I am kind of in awe that I will be 31 weeks tomorrow. I pretty much went directly from fearing a miscarriage to fearing extremely premature babies. (I can't even allow myself to be afraid of a still-birth...it's like touching a hot stove. My mind--for once!--protects me from that by drawing back involuntarily and daydreaming about other things instead.) Premature babies are often a reality with twins, and what with my cervical funneling at 21 weeks and then being told (up until Wednesday, of course) that I would likely be induced early due to Atticus's growth, I had solid ground to think I'd never see "the 30s".
But here I am. Not only am I not having Thanksgiving babies (as originally feared), I am, in fact, not having 2011 babies. Damien's weight is only an estimate, of course, but if it's close, he wouldn't even be "very low birth-weight" if born right now. Just low. No very. Atticus might very well escape that label himself.
My babies might be more than 32 weeks old. I might even make my 8th month of pregnancy!! I've been telling everyone "We're hoping for February babies", and it seemed like a pipe dream. But it very well could be our reality.
Or at least, it's no longer absurd to hope.
Still.
After yesterday's wacky NST (and my doctorsister said she wasn't surprised, that my uterus measures full-term, so it's doing its full-term things, but that that can happen for a month or more. And my actual OB's office never called, so they can't be too concerned...), we decided we shouldn't put it off any longer.
My husband and I are greedy, cheap bastards. Our philosophy for buying baby things has been: well, let's see what we get given and then buy the rest.
I know. We suck. In our defense, we already spent more conceiving these babies than most parents spend on...well, I would guess the first 2-3 years of life, unless they have really awful maternity insurance. And also...well, as difficult as my relationship with my mother can be at times, one thing she has never not been is generous. Same goes for my grandparents.
Anyway, with my birthday, Christmas, my up-coming baby shower (which is indeed happening, Jan 7th), and my husband's birthday (Jan 23rd), we figured we'd be ok waiting. And we have been given a ton. Our cribs, stroller, little tiny clothes (though I've heard you can never have enough...), silly toys, a changing pad, a baby bathtub, and even a swing. And giftcards intended to be used to purchase their carseats.
Going off the philosophy that what babies need are: something to eat (my boobs, but should that fail, every grocery store sells formula, so it's not hard to procure), something to wear (got the first day or two covered, at any rate), something to poop in (we have some cloth diapers already and might do disposables during the first few weeks, which again can be bought at any grocery store), a safe way home from the hospital, and a place to sleep, we were nearly there.
So today, we bought their carseats and their crib mattresses and a few sheets.
Babies R Us surely thinks we are woefully understocked...but I think, at this point, we've got the necessities. Everything we need to bring them home. Anything else is just gravy.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 30, 2011
30w5d: Taking the "N" out of NST
I didn't have the best of NSTs this morning.
It started off great, with Attiucs head down! (Good boy. Now: stay!)
But then, Damien's fluid levels looked low. They had to take multiple measurements, and it was a bit stressful, since they were totally fine on Wednesday. Finally, the nurse decided they were fine, since she kept finding little pockets all over the place. He's also gone back to some sort of weird diagonal position--not quite head down, but not quite transverse either.
Then my blood pressure was high (for me). 135/80. Never something fun to see, though it's not critical.
Then, once the babies were "found" (and lost, several times), all was good to go.
Until the nurse came in to ask me about my contractions. Yes, I was feeling them. No, they didn't hurt. Why? No reason.
Then, 10 minutes later, she came in and told me Atticus passed but Damien failed. That I shouldn't worry, because they don't "have to pass" until 32 weeks. Well, ok then, I just won't worry. I mean, it's not like I was recently told he was too big, might have low fluid, and failed a test that doesn't matter all that much but still.
So we'd be doing a BPP on him, and meanwhile, *yank*. She tightened the contraction-strap and went off to get the supplies and a tech.
The good news was, apparently that woke Damien up, and he got 2 accelerations in like 5 minutes, and thus "passed".
The bad news is: yes, totally having contractions every 5-10 minutes. Have I ever had an internal cervical exam? Well, no, we wanted to leave my cervix the fuck alone, what with the previa and funneling and "pelvic rest" and crap. Well, huh. Are the contractions painful? No...
So she signed me off, but told me the doctors might call me if they think they need to. My actual doctor is out of town, and I don't know who reviews her strips (though I'm sure someone does), and more importantly, when. But hey, she says, call them if my water breaks, and Happy New Year!
So of course I called my doctorsister, who is of course working and hasn't called me back.
I'm trying not to freak out. I mean, both my babies are fine. That's good news. Good, good news.
The fact that "painful" is a subjective measurement is something I'm trying to ignore.
I know twins often cause frequent contractions. I know this. I've felt them before and nothing has happened. But every 5-10 minutes is a lot. I just really want my uterus to calm the fuck down and do its job: keep those kiddos nice and safe inside.
Thanks.
It started off great, with Attiucs head down! (Good boy. Now: stay!)
But then, Damien's fluid levels looked low. They had to take multiple measurements, and it was a bit stressful, since they were totally fine on Wednesday. Finally, the nurse decided they were fine, since she kept finding little pockets all over the place. He's also gone back to some sort of weird diagonal position--not quite head down, but not quite transverse either.
Then my blood pressure was high (for me). 135/80. Never something fun to see, though it's not critical.
Then, once the babies were "found" (and lost, several times), all was good to go.
Until the nurse came in to ask me about my contractions. Yes, I was feeling them. No, they didn't hurt. Why? No reason.
Then, 10 minutes later, she came in and told me Atticus passed but Damien failed. That I shouldn't worry, because they don't "have to pass" until 32 weeks. Well, ok then, I just won't worry. I mean, it's not like I was recently told he was too big, might have low fluid, and failed a test that doesn't matter all that much but still.
So we'd be doing a BPP on him, and meanwhile, *yank*. She tightened the contraction-strap and went off to get the supplies and a tech.
The good news was, apparently that woke Damien up, and he got 2 accelerations in like 5 minutes, and thus "passed".
The bad news is: yes, totally having contractions every 5-10 minutes. Have I ever had an internal cervical exam? Well, no, we wanted to leave my cervix the fuck alone, what with the previa and funneling and "pelvic rest" and crap. Well, huh. Are the contractions painful? No...
So she signed me off, but told me the doctors might call me if they think they need to. My actual doctor is out of town, and I don't know who reviews her strips (though I'm sure someone does), and more importantly, when. But hey, she says, call them if my water breaks, and Happy New Year!
So of course I called my doctorsister, who is of course working and hasn't called me back.
I'm trying not to freak out. I mean, both my babies are fine. That's good news. Good, good news.
The fact that "painful" is a subjective measurement is something I'm trying to ignore.
I know twins often cause frequent contractions. I know this. I've felt them before and nothing has happened. But every 5-10 minutes is a lot. I just really want my uterus to calm the fuck down and do its job: keep those kiddos nice and safe inside.
Thanks.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
2011--Year of Extremes
It keeps coming up on blogs, Prompt-ly, message boards..."rate your 2011". The first time I saw this topic, my knee-jerk reaction was "Solid A. I will ring in the New Year at exactly 31 weeks pregnant with seemingly healthy twin boys. It simply does not get any better than this."
But then I got to thinking. 2011 was a total bipolar mess for me.
I realize that others have suffered worse than I have, but speaking just for myself: I had the very worst day of my life in 2011. That was the day I was told there was something extremely wrong with Atticus. That I should get steroid shots and deliver within 3 weeks or risk losing them both. (3 weeks would have put me at 26 weeks.) That I should probably do an amnio to decide if I wanted to give up on Atticus right then and there, and focus on saving Damien. (Which honestly...oh my god. I think we would have amnio'd, but I can't say for sure what we would have decided.) I spent that day in hysterics. Imagining NICU babies. Imagining one very-special-needs baby and one sick-from-being-so-premature baby. Imagining no babies. Imagining months of NICU to lose one. Imagining losing Atticus at birth or shortly thereafter and feeling guilty for birthing Damien early when maybe he didn't need to be. Imagining losing Atticus in utero and carrying one live and one dead baby. Birthing a dead baby.
None of that came to pass, for which I am beyond grateful. And while it wasn't "true" in the sense that the doctors were flat-out wrong, it was nonetheless real, in that my husband and I actually did receive that news, discussed our options while crying, both of us feeling helpless and hopeless and physically ill. I personally felt like transferring 3 embryos and being so greedy for a baby was what led to us being in that situation. I felt like I'd failed my unborn babies already. I kept apologizing to my husband, which got us nothing but more tears.
To say that day sucked is an understatement. Even 2 days later, after my ultrasound. Even 4 days later, when the virus scans came back negative. Even now, sometimes. It haunts me and I'm still not 100% sure about our decisions, and I have fears for both of their health.
And I think the day I was told that my first pregnancy, so hard fought for, was non-viable...that might be the 2nd-to-worst day in my life. That was also in 2011. And the news we got that day was both real and true, and I lost Isaiah.
But.
The day I discovered I was pregnant with Isaiah might be one of the best of my life. (Despite the fact that everything about my current pregnancy started out stronger--darker lines, bigger beta, etc., I was still haunted by loss and unable to fully enjoy it.)
My 18-week ultrasound, when we found out the twins were boys and also, more importantly, that everything about their little bodies looked perfectly healthy...that might actually be the best day.
(I feel the need to clarify here that, while I did have an awesome time at my wedding, I wouldn't call it the best day of my life. By the time that we actually said our vows, we were already committed to each other and I had no doubts that we'd be spending our lives together. So while the ceremony was lovely and the party was a blast, I don't feel like my life actually changed that day. It was, instead, a celebration of what we already had. And getting that--meeting, becoming friends, becoming lovers, moving in, buying a home, deciding to start a family, deciding to get married--was a path, not so much a day or a moment, so it's hard to pinpoint exactly when it happened.)
There was other good stuff--mainly learning how awesome my marriage is, despite the trials we've been through. But also just really good nights in or out, good days at work and school, silly shit our cats did while we watched, going to the cabin, etc.
And other shitty stuff--bedrest and withdrawing from school, extremely complicated relationships with my mom and siblings, never having enough money, etc.
But I don't feel like the "F" stuff cancels out my "A" stuff. Nor do I feel that the "A" stuff cancels out the "F" stuff. This year wasn't a "C"...it needs some other sort of scale.
All said, though, I am really looking forward to 2012. BABIES!!!!! I think they'll be way, way more awesome once they're here than they are in the Frat House. I can't believe that, in less than 2 months (though how much less, I cannot say), I'll be meeting them. I'm so excited!
But then I got to thinking. 2011 was a total bipolar mess for me.
I realize that others have suffered worse than I have, but speaking just for myself: I had the very worst day of my life in 2011. That was the day I was told there was something extremely wrong with Atticus. That I should get steroid shots and deliver within 3 weeks or risk losing them both. (3 weeks would have put me at 26 weeks.) That I should probably do an amnio to decide if I wanted to give up on Atticus right then and there, and focus on saving Damien. (Which honestly...oh my god. I think we would have amnio'd, but I can't say for sure what we would have decided.) I spent that day in hysterics. Imagining NICU babies. Imagining one very-special-needs baby and one sick-from-being-so-premature baby. Imagining no babies. Imagining months of NICU to lose one. Imagining losing Atticus at birth or shortly thereafter and feeling guilty for birthing Damien early when maybe he didn't need to be. Imagining losing Atticus in utero and carrying one live and one dead baby. Birthing a dead baby.
None of that came to pass, for which I am beyond grateful. And while it wasn't "true" in the sense that the doctors were flat-out wrong, it was nonetheless real, in that my husband and I actually did receive that news, discussed our options while crying, both of us feeling helpless and hopeless and physically ill. I personally felt like transferring 3 embryos and being so greedy for a baby was what led to us being in that situation. I felt like I'd failed my unborn babies already. I kept apologizing to my husband, which got us nothing but more tears.
To say that day sucked is an understatement. Even 2 days later, after my ultrasound. Even 4 days later, when the virus scans came back negative. Even now, sometimes. It haunts me and I'm still not 100% sure about our decisions, and I have fears for both of their health.
And I think the day I was told that my first pregnancy, so hard fought for, was non-viable...that might be the 2nd-to-worst day in my life. That was also in 2011. And the news we got that day was both real and true, and I lost Isaiah.
But.
The day I discovered I was pregnant with Isaiah might be one of the best of my life. (Despite the fact that everything about my current pregnancy started out stronger--darker lines, bigger beta, etc., I was still haunted by loss and unable to fully enjoy it.)
My 18-week ultrasound, when we found out the twins were boys and also, more importantly, that everything about their little bodies looked perfectly healthy...that might actually be the best day.
(I feel the need to clarify here that, while I did have an awesome time at my wedding, I wouldn't call it the best day of my life. By the time that we actually said our vows, we were already committed to each other and I had no doubts that we'd be spending our lives together. So while the ceremony was lovely and the party was a blast, I don't feel like my life actually changed that day. It was, instead, a celebration of what we already had. And getting that--meeting, becoming friends, becoming lovers, moving in, buying a home, deciding to start a family, deciding to get married--was a path, not so much a day or a moment, so it's hard to pinpoint exactly when it happened.)
There was other good stuff--mainly learning how awesome my marriage is, despite the trials we've been through. But also just really good nights in or out, good days at work and school, silly shit our cats did while we watched, going to the cabin, etc.
And other shitty stuff--bedrest and withdrawing from school, extremely complicated relationships with my mom and siblings, never having enough money, etc.
But I don't feel like the "F" stuff cancels out my "A" stuff. Nor do I feel that the "A" stuff cancels out the "F" stuff. This year wasn't a "C"...it needs some other sort of scale.
All said, though, I am really looking forward to 2012. BABIES!!!!! I think they'll be way, way more awesome once they're here than they are in the Frat House. I can't believe that, in less than 2 months (though how much less, I cannot say), I'll be meeting them. I'm so excited!
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
30w3d: Goldilocks and the Three Birth-weights
So I just got back from my ultrasound and the new/old/evil MFM place.
Atticus is estimated at 2 lbs 11 oz, and is in the 20th percentile.
Damien is estimated at 3 lbs 15 oz, and is "almost" in the 60th percentile.
The tech gave me this news and vanished, leaving me to wait 20 minutes (exactly) for the doctor to come in and discuss things. I spent those 20 minutes trying to figure out if 2lbs 11 oz was enough, or if we'd be getting another "well, you'll deliver early with this small of a baby, don't want to risk..." talk.
In walks the doctor, who re-scans my babies, and then puts on her very serious voice.
One of my babies, she says, is doing just fine. The other, we're concerned about. He's getting a bit big.
Excuse me? A bit big?
Despite the fact that the bulging folder containing my chart has TWINS--SEVERE IUGR written on it in red (with the "SEVERE" crossed out), Atticus is now fine and Damien is problematic.
Apparently, at about 30 weeks, twins are supposed to slow down. They're supposed to each be in about the 35th percentile. No one gave my boys this message, and they're both growing along the exact same curves that they were last time (when Atticus was little and Damien was perfect). At this rate, if I make it to 38 weeks, Damien will be about 7 pounds.
Well, color me unconcerned. I mean, I get that twins are usually small, but...7 pounds is not something I'm going to freak out about, especially if his brother manages to get above the magical 5.5 pounds. And the "problem" is not that Damien is fat. His femur is his biggest measurement, followed by his head. All of my mom's babies, including me, were almost 8 pounds at birth. We don't know my husband's birth weight, but he's 6'3", so...growing an "average but big for a twin" baby is, frankly, not high on my doomsday freakout list. Especially since it's not like he was always small and has now shot up in size--he just failed to notice that, since he's got a wombmate, he's supposed to start slowing down.
I think it's funny that my next appointment (in 3 weeks) is prompted not out of concern for a small baby (I was really hoping he'd make it to 3 lbs), but the big huge (well, ok, average) baby hanging out on top.
And in related news, Damien is head down and Atticus is transverse. Seriously, babies? Both head down. Do it!
Atticus is estimated at 2 lbs 11 oz, and is in the 20th percentile.
Damien is estimated at 3 lbs 15 oz, and is "almost" in the 60th percentile.
The tech gave me this news and vanished, leaving me to wait 20 minutes (exactly) for the doctor to come in and discuss things. I spent those 20 minutes trying to figure out if 2lbs 11 oz was enough, or if we'd be getting another "well, you'll deliver early with this small of a baby, don't want to risk..." talk.
In walks the doctor, who re-scans my babies, and then puts on her very serious voice.
One of my babies, she says, is doing just fine. The other, we're concerned about. He's getting a bit big.
Excuse me? A bit big?
Despite the fact that the bulging folder containing my chart has TWINS--SEVERE IUGR written on it in red (with the "SEVERE" crossed out), Atticus is now fine and Damien is problematic.
Apparently, at about 30 weeks, twins are supposed to slow down. They're supposed to each be in about the 35th percentile. No one gave my boys this message, and they're both growing along the exact same curves that they were last time (when Atticus was little and Damien was perfect). At this rate, if I make it to 38 weeks, Damien will be about 7 pounds.
Well, color me unconcerned. I mean, I get that twins are usually small, but...7 pounds is not something I'm going to freak out about, especially if his brother manages to get above the magical 5.5 pounds. And the "problem" is not that Damien is fat. His femur is his biggest measurement, followed by his head. All of my mom's babies, including me, were almost 8 pounds at birth. We don't know my husband's birth weight, but he's 6'3", so...growing an "average but big for a twin" baby is, frankly, not high on my doomsday freakout list. Especially since it's not like he was always small and has now shot up in size--he just failed to notice that, since he's got a wombmate, he's supposed to start slowing down.
I think it's funny that my next appointment (in 3 weeks) is prompted not out of concern for a small baby (I was really hoping he'd make it to 3 lbs), but the big huge (well, ok, average) baby hanging out on top.
And in related news, Damien is head down and Atticus is transverse. Seriously, babies? Both head down. Do it!
Sunday, December 25, 2011
30w0d: Christmas
Last Christmas, I cried. Despite having been on an SSRI for almost 3 weeks, I cried on both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I cried over my infertility, I cried over being childless, I cried over the damn cyst and the fact that, despite commencing IVF in September, we had yet to make it to egg retrieval. (We had yet, in fact, to correctly make it through the suppression phase.) I cried over my loss of hope, over my inability to enjoy much of my life. I would have skipped the whole season if possible.
This Christmas, my boys kicked me non-stop. I didn't cry once. (I did tear up looking at some of the baby clothes we'd been given--baby clothes, for my babies.) I love almost every single thing about my life, and I can say I enjoyed almost every single thing about this (epic, 10-day) Christmas.
Next Christmas, if all goes well, my two sons will be crawling around, and I'll be terrified of them injuring themselves on the tree. I'll get to play Santa (even though they won't know it). My husband and I can take pictures and make movies called "Their First Christmas". That Christmas will be even better than this one.
Amazing.
I know not everyone dealing with infertility eventually becomes a parent, and I support the decision some make to live child-free. But oh my word, what joy IVF has brought into my life.
This Christmas, I know exactly how lucky I am.
This Christmas, my boys kicked me non-stop. I didn't cry once. (I did tear up looking at some of the baby clothes we'd been given--baby clothes, for my babies.) I love almost every single thing about my life, and I can say I enjoyed almost every single thing about this (epic, 10-day) Christmas.
Next Christmas, if all goes well, my two sons will be crawling around, and I'll be terrified of them injuring themselves on the tree. I'll get to play Santa (even though they won't know it). My husband and I can take pictures and make movies called "Their First Christmas". That Christmas will be even better than this one.
Amazing.
I know not everyone dealing with infertility eventually becomes a parent, and I support the decision some make to live child-free. But oh my word, what joy IVF has brought into my life.
This Christmas, I know exactly how lucky I am.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
29w4d: C-section or attempt labor?
Ages ago, I posted about how my OB thought my pelvic inlet was too narrow to attempt a vaginal delivery after about 35 weeks. And that it was really upsetting to me, and I would revisit that topic with her later. Then with the cervical funneling and growth scares and such, it dropped to the wayside. So it wasn't until yesterday that I brought it up again, and go some full answers.
The first thing is, she still thinks my inlet is narrow, but has said she will let me attempt if it's what I want, no matter how far I make it. So I guess that's a non-issue now.
The larger issue is positioning. She actually does breech extractions on twins. BUT she will not do it if a Baby B is more than 15% bigger than Baby A. I am fine with this--I understand the reasoning behind it and agree that it's in everyone's best interest. In my personal situation, Baby B is my Damien, and he will almost certainly be more than 15% larger than Atticus.
My OB will do an external version (sp?) on a Baby B once Baby A is born, regardless of size. But she says that versions are really hit or miss. She can't give any concrete answers, but after talking with her and with my doctorsister, I am left feeling like, if Damien is frank breech, it's probably not worth an attempt. If he's transverse or head-down-ish diagonal, then it might be worth trying. The caveat there is that he can switch position after Atticus is born, and it could be good or bad.
My OB has also stated that I would need an epidural in place (though not running meds unless I choose) in case we need to go to a section. She says I can labor in the labor rooms, but once I start pushing and for the rest of delivery, it will happen in an OR. I'm agree with both of those calls.
So, where I really am right now is thinking: If Atticus is vertex and Damien is transverse or leaning towards head-down, I'll try a vaginal delivery. If Damien is breech or should Atticus switch (he's head-down vertex now), I'll do a c-section.
Does this sound like a good plan to you, or do you think I'm being irrational? Both my OB and my sister have stated that I really need to decide how important my "birth experience" is to me.
My sister says she personally would just do a section and try for a VBAC next time. Which is all well and good until you throw infertility in. I mean, we can't even say for certain that we want a third child, but I can say for certain that wanting and getting don't necessarily go hand in hand. And deciding to do IVF again, and how many to transfer and how many times to try before throwing in the towel while being responsible for 2 small children in every way (including financially) is probably a very different situation than the one we were in with zero children. So I really don't want to put any eggs in the "next time" basket.
But I really do want to experience vaginal birth. I really do not want to place either of my kids in any danger (understanding that all forms of delivery have some risks). I feel like my OB (and my sister) wouldn't be on board with an attempt of labor if they felt like it was the WRONG decision. (Which isn't to say "the best", just that it's not pure evil.) And my OB did mention several times that she has had many twin moms go vaginal on Baby A only to end up needing to section B. That sounds like a difficult thing to recover from...but I'm not sure if it would be worth it or not.
I think I might just play it by ear--see how the babies end up positioned and when I do go into labor. The main thing, after all, is to keep them inside and, fingers crossed, avoid NICU stays.
And I didn't gain any weight at all in these 2 weeks, which bums me out. Especially since I do have gestational diabetes. Well, I had one abnormal and one "borderline" result. It takes 2 to fail, so I technically passed, but my OB says that, since GD almost always gets worse as pregnancy progresses, and since I am carrying twins, she wants me to meet with the dietitian, which will happen next week. My OB has told me she doesn't want me going on any medications, but to follow carb limits and increase protein intake...while keeping my total calories the same or even increasing them. Sounds fun.
The first thing is, she still thinks my inlet is narrow, but has said she will let me attempt if it's what I want, no matter how far I make it. So I guess that's a non-issue now.
The larger issue is positioning. She actually does breech extractions on twins. BUT she will not do it if a Baby B is more than 15% bigger than Baby A. I am fine with this--I understand the reasoning behind it and agree that it's in everyone's best interest. In my personal situation, Baby B is my Damien, and he will almost certainly be more than 15% larger than Atticus.
My OB will do an external version (sp?) on a Baby B once Baby A is born, regardless of size. But she says that versions are really hit or miss. She can't give any concrete answers, but after talking with her and with my doctorsister, I am left feeling like, if Damien is frank breech, it's probably not worth an attempt. If he's transverse or head-down-ish diagonal, then it might be worth trying. The caveat there is that he can switch position after Atticus is born, and it could be good or bad.
My OB has also stated that I would need an epidural in place (though not running meds unless I choose) in case we need to go to a section. She says I can labor in the labor rooms, but once I start pushing and for the rest of delivery, it will happen in an OR. I'm agree with both of those calls.
So, where I really am right now is thinking: If Atticus is vertex and Damien is transverse or leaning towards head-down, I'll try a vaginal delivery. If Damien is breech or should Atticus switch (he's head-down vertex now), I'll do a c-section.
Does this sound like a good plan to you, or do you think I'm being irrational? Both my OB and my sister have stated that I really need to decide how important my "birth experience" is to me.
My sister says she personally would just do a section and try for a VBAC next time. Which is all well and good until you throw infertility in. I mean, we can't even say for certain that we want a third child, but I can say for certain that wanting and getting don't necessarily go hand in hand. And deciding to do IVF again, and how many to transfer and how many times to try before throwing in the towel while being responsible for 2 small children in every way (including financially) is probably a very different situation than the one we were in with zero children. So I really don't want to put any eggs in the "next time" basket.
But I really do want to experience vaginal birth. I really do not want to place either of my kids in any danger (understanding that all forms of delivery have some risks). I feel like my OB (and my sister) wouldn't be on board with an attempt of labor if they felt like it was the WRONG decision. (Which isn't to say "the best", just that it's not pure evil.) And my OB did mention several times that she has had many twin moms go vaginal on Baby A only to end up needing to section B. That sounds like a difficult thing to recover from...but I'm not sure if it would be worth it or not.
I think I might just play it by ear--see how the babies end up positioned and when I do go into labor. The main thing, after all, is to keep them inside and, fingers crossed, avoid NICU stays.
And I didn't gain any weight at all in these 2 weeks, which bums me out. Especially since I do have gestational diabetes. Well, I had one abnormal and one "borderline" result. It takes 2 to fail, so I technically passed, but my OB says that, since GD almost always gets worse as pregnancy progresses, and since I am carrying twins, she wants me to meet with the dietitian, which will happen next week. My OB has told me she doesn't want me going on any medications, but to follow carb limits and increase protein intake...while keeping my total calories the same or even increasing them. Sounds fun.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
My sister-in-law had her baby
...and she and my stepbrother named him the same name as my husband.
It's not the most uncommon of boy names, but seriously?
It's not the most uncommon of boy names, but seriously?
Monday, December 19, 2011
29w1d: My pregnant body
I still haven't gotten the results back on my GTT. I'm also dealing with a lot of emotional stuff, what with it being Christmas and my SIL being due the 28th and my obnoxious older sister being due May 24th and all.
But I'm going to write an annoying all-about-my-symptoms post. Please feel free to skip it if you hate this sort of thing.
The best thing is that the babies are still inside.
The second best thing is movement. I feel them almost constantly. They tend to hold still when I'm peeing, and sometimes when I'm walking, but either they're on different sleeping schedules, they never sleep, or they squirm in their sleep. Everyone can feel them when they touch my belly. I can frequently see my belly dance, and some of their harder kicks have been seen by people clear across the room. There are times when I can say for sure that Atticus did that, or Damien did this. And often, one of them starts something and the other finishes. They're getting in punching and shoving matches inside the Frat House, and they don't have very good traction, so a solid kick to the head sends them floating off in different directions. They sometimes wake me up at night with their tussles. It's tons of fun.
I also disciplined Damien for the first time. His...something (elbow? knee?) was literally poking out, making a little "tent" of my belly. And it hurt. He was surprisingly resistant to me pressing against it--strong little guy! But my ribs are compromised enough as is, so I kept it up, and he finally squirmed into a different position. That's probably the last time I'll "be the boss" until they're about 5.
The third best thing is that my HG is gone. I still take Zofran, but I'm only throwing up about once a week now. It's been that way for almost a month. I feel nausea intermittently throughout the day, but compared to non-stop puking, it's a total breeze. I can't even tell you how grateful I am that all of that is in the past, and I can focus on enjoying every minute left of this pregnancy.
I'm getting very large. Agreement at yesterday's gathering (step-dad's birthday party) was that I am bigger than my SIL. My brother's girlfriend told me I look like I'm "about to pop". I do wonder sometimes just how big I will get, and what I will no longer be able to do. For example, turning in the shower? My belly is coming dangerously close to the curtain. Putting on my own socks and shoes? I can barely manage that now, and I honestly don't think I'll be able to do any non-slip-on shoes in a couple of weeks. And of course, getting out of couches and chairs in one graceful movement is long gone. Getting up off the bed is also a multi-step process. I've gotten a lot of practice there, because of the need to pee, but I'm awkward as hell.
My husband laughs at me. I'll probably divorce him soon.
(That's a joke.)
My nipples and areolas (I know you wanted to know!) have gone from pink to brown. I have a very light linea negra. And I have stretchmarks and expect more. My hair and nails continue to grow at break-neck speeds. And I'm hungry all the time but can only eat small amounts before feeling Thanksgiving-stuffed. 30 minutes later, I'm hungry again.
I think that's it. I have the usual complaints (sore hips, sore back, can't sleep, abdominal muscles have given up on containing my uterus and are just trying not to tear, etc.), but all told, this is exactly what I wanted, and I'm so glad to have it.
But I'm going to write an annoying all-about-my-symptoms post. Please feel free to skip it if you hate this sort of thing.
The best thing is that the babies are still inside.
The second best thing is movement. I feel them almost constantly. They tend to hold still when I'm peeing, and sometimes when I'm walking, but either they're on different sleeping schedules, they never sleep, or they squirm in their sleep. Everyone can feel them when they touch my belly. I can frequently see my belly dance, and some of their harder kicks have been seen by people clear across the room. There are times when I can say for sure that Atticus did that, or Damien did this. And often, one of them starts something and the other finishes. They're getting in punching and shoving matches inside the Frat House, and they don't have very good traction, so a solid kick to the head sends them floating off in different directions. They sometimes wake me up at night with their tussles. It's tons of fun.
I also disciplined Damien for the first time. His...something (elbow? knee?) was literally poking out, making a little "tent" of my belly. And it hurt. He was surprisingly resistant to me pressing against it--strong little guy! But my ribs are compromised enough as is, so I kept it up, and he finally squirmed into a different position. That's probably the last time I'll "be the boss" until they're about 5.
The third best thing is that my HG is gone. I still take Zofran, but I'm only throwing up about once a week now. It's been that way for almost a month. I feel nausea intermittently throughout the day, but compared to non-stop puking, it's a total breeze. I can't even tell you how grateful I am that all of that is in the past, and I can focus on enjoying every minute left of this pregnancy.
I'm getting very large. Agreement at yesterday's gathering (step-dad's birthday party) was that I am bigger than my SIL. My brother's girlfriend told me I look like I'm "about to pop". I do wonder sometimes just how big I will get, and what I will no longer be able to do. For example, turning in the shower? My belly is coming dangerously close to the curtain. Putting on my own socks and shoes? I can barely manage that now, and I honestly don't think I'll be able to do any non-slip-on shoes in a couple of weeks. And of course, getting out of couches and chairs in one graceful movement is long gone. Getting up off the bed is also a multi-step process. I've gotten a lot of practice there, because of the need to pee, but I'm awkward as hell.
My husband laughs at me. I'll probably divorce him soon.
(That's a joke.)
My nipples and areolas (I know you wanted to know!) have gone from pink to brown. I have a very light linea negra. And I have stretchmarks and expect more. My hair and nails continue to grow at break-neck speeds. And I'm hungry all the time but can only eat small amounts before feeling Thanksgiving-stuffed. 30 minutes later, I'm hungry again.
I think that's it. I have the usual complaints (sore hips, sore back, can't sleep, abdominal muscles have given up on containing my uterus and are just trying not to tear, etc.), but all told, this is exactly what I wanted, and I'm so glad to have it.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
28w2d: Too sweet for words (and iron)
I failed my 1-hour glucose test. Barely. The cut-off for 'normal' is 140. I got 143. So I get to take the 3-hour test. I'm really not looking forward to it--not for the test itself, but for sitting 3+ hours in the OB's waiting room. Soooo uncomfortable! Plus, of course, they can never find my veins and I usually get poked multiple times. I wonder if they'll give me a saline lock and call it good. (I'll ask.)
I'm also anemic. So I took extra iron and promptly threw it up. Guess I'll have to work on that.
I'm also anemic. So I took extra iron and promptly threw it up. Guess I'll have to work on that.
Monday, December 12, 2011
28w1d: Fatherhood
My husband confessed to me that he's worried he won't be a good dad. (He will be.) He couldn't articulate the reasons why he was afraid of this. I think it's perfectly normal to worry that you won't be a good parent--it's such a huge task, raising a child (or more), and at this point he already loves our little guys so much that the thought of letting them down, some how, some way, is devastating.
And there is, of course, the difference between a good parent and a perfect parent. (Namely, one exists and the other does not.)
But it was, for me, a bit of an odd conversation. When I was trying to reassure him that he would be great, it occurred to me that I don't actually know what a father does.
My own father was abusive, and my mother divorced him when I was 6. I do have some happy memories of him (because even truly vile individuals are not truly vile all the time, in the eyes of a small child anyway), but none of those are really unique "only a dad could do this" sort of memories. My mom was then, more or less, single.
The man I call my step-dad, she never actually married. They began dating when I was 10 or 11. They both had children of their own, and they took things rather slow. In addition, his job required him to travel a lot, and to live for months at a time in different places across the state and country. He spent weekends, then even weeks, at our house. We did things together, of course. With him and with his kids, family vacations and such. But I wouldn't say that he took an active role in fathering me. He never was the one to punish me, or to give me permission to do something, or to take me school shopping, or to hear about the boys I had a crush on (neither did my mom, for that one...), or anything like that.
When I was 16, he moved in with us full-time (but still taking work trips). I was only once home alone for a significant time with him while my mother was out of town. She'd told me I needed to tell him where I was going, with whom, and when I'd be back. I remember telling him, "I'm going out with {Friend}, we'll be home at 11" and him saying, "You're 17, you can do what you want."
It had to have been awkward for him, too. He didn't want to overstep his boundaries. I do love him, and he does love me. I consider him the closest thing to a father I'll ever have. My kids will be his grandchildren. And he and my mom, despite never having married, have been together for over 20 years now.
But when it comes right down to it, he didn't raise me.
I don't think families must be two-parent or else horrible things will happen. I don't think 2-parent households must be of opposite sexes or else horrible things will happen.
But I do, somehow, think there is a difference between a father and a mother. I just have no idea what that difference is. I don't think it's pregnancy/breastfeeding. My husband, after all, has a different relationship with his mom than he does with his dad, and neither was pregnant with him or breastfed him. But then again, his mom did the stay-at-home thing until he was in 2nd or 3rd grade, so maybe it's just that.
Anyway, it was an interesting conversation. I don't believe in rigid gender roles, but I think, due to my upbringing and possibly cultural stereotypes, I somehow think of mothers as the primary parent? Something like that. And I don't actually believe that should be true. I think I'll need to work on that, somehow. On viewing a father as an equal in the parenting equation. We've had discussions on some parenting things, most recently whether or not to use pacifiers. But I have made some unilateral decisions (will attempt to breastfeed, will follow the advice of "when one wakes up hungry, wake the other and feed them both") and presented them as "this is what we'll do". I don't think that's healthy for major decisions in the long-run, and I think I need to shift my thinking a bit, to recognize that dads are of equal importance to moms. It sounds trite, but it's difficult for me to do.
And there is, of course, the difference between a good parent and a perfect parent. (Namely, one exists and the other does not.)
But it was, for me, a bit of an odd conversation. When I was trying to reassure him that he would be great, it occurred to me that I don't actually know what a father does.
My own father was abusive, and my mother divorced him when I was 6. I do have some happy memories of him (because even truly vile individuals are not truly vile all the time, in the eyes of a small child anyway), but none of those are really unique "only a dad could do this" sort of memories. My mom was then, more or less, single.
The man I call my step-dad, she never actually married. They began dating when I was 10 or 11. They both had children of their own, and they took things rather slow. In addition, his job required him to travel a lot, and to live for months at a time in different places across the state and country. He spent weekends, then even weeks, at our house. We did things together, of course. With him and with his kids, family vacations and such. But I wouldn't say that he took an active role in fathering me. He never was the one to punish me, or to give me permission to do something, or to take me school shopping, or to hear about the boys I had a crush on (neither did my mom, for that one...), or anything like that.
When I was 16, he moved in with us full-time (but still taking work trips). I was only once home alone for a significant time with him while my mother was out of town. She'd told me I needed to tell him where I was going, with whom, and when I'd be back. I remember telling him, "I'm going out with {Friend}, we'll be home at 11" and him saying, "You're 17, you can do what you want."
It had to have been awkward for him, too. He didn't want to overstep his boundaries. I do love him, and he does love me. I consider him the closest thing to a father I'll ever have. My kids will be his grandchildren. And he and my mom, despite never having married, have been together for over 20 years now.
But when it comes right down to it, he didn't raise me.
I don't think families must be two-parent or else horrible things will happen. I don't think 2-parent households must be of opposite sexes or else horrible things will happen.
But I do, somehow, think there is a difference between a father and a mother. I just have no idea what that difference is. I don't think it's pregnancy/breastfeeding. My husband, after all, has a different relationship with his mom than he does with his dad, and neither was pregnant with him or breastfed him. But then again, his mom did the stay-at-home thing until he was in 2nd or 3rd grade, so maybe it's just that.
Anyway, it was an interesting conversation. I don't believe in rigid gender roles, but I think, due to my upbringing and possibly cultural stereotypes, I somehow think of mothers as the primary parent? Something like that. And I don't actually believe that should be true. I think I'll need to work on that, somehow. On viewing a father as an equal in the parenting equation. We've had discussions on some parenting things, most recently whether or not to use pacifiers. But I have made some unilateral decisions (will attempt to breastfeed, will follow the advice of "when one wakes up hungry, wake the other and feed them both") and presented them as "this is what we'll do". I don't think that's healthy for major decisions in the long-run, and I think I need to shift my thinking a bit, to recognize that dads are of equal importance to moms. It sounds trite, but it's difficult for me to do.
Friday, December 9, 2011
27w5d: Oh...umm...yeah...terrible!
Hi.
I have the taste buds of a 4-year-old.
I liked the glucose drink. It was like a liquid orange Popsicle. Slightly odd aftertaste, but really, it's made me want a juice box or Capri Sun or something like that all day.
While I obviously hope I passed with flying colors (and I do wonder, if I don't, will they put me on The Diet? Or will we decide flooding my babies with glucose might be good for their skinny little asses?), it wasn't an awful experience at all. Even though it took multiple pokes to get a blood draw.
My diastolic BP was high today. It's usually in the 70s, and today it was 90. My systolic was 120 and my urine was negative for protein (and glucose, surprisingly enough), so my OB isn't worried. She thinks it was just an off day, maybe from all the pokes and the fasting and such.
We've reached a tentative decision on the whole insurance/MFM thing. First, either the ancient doctor who told me Atticus was...well, screwed, to be polite, has been fired, or he opted to finally retire. I didn't press the point of, "He's no longer practicing." But the short of it is: my OB wants me to transfer my care back to that group.
Her reasons are: (1) she can assure that I not only get the same peri every time, but that it is the peri I liked best, with whom she consulted about my case multiple times, even after I transferred to the other group. (They really wanted to get to the bottom of WTF went so wrong and how on earth did it escape notice.) (2) She cannot say the same thing about the other MFM group (Group C), as they are in a very large and separate system. (3) Group C is also, apparently, notoriously bad about getting in touch with doctors, and my OB doesn't relish the idea of placing numerous calls to get them to fax over each report. She says they work great within their group, where everything is on the same computer system, but really aren't that approachable to people outside of that hospital group. (4) They have enough raw data to rely on the growth points themselves, rather than the percentiles. That will show how my babies are growing and there's no chance for "software changes" and "different systems of measurement" to mess things up. (5) This group is right downstairs from my OB, and right upstairs from L&D. (6) I'll be getting my NSTs there anyway, starting next week. (7) If something is wrong, we will get a second opinion before doing anything drastic (assuming that's reasonable).
And, for me personally (8), they take both our current and future insurance. And they can get me in at exactly 3 weeks from my last ultrasound.
So we made the appointment. I'm not entirely sold on them just yet, but I want this appointment and it's one I couldn't get at either of the other groups, so I may as well put my toe back in that water.
I hope I don't regret this.
I have the taste buds of a 4-year-old.
I liked the glucose drink. It was like a liquid orange Popsicle. Slightly odd aftertaste, but really, it's made me want a juice box or Capri Sun or something like that all day.
While I obviously hope I passed with flying colors (and I do wonder, if I don't, will they put me on The Diet? Or will we decide flooding my babies with glucose might be good for their skinny little asses?), it wasn't an awful experience at all. Even though it took multiple pokes to get a blood draw.
My diastolic BP was high today. It's usually in the 70s, and today it was 90. My systolic was 120 and my urine was negative for protein (and glucose, surprisingly enough), so my OB isn't worried. She thinks it was just an off day, maybe from all the pokes and the fasting and such.
We've reached a tentative decision on the whole insurance/MFM thing. First, either the ancient doctor who told me Atticus was...well, screwed, to be polite, has been fired, or he opted to finally retire. I didn't press the point of, "He's no longer practicing." But the short of it is: my OB wants me to transfer my care back to that group.
Her reasons are: (1) she can assure that I not only get the same peri every time, but that it is the peri I liked best, with whom she consulted about my case multiple times, even after I transferred to the other group. (They really wanted to get to the bottom of WTF went so wrong and how on earth did it escape notice.) (2) She cannot say the same thing about the other MFM group (Group C), as they are in a very large and separate system. (3) Group C is also, apparently, notoriously bad about getting in touch with doctors, and my OB doesn't relish the idea of placing numerous calls to get them to fax over each report. She says they work great within their group, where everything is on the same computer system, but really aren't that approachable to people outside of that hospital group. (4) They have enough raw data to rely on the growth points themselves, rather than the percentiles. That will show how my babies are growing and there's no chance for "software changes" and "different systems of measurement" to mess things up. (5) This group is right downstairs from my OB, and right upstairs from L&D. (6) I'll be getting my NSTs there anyway, starting next week. (7) If something is wrong, we will get a second opinion before doing anything drastic (assuming that's reasonable).
And, for me personally (8), they take both our current and future insurance. And they can get me in at exactly 3 weeks from my last ultrasound.
So we made the appointment. I'm not entirely sold on them just yet, but I want this appointment and it's one I couldn't get at either of the other groups, so I may as well put my toe back in that water.
I hope I don't regret this.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
27w3d: Right on the curves
My boys are doing well.
Atticus measured at 26w1d, and a hefty 1lb 13oz. He continues to be in the 20th percentile. His abdomen was very small today--25w2d--but his femur continues to be long (27w1d!). I did ask about the discrepancy. Usually babies preferentiate their blood to the head (his was 26w1d on both measurements), then abdomen, and lastly legs. For him to be somewhat asymmetrically small in this order is unusual, but not overly concerning. It could be that he takes after his mommy--long legs, short torso. Or slight miscalculations in measurements. Or yes, a sign of placental failure. We're not seeing that yet, but it's on the radar. As long as he keeps growing, he stays inside, but we need to keep a close eye on him.
(Which is why I am so upset that we can't get in to the office until after the New Year. I'm supposed to be getting scans every 3 weeks--this time I had to wait 4 'because of the holiday', and now I have to wait five, again 'because of the holiday'. Which also puts us at post-New Year and new insurance. I talked to this peri, who apparently works at the new place as well, and she's fine with transferring my care to the new place. I'm going to ask my OB to make me an appointment there, and hope to get in shortly after--if not before!--the New Year.)
Damien continues to be a champ. He weighs 2 lbs 8oz! He was measuring at 28w3d, but for some reason was still in the 50th percentile. I'm not quite sure how that works--if he's ahead, shouldn't he be...ahead? But it doesn't really matter, since he too is growing along his curve. And, by the way, jamming his bum into my ribs with all his little might.
So all's well in the Frat House. I hope they're decorating for the holidays, because I'm not letting them out for quite some time.
Atticus measured at 26w1d, and a hefty 1lb 13oz. He continues to be in the 20th percentile. His abdomen was very small today--25w2d--but his femur continues to be long (27w1d!). I did ask about the discrepancy. Usually babies preferentiate their blood to the head (his was 26w1d on both measurements), then abdomen, and lastly legs. For him to be somewhat asymmetrically small in this order is unusual, but not overly concerning. It could be that he takes after his mommy--long legs, short torso. Or slight miscalculations in measurements. Or yes, a sign of placental failure. We're not seeing that yet, but it's on the radar. As long as he keeps growing, he stays inside, but we need to keep a close eye on him.
(Which is why I am so upset that we can't get in to the office until after the New Year. I'm supposed to be getting scans every 3 weeks--this time I had to wait 4 'because of the holiday', and now I have to wait five, again 'because of the holiday'. Which also puts us at post-New Year and new insurance. I talked to this peri, who apparently works at the new place as well, and she's fine with transferring my care to the new place. I'm going to ask my OB to make me an appointment there, and hope to get in shortly after--if not before!--the New Year.)
Damien continues to be a champ. He weighs 2 lbs 8oz! He was measuring at 28w3d, but for some reason was still in the 50th percentile. I'm not quite sure how that works--if he's ahead, shouldn't he be...ahead? But it doesn't really matter, since he too is growing along his curve. And, by the way, jamming his bum into my ribs with all his little might.
So all's well in the Frat House. I hope they're decorating for the holidays, because I'm not letting them out for quite some time.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
27w0d: Anxieties
I am so close to reaching my major pregnancy goal: 28 weeks. (Of course, my ultimate pregnancy goal is: all of us out, alive.) Nothing is certain, but 28+ weekers are usually ok. I want that.
I have another growth scan this Wednesday. I am incredibly nervous. I did so well, for so long, at just ignoring everyone's concerns. But now I am terrified. I want to skip the ultrasound entirely; that's how much I dread it. Because if no one says there's a problem, then there isn't one! Science, bitches.
To make matters worse, my mother is coming. This is my own fault. She's been helping us a lot, while I've been on bedrest. Doing some shopping for us, bringing food, doing some cleaning. And she drove me to my last OB appointment. At that appointment, my OB reinstated my driving privileges, for short trips (and be careful, you idiot). And so, when my mom was here on Friday, asking about my next appointment and such, I told her when, but that I could drive. And she asked if she could take me anyway, and I said no. And then she just kept going on, and flat-out said she was angling to be invited, and it would mean so much, she hasn't seen anything since the pictures of them at 18 weeks, blah blah.
Guilt. Not just for Catholics, apparently.
So I caved. And now, if I get bad news, it will be in front of her, and that has been historically bad and I have no reason to suspect she'd suddenly change into someone who's supportive, whose shoulder I want to cry on.
Please please please please please let everything be ok with my babies.
We set up their cribs, after all.
I have another growth scan this Wednesday. I am incredibly nervous. I did so well, for so long, at just ignoring everyone's concerns. But now I am terrified. I want to skip the ultrasound entirely; that's how much I dread it. Because if no one says there's a problem, then there isn't one! Science, bitches.
To make matters worse, my mother is coming. This is my own fault. She's been helping us a lot, while I've been on bedrest. Doing some shopping for us, bringing food, doing some cleaning. And she drove me to my last OB appointment. At that appointment, my OB reinstated my driving privileges, for short trips (and be careful, you idiot). And so, when my mom was here on Friday, asking about my next appointment and such, I told her when, but that I could drive. And she asked if she could take me anyway, and I said no. And then she just kept going on, and flat-out said she was angling to be invited, and it would mean so much, she hasn't seen anything since the pictures of them at 18 weeks, blah blah.
Guilt. Not just for Catholics, apparently.
So I caved. And now, if I get bad news, it will be in front of her, and that has been historically bad and I have no reason to suspect she'd suddenly change into someone who's supportive, whose shoulder I want to cry on.
Please please please please please let everything be ok with my babies.
We set up their cribs, after all.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
26w4d: We bought our cribs
They still have to come in to the store...but yeah. This is our first baby purchase--haven't bought so much as a Jazz onesie (which, thank goodness, the NBA will continue to entertain our family!).
I think we might actually get babies out of this, so time to prepare.
Maybe I should buy a parenting book? Then again, given the intense hatred I felt towards every twin pregnancy book I glanced at (and most pregnancy books period...), maybe we should just wing it. I know the suck, swaddle, swing, shhhh thing--any other fundamental parenting skills out there?
I think we might actually get babies out of this, so time to prepare.
Maybe I should buy a parenting book? Then again, given the intense hatred I felt towards every twin pregnancy book I glanced at (and most pregnancy books period...), maybe we should just wing it. I know the suck, swaddle, swing, shhhh thing--any other fundamental parenting skills out there?
Monday, November 28, 2011
26w1d: Socially Inept about Baby Showers
I think I might be expected to throw my older sister a baby shower. (Of course, she is still waiting to, in her own words, "find out if the baby is retarded" so...ugh.) She has dropped a few hints. And she doesn't have any friends who live in our state. So it's either me, our step-sister, our sister-in-law, or one of my mom's friends. Sounds like me, right? She's due at the end of May, so I would probably be doing this some time in April.
I don't know if I'll be up for that. And more to the point--what would I do with my babies? Can one be a hostess and a mother of 2-month-old (about) twins at the same time? It sounds like a monumental pain in the ass, frankly.
Add to that the fact that I'm starting to doubt that I'll have a shower of my own. And on one hand, I'm totally fine with that. I kinda hate baby showers (and wedding showers too--I was bullied into mine). So if it's a no, it's a no, but that would leave me slightly grumpy at having to hostess one (with the unspoken undertone of "for someone who only wants a certain type of child and didn't even have to work hard for her pregnancy and by the way, when I chose to share my Doppler with her at Thanksgiving and showed her how to use it, commented on my stretch marks, which come on.") I would also just like to know for certain, so that I can both tell people who keep asking, and also stop feeling pressure to not buy the cheap stuff "so that all the cousins can". Which is a very petty complaint, I know. But I was directly instructed by my OB to do all my Christmas and baby shopping on-line or to have others do it for me, and I have a very strong desire to fill my house with mobiles and rattles and onesies.
I had several people offer to throw me a shower. I said yes to two: one is my oldest friend, who has a toddler of her own. She asked me back when I very first started IVF, well over a year ago. She was quite insistent. She asked me, when I told her they were boys, if we had a "theme" in mind. I laughed, because no, no theme. We'd already discussed my discomfort with the whole idea and she'd promised to keep things simple. I was expecting to fight with her over our differing ideas of simple. But she hasn't mentioned it a single time since. I'm thinking she may have changed her mind, decided I was too flippant or ungrateful, that if I didn't want one she wouldn't bother, because really, she's a working mom herself and it's the holidays. Which is totally, totally fair. I just wish I knew, and don't know how to ask.
The other is a friend of my mom's. She has these 2 extremely close friends, who would probably be co-godmothers if we were Catholic or whatever. I had both of them officiate at my wedding (and it was awesome). One of them threw my bridal shower. The other called dibs on the baby shower. She reinforced her claim several months ago...but again, I haven't heard anything. At Thanksgiving, my older sister flat-out asked if I was having a shower and I replied that I really did not know. My mom got very offended and said, "{Friend} is throwing you one. Things are jsut complicated with {real life stuff}. She'll probably do it in January."
Which would be fine, except...my mother was at my last OB appointment (since I couldn't drive myself). She heard my OB explaining that I would almost certainly be induced early based on Atticus's growth. I have already explained to my mom that the latest I could deliver is not my magic March 4th, but rather Feb 19th...and that most twin pregnancies go at closer to 36 weeks, which puts me at Feb 4th. And given the news I keep getting, I think I will be extremely lucky to make it that far.
I reminded my mom of that and said, "Maybe we should have a meet-the-babies party instead." She got very upset because it'll be cold/flu season, so that's an awful idea. I was like, "Well, I don't know what to say then, hopefully I'll have some answers on Atticus soon." And my mom said, "I still think you could wait till mid-January. These doctors are quacks. And {Friend} is planning on throwing it."
Well...ok, whatever. Assuming I don't go into spontaneous pre-term labor, I'm going to base my decision on induction on the opinions of my doctors, and not around a potential baby shower date.
So, I dunno. I guess I'll just play the whole thing by ear--maybe I'll have showers, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll throw my sister one, or you know, maybe not.
I don't know if I'll be up for that. And more to the point--what would I do with my babies? Can one be a hostess and a mother of 2-month-old (about) twins at the same time? It sounds like a monumental pain in the ass, frankly.
Add to that the fact that I'm starting to doubt that I'll have a shower of my own. And on one hand, I'm totally fine with that. I kinda hate baby showers (and wedding showers too--I was bullied into mine). So if it's a no, it's a no, but that would leave me slightly grumpy at having to hostess one (with the unspoken undertone of "for someone who only wants a certain type of child and didn't even have to work hard for her pregnancy and by the way, when I chose to share my Doppler with her at Thanksgiving and showed her how to use it, commented on my stretch marks, which come on.") I would also just like to know for certain, so that I can both tell people who keep asking, and also stop feeling pressure to not buy the cheap stuff "so that all the cousins can". Which is a very petty complaint, I know. But I was directly instructed by my OB to do all my Christmas and baby shopping on-line or to have others do it for me, and I have a very strong desire to fill my house with mobiles and rattles and onesies.
I had several people offer to throw me a shower. I said yes to two: one is my oldest friend, who has a toddler of her own. She asked me back when I very first started IVF, well over a year ago. She was quite insistent. She asked me, when I told her they were boys, if we had a "theme" in mind. I laughed, because no, no theme. We'd already discussed my discomfort with the whole idea and she'd promised to keep things simple. I was expecting to fight with her over our differing ideas of simple. But she hasn't mentioned it a single time since. I'm thinking she may have changed her mind, decided I was too flippant or ungrateful, that if I didn't want one she wouldn't bother, because really, she's a working mom herself and it's the holidays. Which is totally, totally fair. I just wish I knew, and don't know how to ask.
The other is a friend of my mom's. She has these 2 extremely close friends, who would probably be co-godmothers if we were Catholic or whatever. I had both of them officiate at my wedding (and it was awesome). One of them threw my bridal shower. The other called dibs on the baby shower. She reinforced her claim several months ago...but again, I haven't heard anything. At Thanksgiving, my older sister flat-out asked if I was having a shower and I replied that I really did not know. My mom got very offended and said, "{Friend} is throwing you one. Things are jsut complicated with {real life stuff}. She'll probably do it in January."
Which would be fine, except...my mother was at my last OB appointment (since I couldn't drive myself). She heard my OB explaining that I would almost certainly be induced early based on Atticus's growth. I have already explained to my mom that the latest I could deliver is not my magic March 4th, but rather Feb 19th...and that most twin pregnancies go at closer to 36 weeks, which puts me at Feb 4th. And given the news I keep getting, I think I will be extremely lucky to make it that far.
I reminded my mom of that and said, "Maybe we should have a meet-the-babies party instead." She got very upset because it'll be cold/flu season, so that's an awful idea. I was like, "Well, I don't know what to say then, hopefully I'll have some answers on Atticus soon." And my mom said, "I still think you could wait till mid-January. These doctors are quacks. And {Friend} is planning on throwing it."
Well...ok, whatever. Assuming I don't go into spontaneous pre-term labor, I'm going to base my decision on induction on the opinions of my doctors, and not around a potential baby shower date.
So, I dunno. I guess I'll just play the whole thing by ear--maybe I'll have showers, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll throw my sister one, or you know, maybe not.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
25w3d: Aren't you thankful insurance always sucks?
My husband's company has decided to drop our plan. I'm pissed for numerous reasons, as I'm sure any woman would be mid-pregnancy.
But the worst thing is, our new peri (let's call her Peri B), whom I really like, won't be covered by our new plan. The only other good MFM group (Peri C) in the valley will be...but they of course don't take our current plan.
I'm supposed to have 2 more growth scans between now and when the plan changes (Jan 1). Keeping the same doctor is important, here. Because measurements differ and software differs and machines differ and all this nonsense.
As I've mentioned, my regular OB told me on Friday's appt that Atticus's raw numbers, when calculated by the same system I'd originally been using with the horrid MFMs (Peri A), only put him in the 8th percentile, so she was still kind of worried. i just blew it off at the time, because whatever, he still grew, and I didn't trust the old measurements (done by Peri A) they were comparing his growth rate to. I figured I'd get my actual answers at my next u/s, and since I'm still feeling him move and picking up 2 distinct HRs on my Doppler, it really wasn't worth stressing about.
But now I just don't know what to do.
Our new plan has a 70% coverage for maternity out of network. Of course, we didn't get this news till today, so we can't call to be sure until after the holiday (the Peri B's office closes as does the insurance company's helpline), but I'm assuming these ultrasounds count as maternity but with the specialist co-pay instead of the regular. So I could stick with Peri B, have the next 2 appointments covered, and then pay 70% for however many more scans until I deliver.
Either way, I want to stick with the same doctors as much as possible. The other option would be switching now, to Peri C, and paying OOP for the next 2 scans, but then having them 90% covered from January on. (We have no out-of-network coverage on our current plan.) But I think it might be more important to get answers about his growth now, rather than wait?
Ugh.
What do you ladies think I should do?
(I'm already planning on getting my NSTs at the evil MFM/Peri A group, as my OB said last time she wants them done in the hospital where I'll deliver, and my doctorsister says NSTs are really hard to fuck up and are usually done by nurses, so as long as they're not doing the BPP, she thinks doing them in that hospital is fine.)
But the worst thing is, our new peri (let's call her Peri B), whom I really like, won't be covered by our new plan. The only other good MFM group (Peri C) in the valley will be...but they of course don't take our current plan.
I'm supposed to have 2 more growth scans between now and when the plan changes (Jan 1). Keeping the same doctor is important, here. Because measurements differ and software differs and machines differ and all this nonsense.
As I've mentioned, my regular OB told me on Friday's appt that Atticus's raw numbers, when calculated by the same system I'd originally been using with the horrid MFMs (Peri A), only put him in the 8th percentile, so she was still kind of worried. i just blew it off at the time, because whatever, he still grew, and I didn't trust the old measurements (done by Peri A) they were comparing his growth rate to. I figured I'd get my actual answers at my next u/s, and since I'm still feeling him move and picking up 2 distinct HRs on my Doppler, it really wasn't worth stressing about.
But now I just don't know what to do.
Our new plan has a 70% coverage for maternity out of network. Of course, we didn't get this news till today, so we can't call to be sure until after the holiday (the Peri B's office closes as does the insurance company's helpline), but I'm assuming these ultrasounds count as maternity but with the specialist co-pay instead of the regular. So I could stick with Peri B, have the next 2 appointments covered, and then pay 70% for however many more scans until I deliver.
Either way, I want to stick with the same doctors as much as possible. The other option would be switching now, to Peri C, and paying OOP for the next 2 scans, but then having them 90% covered from January on. (We have no out-of-network coverage on our current plan.) But I think it might be more important to get answers about his growth now, rather than wait?
Ugh.
What do you ladies think I should do?
(I'm already planning on getting my NSTs at the evil MFM/Peri A group, as my OB said last time she wants them done in the hospital where I'll deliver, and my doctorsister says NSTs are really hard to fuck up and are usually done by nurses, so as long as they're not doing the BPP, she thinks doing them in that hospital is fine.)
Friday, November 18, 2011
24w5d: I'm huge
I'm measuring at 33 weeks!!! And I gained 3 pounds since my last weigh-in 5 weeks ago, which is AWESOME news.
My OB is still concerned about growth, thinks Atticus slowed down a bit based on raw numbers, but I'm just going to ignore that until my next growth ultrasound by the new MFMs. I don't trust any of the previous measurements, so...yeah. No use getting too worried about it.
Grow, babies!
My OB is still concerned about growth, thinks Atticus slowed down a bit based on raw numbers, but I'm just going to ignore that until my next growth ultrasound by the new MFMs. I don't trust any of the previous measurements, so...yeah. No use getting too worried about it.
Grow, babies!
Thursday, November 17, 2011
24w4d: So much on my mind
You might think being on bedrest is the perfect opportunity to blog. That turns out to not really be the case for me. I half-write and then back off of posts quite regularly. Some of it is the public vs. private aspect of it--how much do I want to share? Some of it is that I don't quite know what to do with this blog post-birth. Assuming one or more of my babies makes is...how much of their life do I have the right to blog about? And some of it is that I'm so sick of myself, I just don't want to hear anymore.
But two big things. First, I'm very frightened about where I am in my pregnancy. I did not feel any rush of "viability" joy at all. Probably because, despite the 24-weeks notion, there's no real point at which you can say "yes, this baby will survive". Depending on your NICU and...well, whatever went on inside you and inside your baby, you can opt for "heroics" or "comfort" as early as about 22-23 weeks. And more or less, after 28-30 weeks, mortality (though not necessarily morbidity) does drop significantly. But there are no promises. As thankful as I am for NICUs, I don't want my children to have to spend any time, any time at all in them. And that right there is the reason I wasn't just tickled pink at twins. Because NICU is likely, flat-out. Not inevitable, but likely. And the place where I am now...it's just scary.
I don't think I could make rational decisions about my babies' lives. I am very opposed to prolonged, unnecessary suffering. I am also very opposed to not doing everything, every single damn thing I could possibly do, to get my babies home alive. I don't know where the balance tips on those, and I don't know that you ever truly can, in that moment. I am trying to just focus on day-by-day, since thinking about all this beforehand does no good. But just like I couldn't get beyond my fear of miscarriage, I find myself unable to get beyond my fear of stillbirth, of babies dying in the hospital, of months and months of NICU time and just not knowing, of feeling responsible for life-long problems caused by prematurity, of everything.
I could seriously use a fucking drink, if I do say so myself.
The second issue, which is directly tied into my first, is my older sister and her pregnancy. She's never made it a secret that she would terminate a baby with T21. At all. And frankly...in the case of my sister, who in all honesty values people based directly on their intelligence (as measured by the school system and IQ charts, no room for emotional or physical intelligences), this is probably the best decision. No child, special needs or not, needs a mother who will never look at them without seeing something "sub-par". She went in for her NT scan and they were unable to get the measurements, and she is very upset. She's trying again (tomorrow maybe? I am trying to avoid hearing the details of all of this), and if they can't get it, they'll amnio at 16 weeks.
But the part that just...pisses the hell out of me is that she has no worries about T13, T18, or even cystic fibrosis, for god's sake. She and her husband turned down CF screening!! Two white people, unwilling to get a blood draw or cheek swab, but totally willing to risk their child's life for an amnio based on age-risk alone, for the "mental" aspect, not even the physical aspects, of T21.
It just makes me so upset. Driving home from my "Atticus is abnormal" appointment last Monday, I just kept hoping over and over that he was not in any pain. That please, whatever was wrong with my boy wasn't causing him to suffer. (I do not believe that 23-week-old babies do not feel pain. They exhibit so many other reflexes, and kick me when I poke them...I don't care what the doctors say--they have to experience pain, even if they can't show us.) And my sister is telling me she doesn't want to tell her work because "there might not be a baby (by choice)" if the baby doesn't live up to her ideals, without worrying about if the baby is or will suffer from something CF, for fuck's sake.
I am pro-choice. And I do think terminating a T21 baby, in my sister's case, is probably the right decision. But I am so incredibly pissed off at her attitude about the whole thing. It's so clear that she's not thinking about what is best for her baby, and it just...infuriates me.
It's so hard to be in my place, reeling from what turned out to be a false alarm while unable to rest on the "everything will be completely fine" lily pad, while having my sister call me to complain about how they couldn't do the scan and how it'll take her "so long" to know if she can get excited about a baby or not. Oh, and she still doesn't have even the slightest bit of morning sickness, which she constantly mentions as I dissolve Zofran in my mouth.
Blech.
But two big things. First, I'm very frightened about where I am in my pregnancy. I did not feel any rush of "viability" joy at all. Probably because, despite the 24-weeks notion, there's no real point at which you can say "yes, this baby will survive". Depending on your NICU and...well, whatever went on inside you and inside your baby, you can opt for "heroics" or "comfort" as early as about 22-23 weeks. And more or less, after 28-30 weeks, mortality (though not necessarily morbidity) does drop significantly. But there are no promises. As thankful as I am for NICUs, I don't want my children to have to spend any time, any time at all in them. And that right there is the reason I wasn't just tickled pink at twins. Because NICU is likely, flat-out. Not inevitable, but likely. And the place where I am now...it's just scary.
I don't think I could make rational decisions about my babies' lives. I am very opposed to prolonged, unnecessary suffering. I am also very opposed to not doing everything, every single damn thing I could possibly do, to get my babies home alive. I don't know where the balance tips on those, and I don't know that you ever truly can, in that moment. I am trying to just focus on day-by-day, since thinking about all this beforehand does no good. But just like I couldn't get beyond my fear of miscarriage, I find myself unable to get beyond my fear of stillbirth, of babies dying in the hospital, of months and months of NICU time and just not knowing, of feeling responsible for life-long problems caused by prematurity, of everything.
I could seriously use a fucking drink, if I do say so myself.
The second issue, which is directly tied into my first, is my older sister and her pregnancy. She's never made it a secret that she would terminate a baby with T21. At all. And frankly...in the case of my sister, who in all honesty values people based directly on their intelligence (as measured by the school system and IQ charts, no room for emotional or physical intelligences), this is probably the best decision. No child, special needs or not, needs a mother who will never look at them without seeing something "sub-par". She went in for her NT scan and they were unable to get the measurements, and she is very upset. She's trying again (tomorrow maybe? I am trying to avoid hearing the details of all of this), and if they can't get it, they'll amnio at 16 weeks.
But the part that just...pisses the hell out of me is that she has no worries about T13, T18, or even cystic fibrosis, for god's sake. She and her husband turned down CF screening!! Two white people, unwilling to get a blood draw or cheek swab, but totally willing to risk their child's life for an amnio based on age-risk alone, for the "mental" aspect, not even the physical aspects, of T21.
It just makes me so upset. Driving home from my "Atticus is abnormal" appointment last Monday, I just kept hoping over and over that he was not in any pain. That please, whatever was wrong with my boy wasn't causing him to suffer. (I do not believe that 23-week-old babies do not feel pain. They exhibit so many other reflexes, and kick me when I poke them...I don't care what the doctors say--they have to experience pain, even if they can't show us.) And my sister is telling me she doesn't want to tell her work because "there might not be a baby (by choice)" if the baby doesn't live up to her ideals, without worrying about if the baby is or will suffer from something CF, for fuck's sake.
I am pro-choice. And I do think terminating a T21 baby, in my sister's case, is probably the right decision. But I am so incredibly pissed off at her attitude about the whole thing. It's so clear that she's not thinking about what is best for her baby, and it just...infuriates me.
It's so hard to be in my place, reeling from what turned out to be a false alarm while unable to rest on the "everything will be completely fine" lily pad, while having my sister call me to complain about how they couldn't do the scan and how it'll take her "so long" to know if she can get excited about a baby or not. Oh, and she still doesn't have even the slightest bit of morning sickness, which she constantly mentions as I dissolve Zofran in my mouth.
Blech.
Friday, November 11, 2011
23w5d: Viruses? Negative!
So take that, Dr. Quack.
(Well, I was positive for herpes type 1, aka "the cold sore virus", which is no news, since my very first high school boyfriend gifted me with that. Although, now that I think of it, it's been well over 3 years since I had one, so I'm trilled to know it's still coursing through my blood.)
Always nice to know things are good, even when you already suspected they were.
(Well, I was positive for herpes type 1, aka "the cold sore virus", which is no news, since my very first high school boyfriend gifted me with that. Although, now that I think of it, it's been well over 3 years since I had one, so I'm trilled to know it's still coursing through my blood.)
Always nice to know things are good, even when you already suspected they were.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
23w3d: Baby 1, Cat 0
I brought a cat into our marriage. I got her in the Peace Corps, because I love pets. (Simple as that, although her hunting prowess came in handy in keeping my house mouse-free.) It's very hard to bring dogs home from Africa, but cats don't even need quarantine, just to have their shots. And I knew I could never leave a pet behind, so cat it was, even though I'm more of a dog person.
My cat is extremely affectionate, and very smart. (As opposed to the cat my husband got a few years ago, who is extremely gorgeous and exceedingly stupid. I do love him, but evolution would be scratching its head for sure.) She comes when she's called, but I rarely have to call her since she follows me around. If I am sitting or laying, she is sitting or laying on top of me. We're a bit worried about how she'll react once the boys have stolen "her" lap.
Anyway, last night, she was sitting on my lap, leaning up against my belly, getting ready for a good nap. And Damien kicked her in the head. Her whole head bounced. It was very, very funny. She turned and stared at my belly, all "WTF", and then rested her head again. So Damien kicked her again! At which point she turned and put a paw on my belly, all "Stop that this instant", and he kicked her paw. I was dying from laughter. My kitty took a strategical retreat, curling the other way on my lap with just her feet on my belly, in a lower spot. Atticus chose not to provoke her (he has turned head-down, by the way, which I totally felt and it was awesome and also rather bizarre at the same time, and I think all of his movement may have been what triggered the contractions on Saturday). But Damien totally won that round.
My husband takes much more delight in my moving belly than my kitty does. Starting around 19 weeks, he could feel them occasionally. So starting at around 19w1d, he's had his hand glued to my belly. Usually I love it--it's so nice to see how much he loves his sons already, and we've always been very affectionate with each other, so having his hands on me is nice (especially since we can't have sex). He does have the annoying habit of poking them when they're not moving--or rather, when he can't feel them move. I've tried to explain that they do move more than he can feel (and more than I can feel too, going off the ultrasounds, I probably only feel about 70% of their movements), and also that my belly still contains all my vital organs. So getting thumped inside and out is not always high on my list.
I am beginning to understand how people say "I miss being pregnant" or "I miss having {babyname} inside." The decrease in vomiting, the increase in rest, and in the increase in movement I can feel has really made me start to like being pregnant (finally!). It's kind of impossible to describe how awesome it feels to know for a FACT that there's independent life inside of you, life that kicks and moves and squirms and reacts to being thumped by a cat or a husband.
My cat is extremely affectionate, and very smart. (As opposed to the cat my husband got a few years ago, who is extremely gorgeous and exceedingly stupid. I do love him, but evolution would be scratching its head for sure.) She comes when she's called, but I rarely have to call her since she follows me around. If I am sitting or laying, she is sitting or laying on top of me. We're a bit worried about how she'll react once the boys have stolen "her" lap.
Anyway, last night, she was sitting on my lap, leaning up against my belly, getting ready for a good nap. And Damien kicked her in the head. Her whole head bounced. It was very, very funny. She turned and stared at my belly, all "WTF", and then rested her head again. So Damien kicked her again! At which point she turned and put a paw on my belly, all "Stop that this instant", and he kicked her paw. I was dying from laughter. My kitty took a strategical retreat, curling the other way on my lap with just her feet on my belly, in a lower spot. Atticus chose not to provoke her (he has turned head-down, by the way, which I totally felt and it was awesome and also rather bizarre at the same time, and I think all of his movement may have been what triggered the contractions on Saturday). But Damien totally won that round.
My husband takes much more delight in my moving belly than my kitty does. Starting around 19 weeks, he could feel them occasionally. So starting at around 19w1d, he's had his hand glued to my belly. Usually I love it--it's so nice to see how much he loves his sons already, and we've always been very affectionate with each other, so having his hands on me is nice (especially since we can't have sex). He does have the annoying habit of poking them when they're not moving--or rather, when he can't feel them move. I've tried to explain that they do move more than he can feel (and more than I can feel too, going off the ultrasounds, I probably only feel about 70% of their movements), and also that my belly still contains all my vital organs. So getting thumped inside and out is not always high on my list.
I am beginning to understand how people say "I miss being pregnant" or "I miss having {babyname} inside." The decrease in vomiting, the increase in rest, and in the increase in movement I can feel has really made me start to like being pregnant (finally!). It's kind of impossible to describe how awesome it feels to know for a FACT that there's independent life inside of you, life that kicks and moves and squirms and reacts to being thumped by a cat or a husband.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
23w2d: Drama over
Wanna know what the new peri measures my Atticus at? 23rd percentile.
And Damien's in the 54th.
Right where they've been all along.
I am so thankful, and so...emotionally drained. We're now back to having our main concerns being Atticus's placenta and its over-friendliness with my funneling cervix (which is still very long, thank you).
Expect future blog posts about how I'm learning to knit (badly) and my newfound and shameful love of reality TV. It won't be more exciting than that around here anymore.
Thank you all so much for your kind words, thoughts, prayers, etc. during this whirl-wind nightmare of a time.
And Damien's in the 54th.
Right where they've been all along.
I am so thankful, and so...emotionally drained. We're now back to having our main concerns being Atticus's placenta and its over-friendliness with my funneling cervix (which is still very long, thank you).
Expect future blog posts about how I'm learning to knit (badly) and my newfound and shameful love of reality TV. It won't be more exciting than that around here anymore.
Thank you all so much for your kind words, thoughts, prayers, etc. during this whirl-wind nightmare of a time.
My "oops" baby
As in, their big fat fucking oops.
My OB noticed the same issue this morning. (I did do the virus testing just in case, and asked for a full copy of my records.)
Atticus is totally fine. He is awesome, in fact.
And yes, he's in the 14%ile, which is small, but not SEVERE IUGR, as is written alllllllllllllllll over the ultrasound report.
I understand that mistakes can happen. I totally do. And a typo or a mis-read lab report or whatever--happens all the time, I'm sure.
Why I have zero confidence in these people, and thus an ultrasound with a new MFM group in an hour and a half, is because...rather than seeing a huge drop in growth and going, "Oh wow, that's alarming, let's double check it"...they went, "Oh wow, that's alarming, let's deliver 2 micropreemies STAT."
And here's what should have raised eyebrows:
BPD 5.18cm, 21w5d
HC 19.38cm, 21w4d
AC 16.62cm, 21w4d
FL 3.76cm, 22w1d
US gest age 21w3d (how is his age smaller than *all* of his measurements?)
EFW 450g--which they have WRITTEN as "4%ile" but is actually '14%ile". Incompetent jerks.
I mean, seriously? Yes, those measurements are all small, but not a SINGLE one is smaller than 10 days behind. And you want me to deliver? Fuck that noise. Especially after I said, "but he's always been small"...and a simple glance at my chart would confirm that 2 weeks ago, his BPD was 4.6 (20w0d, so a growth of 12 days' worth in 14 days), his HC was 17.8 (20w2d, so a growth of 9 days' worth in 14 days, which is probably the most concerning), his AC was 14.7 20w0d, growth of 12 days again), and his femur was 3.4, for a total growth of 11 days. And weight went from 344 g to 450 g.
My baby didn't stop growing. He did, perhaps, slow down a bit, but not outside of measurement-error range. Certainly not into "deliver now or he will die" range.
And it turns out my Damien's weight is an estimated 609 g. His measurements are all right on track.
I am alternating between extreme joy and extreme fury. And extreme need to go to this follow-up ultrasound, just to be sure.
My OB noticed the same issue this morning. (I did do the virus testing just in case, and asked for a full copy of my records.)
Atticus is totally fine. He is awesome, in fact.
And yes, he's in the 14%ile, which is small, but not SEVERE IUGR, as is written alllllllllllllllll over the ultrasound report.
I understand that mistakes can happen. I totally do. And a typo or a mis-read lab report or whatever--happens all the time, I'm sure.
Why I have zero confidence in these people, and thus an ultrasound with a new MFM group in an hour and a half, is because...rather than seeing a huge drop in growth and going, "Oh wow, that's alarming, let's double check it"...they went, "Oh wow, that's alarming, let's deliver 2 micropreemies STAT."
And here's what should have raised eyebrows:
BPD 5.18cm, 21w5d
HC 19.38cm, 21w4d
AC 16.62cm, 21w4d
FL 3.76cm, 22w1d
US gest age 21w3d (how is his age smaller than *all* of his measurements?)
EFW 450g--which they have WRITTEN as "4%ile" but is actually '14%ile". Incompetent jerks.
I mean, seriously? Yes, those measurements are all small, but not a SINGLE one is smaller than 10 days behind. And you want me to deliver? Fuck that noise. Especially after I said, "but he's always been small"...and a simple glance at my chart would confirm that 2 weeks ago, his BPD was 4.6 (20w0d, so a growth of 12 days' worth in 14 days), his HC was 17.8 (20w2d, so a growth of 9 days' worth in 14 days, which is probably the most concerning), his AC was 14.7 20w0d, growth of 12 days again), and his femur was 3.4, for a total growth of 11 days. And weight went from 344 g to 450 g.
My baby didn't stop growing. He did, perhaps, slow down a bit, but not outside of measurement-error range. Certainly not into "deliver now or he will die" range.
And it turns out my Damien's weight is an estimated 609 g. His measurements are all right on track.
I am alternating between extreme joy and extreme fury. And extreme need to go to this follow-up ultrasound, just to be sure.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Insomniatic ramblings, and could it be?
As I'm sure you can imagine, today has not been one of my better days.
I thank all of you for your thoughts and prayers and grow-baby dances and whatever else you have to throw my way.
Despite being exhausted, I can't sleep. My mind is racing. So I, being an obsessive idiot, turned to the internet.
First, since my last post was incoherent, here's more detail. I belong to an online moms of multiples forum, and I asked them about this, and because my mind is racing, I'm just doing a cut+paste job. Sorry if that's weird. Anyway:
I have di/di boys. Baby A has always been smaller than Baby B, right from our very first scan at 5w3d (IVF babies). He usually measures about a week behind and in the 20th percentile. Baby B usually measures right on target and in about the 50th percentile. Today, at 23w1d, I was told that Baby A is not growing properly.
They would not give me all the details I asked for (just one reason why I am switching providers!), but apparently he went from the 20th to the 4th percentile in a course of 2 weeks. I know he went from 13oz to 1lb even, so he did grow. His femur measured at 22w, I do not know what his abdomen and head measurements were, but I was told his overall is 21w4d, and that he is symmetrically small. His fluid levels are normal, and a cord doppler showed good flow.
I am/was seen by a peri group--different doctor every time, different tech every time. I really did not like this tech or this doctor, even before they gave me the bad news. The doctor was very old, did not know how to do a transvaginal cervical exam!, and did not recheck any of the measurements done by the tech, who only took one measurement and recorded it instead of 3 to average them, which is what my other techs have all done. She also told me she was "new to this". (I didn't question her at the time, because I didn't think it was a big deal.) Anyway, the doctor informed me that A obviously has some very serious problem(s) going on. His anatomy scan was "perfect" and his nuchal measurement at 12 weeks was ideal, so I was a bit surprised by this.
The doctor presented me with 3 scenarios:
(1) Chromosomal abnormalities. Can be checked by amnio, which I am willing to do to guide decision making.
(2) Virus such as CMV or toxoplasmosis. I am being tested for these tomorrow, but I have to say, it doesn't make sense that only one baby would be affected. Better to rule it out, of course.
(3) Placental abnormalities. But growth is symmetric, has been symmetric since they began measuring more than just CRL, and the doppler and fluid levels don't suggest reduced blood flow, so i just don't know.
He recommended steroid shots and delivery at 26 weeks. I am extremely uncomfortable with this, so I called my regular OB as well as my sister, who is a 4th year OB resident. My OB is transferring my care to the University hospital, as she doesn't feel qualified. My sister does not have access to my charts, but discussed the measurements I knew with the peri's at her hospital, and they all advised AGAINST early delivery based off just this ultrasound.
I should have an appointment at the U soon. I am going to insist on another ultrasound to check these measurements. Are there any other questions I should ask? Tests to have run?
Do you have any stories, happy or sad, about experiences with this? Thanks.
ANYWAY.
I was just now googling (I know, very bad) and I discovered two important facts: the U will take my insurance (something I didn't think to check before gladly accepting the referral and my OB's offer to schedule the appointment herself, with the doctor she studied under), and this website:
http://www.baby2see.com/medical/charts.html#Fetal_Weight_Percentile
Now, I realize this is just an online website, but...Atticus weighs an estimated 1lb even, which is 16 oz, which is 454 grams. Which, according to this calculator, puts him in the fourTEENth percentile.
Let me say that again.
FOURTEEN.
That is not four.
Fourteen is small. Fourteen is smaller than twenty. BUT. Fourteen is not pathologic, it is not SGA or IUGR. It's not as worrisome to drop from 20 to 14 as it is to go from 20 to 4. It's possible it was a measurement error, a bad day, or maybe yes, he's slowed down a touch.
But I will absolutely murder someone if all of this stress and fear and tears and doubt was caused by someone misreading the computer screen or my chart.
I realize 1am is not the best time to be making decisions, and the internet is not the best guide, and there is such a thing as denial and of course I would sell my soul to have both of my boys be ok so it's possible I'm reaching here...
But holy fucking shit, if it's 14 and not 4, if things are not ideal but not grave...I can't even begin to think what I'll do.
Please please please, let this be true.
I thank all of you for your thoughts and prayers and grow-baby dances and whatever else you have to throw my way.
Despite being exhausted, I can't sleep. My mind is racing. So I, being an obsessive idiot, turned to the internet.
First, since my last post was incoherent, here's more detail. I belong to an online moms of multiples forum, and I asked them about this, and because my mind is racing, I'm just doing a cut+paste job. Sorry if that's weird. Anyway:
I have di/di boys. Baby A has always been smaller than Baby B, right from our very first scan at 5w3d (IVF babies). He usually measures about a week behind and in the 20th percentile. Baby B usually measures right on target and in about the 50th percentile. Today, at 23w1d, I was told that Baby A is not growing properly.
They would not give me all the details I asked for (just one reason why I am switching providers!), but apparently he went from the 20th to the 4th percentile in a course of 2 weeks. I know he went from 13oz to 1lb even, so he did grow. His femur measured at 22w, I do not know what his abdomen and head measurements were, but I was told his overall is 21w4d, and that he is symmetrically small. His fluid levels are normal, and a cord doppler showed good flow.
I am/was seen by a peri group--different doctor every time, different tech every time. I really did not like this tech or this doctor, even before they gave me the bad news. The doctor was very old, did not know how to do a transvaginal cervical exam!, and did not recheck any of the measurements done by the tech, who only took one measurement and recorded it instead of 3 to average them, which is what my other techs have all done. She also told me she was "new to this". (I didn't question her at the time, because I didn't think it was a big deal.) Anyway, the doctor informed me that A obviously has some very serious problem(s) going on. His anatomy scan was "perfect" and his nuchal measurement at 12 weeks was ideal, so I was a bit surprised by this.
The doctor presented me with 3 scenarios:
(1) Chromosomal abnormalities. Can be checked by amnio, which I am willing to do to guide decision making.
(2) Virus such as CMV or toxoplasmosis. I am being tested for these tomorrow, but I have to say, it doesn't make sense that only one baby would be affected. Better to rule it out, of course.
(3) Placental abnormalities. But growth is symmetric, has been symmetric since they began measuring more than just CRL, and the doppler and fluid levels don't suggest reduced blood flow, so i just don't know.
He recommended steroid shots and delivery at 26 weeks. I am extremely uncomfortable with this, so I called my regular OB as well as my sister, who is a 4th year OB resident. My OB is transferring my care to the University hospital, as she doesn't feel qualified. My sister does not have access to my charts, but discussed the measurements I knew with the peri's at her hospital, and they all advised AGAINST early delivery based off just this ultrasound.
I should have an appointment at the U soon. I am going to insist on another ultrasound to check these measurements. Are there any other questions I should ask? Tests to have run?
Do you have any stories, happy or sad, about experiences with this? Thanks.
ANYWAY.
I was just now googling (I know, very bad) and I discovered two important facts: the U will take my insurance (something I didn't think to check before gladly accepting the referral and my OB's offer to schedule the appointment herself, with the doctor she studied under), and this website:
http://www.baby2see.com/medical/charts.html#Fetal_Weight_Percentile
Now, I realize this is just an online website, but...Atticus weighs an estimated 1lb even, which is 16 oz, which is 454 grams. Which, according to this calculator, puts him in the fourTEENth percentile.
Let me say that again.
FOURTEEN.
That is not four.
Fourteen is small. Fourteen is smaller than twenty. BUT. Fourteen is not pathologic, it is not SGA or IUGR. It's not as worrisome to drop from 20 to 14 as it is to go from 20 to 4. It's possible it was a measurement error, a bad day, or maybe yes, he's slowed down a touch.
But I will absolutely murder someone if all of this stress and fear and tears and doubt was caused by someone misreading the computer screen or my chart.
I realize 1am is not the best time to be making decisions, and the internet is not the best guide, and there is such a thing as denial and of course I would sell my soul to have both of my boys be ok so it's possible I'm reaching here...
But holy fucking shit, if it's 14 and not 4, if things are not ideal but not grave...I can't even begin to think what I'll do.
Please please please, let this be true.
23w1d: Bad news
Atticus is not growing well. Doctors are concerned. Considering amnio to help make decisions. Other concerns are a virus or part of the placenta is not functioning. Most likely looking at steriod shots in 3 weeks and early delivery. Complete bedrest on my side.
Very upset. Consultation with another doctor tomorrow.
Please let my babies be ok.
Very upset. Consultation with another doctor tomorrow.
Please let my babies be ok.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
23w0d: A night in L&D
(Spoiler: Everything's fine.)
Last night, I had 4 very painful contractions in about 45 minutes. And yes, I know the rule is "6 per hour" for a hospital run, but I was very, very scared. I decided I could forgive myself for freaking out over nothing, but not for ignoring something I thought could be serious. My husband was on the same page, so off we went, to L&D.
I apparently get very, very stupid when stressed. They gave me a gown, a sheet, and a belly band. I didn't know what to do with the belly band, so I just left it on the bed. (Hint: it goes around your belly, and you have to wear it because it holds the monitors in place.) When being asked about my medical history and such, I couldn't remember what medications I was on. I in fact replied "none". "No pre-natal?" Oh yes, that. Oh, and Zofran. Oh yeah, phenegran too. And Colace! To "When did you last take these", I answered incorrectly to every single question. I haven't taken my pre-natals in the morning since I discovered the joys of hyperemesis. I didn't last take my Zofran at "noon", which just sounded like a good time.
They asked me how old I was, and I replied, "23". My babies' gestational age in weeks--they only thing that mattered. But not, actually, how old I am.
"Is this your first pregnancy?" Well, I got that one right. But I told them I lost Isaiah at 10 weeks. I have no idea why. The 7w6d is forever branded in my mind. I usually round up to 8 weeks. 10? Came out of nowhere.
And by the way. Everyone, everyone asked "what number is this". Lab techs, doctor, nurses, CNAs. I don't know if it was small talk or if it really matters, but please, read my chart. Because being reminded, over and over again, about my loss, in the week of my unfulfilled due date, while fearing for the lives of my current children, is not fun.
Sometime in the past month or so (and I'm not sure if it was the anatomy scan or the frequent reassurance of movement), I've stopped believing that one or more of my babies is dead. That was pretty much how I felt for the first 18 weeks of my pregnancy. Every time I pulled out the doppler or sat on the table, I was honestly expecting 0-1 heartbeat. That has changed. Although I know (sadly, for my heart aches for these women) that babies do die in utero in tne 2nd and 3rd trimesters, I tend to think mine are alive. So when it took the nurse almost a minute to find the second heart-beat, I did not freak out (any more than I already was). I assumed both babies were alive--I was worried I would kill them by giving birth too early.
I didn't, though. My contractions stopped when I walked in the doors. I had a grand total of one during the two hours of monitoring. But the best possible news is: the fetal fibronectin test came back negative!! While a positive doesn't tell you much, a negative is almost dispositive of no impending labor. I believe it's something like "a 94% chance you will not go into labor in the next two weeks." Which wasn't enough to get me off bedrest or anything, but THANK YOU, CERVIX, for doing your job. And thank you babies, for staying safe in your firmly-closed sacs.
Let's not do this again any time soon.
Last night, I had 4 very painful contractions in about 45 minutes. And yes, I know the rule is "6 per hour" for a hospital run, but I was very, very scared. I decided I could forgive myself for freaking out over nothing, but not for ignoring something I thought could be serious. My husband was on the same page, so off we went, to L&D.
I apparently get very, very stupid when stressed. They gave me a gown, a sheet, and a belly band. I didn't know what to do with the belly band, so I just left it on the bed. (Hint: it goes around your belly, and you have to wear it because it holds the monitors in place.) When being asked about my medical history and such, I couldn't remember what medications I was on. I in fact replied "none". "No pre-natal?" Oh yes, that. Oh, and Zofran. Oh yeah, phenegran too. And Colace! To "When did you last take these", I answered incorrectly to every single question. I haven't taken my pre-natals in the morning since I discovered the joys of hyperemesis. I didn't last take my Zofran at "noon", which just sounded like a good time.
They asked me how old I was, and I replied, "23". My babies' gestational age in weeks--they only thing that mattered. But not, actually, how old I am.
"Is this your first pregnancy?" Well, I got that one right. But I told them I lost Isaiah at 10 weeks. I have no idea why. The 7w6d is forever branded in my mind. I usually round up to 8 weeks. 10? Came out of nowhere.
And by the way. Everyone, everyone asked "what number is this". Lab techs, doctor, nurses, CNAs. I don't know if it was small talk or if it really matters, but please, read my chart. Because being reminded, over and over again, about my loss, in the week of my unfulfilled due date, while fearing for the lives of my current children, is not fun.
Sometime in the past month or so (and I'm not sure if it was the anatomy scan or the frequent reassurance of movement), I've stopped believing that one or more of my babies is dead. That was pretty much how I felt for the first 18 weeks of my pregnancy. Every time I pulled out the doppler or sat on the table, I was honestly expecting 0-1 heartbeat. That has changed. Although I know (sadly, for my heart aches for these women) that babies do die in utero in tne 2nd and 3rd trimesters, I tend to think mine are alive. So when it took the nurse almost a minute to find the second heart-beat, I did not freak out (any more than I already was). I assumed both babies were alive--I was worried I would kill them by giving birth too early.
I didn't, though. My contractions stopped when I walked in the doors. I had a grand total of one during the two hours of monitoring. But the best possible news is: the fetal fibronectin test came back negative!! While a positive doesn't tell you much, a negative is almost dispositive of no impending labor. I believe it's something like "a 94% chance you will not go into labor in the next two weeks." Which wasn't enough to get me off bedrest or anything, but THANK YOU, CERVIX, for doing your job. And thank you babies, for staying safe in your firmly-closed sacs.
Let's not do this again any time soon.
Friday, November 4, 2011
22w5d: Blah blah blog
I really thought I was getting better, puke-wise. I thought maybe 22 weeks was my magic number. I attributed it to two things: (1) twins, so therefore 22 weeks of puking =11 weeks per baby, which is not excessive, so now that I've done an appropriate amount of time per child, my body realizes the debt is paid and we're even, and/or (2) rest. I'm still peeing 6-8 times a night and having a hard time going back to bed after each trip, and tossing and turning and strange-dreaming and hips-hurting and limbs-falling-asleep-ing, and harder and harder to heft my own bulk around...but when my husband leaves for work, I promptly fall back asleep. And then pee and sleep again, and wake up for real sometime after school drop-off but before morning recess (why yes, I do live across the street from an elementary school). I actually thought I'd developed the so-called "mask of pregnancy", but it turns out it was just sleep-deprivation causing the black raccoon guise. So I just might be the only pregnant woman who is actually getting enough sleep.
I spent most of today vomiting up bile. And then worrying that the effort I was expending by said vomiting, not to mention the contraction-like abdominal clenching would hurt my cervix. And sending my husband text messages along the lines of, "If they can save me or the babies, you pick the babies" and "your cat is chattering at my dry heaves, I do not approve, you owe me a puppy".
Being this sick truly, truly sucks. And yet I hope to be this sick till February, at least, because that would mean my boys are still inside.
I spent most of today vomiting up bile. And then worrying that the effort I was expending by said vomiting, not to mention the contraction-like abdominal clenching would hurt my cervix. And sending my husband text messages along the lines of, "If they can save me or the babies, you pick the babies" and "your cat is chattering at my dry heaves, I do not approve, you owe me a puppy".
Being this sick truly, truly sucks. And yet I hope to be this sick till February, at least, because that would mean my boys are still inside.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
22w0d: A big week
My husband and I, last night, had our first real parenting conversation in a very long time. Sure, we've made passing remarks and had kind of discussed his FMLA leave, but we hadn't really discussed anything beyond "I hope they're Jazz fans" or "Like it or not, they're playing with LEGOs". But last night, spurred by the arrival of our baby bath tub (a birthday gift from my doctorsister), we discussed bathing schedules. Whether to bathe them on the same night or different ones. This led to other things, including wondering what they'll look like--eyes, hair, heights. Will they look alike? (We highly, highly doubt that they are identical. But some siblings look more alike than others.) Like their daddy? Like me or my family?
(And frankly, this is part of where closed adoption sucks. Would it really matter to know if our children favor their dad's birthmom's dad? Well, no. But it would be fun to point out "his chin", "her ears". Trivial, yes. But when daydreaming about unborn children, it makes me a touch sad not to have a complete template to pick and choose from.)
I frequent http://www.ehd.org/. It's a scientific, awesome site that I stumbled upon when researching embryo development. It's a big week for Damien and Atticus. They can hear! Or at least, "hearing begins". Their inner ears are developed, their nerves are developed, but how well they can actually process at this point is unknown. Their eyelids are unfusing, and soon, if not already, they will be blinking. The layers and structures of the skin are complete.
And, with expert medical care, my boys stand a 40% chance of survival.
In theory.
Too much knowledge has made me familiar with "wimpy white male syndrome". Which basically states that, of all preemies, white males tend to fare the worst. Unless we're about to be breaking news (as any shock gasp baby/IVF mix-up would be), white males are what we're having. And Atticus is tiny.
So I'm trying not to think about it. I mean, having any chance at all is amazing, but with a greater chance at "no baby" than "babies", it's hard to rest easy. And even "babies" is a long, hard road, one whose outcome is not known at the beginning.
Instead I am feeling their ever-increasing kicks. And heatbutts. And squirming.
I just need to assume, from here on out, that I'll be taking my adorable boys Trick or Treating next year.
(And frankly, this is part of where closed adoption sucks. Would it really matter to know if our children favor their dad's birthmom's dad? Well, no. But it would be fun to point out "his chin", "her ears". Trivial, yes. But when daydreaming about unborn children, it makes me a touch sad not to have a complete template to pick and choose from.)
I frequent http://www.ehd.org/. It's a scientific, awesome site that I stumbled upon when researching embryo development. It's a big week for Damien and Atticus. They can hear! Or at least, "hearing begins". Their inner ears are developed, their nerves are developed, but how well they can actually process at this point is unknown. Their eyelids are unfusing, and soon, if not already, they will be blinking. The layers and structures of the skin are complete.
And, with expert medical care, my boys stand a 40% chance of survival.
In theory.
Too much knowledge has made me familiar with "wimpy white male syndrome". Which basically states that, of all preemies, white males tend to fare the worst. Unless we're about to be breaking news (as any shock gasp baby/IVF mix-up would be), white males are what we're having. And Atticus is tiny.
So I'm trying not to think about it. I mean, having any chance at all is amazing, but with a greater chance at "no baby" than "babies", it's hard to rest easy. And even "babies" is a long, hard road, one whose outcome is not known at the beginning.
Instead I am feeling their ever-increasing kicks. And heatbutts. And squirming.
I just need to assume, from here on out, that I'll be taking my adorable boys Trick or Treating next year.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Double the annoying things to say!
People love to comment on twin pregnancies. Which, frankly, I really can't blame them. I mean, hang around the ALI community long enough and twins are run-of-the-mill. But go beyond our community, and they're really not. So when you question a woman about her pregnancy (and yes--any pregnancy gets questions and comments) and she reveals that she's having TWO babies, I get the knee-jerk reaction of "Wow--[insert comment here]".
The thing is, I'm reminded of when I waitressed in high school. I cannot even tell you how many "smart" replies I got to, "Can I get you anything else?" (I was, by the way, working at a diner-type place, so really, what was I expecting?) After a couple of weeks, I'd heard everything. The comments the customers thought were so clever were simply old hat. And as well-intentioned as they were, it's only so funny to joke about sexual favors or me paying your bill or whatever.
Likewise, "Oh, my neighbor's daughter has twins". What exactly am I supposed to do with that information? Ask for her number? Especially when they go on to add things like, "She was so huge near the end" or "she needed a C-section" or "you could see those babies moving like aliens in there" or "and they're never having any more children ever". I know they're just trying to relate to me, but these stories, much like "Well, my cousin couldn't get pregnant for 8 years and then they stopped trying and then she got pregnant!", don't really leave much room for my own experience. I can't relate back. And I really doubt that the speaker, who is never the parent of multiples (or infertile), knows the whole story. I mean, I can imagine my own cousins relating my pregnancy, which they know from Facebook, "I have a cousin who's pregnant with twin boys. Everything's going great!"
But the "double" and "twice" comments. Those I really don't even feel like trying with. "Double trouble!" "Twice the fun!" "Double diapers!" I've heard it. Trust me, I've heard it. Yes, there are indeed two babies in there. And they are, like it or not, going to be a "set" from now on. But this notion that they are somehow just double or twice a "regular" baby really sets my teeth on edge, for some reason.
The worst, the absolute worst, is "Two for the price of one."
I don't know what the fuck people mean by that. If they're alluding to fertility treatments, guess what: I did more than one embryo transfer, more than one fresh IVF, and we paid for that. Both financially and emotionally. The RE didn't just toss a 2nd baby in as a prize pack. And if they mean two for the price of one pregnancy...ugh. Technically, it's two pregnancies (ask any OB), just at the same time. And "price of one" would only be fair if the risks to me and my babies were simply the normal risks any pregnancy carries. Maybe I wouldn't have had HG with a singleton. I highly doubt I would be on bedrest.
But the reason I hate this comment so very much is because of Isaiah. His due date is right around the corner (Nov 11). Blog friends who were cycling around that time are full term or have already given birth. And the simple facts are: if I hadn't lost Isaiah, I wouldn't have Damien and Atticus. And when I hear that comment, that's right where my brain goes.
It wasn't voluntary. I didn't choose to swap one healthy baby for two. Isaiah, as much as he was wanted, as much as he was and is loved, almost certainly had insurmountable issues. He didn't develop for a reason, and not a metaphysical reason or an "everything happens for a reason" reason, but rather a genetic/chromosomal reason. Or possibly, not likely but still possibly, a uterine/bloodflow/my-fault reason. But that doesn't change anything, really, when it comes to the simple fact of me either being 38 weeks pregnant or 21. I can't be both at the same time.
Isaiah is not the price we paid for Atticus and Damien. He's not. We never would have made that decision. But when I hear that comment, I go straight to "I had one baby, lost him, and now I have two."
I hope I never hear that comment again.
I can't wait to hear the bullshit "Do they have psychic powers" or "Have they got their own language" or whatever else instead. I can't wait to have two live babies in my arms. Healthy, full-term babies. Please.
The thing is, I'm reminded of when I waitressed in high school. I cannot even tell you how many "smart" replies I got to, "Can I get you anything else?" (I was, by the way, working at a diner-type place, so really, what was I expecting?) After a couple of weeks, I'd heard everything. The comments the customers thought were so clever were simply old hat. And as well-intentioned as they were, it's only so funny to joke about sexual favors or me paying your bill or whatever.
Likewise, "Oh, my neighbor's daughter has twins". What exactly am I supposed to do with that information? Ask for her number? Especially when they go on to add things like, "She was so huge near the end" or "she needed a C-section" or "you could see those babies moving like aliens in there" or "and they're never having any more children ever". I know they're just trying to relate to me, but these stories, much like "Well, my cousin couldn't get pregnant for 8 years and then they stopped trying and then she got pregnant!", don't really leave much room for my own experience. I can't relate back. And I really doubt that the speaker, who is never the parent of multiples (or infertile), knows the whole story. I mean, I can imagine my own cousins relating my pregnancy, which they know from Facebook, "I have a cousin who's pregnant with twin boys. Everything's going great!"
But the "double" and "twice" comments. Those I really don't even feel like trying with. "Double trouble!" "Twice the fun!" "Double diapers!" I've heard it. Trust me, I've heard it. Yes, there are indeed two babies in there. And they are, like it or not, going to be a "set" from now on. But this notion that they are somehow just double or twice a "regular" baby really sets my teeth on edge, for some reason.
The worst, the absolute worst, is "Two for the price of one."
I don't know what the fuck people mean by that. If they're alluding to fertility treatments, guess what: I did more than one embryo transfer, more than one fresh IVF, and we paid for that. Both financially and emotionally. The RE didn't just toss a 2nd baby in as a prize pack. And if they mean two for the price of one pregnancy...ugh. Technically, it's two pregnancies (ask any OB), just at the same time. And "price of one" would only be fair if the risks to me and my babies were simply the normal risks any pregnancy carries. Maybe I wouldn't have had HG with a singleton. I highly doubt I would be on bedrest.
But the reason I hate this comment so very much is because of Isaiah. His due date is right around the corner (Nov 11). Blog friends who were cycling around that time are full term or have already given birth. And the simple facts are: if I hadn't lost Isaiah, I wouldn't have Damien and Atticus. And when I hear that comment, that's right where my brain goes.
It wasn't voluntary. I didn't choose to swap one healthy baby for two. Isaiah, as much as he was wanted, as much as he was and is loved, almost certainly had insurmountable issues. He didn't develop for a reason, and not a metaphysical reason or an "everything happens for a reason" reason, but rather a genetic/chromosomal reason. Or possibly, not likely but still possibly, a uterine/bloodflow/my-fault reason. But that doesn't change anything, really, when it comes to the simple fact of me either being 38 weeks pregnant or 21. I can't be both at the same time.
Isaiah is not the price we paid for Atticus and Damien. He's not. We never would have made that decision. But when I hear that comment, I go straight to "I had one baby, lost him, and now I have two."
I hope I never hear that comment again.
I can't wait to hear the bullshit "Do they have psychic powers" or "Have they got their own language" or whatever else instead. I can't wait to have two live babies in my arms. Healthy, full-term babies. Please.
Monday, October 24, 2011
21w1d: Best rest it is
I have cervical funneling. Not enough to freak them out (15%) and my cervix is still very long (4.2). But enough to call in another doctor and spend a loooonnnnggg time with the dildocam (my, how I missed that). And apparently, if you shove really hard on a woman's uterus and the cervix doesn't shorten significantly, that's good news. But you need to test it 4-5 times, just in case.
So the short of it is: I'm on bedrest for 2 weeks, and then we re-evaluate.
I put a call into my school, but haven't heard back yet. I think I'm out, though.
The ultrasound was, all around, not as fun as they've been in the past. I had a very hard time laying on the table, and kept having to turn onto my side. I was dizzy and nauseous, and Atticus would not hold still. They couldn't even get his heart-rate as he was bouncing around between beats, squiggling out of range. It was cute for about 2 minutes, then the tech got irritated. Damien was more cooperative and has a lovely heart--4 chambers, no holes, clear septum, etc. A revisit of Atticus's heart at the end showed 4 chambers and a septum, but they couldn't "pass him off" just yet. So we get to do it again, when they check my cervix.
Nothing like gel up your twat and all over your belly, in case you were wondering. I'm sure I'll have to fight my husband off tonight (...and every night for the foreseeable future, since "rest" is the only thing that will be happening in our bed).
Atticus's placenta has moved a bit--not completely free of my cervix, but enough that the peri said she "would recommend vaginal delivery if things keep going the way they are and Baby A flips." So that was good news. They're still hanging out bunkbed-style. Atticus continues to measure about a week behind, but stayed within his growth curve. Damien was measuring ahead today, and for some reason had a huge tummy. Still within the curve, but at like 80%. Peri thinks it was a measurement error and expects it to be back down closer to 60% like the rest of his measurements were.
Damien weighs and estimated 1lb2oz, with Atticus at about 13 oz.
I'm proud of my boys for growing so well and being so active. I hope I can keep them inside for a long while yet.
And DVD or book recommendations to pass the time?
So the short of it is: I'm on bedrest for 2 weeks, and then we re-evaluate.
I put a call into my school, but haven't heard back yet. I think I'm out, though.
The ultrasound was, all around, not as fun as they've been in the past. I had a very hard time laying on the table, and kept having to turn onto my side. I was dizzy and nauseous, and Atticus would not hold still. They couldn't even get his heart-rate as he was bouncing around between beats, squiggling out of range. It was cute for about 2 minutes, then the tech got irritated. Damien was more cooperative and has a lovely heart--4 chambers, no holes, clear septum, etc. A revisit of Atticus's heart at the end showed 4 chambers and a septum, but they couldn't "pass him off" just yet. So we get to do it again, when they check my cervix.
Nothing like gel up your twat and all over your belly, in case you were wondering. I'm sure I'll have to fight my husband off tonight (...and every night for the foreseeable future, since "rest" is the only thing that will be happening in our bed).
Atticus's placenta has moved a bit--not completely free of my cervix, but enough that the peri said she "would recommend vaginal delivery if things keep going the way they are and Baby A flips." So that was good news. They're still hanging out bunkbed-style. Atticus continues to measure about a week behind, but stayed within his growth curve. Damien was measuring ahead today, and for some reason had a huge tummy. Still within the curve, but at like 80%. Peri thinks it was a measurement error and expects it to be back down closer to 60% like the rest of his measurements were.
Damien weighs and estimated 1lb2oz, with Atticus at about 13 oz.
I'm proud of my boys for growing so well and being so active. I hope I can keep them inside for a long while yet.
And DVD or book recommendations to pass the time?
Saturday, October 22, 2011
20w6d: Painting the Roses Red
And the nursery blue.
I realize we have entered into the world of cliches. In our defense, our bedroom is also blue (though a very different shade), and blue is one of my favorite colors. We're going to do a sea theme, with the top being sailboats and clouds, and then a border, and then the bottom being under-the-sea stuff. Which means buying decals, as neither of us are talented in that way. We're then going to "theme" each boy, with one getting sailboat bedding and one getting fish or turtles or something. We figure it's not too baby-ish. We both love the ocean and are SCUBA divers. I used to sail (but don't anymore, because the sailing here in Utah is shit). We hope our boys grow to love the ocean too, so we can take many vacations and/or move.
Also, if you think I'm the one who spent all day putting up primer (covering the formerly red walls of "the office"), you haven't been following me closely. I spent the day puking while my husband did the work. I'm a lucky girl, that's for sure.
Thursday was my birthday, and while I'd hoped it would be the best one ever, it was not. I had an exam, and just...I'm getting very overwhelmed. I'm extremely tired all day every day, and I've been getting more and more uncomfortable. I'm also increasingly anxious that I'll be put on bed rest and won't be able to finish the semester. At this point, that would be mixed news. I feel like such a bum--I mean, women are supposed to work in the fields up to delivery, squat, and get right back up and back to work. And here I am, and I can barely manage 2 9-hour shifts a week at the hospital plus one day in class. I quit my job a few weeks ago (which was always the plan as they're a small business and don't provide FMLA, but I'd wanted to finish out the year), and it hasn't helped. I feel helpless and useless, two things I do not like feeling.
I'm nervous about my scan on Monday. With the news of healthy babies, and boys at that, I was able to ignore the whole placenta previa thing...but it's creeping back into my mind. I plan on having a serious talk with the MFM if it hasn't migrated. I've been having Braxton Hicks contractions fairly regularly whenever I'm on my feet. They're harmless at this point, but if I really do have complete previa, risking pre-term labor just to finish the last 7ish weeks of the semester seems fucking stupid.
I dunno.
I'm so lucky to be pregnant with healthy babies and to have such a wonderful husband. I know that this year will be miles above my last, so I'm trying to shake this funk. Any tips?
I realize we have entered into the world of cliches. In our defense, our bedroom is also blue (though a very different shade), and blue is one of my favorite colors. We're going to do a sea theme, with the top being sailboats and clouds, and then a border, and then the bottom being under-the-sea stuff. Which means buying decals, as neither of us are talented in that way. We're then going to "theme" each boy, with one getting sailboat bedding and one getting fish or turtles or something. We figure it's not too baby-ish. We both love the ocean and are SCUBA divers. I used to sail (but don't anymore, because the sailing here in Utah is shit). We hope our boys grow to love the ocean too, so we can take many vacations and/or move.
Also, if you think I'm the one who spent all day putting up primer (covering the formerly red walls of "the office"), you haven't been following me closely. I spent the day puking while my husband did the work. I'm a lucky girl, that's for sure.
Thursday was my birthday, and while I'd hoped it would be the best one ever, it was not. I had an exam, and just...I'm getting very overwhelmed. I'm extremely tired all day every day, and I've been getting more and more uncomfortable. I'm also increasingly anxious that I'll be put on bed rest and won't be able to finish the semester. At this point, that would be mixed news. I feel like such a bum--I mean, women are supposed to work in the fields up to delivery, squat, and get right back up and back to work. And here I am, and I can barely manage 2 9-hour shifts a week at the hospital plus one day in class. I quit my job a few weeks ago (which was always the plan as they're a small business and don't provide FMLA, but I'd wanted to finish out the year), and it hasn't helped. I feel helpless and useless, two things I do not like feeling.
I'm nervous about my scan on Monday. With the news of healthy babies, and boys at that, I was able to ignore the whole placenta previa thing...but it's creeping back into my mind. I plan on having a serious talk with the MFM if it hasn't migrated. I've been having Braxton Hicks contractions fairly regularly whenever I'm on my feet. They're harmless at this point, but if I really do have complete previa, risking pre-term labor just to finish the last 7ish weeks of the semester seems fucking stupid.
I dunno.
I'm so lucky to be pregnant with healthy babies and to have such a wonderful husband. I know that this year will be miles above my last, so I'm trying to shake this funk. Any tips?
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
20w4d: No baby swapping
Chickenpig pointed out that twins can move, and A isn't always A. This is true.
In our case, though, we're almost 100% sure they haven't. One of our babies has always been measuring 4-7 days behind. The other one has been right on track or 1-2 days ahead. The littler baby has always been in the A spot. So either our boys have some sort of pact where one of them slows growth while the other one doubles it, AND they swap places, they haven't budged. Also, the placental locations are set. They don't actually move. The uterus grows, so their relative position on the wall can shift (hence why Atticus's placenta may have cleared my cervix by this coming Monday), but they're not swapping anterior and posterior, or high and low. And given the frequency of my scans, I'm pretty dang sure we'll know if Atticus has climbed the ladder or Damien took a chute.
By the way, I had a nightmare last night that I was doing IVF again. (My boys were nowhere in the picture, but I didn't feel like I'd lost them either.) I hate IVF. My sympathies go out to all those who are still cycling. :(
In our case, though, we're almost 100% sure they haven't. One of our babies has always been measuring 4-7 days behind. The other one has been right on track or 1-2 days ahead. The littler baby has always been in the A spot. So either our boys have some sort of pact where one of them slows growth while the other one doubles it, AND they swap places, they haven't budged. Also, the placental locations are set. They don't actually move. The uterus grows, so their relative position on the wall can shift (hence why Atticus's placenta may have cleared my cervix by this coming Monday), but they're not swapping anterior and posterior, or high and low. And given the frequency of my scans, I'm pretty dang sure we'll know if Atticus has climbed the ladder or Damien took a chute.
By the way, I had a nightmare last night that I was doing IVF again. (My boys were nowhere in the picture, but I didn't feel like I'd lost them either.) I hate IVF. My sympathies go out to all those who are still cycling. :(
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Almost a belly pic
There.
I found this online, and it's pretty much exactly what my boys are like, what with Atticus (Baby A, closer to cervix) having an anterior placenta and Damien posterior, and them hanging out bunk-bed style. I keep expecting them to flip to vertex and, you know, side by side, as they can't have much room in their current spots, but they seem content. And I guess this allows them to tag-team my ribs and my bladder.
Friday, October 14, 2011
19w5d: Positive!
I gained a pound!!! I'm beyond thrilled. I've decided to take this is my new "start" weight. There's simply no point in dwelling on the weight I puked away the first half of my pregnancy. I'm tired of feeling guilty for not having gained the '1/3 to 1/2 of total pregnancy weight gain' by 20 weeks. That's impossible, and by all indications, my boys are doing well, so you know? Fuck it. I'm up a pound and everything's going to be better from here on out.
My HG does seem to be getting better. The meds change or just time, I'm not sure. But I usually only puke 3ish times a day now, and one of those is right when I wake up, so it hardly even counts. I could still sleep about 20 hours a day, but really, I'm feeling so much better.
I'm also feeling my boys. I celebrated my birthday with my grandparents the other night. Damien loves cake. It's awesome. I'll be so sad when it's all gone (I've eaten a piece 3 days in a row now, which might have something to do with the weight gain), because it's like a magic trick. Eat cake, 20-30 minutes later, Damien goes nuts. Atticus gets a bit more active, but it's not the same. (Then again, his placenta is anterior, so I may still be missing some.) My husband thinks Atticus is holding out for pie, taking after Daddy that way. We'll test that theory around Thanksgiving I'm sure.
I went back, believe it or not, to Babies R Us yesterday. This time, I actually set up a registry. Kinda. I put about 20 crib sheets on there (I've heard you can never have too many), two carseats, a bunch of pacifiers, and, after starting at them forever trying to decide "which is best", one of those lay-flat baby bouncy chair things. Progress.
I'm measuring at 26 weeks. I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd said "30", honestly. I feel huge. I also almost tipped over when putting on my socks this morning--I guess I'll be doing that sitting down from now on.
My HG does seem to be getting better. The meds change or just time, I'm not sure. But I usually only puke 3ish times a day now, and one of those is right when I wake up, so it hardly even counts. I could still sleep about 20 hours a day, but really, I'm feeling so much better.
I'm also feeling my boys. I celebrated my birthday with my grandparents the other night. Damien loves cake. It's awesome. I'll be so sad when it's all gone (I've eaten a piece 3 days in a row now, which might have something to do with the weight gain), because it's like a magic trick. Eat cake, 20-30 minutes later, Damien goes nuts. Atticus gets a bit more active, but it's not the same. (Then again, his placenta is anterior, so I may still be missing some.) My husband thinks Atticus is holding out for pie, taking after Daddy that way. We'll test that theory around Thanksgiving I'm sure.
I went back, believe it or not, to Babies R Us yesterday. This time, I actually set up a registry. Kinda. I put about 20 crib sheets on there (I've heard you can never have too many), two carseats, a bunch of pacifiers, and, after starting at them forever trying to decide "which is best", one of those lay-flat baby bouncy chair things. Progress.
I'm measuring at 26 weeks. I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd said "30", honestly. I feel huge. I also almost tipped over when putting on my socks this morning--I guess I'll be doing that sitting down from now on.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
19w2d: Names?
We think we have names. We're trying them out (talking to the babies and just saying them over and over) before announcing them to the world, but I figured I'd go ahead and start using them here as part of that process. It's been 2 days, after all, and I think we're good.
Itsy=Atticus Lawrence
Bitsy=Damien Elliot
Lawrence is my father-in-law's name. He goes by Larry. I'm not overly fond of the name, but my husband wants to use it (especially since neither of his nephews is any way named after his dad), so of course that trumps all. And it's not an awful name, I just don't like it with my husband's last name (which sounds like, but is not, 'Lame').
We're using my husband's last name instead of mine, because mine is long, ugly, and always misspelled. Seriously always misspelled. It ends in -son and more than half the time gets -sen. Including, which drives me fucking nuts, on half of my school records. I kept my name for career purposes, and also because we went to Jamaica for our honeymoon and I didn't want to worry over the logistics of a name-change and a passport, and then when we got back, well, driver's licence, social security, car, house, etc. Easier to just keep it, even though I've never really loved it.
I do love our boys' names, though. We wanted names that were not extremely common but also not weird, names that could be pronounced in French and English, names that sounded good together but not matchy, and names that we felt they could grow up.
Atticus was originally a middle name, in my mind. After Atticus Finch, of course. I simply cannot imagine a better role-model, and To Kill a Mockingbird just might be my favorite book ever. (Might. I do have many favorites, but it's always consistently in the running.) But the more we said it, the more we liked it. It turns out that Atticus has been in the top 1000 names since 2004, and is currently at about 550. So he won't be the only one. And most people have heard of it (from the book or movie), so I don't think it will get a "ummm, ok, whatever" response. We think it might be a touch nerdy, but we don't think it's a name an athlete could never have. We think he might get called "Atty" when he's little (probably not by us), but that's pretty neutral.
Damien carries a bit of the "devil child" stigma. But we love it anyway. I've never actually seen the movie--I just know he's the devil's kid and thus, presumably, is very naughty. But it's a pretty popular name (70s in the Social Security rankings), and I can think of several famous Damiens (including the awesome musician, Damien Rice), so it's not like we're actually naming him Lucifer or Satan. And it's such a pretty name. In fact, if it weren't for the evil connotations, I might think it was a touch girly.
Elliot is just a name we both like and think flows well. We tried, for a while, to come up with middle names to honor my step-father, but we eventually gave up. In no small part because he hates his own name (and I actually really love it) and always tells people it's something different, and goes by his initials anyway. So we figured, in the end, that it was ok. And also, my step-brother and sister-in-law are having a boy and won't be sharing his name, and it's likely he'll be named after my step-dad (and let's hope, because when they were pregnant last time, they said after the birth that had she been a girl, they would have given her my husband's name, which is also my SIL's dad's name, and I just really hate that, because although it's clearly after her dad, it's my husband who is in our family and would be sharing the name).
Anyway.
We talked about waiting until they're born to assign the names to each baby, but part of the joy of having names is using them. And Damien, my little kicker, my speed-grower, just seems to fit Bitsy, whereas Itsy, my little fighter, my measuring-behind, my almost-no-heartbeat but then BOOM--heartbeat, never looking back, and will be first-born if vaginal, well, that's clearly Atticus, fighting the good fight and leading the way.
I love my little frat boys so very much. And I want them to stay safe inside for a while yet, but I'm so very much looking forward to holding Damien and Atticus in my arms.
Itsy=Atticus Lawrence
Bitsy=Damien Elliot
Lawrence is my father-in-law's name. He goes by Larry. I'm not overly fond of the name, but my husband wants to use it (especially since neither of his nephews is any way named after his dad), so of course that trumps all. And it's not an awful name, I just don't like it with my husband's last name (which sounds like, but is not, 'Lame').
We're using my husband's last name instead of mine, because mine is long, ugly, and always misspelled. Seriously always misspelled. It ends in -son and more than half the time gets -sen. Including, which drives me fucking nuts, on half of my school records. I kept my name for career purposes, and also because we went to Jamaica for our honeymoon and I didn't want to worry over the logistics of a name-change and a passport, and then when we got back, well, driver's licence, social security, car, house, etc. Easier to just keep it, even though I've never really loved it.
I do love our boys' names, though. We wanted names that were not extremely common but also not weird, names that could be pronounced in French and English, names that sounded good together but not matchy, and names that we felt they could grow up.
Atticus was originally a middle name, in my mind. After Atticus Finch, of course. I simply cannot imagine a better role-model, and To Kill a Mockingbird just might be my favorite book ever. (Might. I do have many favorites, but it's always consistently in the running.) But the more we said it, the more we liked it. It turns out that Atticus has been in the top 1000 names since 2004, and is currently at about 550. So he won't be the only one. And most people have heard of it (from the book or movie), so I don't think it will get a "ummm, ok, whatever" response. We think it might be a touch nerdy, but we don't think it's a name an athlete could never have. We think he might get called "Atty" when he's little (probably not by us), but that's pretty neutral.
Damien carries a bit of the "devil child" stigma. But we love it anyway. I've never actually seen the movie--I just know he's the devil's kid and thus, presumably, is very naughty. But it's a pretty popular name (70s in the Social Security rankings), and I can think of several famous Damiens (including the awesome musician, Damien Rice), so it's not like we're actually naming him Lucifer or Satan. And it's such a pretty name. In fact, if it weren't for the evil connotations, I might think it was a touch girly.
Elliot is just a name we both like and think flows well. We tried, for a while, to come up with middle names to honor my step-father, but we eventually gave up. In no small part because he hates his own name (and I actually really love it) and always tells people it's something different, and goes by his initials anyway. So we figured, in the end, that it was ok. And also, my step-brother and sister-in-law are having a boy and won't be sharing his name, and it's likely he'll be named after my step-dad (and let's hope, because when they were pregnant last time, they said after the birth that had she been a girl, they would have given her my husband's name, which is also my SIL's dad's name, and I just really hate that, because although it's clearly after her dad, it's my husband who is in our family and would be sharing the name).
Anyway.
We talked about waiting until they're born to assign the names to each baby, but part of the joy of having names is using them. And Damien, my little kicker, my speed-grower, just seems to fit Bitsy, whereas Itsy, my little fighter, my measuring-behind, my almost-no-heartbeat but then BOOM--heartbeat, never looking back, and will be first-born if vaginal, well, that's clearly Atticus, fighting the good fight and leading the way.
I love my little frat boys so very much. And I want them to stay safe inside for a while yet, but I'm so very much looking forward to holding Damien and Atticus in my arms.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
19w0d: Half-way
Yes, I know a singleton pregnancy is 40 weeks (actually though, anywhere from 38-42 is "normal") and so 20 weeks is the acknowledged half-way mark, but not for me! My OB has already said she won't let me go past 38 weeks (and my doctorsister agrees with that call), so for me 19 is my max-half. 37 weeks is full-term (for any baby), so I'm already more than half-way to that. And my personal goal is to keep Itsy and Bitsy (who might have names--we've got one, just unsure on the 2nd, and I'll share once we've decided for sure!) inside until February, which is about 35.5+ weeks.
So halfway! Hang in there, baby boys, we're doing great!
My baby brother's birthday is today. Which means October Birthday Fest is officially upon us. My doctorsister (Oct 15th) was in town, and so we celebrated her and my brother together. Normally, I would be thrown in too (Oct 20), but it was deemed too soon. My grandparents, however, are celebrating with me on Tuesday. And everyone wants to know what I want.
Baby stuff.
Baby stuff is what we're asking for my birthday, Christmas, and my husband's birthday (Jan 23). And for the two showers I'm apparently having (more on that later).
So, equipped with two internal penises (penes, apparently, is the correct plural), I decided to man up.
My husband and I hit Babies R Us yesterday. (SPOILER: We didn't buy anything.) It wasn't as bad as I'd feared. I did stay clear of clothing and toys (the awwwww-inducing areas of the store). We focused on: carseats, strollers, cribs, boppys, bouncy seats/swings.
So up first, carseats. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, and yeah no. We took my husband's car, to determine which infant seats could fit in it. Answer? None! At least, not comfortably. The clerk kept arguing with us, saying "it fits just fine behind the passenger seat though". We did explain about the whole twin thing, and believe it or not, twins need separate car seats (despite sharing a uterus, which does seem rather unfair). So we're just going to go with the ever-popular, extremely safe Graco, and a new car for me. We might get an extra base, possibly two, for my husband's car, but we've decided we'll just switch cars with frequency, and whoever's not at work (or whatever) gets the babymobile, and whoever's leaving takes the Carefree Car.
Especially since we might have more kids.
I'm not making that decision now, obviously, since I don't know what raising twins will take out of me. My husband, when we found out it was twins, said "we're done". It broke my heart. I haven't nagged him, figuring he would come to a decision on his own, and I'd rather all our children be wanted, even if it meant only two (please let these boys both live!), than to get my wish at the expense of my husband. And we did have a serious conversation about it a few weeks ago.
Growing up, I wanted 6 kids. When I reached my mid-twenties and was unhitched (and developed my plan of using a sperm-donor at 30 if I wasn't in a serious relationship with a man at that point), I decided on 4 instead. I told my husband this very early on in our dating career. (He wanted kids but had no firm ideas on amount.) Infertility made me reconsider. By the time of our last transfer, I had mentally down-sized to 2. I mean, two years, six embryos transferred, an awful fert report, at my emotional end, no baby in sight--2 seemed down-right greedy, and more seemed shameful and, frankly, a journey I didn't think I could endure.
But as challenging as this pregnancy has been, everything now seems easy again. I mean, 2 babies in just shy of 3 years (counting from tossing the Pill towards hopeful delivery) really isn't that bad. And I'm convinced that the emotional mess of IVF and trying for another baby will be very different than trying for a baby at all. Finances won't change, and that may prove to be a limiting factor. But aside from that...I see know reason to have a cut-off at 2 anymore. (Again, might change my mind once they're here.)
And my husband, and I am sooooo lucky!, is now on the same page. The wait-and-see-but-possibly page.
I read an absolutely hilarious sentence that immediately made it clear that the Salt Lake Tribune had just full-out copied the article from the AP. It was about Mitt Romney. The sentence described his family as "huge" (or maybe "enormous"). The dude has 5 kids. 5 kids, in Utah, is not a big deal. 5 kids for Mormon families is pretty much expected. All of my Mormon friends growing up came from families with 6 or more kids. 8 kids is not unusual. 10 is where we start saying "big". 12 plus takes you into "huge". And yes, I know families like that, more than one. My family, until we acquired the step-siblings, was on the smaller side, at 4. Most of my non-Mormon friends, whose parents chose to live here for whatever reason, came from families of 3+ as well. I only had one friend who was an only child, and she moved her from England at 11. (And she's one of my baby-shower-throwers, and is very awesome.)
So I might be a bit biased when it comes to "perfect family size". But I loved growing up with my siblings, and playing with all the siblings of my friends. We never "didn't have enough kids" to play a good game of kick-the-can, hide-and-seek, basketball, Monopoly, Rook, whatever. It only took a handful of calls to organize Capture the Flag, full-fledged soccer games, huge camp-outs in someone's back yard. I want my kids to have the same experience.
Which, by the way, is why I was so surprised at the dearth of double strollers at Babies R Us. I know twins are still kind of rare, but seriously--BIG FAMILIES! And they didn't even have the much-recommended Double Snap and Go! They only had 2 side-by-side doubles, one of which was a very cheap, flimsy sort, which I believe is called an "umbrella" stroller. And they had maybe 3 back-to-front ones, which looking at solidified my decision to go side-by-side. (They also didn't have any other twin stuff--no twin boppies or Pack N Plays (ugh, we will bypass that entirely, thanks)--which wasn't a total shock, but was a disappointment anyway.)
So we'll be ordering a few key things from the internet, apparently. Although we plan on checking out Target and the like too, but aren't hopeful they'll have everything we want.
I've got to run, so I'll finish all this up later.
So halfway! Hang in there, baby boys, we're doing great!
My baby brother's birthday is today. Which means October Birthday Fest is officially upon us. My doctorsister (Oct 15th) was in town, and so we celebrated her and my brother together. Normally, I would be thrown in too (Oct 20), but it was deemed too soon. My grandparents, however, are celebrating with me on Tuesday. And everyone wants to know what I want.
Baby stuff.
Baby stuff is what we're asking for my birthday, Christmas, and my husband's birthday (Jan 23). And for the two showers I'm apparently having (more on that later).
So, equipped with two internal penises (penes, apparently, is the correct plural), I decided to man up.
My husband and I hit Babies R Us yesterday. (SPOILER: We didn't buy anything.) It wasn't as bad as I'd feared. I did stay clear of clothing and toys (the awwwww-inducing areas of the store). We focused on: carseats, strollers, cribs, boppys, bouncy seats/swings.
So up first, carseats. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, and yeah no. We took my husband's car, to determine which infant seats could fit in it. Answer? None! At least, not comfortably. The clerk kept arguing with us, saying "it fits just fine behind the passenger seat though". We did explain about the whole twin thing, and believe it or not, twins need separate car seats (despite sharing a uterus, which does seem rather unfair). So we're just going to go with the ever-popular, extremely safe Graco, and a new car for me. We might get an extra base, possibly two, for my husband's car, but we've decided we'll just switch cars with frequency, and whoever's not at work (or whatever) gets the babymobile, and whoever's leaving takes the Carefree Car.
Especially since we might have more kids.
I'm not making that decision now, obviously, since I don't know what raising twins will take out of me. My husband, when we found out it was twins, said "we're done". It broke my heart. I haven't nagged him, figuring he would come to a decision on his own, and I'd rather all our children be wanted, even if it meant only two (please let these boys both live!), than to get my wish at the expense of my husband. And we did have a serious conversation about it a few weeks ago.
Growing up, I wanted 6 kids. When I reached my mid-twenties and was unhitched (and developed my plan of using a sperm-donor at 30 if I wasn't in a serious relationship with a man at that point), I decided on 4 instead. I told my husband this very early on in our dating career. (He wanted kids but had no firm ideas on amount.) Infertility made me reconsider. By the time of our last transfer, I had mentally down-sized to 2. I mean, two years, six embryos transferred, an awful fert report, at my emotional end, no baby in sight--2 seemed down-right greedy, and more seemed shameful and, frankly, a journey I didn't think I could endure.
But as challenging as this pregnancy has been, everything now seems easy again. I mean, 2 babies in just shy of 3 years (counting from tossing the Pill towards hopeful delivery) really isn't that bad. And I'm convinced that the emotional mess of IVF and trying for another baby will be very different than trying for a baby at all. Finances won't change, and that may prove to be a limiting factor. But aside from that...I see know reason to have a cut-off at 2 anymore. (Again, might change my mind once they're here.)
And my husband, and I am sooooo lucky!, is now on the same page. The wait-and-see-but-possibly page.
I read an absolutely hilarious sentence that immediately made it clear that the Salt Lake Tribune had just full-out copied the article from the AP. It was about Mitt Romney. The sentence described his family as "huge" (or maybe "enormous"). The dude has 5 kids. 5 kids, in Utah, is not a big deal. 5 kids for Mormon families is pretty much expected. All of my Mormon friends growing up came from families with 6 or more kids. 8 kids is not unusual. 10 is where we start saying "big". 12 plus takes you into "huge". And yes, I know families like that, more than one. My family, until we acquired the step-siblings, was on the smaller side, at 4. Most of my non-Mormon friends, whose parents chose to live here for whatever reason, came from families of 3+ as well. I only had one friend who was an only child, and she moved her from England at 11. (And she's one of my baby-shower-throwers, and is very awesome.)
So I might be a bit biased when it comes to "perfect family size". But I loved growing up with my siblings, and playing with all the siblings of my friends. We never "didn't have enough kids" to play a good game of kick-the-can, hide-and-seek, basketball, Monopoly, Rook, whatever. It only took a handful of calls to organize Capture the Flag, full-fledged soccer games, huge camp-outs in someone's back yard. I want my kids to have the same experience.
Which, by the way, is why I was so surprised at the dearth of double strollers at Babies R Us. I know twins are still kind of rare, but seriously--BIG FAMILIES! And they didn't even have the much-recommended Double Snap and Go! They only had 2 side-by-side doubles, one of which was a very cheap, flimsy sort, which I believe is called an "umbrella" stroller. And they had maybe 3 back-to-front ones, which looking at solidified my decision to go side-by-side. (They also didn't have any other twin stuff--no twin boppies or Pack N Plays (ugh, we will bypass that entirely, thanks)--which wasn't a total shock, but was a disappointment anyway.)
So we'll be ordering a few key things from the internet, apparently. Although we plan on checking out Target and the like too, but aren't hopeful they'll have everything we want.
I've got to run, so I'll finish all this up later.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Maybe I'm allergic to testosterone?
Because, you know, my TWO BOYS could be producing that...
Two boys! My house will be overrun by trucks! I'm psyched.
And they seem to be doing very well. Itsy continues to measure behind (5 days, 10% smaller) but Bitsy is a day ahead and right about at 50% for all his measurements. Itsy's placenta is partially covering my cervix, but the doctor really seemed to think it would migrate off. The cervix itself is long and closed, so that's good news.
We couldn't get the proper measurements on either heart, but again the doctor wasn't concerned--he said it's early to get them on twins, but wanted to do the rest at 18 weeks while they still had room to move around.
And I am indeed feeling movement! I wasn't sure, but I could totally feel some (but not all) of the big kicks Bitsy (posterior placenta) made.
Next MFM scan in 3 weeks, then every two weeks for cervix checks.
Two boys! My house will be overrun by trucks! I'm psyched.
And they seem to be doing very well. Itsy continues to measure behind (5 days, 10% smaller) but Bitsy is a day ahead and right about at 50% for all his measurements. Itsy's placenta is partially covering my cervix, but the doctor really seemed to think it would migrate off. The cervix itself is long and closed, so that's good news.
We couldn't get the proper measurements on either heart, but again the doctor wasn't concerned--he said it's early to get them on twins, but wanted to do the rest at 18 weeks while they still had room to move around.
And I am indeed feeling movement! I wasn't sure, but I could totally feel some (but not all) of the big kicks Bitsy (posterior placenta) made.
Next MFM scan in 3 weeks, then every two weeks for cervix checks.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
My sister is pregnant
And I don't know how I feel. She told me yesterday. Well, rather, she "hinted" yesterday, asking me which pregnancy book I had and telling me she didn't like the ones she had and...[pause]. So I asked, "Are you?" and she said, "Am I what?" Which, come on. "Pregnant?" "Yes."
I'm not sobbing about it, which is a huge improvement over my SIL's pregnancy (which I "discovered" while doing my last IVF cycle, but the whole family already knew...) I expected it--they were trying for about 5 months, and she'd asked me for my RE's number "just in case". I've blogged about her before, and why...well, I'm not all that certain that she'll make a very good mom. Which sounds horrible, I know. But there it is. She lacks empathy and patience. She means well, but she can be incredibly cruel unintentionally. And she's never liked kids, never worked with them, never even baby sat. So.
I'm still kind of pissed off. It was so easy for them. Sex. Not even charting. Just sex. And the last we talked about it (which was well over a year ago), my sister only wanted a girl. Now, she didn't "sway" or anything, but I just know she'll be "disappointed" if it's a boy. In fact, she kind of alluded to this yesterday, saying she hadn't had any morning sickness yet and she'd heard that means boy and is that true? I did not take the bait.
But it was so IRRITATING, because she knows about my HG and I had told her earlier (before she told me about her pregnancy) that I'd puked out of my nose in the morning and have lost another 3 lbs. So it was like a one-two punch of "I don't have any sickness" and "God I hope this baby isn't a boy".
Her husband just got his PhD and still hasn't found a job yet--and isn't working at all, even in a "lesser area".
I dunno, I guess I'm just frustrated at the unfairness of it all, and really not looking forward to "bonding" with her over pregnancy and newborn issues. (She lives about 15-20 minutes away from me.)
She doesn't know how far along she is but thinks she's due at the end of May.
I'm not sobbing about it, which is a huge improvement over my SIL's pregnancy (which I "discovered" while doing my last IVF cycle, but the whole family already knew...) I expected it--they were trying for about 5 months, and she'd asked me for my RE's number "just in case". I've blogged about her before, and why...well, I'm not all that certain that she'll make a very good mom. Which sounds horrible, I know. But there it is. She lacks empathy and patience. She means well, but she can be incredibly cruel unintentionally. And she's never liked kids, never worked with them, never even baby sat. So.
I'm still kind of pissed off. It was so easy for them. Sex. Not even charting. Just sex. And the last we talked about it (which was well over a year ago), my sister only wanted a girl. Now, she didn't "sway" or anything, but I just know she'll be "disappointed" if it's a boy. In fact, she kind of alluded to this yesterday, saying she hadn't had any morning sickness yet and she'd heard that means boy and is that true? I did not take the bait.
But it was so IRRITATING, because she knows about my HG and I had told her earlier (before she told me about her pregnancy) that I'd puked out of my nose in the morning and have lost another 3 lbs. So it was like a one-two punch of "I don't have any sickness" and "God I hope this baby isn't a boy".
Her husband just got his PhD and still hasn't found a job yet--and isn't working at all, even in a "lesser area".
I dunno, I guess I'm just frustrated at the unfairness of it all, and really not looking forward to "bonding" with her over pregnancy and newborn issues. (She lives about 15-20 minutes away from me.)
She doesn't know how far along she is but thinks she's due at the end of May.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
17w5d: Belly rub
I'm still kind of in shock. A complete stranger asked me how far along I was, and if she could touch my belly.
I think the weird part is that she knew I was pregnant. So...maybe I really am? Or something?
I mean, look, anyone who knows me (and by "know" I mean has spent more than an hour with me) knows I'm pregnant. It's the puking. There's no way to hide that, so yes--work, school, acquaintances, even some of my patients (if I've had to quickly leave their room, or if the nurse I was with just felt like sharing, which one of them did, to everyone)--they all know. But they know because I (or someone else) told them. Not because I just somehow radiate "pregnant".
But apparently, now I do. I'm not even in cute clothes, empire waist frilly stuff. Just a black t-shirt. My boobs, up until recently, outpaced my belly. But yes, I suppose I have become quite large. The weightloss doesn't really help, since it comes from the rest of my body, meaning I'm shrinking while only my belly (and boobs) grows. I'm still not skinny, but it wouldn't surprise me if I've dropped 2-3 sizes (which, who knows, since I'm not exactly wearing cute, fitted clothing right now).
So yes, pregnant. Weird.
I let the woman touch my belly, by the way. I love touching pregnant bellies. I've never asked a stranger, but friends and family, I have asked. I love to feel the babies move, especially. You can't feel my babies yet--not their movements or even their positions. But you can feel my uterus. I wonder about that woman. It was a one-sided exchange--I told her 18 weeks with twins, she touched me and moved on. She was maybe 50? I wonder if she has children, or if she never did. If things were easy or difficult for her. I wonder what she thinks of me (does she assume fertility drugs?).
It's the complete opposite of infertility, where I could scream about it all I wanted and no one (for the most part) wanted to hear. Pregnancy invited everyone in. My reproductive status has transformed from "personal" or "shameful" or "we just don't want to know, thanks", to everyone else's business.
Maybe I should get a sticker that says "IVF babies", so that the part society was reluctant to acknowledge gets some focus too (and so infertile women don't hate me on sight).
I think the weird part is that she knew I was pregnant. So...maybe I really am? Or something?
I mean, look, anyone who knows me (and by "know" I mean has spent more than an hour with me) knows I'm pregnant. It's the puking. There's no way to hide that, so yes--work, school, acquaintances, even some of my patients (if I've had to quickly leave their room, or if the nurse I was with just felt like sharing, which one of them did, to everyone)--they all know. But they know because I (or someone else) told them. Not because I just somehow radiate "pregnant".
But apparently, now I do. I'm not even in cute clothes, empire waist frilly stuff. Just a black t-shirt. My boobs, up until recently, outpaced my belly. But yes, I suppose I have become quite large. The weightloss doesn't really help, since it comes from the rest of my body, meaning I'm shrinking while only my belly (and boobs) grows. I'm still not skinny, but it wouldn't surprise me if I've dropped 2-3 sizes (which, who knows, since I'm not exactly wearing cute, fitted clothing right now).
So yes, pregnant. Weird.
I let the woman touch my belly, by the way. I love touching pregnant bellies. I've never asked a stranger, but friends and family, I have asked. I love to feel the babies move, especially. You can't feel my babies yet--not their movements or even their positions. But you can feel my uterus. I wonder about that woman. It was a one-sided exchange--I told her 18 weeks with twins, she touched me and moved on. She was maybe 50? I wonder if she has children, or if she never did. If things were easy or difficult for her. I wonder what she thinks of me (does she assume fertility drugs?).
It's the complete opposite of infertility, where I could scream about it all I wanted and no one (for the most part) wanted to hear. Pregnancy invited everyone in. My reproductive status has transformed from "personal" or "shameful" or "we just don't want to know, thanks", to everyone else's business.
Maybe I should get a sticker that says "IVF babies", so that the part society was reluctant to acknowledge gets some focus too (and so infertile women don't hate me on sight).
Monday, September 26, 2011
17w1d: Hang-Ups
I've recently become obsessed with the question of cars.
Specifically: Do I need a new one?
Background: I drive a wonderful Honda Civic. It's my first car, and I've always thought I would drive it right into the ground. I'm tall. My husband is taller. Rear-facing infant car seats are not small. Double strollers really don't fold up into nice, tiny contraptions. I want a dog. I might want another kid. My kids might have friends, who won't be able to ride in the front seat until they're, what, 10? I should probably have four-wheel drive, considering that last winter (and every Utah winter...) I called in sick to work at least once since I couldn't make it up our un-plowed residential road.
My step-dad drives a Subaru Forrester, my doctorsister a CR-V. So maybe I could copycat and go for more trunk room, at least? Or go balls-out and get a minivan?
This is a very practical concern, and one that requires a lot of thought. My husband (who drives a Ford Fusion, but won't be the primary kid-driver, and doesn't particularly want to switch with me, at all), is one board with whatever.
So hooray, it's all up to me! How much can we spend, would I get for my car, would it be worth it, etc.
But I kinda think I'm making this up so I don't have to deal with the true reality: I haven't bought a damn thing for these babies. At some point, I'll need to kick my ass into gear, and get the essentials: car seats, cribs (I wanted to co-sleep, but I don't think that's feasible with two babies in our queen bed, with a very restless-sleeping Daddy...), a breast pump or bottles or some sort of feed-babies device, and probably some onesies, at least a million since they'll probably puke all over them, taking after their mom and all.
It seems so much easier to say: well, we need to figure out the car thing first, rather than...well, I can't emotionally afford to buy stuff for babies who may not ever get to use it.
God damn infertility. God damn miscarriages. They ruin everything.
Specifically: Do I need a new one?
Background: I drive a wonderful Honda Civic. It's my first car, and I've always thought I would drive it right into the ground. I'm tall. My husband is taller. Rear-facing infant car seats are not small. Double strollers really don't fold up into nice, tiny contraptions. I want a dog. I might want another kid. My kids might have friends, who won't be able to ride in the front seat until they're, what, 10? I should probably have four-wheel drive, considering that last winter (and every Utah winter...) I called in sick to work at least once since I couldn't make it up our un-plowed residential road.
My step-dad drives a Subaru Forrester, my doctorsister a CR-V. So maybe I could copycat and go for more trunk room, at least? Or go balls-out and get a minivan?
This is a very practical concern, and one that requires a lot of thought. My husband (who drives a Ford Fusion, but won't be the primary kid-driver, and doesn't particularly want to switch with me, at all), is one board with whatever.
So hooray, it's all up to me! How much can we spend, would I get for my car, would it be worth it, etc.
But I kinda think I'm making this up so I don't have to deal with the true reality: I haven't bought a damn thing for these babies. At some point, I'll need to kick my ass into gear, and get the essentials: car seats, cribs (I wanted to co-sleep, but I don't think that's feasible with two babies in our queen bed, with a very restless-sleeping Daddy...), a breast pump or bottles or some sort of feed-babies device, and probably some onesies, at least a million since they'll probably puke all over them, taking after their mom and all.
It seems so much easier to say: well, we need to figure out the car thing first, rather than...well, I can't emotionally afford to buy stuff for babies who may not ever get to use it.
God damn infertility. God damn miscarriages. They ruin everything.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
16w4d: Spinach artichoke dip
Sometime last weekend, I started craving spinach artichoke dip. The craving simply did not go away. So on Tuesday night, I made a whole huge things of it. (I have a really good recipe from Cooking Light, to which I've added a ton of garlic.)
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
I've eaten it for three straight days now, and am very sad that it's gone. :( My husband had some the first night, but, after seeing that, well, I had an amount of success with it, he's wisely laid off.
I don't know if I wanted the iron (spinach), calcium (dairy), or, well, the fat. But it's like magic. I'm putting it on plain French bread. It has (alas) not cured my vomiting, but it's something that doesn't cause me to puke either. In fact, I usually don't puke until 2ish hours after eating it.
I'm so excited to have found a real food. I'm going to weigh myself tomorrow morning--I bet I've gained something, which will be super exciting to see. And I'll probably buy a bunch more cheese and do it again.
Do you guys know any other dips, since this was so successful? I'm thinking maybe I could look up a bean dip? Mabye if I puree them first, it would fool my body into accepting them?
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
I've eaten it for three straight days now, and am very sad that it's gone. :( My husband had some the first night, but, after seeing that, well, I had an amount of success with it, he's wisely laid off.
I don't know if I wanted the iron (spinach), calcium (dairy), or, well, the fat. But it's like magic. I'm putting it on plain French bread. It has (alas) not cured my vomiting, but it's something that doesn't cause me to puke either. In fact, I usually don't puke until 2ish hours after eating it.
I'm so excited to have found a real food. I'm going to weigh myself tomorrow morning--I bet I've gained something, which will be super exciting to see. And I'll probably buy a bunch more cheese and do it again.
Do you guys know any other dips, since this was so successful? I'm thinking maybe I could look up a bean dip? Mabye if I puree them first, it would fool my body into accepting them?
Sunday, September 18, 2011
16w0d: And now, for something completely different
Aside from the obvious positive (BABIES), pregnancy is doing one awesome thing for me: my hair is growing at an astonishing rate.
I usually have very long hair. I occasionally cut most of it off and give it to Locks of Love or some equivalent charity. Last summer, shortly after my older sister's wedding, I went from hip-length (which really was too long) to almost-chin-length. Which was way too short, and not what I wanted. It wasn't cute, because I didn't want to lose even more length to layers or "style". I just waited for it to grow out. Which it sort of did, reaching pony-tail length. And frankly, I just stopped caring, because between depression, IVF failures left and right, work and school, and an all-around dissatisfaction of my physical body, my hair was the last thing on my mind.
And now, all of the sudden, I'm trimming my bangs weekly (and shaving my armpits daily and my legs far less than I should), and my hair falls past my bra-strap on my back.
Rock on.
I wonder if I could somehow harness this magical hair-growing power and use it to draft an agreeable CBA so I could actually watch my beloved Jazz this season?
I usually have very long hair. I occasionally cut most of it off and give it to Locks of Love or some equivalent charity. Last summer, shortly after my older sister's wedding, I went from hip-length (which really was too long) to almost-chin-length. Which was way too short, and not what I wanted. It wasn't cute, because I didn't want to lose even more length to layers or "style". I just waited for it to grow out. Which it sort of did, reaching pony-tail length. And frankly, I just stopped caring, because between depression, IVF failures left and right, work and school, and an all-around dissatisfaction of my physical body, my hair was the last thing on my mind.
And now, all of the sudden, I'm trimming my bangs weekly (and shaving my armpits daily and my legs far less than I should), and my hair falls past my bra-strap on my back.
Rock on.
I wonder if I could somehow harness this magical hair-growing power and use it to draft an agreeable CBA so I could actually watch my beloved Jazz this season?
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