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.
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