OB update #3,267

I have had *so* many doctor's appointments with this pregnancy, I've lost track of just how many. Despite this fact, I still find myself getting anxious and worried before each one. And when I don't feel anxious and worried, it's always the ONE time that I get unsettling news. So before my ultrasound and OB visit yesterday, I was a ball of nerves. I was just sure that my cervix had shortened or that les Twinks' fluid levels were low or something untowards was happening.

Of course, I should not have been worried.

The Twinks are growing by leaps and bounds! They are 4lbs2oz and 4lbs6oz respectively. Their fluid levels are ample and they were wily as ever for the ultrasound technician, always a good sign. Baby B's arrhythmia was slightly more obvious than at my last appointment, but as Dr. Fox had told me, it would come and go throughout his infancy and adolescence, so not a source of worry.

My cervix is still long and closed at 3.6cm. Apparently it is the Cervix of Steel. After I heard that, I excused myself from the ultrasound room, went down to the parking lot and threw the biggest truck I could find. I wanted to crush some marble with my bare hands, but there was none handy. So throwing a car was the next best thing. I mean, I'm barely 5'3", carrying gigantic twin boys and have somehow, at 32 weeks, managed to maintain a cervix of some serious magnitude. What better way to celebrate than to throw a couple tons of metal around?

I must admit to you, I felt like all kinds of AWESOME after my cervix check.

And this is not to say that my friends who have shortening cervixes are not full of AWESOME too, it just my dumb luck really. Kind of like those of you who are 5'8" and never have to hem your pants. Nothing that you really deserve credit for, but damn, I can only imagine how amazing it would be to just go into Nord's and buy a pair of Sevens and be able to wear them that very day.

I can't remember if I've discussed my lovely itching problem with you yet, my bloggy friends, but oh my DEAR GOD it is bad. Poor Mr. K will come home from work and I'll be on the couch with my bare belly exposed, scratching like a FERAL CAT. He'll say to me "Um, babe, do you want some privacy while you do THAT?" And I'll be all "OMG, I am SO FREAKING ITCHY! LOOK! LOOK!" And Poor Mr. K will politely decline and excuse himself upstairs. Can't really say I blame him.

On the upside, my wonderful OB prescribed me some steroid cream and antihistamines that seem to be helping. Maybe my feral cat days are over or at least numbered? Oh and this will MAKE YOU LAUGH. I went to the pharmacy, prescriptions for relief clutched in my paw and when I went to pick them up, the cashier said I needed to have a consult with the pharmacist.

The pharmacist walked up the counter and looked over my prescriptions, looked at me and asked "So, are you still pregnant?"

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAA!!!!

Now I've heard that you are never supposed to assume a woman is pregnant unless you actually SEE THE BABY CROWNING.

So if he was going by that rule, it was a safe question.

But one look at me and COME ON.