poor phlebotomist couldn't get a vein in my left arm, so she drew from my right. Unfortunately, I did not pass the one-hour glucose tolerance test. So, on to the three-hour! Did that this morning and will let you know how it went down soon... Stop back for more!
Monday, January 24, 2011
The Ten Commandments of Pregnancy
I'm old. Really, I am. I'm old to be the mom of such young kids, and I'm OK with that. I'm pretty sure that it is written in purple and red ink in my file at the OB "Advanced Maternal Age." I'm a geriatric pregnancy, but I wouldn't really have it any other way.
Why am I commenting on this?
Because in some of my spare time on the weekends I stop by a couple of pregnancy message boards online and find myself shaking my head like a stuffy old librarian shusshing some giggling teenage patrons.
Never in my life would I try to pass myself off as a pregnancy or parenting expert -- I'm certainly not that. But, most of the time, I do feel like I got my fair share of common sense.
So, inspired by message board insanity, here are my commandments for pregnant women, written by an old-as-Moses mama:
1. While your pregnancy might consume your every waking (and sleeping) thought, it isn't going to be the most important thing to everyone you know. Please do not feel hurt because people in the grocery store didn't bow to your fertility and hand you the case of Diet Mt. Dew from the bottom shelf.
2. No one else will remember what you can and cannot eat. It is not appropriate to throw a fit because your brother-in-law had a cookout and served hot dogs. You might have to quietly fill up on potato salad and baked beans instead.
3. If you are a first-time mom, you will get lots of advice. Some of it will be great, some of it will be ludicrous, but you should smile, nod, and say, "Thank you! I'll keep that in mind" no matter how looney the advice is. It shows the advice-giver that you are listening and appreciate that they have thought of you at all, when it could so easily be the case that they wouldn't.
4. Every pregnant woman is tired and uncomfortable. Some more than others, but most of the symptoms most pregnant women have are totally normal. Getting into a "my symptoms are worse than yours" duel only shows that neither of you really feel that badly -- the ones who are so sick they can't complain get my sympathy.
5. If you say you're feeling "more uncomfortable" than you've "felt in my whole life" at 24 weeks pregnant, I just *might* think you're a bit of a weenie. You've still got 16 weeks to go, sweetie... and baby ain't gonna get smaller...
6. Your husband/spouse/co-parent is a human. And your friend and life partner. Please keep that in mind. Yeah, you may not be able to control your every emotion, but think before you speak and breathe before you think. You'll both be happier if you do.
7. Along those same lines, don't expect him/her to be able to read your mind. And then get mad at them for not doing it well. Talk about unfair expectations...
8. Your husband/spouse/co-parent absolutely does get a say in how you raise your child, unless he/she is unfit (and then I question why you're having a child with him/her). One parent does something one way, the other parent does it a different way. Does it really matter which way is "right" if both ways result in a healthy kid or completed task? Yeah, Scott unloads the dishwasher and I have to play "find the hidden measuring cup" the next time I cook, but he just unloaded the dishwasher so that I didn't have to -- how could that possible be a bad thing?
9. If you know you're going to get pouty when someone doesn't love the baby name you've been saving since you were 12, don't share it until your baby has arrived and been named Princessa le Pinque or whatever. It's much harder for people to make comments on a name once it is attached to a baby. On the other hand, if you pick a name that is out there (like it is orbiting Pluto), you know not everyone is going to like it. Toughen up and name your kid something you love and tell the rest of the solar system to take a hike.
10. Even if you are miserable, please remember to enjoy something about your pregnancy every day. You don't have to dwell on it, but take the time to think, "I am so glad to be carrying a healthy baby" each day. There are too many people who know the pain of loss, there are too many people who know the pain of infertility, there are too many people who know the pain of disability for you to not care and to wish your pregnancy done so that you can lose the baby weight, have a drink, or whatever.
Experienced mamas out there -- do you have anything to add to the list?
Why am I commenting on this?
Because in some of my spare time on the weekends I stop by a couple of pregnancy message boards online and find myself shaking my head like a stuffy old librarian shusshing some giggling teenage patrons.
Never in my life would I try to pass myself off as a pregnancy or parenting expert -- I'm certainly not that. But, most of the time, I do feel like I got my fair share of common sense.
So, inspired by message board insanity, here are my commandments for pregnant women, written by an old-as-Moses mama:
1. While your pregnancy might consume your every waking (and sleeping) thought, it isn't going to be the most important thing to everyone you know. Please do not feel hurt because people in the grocery store didn't bow to your fertility and hand you the case of Diet Mt. Dew from the bottom shelf.
2. No one else will remember what you can and cannot eat. It is not appropriate to throw a fit because your brother-in-law had a cookout and served hot dogs. You might have to quietly fill up on potato salad and baked beans instead.
3. If you are a first-time mom, you will get lots of advice. Some of it will be great, some of it will be ludicrous, but you should smile, nod, and say, "Thank you! I'll keep that in mind" no matter how looney the advice is. It shows the advice-giver that you are listening and appreciate that they have thought of you at all, when it could so easily be the case that they wouldn't.
4. Every pregnant woman is tired and uncomfortable. Some more than others, but most of the symptoms most pregnant women have are totally normal. Getting into a "my symptoms are worse than yours" duel only shows that neither of you really feel that badly -- the ones who are so sick they can't complain get my sympathy.
5. If you say you're feeling "more uncomfortable" than you've "felt in my whole life" at 24 weeks pregnant, I just *might* think you're a bit of a weenie. You've still got 16 weeks to go, sweetie... and baby ain't gonna get smaller...
6. Your husband/spouse/co-parent is a human. And your friend and life partner. Please keep that in mind. Yeah, you may not be able to control your every emotion, but think before you speak and breathe before you think. You'll both be happier if you do.
7. Along those same lines, don't expect him/her to be able to read your mind. And then get mad at them for not doing it well. Talk about unfair expectations...
8. Your husband/spouse/co-parent absolutely does get a say in how you raise your child, unless he/she is unfit (and then I question why you're having a child with him/her). One parent does something one way, the other parent does it a different way. Does it really matter which way is "right" if both ways result in a healthy kid or completed task? Yeah, Scott unloads the dishwasher and I have to play "find the hidden measuring cup" the next time I cook, but he just unloaded the dishwasher so that I didn't have to -- how could that possible be a bad thing?
9. If you know you're going to get pouty when someone doesn't love the baby name you've been saving since you were 12, don't share it until your baby has arrived and been named Princessa le Pinque or whatever. It's much harder for people to make comments on a name once it is attached to a baby. On the other hand, if you pick a name that is out there (like it is orbiting Pluto), you know not everyone is going to like it. Toughen up and name your kid something you love and tell the rest of the solar system to take a hike.
10. Even if you are miserable, please remember to enjoy something about your pregnancy every day. You don't have to dwell on it, but take the time to think, "I am so glad to be carrying a healthy baby" each day. There are too many people who know the pain of loss, there are too many people who know the pain of infertility, there are too many people who know the pain of disability for you to not care and to wish your pregnancy done so that you can lose the baby weight, have a drink, or whatever.
Experienced mamas out there -- do you have anything to add to the list?
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