What I'll Miss About Being Pregnant

1. Feeling two little babies move around inside of me.
2. The progesterone-Valium effect. Very little ruffles my feathers these days. God gave us progesterone so we could have healthy babies and then the happy hormones go away leaving a basketcase/sleep deprived individual? I am still hoping to get through part II safely. Time will tell.
3. Knowing my babies are safe and secure, and knowing right where they are every minute of every day.
4. Auto-pilot feedings via this nifty placenta-umbilical contraption.
5. Feeling completely productive doing nothing because gestation takes so much energy and effort!

What I Won't Miss About Being Pregnant

1. Dysfunctional Extremities (numb, swollen hands, swollen feet, legs that move like I am 99 years old)
2. The inability to care for my own physical needs with normal length arms. I'll just leave it at that.
3. Blurry vision. Sure, I'd love to work until the day I deliver if I could read my computer screen.
4. Limited physical movement and energy. I can't wait to be able to bend at the waist again!
5. Constant congestion and the need to wear Breathe Right Strips at night (the cheap ones don't work, trust me on this).
6. Limitations on serious snuggle time with my best guy.
7. People constantly asking me how I am doing or just looking at me and saying, "I'm SO sorry!" It's been a good ride overall, and while I may look tired on the outside, I am very happy on the inside. I'm not sorry, or unhappy.

I am so incredibly grateful for it all because it means wee little ones, tiny fingers and footed pajamas that kick-kick-kick, and the rustle of a plastic diaper on a dimpled bum, and the need to change both of our clothes many times a day because we have spit-up or something worse on us. It means tired, long nights of tiny lungs trying to communicate that something isn't quite right, and knowing that those newborn cries won't last very long, and that someday I'll wish desperately that I could hear them again and again. It means fingernails and tiny toes that are so little and perfect that I can't stop looking at them, and pink padded lips dreaming of their next meal while perfect little eyelashes rest on chubby cheeks.


I guess what I am saying is that while I'll miss a few things about being pregnant, I can't wait for the next step, or rather leap into motherhood, all of it times two.

I Asked For It.

Life is a dream. I know you think I am only saying that because I am so sleep deprived that I walk around in a sleepless stupor every day, but truly, it is. Even when I went shopping yesterday (one of my last guilty pleasures, since C will be the doing shopping now), and the woman checking me out looked at my uncomfortable 46 inch circumference and said, "I'm sorry," I thought, I wanted this. I asked for it. It's my dream come true to be expecting A BABY, let along TWO!

This morning after a sleepless night during which I tearfully read the NICU chapter in my multiples baby book, I stumbled out of bed at 10 AM into the loving arms of my husband who told me how beautiful I looked. I finally made it into the shower and looked down to find a pristine bathtub scrubbed pumice stone to porcelain by my prince charming and that terrible ring around the drain that I firmly believed was permanent was GONE. I almost cried with joy and couldn't thank him enough for my clean tub AND my clean toilets! Alas, with the water softener, we won't have hard-water battles ahead of us, but six years of mineral water damage takes a little time to resolve.

I sat in church next to my hubby who gently rubbed my belly where little Cricket's head and bum are located. They respond to gentle touches and seem to like music also. Peanut kicked excitedly during some of the music. No, not making this up. Studies show that at this stage babies do respond to music and to light changes from natural light to artificial light.

This is my happily ever after, sure to be filled with tears and aches and pains and even heartache, but what fairy tale is free from those things? The wait has been worthwhile. The discomfort is priceless. Even the scars from giving birth will be tokens of the miracles with which we have been blessed. Every moment of this journey is splendid and magnificent, stretching my foggy pregnant mind in ways that I never thought possible. Here's to gratitude for the journey, no matter the outcome, no matter the struggles that lie ahead. Here's to my personal glorious storybook tale with prince charming and two wonderful little maidens on the way.

Of Diaper Cakes and Dimpled Feet

You know how after a long, hard day at work, you can't wait to take off some uncomfortable clothing item like shoes, or nylons, or other three-letter unmentionables? Yesterday I had the odd sensation of, "Whew! My workday is done. I can finally take off this enormous belly!" Only then I realized that I couldn't, see?

We have been the recipients of four lovely diaper cakes. As I have mentioned before, diapers are about to become as essential to us as lifeblood, so receiving diapers is a reasonably important event. The key is knowing how long a baby will be in a particular size of diaper, and since diaper cakes aren't something you can return to the store if you get too many of a particular size, one is always grateful to receive larger sizes of diapers.

Newborn size usually only lasts for about a week, and we have that one covered so far with several packages of newborn diapers and a newborn diaper cake. With twins they could be in that size a bit longer, but you get the point. Ah, but it's so much fun to buy the newborn items. I have been there, only now I "get" why newborn shower gifts, while popular, are not always the most helpful. Keep the tags on, because you might want to swap those clothes for a bigger size later.

Finally, while serving a mission I met a young couple who were expecting. The man was dashingly handsome and the wife was, well... big and somewhat puffy. I remember the woman sitting with her feet up when we came to visit, and showing us how when you pushed on her skin, it remained dimpled - er, dented. It just stayed like that. I left that area for a while and when I returned, there was their new little baby girl and a very skinny little wife. Water retention is a bear.

These days I find myself in the same boat as this young mother, big (as in people stare when I walk past them) and puffy. I have some very helpful individuals who seem to think that my puffy feet require some great advice about exercise during pregnancy. To these I gently and kindly mention that I was rather actively engaged in exercise until
A. I realized that it was causing contractions,
B. My feet and hands started to swell during the activities they have suggested, and
C. My doc told me not to.

I have thus far managed to suppress my inside voice that wants to say, "Dude, I'm not fat, I'm pregnant with twins!" Alas, those who have actually had twins often comment on how small and mobile I still am, and are impressed I haven't yet been confined to bed rest.

The secret to my success? I have an awesome husband who has voluntarily and willingly taken on (along with remodeling the master bath, yard care, and a list of other tasks) dishes, laundry, cleaning up after the birds, sweeping, vacuuming, shopping and more WHILE fighting a cold. He is often heard to tell me not to do anything that he can do for me, and to go put my feet up and relax. I tried to sweep the kitchen yesterday and was firmly chastised. What a nice guy. Can we say whoop? WHOOP! Whoop? WHOOP!!! Yep, I landed a winner. He's my hero.

Past Week Prep:

I picked up the stroller yesterday, and the changing pad. Did I mention that my box of 84 diapers will last a week? Times 52.

I bought jersey sheets for the crib. Six of them.

A friend gave me a bag of used clothes and I sorted them by age, and then thought about buying bins to keep them organized.

I had the car seat inspected. The inspector was very pleased that we bought the big seat rather than the infant carrier because they grow out of those tiny things so fast, and they are supposed to be rear facing for two years! Did not know!

I scheduled an appointment to meet a pediatrician. Did you know you are supposed to have a pede before the babies are born? I did not know these things...

I ordered a mobile online at 5 AM this morning. It's a Tiny Love Developmental mobile, but much cheaper on Amazon. Brain stimuli = good for babies.

I also found my baby monitor:


I know, I am such a nerd for loving a baby monitor that let's my Skype my girls.

I really need to do something besides prep for babies... okay, my next entry is going to spotlight our bathroom remodel.

Of Caesar and Stretch Armstrong

"The Caesarean section operation did not derive its name from the fact that Julius Caesar was supposedly born in this manner. It was called Caesarean because the Roman, or Caesarean, law demanded that when a pregnant woman died, her body could not be buried until the child had been removed. The law also stipulated that a Caesarean section could not be performed on a living pregnant woman until the tenth month of gestation. Ancient physicians were unable to save the life of the mother in such cases, thus the procedure was rarely performed. We know from ancient sources that Julius Caesar could not have been born by Caesarean section, because his mother lived to be an adviser to her grown son."
http://www.hsl.virginia.edu/historical/artifacts/antiqua/gynecology.cfm

Two things that a pregnant woman should not do while her husband is out of town:
1. Read about C-sections in her pregnancy books and
2. Discover that she has acquired stretch marks.

As it turns out, my odds for a C-section are reasonably good. 50% good, in fact. I am starting to stare that fact in the face, knife and all. There are some positives here. First, women are often disappointed because they can't tell when the actual birth happens. By talking about it with your doc ahead of time, you can request a narrated surgery so you know the moment each child is born. Second, you can request that the drape be dropped for a moment enough to see your little one after it is removed from the womb, and then ask that the little one be handed to your husband (who is allowed to sit behind the drape with you) so you can at least see him holding the baby/babies even though you won't be allowed to hold them until after the surgery is complete.

There are some other considerations as well, but I am trying to look on the bright side. I have been slated for a vaginal delivery, but my little Peanut has six weeks to rotate, and has been in the same position for the past six weeks. While I am hopeful, I am not an idiot. SIGH. The last part of the chapter encourages one to focus on all of the beautiful happy times and years ahead rather than the mode of delivery, so that's good advice. Envision the beyond moments. I have a pretty awesome imagination, so that will come in handy.

It's been a few weeks since people have seen me, so at my shower there were plenty of big eyes looking at my expanding belly. I'll have to put some pics up soon. Did I mention that I had to get more maternity clothes because I outgrew the ones I had? I am no longer the "cute" prego lady, although everyone still tells me how great I look, I am now the ever-expanding prego lady. People just look at me and say, "Twins, right?" Thankfully I can confirm that.

With all of this expansion, I have been very diligent with my collagen/elastin/vitamin E lotion regimen for stretch marks, only I somehow forgot my underbelly. Wise to look in the mirror as you lather up with lotion, friends, because my underbelly got missed and it shows. I wonder if women in the bible ever worried about stretch marks. I just have to remember: that section of my body may look a lot worse when it's over, scar and all, so I just need to let it go. I have better things to worry about.

Crossing Over

I have thought about this post for quite some time, and the easy thing to do would be not to say anything. While I may invite some criticism and verbal fire, I have to say this. There is a difference between how you are treated being childless vs. having (or expecting) children.

There really IS a magical line you cross, some rite of passage, some special unwritten club membership you receive upon getting pregnant. When you are childless, you sense that line is there, but you can't quite put your finger on it. It doesn't exist with everyone. There are those who manage to make it less apparent or invisible entirely, but as one who has recently crossed the line from a long barren drought, I say, it really does exist.

The reasons it exists could be greatly varied. I am sure it isn't an intentional exclusion. It isn't a conspiracy. It isn't that women who have babies are intentionally trying to shut out those who don't. It isn't some evil ploy, rather an unintentional clique. I suspect it has something to do with feeling like others can relate to them, and they have something in common. There are women in this world whose entire existence is consumed by child-rearing, and when they try to relate to someone who isn't experiencing or pursuing child-rearing (for whatever reason, intentional or unintentional), they are at a loss for words. They just can't connect. Unfortunately this can come off as being judgmental or aloof.

There are also those, I am sure, who find themselves unhappy in their parenting circumstances, and may be experiencing some self-loathing. When you aren't loving yourself, you sure aren't going to be able to share the love with anyone else! This is likely the exception, and not the rule, but maybe there are those who envy the childless, strange as it may seem. I know I personally have experienced firsthand the comments of close friends who literally, and rather vindictively said, "I can't wait to see YOU suffer." I wanted to reply, "I'd love to, if it would mean having children!"

Maybe they felt that I was judging them in their parenting (which I wasn't), or perhaps they just felt insecure about what they were doing. I can't really explain why someone would say something like that. Of course parenting isn't easy, but nobody should wish ill tidings upon a friend. Children are a blessing, despite the struggle they may inflict at times. Also, it's unfair to assume that one has not suffered simply because they have not had children. Indeed, not having children is a blistering fire of its own that a woman with children may never come close to experiencing.

Well, there. I have said it. There are those who will deny, or argue the point, but I feel I have genuinely been fair to both parties, childless and with child. It just had to be said. I just hope that I may be one of those friends that will never alienate a friend, no matter their status, parent or no.

Taken Over By Alien Lifeforms

My conference was delightful. I flew out from Seattle to enjoy the company of 2000 individuals consisting of friends, associates, and colleagues who literally showered me in kindness and goodwill. Even strangers had something kind and wonderful to say. It was a week full of generosity and cheer. My lecture went reasonably well, minus the fact that it was on Saturday, and by then I had overextended my lady lumptious self.

What a strange feeling, indeed, to be taken over by alien lifeforms, tiny creatures dwelling inside of you, kicking and pushing as you watch your body moving through no force of your own. Sometimes you reach down and feel something hard pushing against your skin... a head? a tiny bum, perhaps? Thump, thump, thump. They remind me that they are here and growing (they'll double in size over the next few weeks!). Those maternity pants that fit last week are tight across the belly, despite the "comfort panel," and that shirt that once looked like a tent now fits perfectly over your swollen belly. 

Alien life forms also make you do things that you never thought you would do, like walk very slowly, and buy "Shape-ups" shoes because that extra weight is just too much for your little feet. Aliens make you request a wheelchair at the airport because the hurried 5K walk to the next terminal in O'Hare will bring on contractions. You drop things on the ground and leave them there because it just isn't worth that five dollar bill to bend over and pick it back up. You ask other people to lift your luggage into the overhead bin on the plane, and you willingly let your petite girlfriend haul your luggage AND hers up two flights of stairs and thank her profusely for doing so! 

Aliens also make your eyesight worse, and you are truly grateful when the party favor at the conference banquet is a magnifying glass so you can read the small print on your credit cards again. Aliens not only make you grow two bladders (one that needs emptying now and the other ten minutes from now), but your feet swell like balloons when you attempt to stand too long. This requires that you willingly accept when your friends stand to offer your FEET a chair. Did I mention how nice everyone is?

It's getting easier to accept help, something I never thought I would see myself do in a million years. Independence and provident living runs deep in my veins. Although I have been quoted on many occasions to say, "Give generously and accept graciously," self-sufficiency is the unspoken, unwritten law that governs my actions. Oddly, people seem more than happy to help, even if I seem reticent to ask or accept.  

I was once inspired by the women who were prego and running races, working as a doctor until the day she gave birth, but now, don't even tell me about it. I don't want to hear about that woman. I thought she would be me, but she isn't, and while I am going through mourning accepting that fact, I am also starting to figure out that growing babies, just plain GROWING BABIES is a lot more work than I ever knew. Gestation is a full course meal on its own, so here's to my own little race, growing girls in my own little incubator, and everything else is, well, an extra side dish.

What's on the menu for tonight? Our first birthing classes! C is SO excited (at least he is trying to pretend he is). Neither of us are very thrilled about 2 1/2 hours of sitting, but it's all part of the job. 

Of Cankles and Calando

I have experienced a surprising burst of energy in my second trimester, which means that I ride it like an entertainment park ride. I have been cleaning, cooking, and organizing my own home, and then I go and clean and organize someone else's home, and cook dinner for them as well. After all, it's just as easy to make two lasagnas as it is to make one.





My normal speed is rapido, and my normal energy level is Energizer Bunny. I guess that's why I love speedy music, don't use recipes when I cook, and listen to books on tape at up to five times their normal speed. I like life to move fast because you can get so much more accomplished in this flash of an existence. Time is so precious and should be used with abstemious measure. Unfortunately, when your belly looks like this, even high levels of energy don't mean you are capable of being quick on your feet.





At C's event this past weekend, I ran along the full length of his mile swim, and then ran back along it in the high temperatures. In addition to running a couple of miles, I walked an additional mile or two, and was on my feet almost the entire time. By the end of the day, I no longer had legs, ankles, and feet; I had cankles and sausages. I couldn't even see the bone structure in my feet. I was perplexed, but tried to cool them off in the river while waiting for C's trophy, and then just kept going.





A friend came to visit on Sunday and noticed my still very swollen legs and feet. She's a nurse, and commented on my oversized, edema-stricken pedes. She prescribed staying off of them (a novel idea that hadn't occurred to me), and the next day, behold! I could see my ankles again! So the moral of this story is, "Energy to do everything while you are pregnant does not mean you should do it all at once." So, here's to merging into the slow lane for the next several months.





I'm sure there's SOMETHING good about the slow lane. I mean, that IS where the Cool Bus hangs out... 

5 AM

5 AM is a strange hour. We've all met it for some reason or another, and some more frequently than others. You wake to find the moonlight swimming through the sky, merrily tossing long pale rays through windows and doors and dreaming that its rays could reach in to lap sleep from the eyes of the slumbering soul like its undeniably brighter counterpart. Indeed, its silent efforts are seen by few. Those who wake by moonlight in the summertime are not hastened on their course by its gentle hand, but wake against the silence of a world that would lull them back to sleep.

These days I am most grateful if I can wake only once or twice during the night, rather than seven or eight times, so waking at 5 AM after six hours of sleep seems strangely restful, despite that my body is now the ever depleted garden in which two tiny souls are growing. During the day I munch on gummy vitamins to supplement my prenatal so that I can get a bit more nourishment. My fridge is constantly stocked with fresh fruit of every kind: melons, orchard fruit, berries, tropical fruits and more. It's my constant craving. I often wish that I craved more salads, but alas, spring greens and spinach, while ranking high above fried foods, are the least on my list of pleasant foods at the moment.

With a much smaller pharmaceutical selection these days, I am most grateful for the following items that have helped me navigate the otherwise challenging waters of pregnancy:

• Zofran - or the generic version. It helped me survive morning sickness, and I have now been off for a solid week!
• Senna - to counteract the less-than-desirable effects of Zofran (plums and similar items are most helpful, too).
• Saline spray - when I wake unable to breathe, this is far better than an antihistamine (forbidden) these days.
• Tylenol - I had ruled this out as a qualified pain killer, but it has come in handy a time or two.
• My sister - After an ultrasound on my gallbladder, two bottles of tums (salicyliates forbidden), and a Dr's visit, my sister told me she'd had the same problem I was having and told me I needed something to coat my stomach while pregnant.
• Carafate - Ahhhh. Alas, relief from stomach pain! This lovely baby-safe glue coats my stomach like a shield. It could mend at last! Sucrafate does the same, according to the nice pharmacist man. No more jalapenos, broccoli, or Indian food for a while... :(
• Two showers a day - for the workout I seem to be doing by merely sitting in a chair. Who knew I had sweat glands that work when I am not hitting the gym?
• Dr. Pepper - because Rx migraine meds and babies don't mix, and it tastes yummy, too.