No, I didn't fall in...

My uncharacteristic silence probably has you all wondering if I've fallen into a porcelain bowl somewhere.  I'll admit, the likelihood is high, very high.  Higher than most skyscrapers in fact.  But that hasn't happened.  The closest I've come to falling in is having a drop of toilet water jump onto my cheek as a result of the violent er, deposit I just made.  Charming.  Really and truly.  

The truth is I have about ten blog entries at play, one of them is a list of foods I can't eat right now, or maybe ever again.  The problem is I get about 1/2 through it and then I have to run to the porcelain again.  Another one is an award I got from a bloggy friend about ten of my favorite memories.  I think so hard, too hard about this and then I get dizzy and have to run to the bathroom again.  Double blog fail.  

Right now my life is ruled by Piglet, Twinkies and hurling.  I wish I had something more interesting, more clever to share with you, but alas, the well is dry for the time being.  I meet with my OB today and then have my NT scan early next week, so there will be lots of things to report soon, hopefully all good.   

In the meantime, rest assured that I am here, even if I've slowed down to a crawl.  

Stockpiling

I'm a planner folks.  You all know this by now, or if not, you certainly will in the coming months. And some of you may call me brazen, you may say I am being overly optimistic or just plain stupid, but I have started to get ready for twins.  

I've talked to my friends with twins about what I'm going to need.  I've asked them to hang on to some stuff for me.  

I've even *gasp* BOUGHT a twin thing or two.  I went to an awesome resale event a few weeks ago and I could not resist some barely used, half-price things.  

Call me crazy.  

I'm okay with that.  Because if I'm not crazy now, I will definitely fit that bill come spring.  

I just have a very strong sense that Les Twinkies are here to stay.  They are not going anywhere. Every single day, all day, they make their presence known to me as I wonder if I will make it to my favorite house of porcelain for the umpteenth time.  

They are here to stay. They are strong, so strong. They are coming home some months from now.

And I'll be damned if I'm not as prepared as I can possibly be.  

Because that would be crazy, brazen and just plain stupid.

My "never" and "always" list.

1. Never wear socks and sandals. Really. This also goes for hosiery with sandals. Just. Don't. 

*Post edit: My friend Summer pointed out that peep toes with opaque tights a la Anthropologie are really charming.  I agree.  Which is why this goes for sandals and not peep toes. :)*

2. Always wash your feet before you go to bed, particularly if you've been traipsing around in flip flops all day.  The grime of the world is on the soles of your feet and you don't want that between your sheets.  Trust me on this.  

3. Never wear navy blue and black together.  This is especially unpleasant when it's solid navy paired with solid black.  This is why God invented charcoal grey, chocolate brown and cordovan.  So you never have an excuse to wear navy blue and black together.

3. Never cut in line.  There's no excuse for it and it puts everyone behind you in line in a foul mood.  

4. Always splurge and buy Halloween, Valentine's Day and Easter candy. Awesome colors and adorable shapes and sizes. Resistance is futile.

5. Never put your feet on the back of the seat in front of you at the movies if there's someone sitting there.  There's no worse feeling than knowing the nasty soles of someones shoes, or worse, their stinky feet, are right by your ears.  GROSS.  

6. Never give up hope.  It truly springs eternal if you embrace it. Sometimes this means digging really deep, deeper than you thought possible, but the glimmer of light hope emits is always there.

8. Always carry a camera with you. Whether it's just a simple point and shoot or a more advanced camera or even the measly camera on your phone, technology has given us the gift of being able to capture life's most precious moments in a most convenient way.  Take full advantage!

9. Never use someone else's toothbrush.  The reasons are obvious, but if they aren't obvious to you, I'm not sure where to go from here.

10.  Always have dessert.  Especially if you're at a fancy restaurant with your Sweetie. Unless you don't really feel like it, or feel like if you eat one more bite of anything you are going to hurl, in which case, skip it.  But if you want it, for the love of Jude, HAVE IT!  And then take a bite of your Sweetie's too.  :) 

perfect ten

Ten weeks!  

Double digits! 

i wouldn't say this pregnancy is flying by but we're getting there.  To tell you the truth, what I'm really excited for is the arrival of 15 weeks.  In my head, 15 weeks is a mythical place where nausea and vomiting do not exist, where I know whether to buy pink or pull out all my bins of blue and where I can start being my normal, productive, tidy self again.  

Five more weeks until we reach this beautiful place. I'm all about goals and now my eye is on the prize!  

I imagine these weeks flying by in a flurry of days.  Just like the period of time between Thanksgiving and New Year's day. 

Zoooooooom!  

Done!  

January 2!  

Time to take down the lights! 

Then right after that, I want to time to essentially stand still.  

Because the truth is. 

I love being pregnant.  I loved every minute of being pregnant with Piglet.  Loved my slowly swelling belly, shopping for chic maternity clothes, eating only apples and nectarines for weeks on end.  

I loved it all.  I almost didn't want it to end.  Almost.  

Then I hit 38 weeks and my feet swelled and I couldn't sleep and I was so filled with anticipation of meeting Piglet I was bursting. Literally. Up until that point though it was pure bliss.  

But this time...because it's been so very hard with the all-day sickness, fatigue, worry about the twins, inability to get excited about food (which I so dearly love), I am willing time to take me to 15 weeks quickly.  

And then.

I want it to sloooooooooow down.  

I want to savor my last-ever pregnancy like a child with a popsicle on a sweltering day. 

Last. Ever. Pregnancy.  Tear!

I'm asking a lot, I know.  

Speed up.

Slow down.

Make up your mind already, woman!

P.S. According to my pregnancy week-by-week book, Les Twinks are each the size of a small plum. Two plums people!  Wrap your head around THAT!

From the vault

As you may know, I'm a *very* sentimental person.  Not to throw caution to the wind, but my gut tells me that the Twinks are really coming.  It's likely going to be a long road, and probably not without trials, but if I'm right, come March, we will be adding two little ones to our brood.  With this on my mind all the time, I've started to look at Piglet differently. 

Trying to imagine him as a big brother is both easy and impossible.  Impossible because he's my LITTLE boy!  

My monkey!  

My lovebug! 

My baby.  

How could he ever share those titles with anyone else?

It's also easy to imagine because he is so sweet to other babies and whenever I ask him if he wants a baby, he gets a very serious look on his face and nods his head.  

I feel myself getting sentimental about his baby and toddlerhood a lot these days, cherishing our lazy mornings together and trips to the zoo and park.  Because I have always stayed home with Piglet, he's always been my #1 sidekick, received 100%+ of my attention.  We've been spoiled to have this amazing time together. But come spring, I know this is all going to change dramatically.

And while I am excited, so excited and thrilled and filled with lurve for Les Twinks, I can't help but worry about how I am still going to be the same devoted mother I am to Piglet.  How will he react to having to share so much of my time and attention?  I know that I am giving him the best gift in the world - siblings, but I am still wracked with guilt and worry about how his life will change in the immediate future. 

If not for my gimpy ovaries and the need to speed up our timeline as a result, I would have waited one more year to do IVF, given Piglet a little more time to mature and be able to understand why I have to feed the babies before I can put his train track together.  Maybe I'm underestimating him and he will be just fine, helpful even.  Right?  

Anyway, I've been watching a lot of classic Piglet videos lately.  I've posted these before, but since they're my favorites, I thought I'd post them one more time in no particular order. :)  

April 2009 - I love this one because he says only one syllable "da" but is so expressive not to mention hilariously demanding! 

September 2008 - The first loooong giggle we ever caught on video.

October 2008 - The first time Piglet truly mimicked anyone. 

She sang.

It's hard to believe, but today I had my last EVER appointment with Dr. Dreamy.  No more wands, no more blood draws, no more fancy waiting room with fridge full of bottled water.  We were there for our last ultrasound and thankfully, Les Twinkies looked gorgeous.  Truly identical, their hearts were beating at the exact same pace (170 bpm) and they are measuring the exact the same size (22.9mm).  Both of them wiggling around and seemingly very content.  We are blessed beyond all measure.  

Even with this amazing news, I felt a pang as I said thank you and goodbye to Dreamy and his team. After I was officially released with Piglet, I knew we'd be back for another baby so it didn't feel quite so final. But today I saw her.  

The proverbial Fat Lady.

And she sang me a lovely parting song.

It went something like this:

So long, farewell, au revoir, auf wiedersehen 

If you werrrrren't, knocked up, we'd see your face again!  

(musical interlude: dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun, dun dun dun dun dun duuuuunnnnn, curtsey)

So long, farewell, au revoir, auf wiedersehen

You're preggggnant with twiiiiins, you mustn't drink champagne! 

(repeat musical interlude, curtsey) 

The time, has come, for us to part our wayyyyyssss

Stay onnnn the meds, don't skip, don't miss a daaaayyyyy!

Catchy little number, isn't it?  Catchy and *completely* original, fraulein.  

The Dreamster made my last visit extra bittersweet by looking supremely dapper today. (Ice blue shirt with slight basketweave and darker blue tie with fine diamond pattern, grey slacks, no cuffs, dark brown oxford loafers - you know, in case you were wondering.) And as I lamented that it was my last visit, he said "You can come back anytime."  And I said "Now you realize this is me you're talking to.  You may live to regret that."  And then he laughed and gave me a twinkly smile and said "Just you. YOU can come back anytime."  MELT.  

As I hopped off the table and discarded my paper sheet for the last time, it was a strange feeling knowing that I would never be in that exam room again, never see many of the staff again.  I felt very wistful about it to be honest.  I know it sounds crazy, but you all know me well enough by now to know that I'm nothing if not a lot a little crazy.  I really and truly loved working with the staff there and have had very little, if anything, to complain about.  

To show my gratitude, I plan to do a little something to thank the staff (probably bake them a few dozen cupcakes from scratch) and also something extra special for Dr. Dreamy.  I haven't settled on what yet but it'll come to me. I know it seems backwards that after paying out of pocket for every single thing (you are welcome for the mortgage payment on your gorgeous vacation home), it's ME that's now thanking THEM?  Isn't paying through the nose enough?  It would seem so, but that's just not my style. 

I'm all about grateful. 

Besides, I still have to convince Dreamy to eventually friend me on F.acebook. 

Outraged and devastated.

Today a URL friend who has become an IRL friend got devastating news.  Her baby's heart stopped beating.  She was just released from her RE a few days ago, all was well. 

I AM OUTRAGED.  FURIOUS.  WITHOUT WORDS STRONG ENOUGH TO DESCRIBE HOW MAD I AM.  

This woman and her husband are good, decent, hard working people.  They've endured several IVF cycles and suffered multiple losses because ALL THEY WANT IS A BABY. ONE. BABY.

To love.

To nurture.

To call their own.  

AND THIS HORRIBLE, TERRIBLE, TRAGEDY has befallen them again.  

Why them?  

Why ANYONE? 

My friend and I were so looking forward to being pregnant together.  She has been a tremendous support to me since we started our cycle and through all the ups and downs so far.  I am devastated for her to put it lightly.  I know there is nothing I can do or say that will ease her pain or grief even a tiny bit.  NOTHING.  I also know that she may not want to keep in touch with me anymore.  And I'm so sad about that, but I understand. Who wants frequent reminders of the incredible loss you've suffered?  

That is one thing infertility does for your soul that is actually positive.  It gives you an unending supply of empathy, makes you able to cry an ocean of tears for someone you have never met in person.  

And today I did this.  I sat in my car and sobbed for a friend and her baby and wished I there was something more I could offer.

Niner

I'm nine weeks today!  Three more weeks until I can tell people I'm pregnant!  Oh wait. I already told everyone.  ;)  

On my list of things to do:

1. Call my awesome OB and make my first appointment and ask her a ton of questions about working with my MFMS.  She is going to love me for it.
2. Stop puking seventeen times a day Feel better in six weeks. Until then, replenish the supply of plastic bags in my car.  On average, I use six per car ride.  Sometimes I tuck the bag into the collar of whatever I'm wearing because, well duh, hands at ten and two o'clock! Safety first!
3. Laundry.  Tons of it.
4. Start potty training Piglet.  Whenever he's pooping, he now giggles and points to his diaper and sure enough a couple minutes later there is a lovely gift in there for me. We think he's ready to at least start the process.  Not sure how I feel about it! 
5. Keep listening to the G.lee version of Journey's iconic "Don't Stop Believin'" and then keep singing only one or two lines over and over again.  Mr. K *luhves* this to no end.just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world, she took the midnight train going annnnnneeeeeewhere 
6. Go up to the attic and pull out my maternity clothes.  No Bella Band is going to save me now. Being pregnant with twins the second time around will do that to you.  
7. Book our tickets to go visit my in-laws. (not fun) Book our tickets for our baby moon (more fun)! We might go on two short trips instead of one long one.  
8. Finish reading Dr. Barbara Luke's book and continue being shocked at what her guidelines are for nutrition.  They go something like this: Since you are carrying multiples, eat an entire side of beef or the vegetarian equivalent every day. Then chase it with a quart of whole milk and eight servings of fruit. The fruit?  No problem. A QUART OF WHOLE MILK EVERY DAY?  Problem!
9. Further debate the merits of going to Costco and buying an entire box of peppermint Mentos vs. just buying them at the grocery store a few at a time to ensure freshness. Nothing worse than a stale Mento!  
10. Take measurements of the nursery and figure out the best configuration for two cribs.  Planning people, it's all about planning.

Really? Me?

Even though I've seen the ultrasounds, heard their heartbeats, felt all the increased pregnancy symptoms, I still cannot believe I am pregnant with twins.  I am dubious.

Identical twins even?  

Really?  

WHAT? 

Dude.  

Duuuuuuuude.

I am infertile.  IN-FER-TILE.  

And pretty profoundly so.  

I have gimpy, cyst-ridden ovaries that don't make the best eggs or embryos. 

In fact, I should've lost lefty during surgery #3 but my RE somehow convinced my OB to let me keep it, just in case.

My embryos don't make it to day five in the lab so my RE's practice has to make an exception and transfer me on less optimal day three.

None of my left over embryos make it to freeze.  Twice this happened.

And somehow, someway, my just fair quality embryo found it within itself to SPLIT?  

And create TWO babies with TWO beating hearts?  

And then IMPLANT? (It could have also been the reverse, implant and then split, but we'll never know.)

And they are still ALIVE?

WHAT?!  

Seriously.  WHAT is going on here?

The other night on my new favorite show G.lee, one of the characters was told by her OB that she was having a "hysterical pregnancy" which apparently means that you want to be pregnant so badly you have classic, but psychosomatic pregnancy symptoms. 

Even with the ultrasound pictures IN MY HAND, I thought to myself: could that be me?  

I am ridiculous. 

I keep looking for the "Kick Me, I'm Infertile" sign on my back, but it must have fallen off.  

Insane in the membrane

While mentally preparing for my visit with the MFM today, I reminded myself that they would not be able to see a membrane yet.  Even if it was there, they would not be able to see it.  Not yet. My inner dialogue went something like this:

Ok.  BREATHE.  So just hope to see heartbeats in the 120s and somewhat equal and accurate growth.  TWINKS - This is your mother.  When you are (hopefully) born into this world, you will never hear me say this, but please DO NOT SHARE.  I mean it! I am not kidding.  Do NOT make me pull this uterus over! Go to your sacs and stay there until at least mid-March!  I'm counting.  One...twooooo.

Today I'm 8w3d and from what I have heard and read, they are not able to detect a membrane until 15-16 weeks.  That's why so many monochorionic twins are originally misdiagnosed as monochorionic monoamniotic (momo) and a membrane is later found.  

So you can imagine my surprise when I went in today and and the AWESOME ultrasound tech told me that they would definitely be able to see the membrane if it was th....OH THERE IT IS!!!!  

THERE IT WAS PEOPLE!

CLEAR AS DAY! 

Each of the Twinkies was present and accounted for and had his/her OWN bubble of amniotic fluid.  (cue choir of angels)

Other than the news of Piglet's clean amnio results a few years ago, I have NEVER felt so relieved in all my life.  

Seriously.  

NEVER.  

Anyway, so here are Les Twinkies.  Do you see their darling little bubbles?  

Notice how the u/s tech officially labeled them as Mono Di just in case I have a panic attack later and think I dreamt this whole thing?  

Strong fluttering heartbeats of 167 and 166 that looked like someone flickering the lights on and off.  

Measuring exactly the same 1.5cm (cashews!) and on schedule.

According to the perinatologist, this means our risk factor goes wayyyyy down.  We still have a 15% chance of developing TTTS (twin-to-twin-transfusion syndrome) as the twins share one placenta but he stressed that I should not focus on that possibility (yeah, right)!  

For now, for today, Les Twinks are out of immediate danger and are happy, growing and ALIVE.  

Today was a good day.  So very good. 

Thank you EVERYONE!  You are most excellent cheerleaders and hoping-for-the-besters EVER. 

Tomorrow.

It's been 14 days since I last/first saw Les Twinkies.

Saw their primitive little forms.

Their floating yolk sacs.

Their beating hearts.

Tomorrow I will see them again at my MFM appointment.

And I'm not sure what I'm going to see.

But I know what I'm hoping to see.

What do you say, will you hope along with me?

Please say yes.

Staying true to the title

So as you know, my blog title is "Our adventures in parenthood."  

And Piglet is hilariously staying very true to it.  

A few recent examples for you...

It rained and got pretty chilly here over the weekend.  No kidding, I woke up and said to myself "Oh, I guess it's November."  Piglet refused to wear a sunhat all summer and wouldn't let the hood on his sweatshirt touch his noggin either, so I wasn't holding out much hope for a hat this fall/winter.  

But as you know, Piglet is all about being given a choice.  

And he chose this hat.  And he LOVES it.  I think it has to do with the way it hugs his head but doesn't obstruct his view.  I think the cashmere lining doesn't hurt either. And now he wants to wear it all the time.  So I have to hide it sometimes.  

Next, I noticed that Piglet had a runny nose this afternoon.  Does not make me happy since we have somehow avoided being sick since March.  He also seemed a little congested, so I dug out the saline drops and instrument of t.orture bulb syringe to take a little evasive action.  

This did not make him happy.  No siree bob.  Not at all.  

So tonight, when I put him in the cradle hold to give him his vitamins (otherwise he'd spit them out) he thought I was trying to put more saline drops in his nose.  And while flailing and yelling, promptly stuck his fingers UP HIS NOSE to block the "entry."  I was crying I was laughing so hard.

I tried to capture it on film for you all, but chasing after my child with the bulb syringe just to get a picture seemed a little mean.  Even for me. ;)  However, not being one who likes to disappoint, I did at least try and I got the picture below.  Not both fingers, but you get the idea. Hehe.  

Last but not least.  

You all know I can hardly eat anything lately.  But one of the few things I can stomach are saltines.  So there are sleeves of them everywhere - right now from where I'm sitting I count three and I know there are two more upstairs.  Piglet has developed quite a taste for them, or rather the SALT sprinkled on top of them.  

So today I ran upstairs to put some laundry in the dryer and put another load of wash in and I came down to find this.  

All of those saltines were slightly "used" and all discarded.  And look at that innocent face.  "Who ME?  No, it t'wasn't moi.  I didn't empty the entire sleeve of saltines, lick most of them and and leave all these crumbs everywhere. Was surely the bad doggy." Who incidentally had been fed the rest of the sleeve of crackers. 

Keeping it real over here at Maison de Piglet!

My best friend's birthday

Friday was my best friend's birthday.  It was also one week from the due date of her second baby.  

To celebrate, I took her out for lunch at one of our favorite meeting places - The Ch.eesecake F.actory.   I walked up to her at the restaurant and immediately I could tell something was different.  I don't know what, but she just looked different...or something. 

We got seated and she said to me, "So I just came from my OB appointment.  I'm 3cm dilated and I've been having contractions since last night."  

So THAT was what was different.  

Um, HELLO!  She was in ACTIVE LABOR.  

And there she was, cool as a cucumber, sipping her strawberry lemonade and helping me decide what to order.  

I kept saying, "Are you okay?  If I need to ask the server to go boil this napkin so I can, you know, CATCH YOUR BABY, you have to tell me!"

And she'd say "No, I'm fine.  I'm okay, really."

Not even a grimace.  Nothing. 

Let me tell you, when I was 3cm and in active labor with Piglet I'm pretty sure I used my paw to try and SWIPE MR. K's HEAD OFF when he reached over to brush some hair off my forehead.  

I am so not kidding. 

We finished lunch around 2:30 and Miss J (aka my best friend) scampers off to pick up her three year old from school.  I kiss her belly and give her a hug and tell her to keep me posted.  I leave her and I'm feeling a very anxious.

At 4:30 I get a text from her that she is heading to the hospital.  

OMG!!!  I just saw her two hours before!

At 6:30 I get a text from her husband saying that she is EIGHT FREAKING CENTIMETERS DILATED.  

What!  

At 8:31 the most precious baby girl EVER is born into the world.  With cheesecake still in her belly, I'm sure.  

And she shares a birthday with her momma.  Adorable.

Can you believe my best friend?  She sat there and had lunch with me and listened to me talk about my morning sickness and upcoming MFM appointment while she, you know, was in SEARING PAIN.  

Just, sip sip sip of the lemonade and a dainty bite of her french fry.  

I'm going to give birth to a LIVE HUMAN BEING in six hours, but no, go on about how you looked at Mr. K's salmon and ran to the bathroom to hurl.

You have got to be kidding me.  This woman is not for real.  But oh my goodness, I am so glad she is because without her... 

I promise you I would be a freak show on a daily basis.  

This is us at 2:30 p.m. on Friday 

No she isn't really a whole foot taller than me.  I was in flats, she was in heels (in LABOR and wearing HEELS.  What is there not to love about this woman?)

This is us at 2:00 p.m. on Saturday.

The score

Twins: 1

Zo.fran: 0

These past few days, dems been hard.  From what I've heard things get better around 15 weeks. 

So, halfway there.  

How on earth could the Twinks be giving me so much grief already?! 

The writing on the wall

Due to my intense morning all-day sickness, I've been much less vigilant about following Piglet around to make sure he's not getting into trouble.  Meaning, I just lay on the couch moaning and sighing loudly while he runs rampant, pulling on the dog's ears, taking out all the baking sheets and being generally a little naughty.  

Today I was trying to get my mojo on to go meet my awesome Thursday ladies and babies for some park play time and a walk to our favorite french bakery and Sbux. Piglet was suspiciously quiet.  Never a good sign.  I willed myself off the couch and found him at the mudroom door like this: 

While I don't love the behavior, he was so cute and proud and smart enough to conceal the offending orange crayon when he saw me that I couldn't help but laugh.  Besides, it's nothing that a M.agic Eraser can't handle, no problem.  

Maybe Piglet was trying to tell me something...the writing has been on the wall for a week now.  My nausea is not going anywhere fast and with a Piglet to police and keep in line (and snuggle, feed and entertain) I need to be at the top of my game. I caved and called my OB for a prescription.  So far the Zo.fran seems to be helping.  I'm now hurling about 42% less than before.  An improvement!  

RIP: Appetite 8/5/09 - 8/20/09

I am sorry to say it, but my appetite of mythical proportions has disappeared.  Now in its place lies only a bounty of indecision and answers like "nothing sounds good" or "Eew. No, definitely not that." Come now, where's the fun in THAT?  It's not nearly as entertaining as having a bowl of cappellini with pomodoro sauce at 9:00 a.m. chased by three waffles, is it?  I should say NOT.

For the past five days I have hovered between the "I'm going to hurl right now" place and the "I *think* I'm going to hurl right now" place.  It is terrible.  While I didn't have a huge appetite while pregnant with Piglet, I didn't have terrible morning sickness either.  Certainly not like this and certainly not this early in the game.  

Infertiles - forgive me for this complaining.  I know it is all a blessing and there were days and nights I prayed for morning sickness and fatigue and any and everything that would bring me a baby.  I'm just struggling a little today.  Okay.  A lot. 

Perhaps the worst part of this is that I dearly love preparing food and eating food and I cannot seem to feel well enough to do either with gusto. Scratch that, I cannot manage to do either AT ALL.  

Today I ate three C.lif Mojo Bars to increase my protein intake because the thought of any other type of protein sounded just plain unpalatable.  And I had to CHOKE. THEM. DOWN.  Many friends have piped up with the suggestion of Z.ofran.  I am considering it as it is a B Class d.rug and apparently very safe and used widely.  

After all this doom and gloom about food, I think I should end on a high note, don't you agree?  My appetite and desire for cherry I.cees remains intact!  Hallelujah.