One week

This is going to sound so cliché, but I can't believe it's been a week since I finally gave up Sideshow Bob status and had the Twinks! It has been an amazing, amazing week with our THREE children (I can *almost* justify doing a roll call). My top few observations since having the babes?

1) If you can opt out of a c-section DO IT. Mine wasn't 100% medically necessary but it wasn't completely elective either. I could've pushed (bahahaha) not to have one, but because I knew the risks with ID twins and also because of my inevitable need to get rid of my cyst-ridden left ovary, I decided to go with the c-section. BAD DECISION! Worst of 2010 so far! I really should know better. Because I don't tolerate n.arcotics well, I don't take them and the "breakthrough pain" was almost unbearable in the two days following the boys' arrival. Plus the sheer madness of having two tiny babies and wanting to change them and swaddle them and generally be a complete control freak (who, moi?) about their care is totally hindered by your inability to even get out of bed. Ask Mr. K. He had to endure this conversation over and over.

Me: Babe, I want them to wear these other blue hats. They're in the inside left pocket of the polka dot diaper bag.

Mr. K: These?

Me: No. Those are blue bear hats. I want the plain ones.

Mr. K: How about this one?

Me: No! They're just PLAIN BLUE. They're preemie size. LEFT. INSIDE. POCKET.

OTHER.

LEFT.

Mr. K: I can't find them, I'm just going to use the hospital hats.

Me: Nooooo! I don't like those hats! Not for pictures!

Mr. K: Who cares! They're warm!

Me: So are the ones I brought. Oh wait! They're in the other bag. Okay so go into the inside pocket of the black bag...

2) Twins are freaking awesome. It's really that simple.

3) Just because your nurse calls you "Sugar" and "Sweetie" and talks to you with a baby voice does not mean she actually dosed you with the correct meds, or actually, any meds at all. So be like me and bring your own damn A.dvil and T.ylenol.

And now because I am paying a doula so I can sleep, I better get to it. But to make up for brevity of my post, I leave you with this.

Only my third slideshow in almost two years of blogging. I hope you enjoy watching it as much as I enjoyed living it. I just have to say it again...I LOVE my precious little Twinks. They are an absolute miracle.

Photo slideshow generated with Smilebox

Swept away

I'll write all about my c-section and day soon, but for now, I wanted to say merci beaucoups to all my IRL and URL friends who soldiered by me during the past year. From weaning Piglet to surgery to an IVF cycle and a challenging pregnancy, you have all been there waiting in the wings and I'm so grateful.

Yesterday was a red-letter day at Maison Piglet, as we welcomed our long-awaited identical twin boys into the world. Words cannot describe the joy we felt at hearing their cries and seeing their faces for the first time. We were and still are overwhelmed by our profound love for our baby sons. They are so tiny and precious! And that twin romance thing is real. There is just *something* about there being TWO of them that just sweeps you away. My feet haven't touched the ground since I held them for the first time.

More pictures to come, but here are just a few to tide you over. :) Right now I need to go stare at my babies who are sleeping nose to nose.

Love,

MVK

Dear Piglet

Dear Piglet,

You were so sweet and funny today you almost broke my heart in half. Daddy drove us all around doing last minute errands and despite the somewhat cloudy day, I kept my sun visor down the entire time just so I could watch you as you watched the world around you from the fluffy throne of your car seat. Your round full cheeks, pink lips that resemble a ripe strawberry, your twinkly eyes, today they all seemed more vivid, more full of life than usual.

I cannot put into words how much I have admired your little personality when I haven't been able to be 100% at my best. You've hung in there with me on days when I could scarcely do more than run to and from the bathroom. You forgave me when I was cranky from too little sleep and snapped at you when you asked one time too many and too impatiently for a refill of your juice cup. During the past 8.5 months, I sometimes expected more of you than your two years, but you never held it against me. Instead, you rewarded me by cozying up to me on the couch and laying your head against my arm. While you are, without question, a demanding little man, you are also, sweet beyond all words and comprehension.

You are my firstborn, my little boy and you are perfect.

Tomorrow our family is going to grow much bigger. Changes abound and some part of me mourns the fact that we will never again have the luxury of being just you and me, Piglet and mommy. We will always have your brothers to think of, to consider, to include. And I know it sounds selfish, but as much as you will crave time just with me, I will crave time just with you. After all, it's been 26 glorious (though not always glamourous) months of that kind of togetherness. Still, I know that there is no better gift I can give you than that of siblings. The gift of other people who are always going to be a part of your life and who will understand the journey we're all on together just as well as you do. Brothers who will share memories of holidays and vacations and "remember that time mom got SO mad because we..."

As much as I mourn the passing of the "just us two" phase of our relationship, I am also bursting with excitement at what the next phase will hold. So far you've proven yourself to be exceedingly loving and gentle towards babies. You love to stroke their heads and pat their backs and plant kisses on their cheeks. I am so proud of how sweet you are with every baby you've met so far! I know that it won't be an easy transition for you, but I also know that you will adore having two babies of your very own (at least some of the time). :)

So, dear sweet Piglet, know that you will always be my firstborn, my love, the person who helped me realize what this ride called life is really all about. I cherish you my darling boy. Thank you for the indelibly paving the way for your brothers. Now let's hope for both our sakes that they're not little shits.

Love,

Mom

For future reference

Someone said I should write down all the things that I have been through during this pregnancy so that I can someday hold it over the twins when they're older.

I say, why wait until they're older?

Besides when they're here and I'm all "Oh you are so freaking cute, I want to eat you up!" all of this will be forgotten. Maybe. Possibly. Probably not, but I'll be extremely inclined to forgive them rather quickly.

And again, because of the whole, you know, infertile thing, I feel compelled to say once more, this list in no way means that I am not bottom-of-my-heart-tear-in-my-beer grateful every single day for the opportunity to become a mother again. Love my Twinks.

But, boy have they wreaked some havoc over the past 252 days.

So without further adieu, and just in case we aren't friends on Facebook and you haven't heard me bitch and moan on there, I present to you, my list of twin pregnancy woes:

• The puking. Oh my I shouldn't have had that good gravy, the puking. It started at 6w3d and subsided (notice I didn't say STOPPED) at around 33w3d. So a good SEVEN months of throwing up roughly 8-10 times a day. And in the middle there, more like 12-15. I had the broken blood vessels in my face and empty Zofran boxes to prove it. I am now an expert at the grab-plastic-bag-from-passenger-seat-tuck-into-shirt-in-order-to-puke-while-driving maneuver.

• Pubic symphysis. Sounds scary because it is. Scary painful. Scary "remedy." Scary scary scary!

• Insomnia. Am writing this blog entry during one of my 252 out of 252 bouts of being awake at 3:00 a.m. And all that earnest talk about how this is preparing me for many many nights of no sleep is total crap! I don't require a lot of sleep to function, five to six hours would actually do quite nicely, but two to five broken up into one or two hours for 8.5 months while growing two babies is, well, just cruel.

• PUPPPs, aka Pruritic Urticarial Papules and Plaques of Pregnancy. I have been scratching myself until I have tiny blisters and scabs all over my body for about eight weeks now. Nothing has helped, not steroid cream or ointment or even a round of P.rednisone. Of all my pregnancy woes, this one has been my greatest. It is just MISERY. Apparently my only hope is that I'll be cured the second the babies are born. A girl can dream.

• Contractions. Started when I was about 20 weeks and have gotten stronger and more frequent the farther along I get. And these mothers do not kid around. Sometimes I even have to use breathing techniques to remind myself to keep breathing. I think the Universe deemed that since I'm having a c-section this time, I should still be able to experience the lovely pain of childbirth. You know, just in case I've FORGOTTEN since last time.

• Back pain, sciatic pain and hip pain, oh my! Not being able to take Ibuprofen has been brutal, especially on days when I am crippled by my lower back pain. However, I was able to seek some solace in Therma.care heating pads, that is until the itching started and wearing a heating pad became akin to just dousing myself in kerosene and lighting a match. Because that's so fun you know.

• To conclude my list I was going to write down all the tests, shots, blood draws and other lovely hoops I've jumped through before and during this pregnancy, but instead, I'll just say that it has all been worth it. Yes, even the pee jug test. The below jug was my BFF for a full 24 hours. Jealous? Obvi.

So...one more day as a family of three until the Twinks join us. For all of the above reasons and so many more.

I

just

can't

wait.

Lightbulb!

I figured it out peeps. I had a full-on REVELATION yesterday as I waddled around from place to place (Target, the mall, baby boutique). Yes, people are stopping and staring. Yes, some jerk-offs in the hallway in my OB's office building were mocking me behind my back (and I turned around and asked them if they were really mocking me), yes at the wedding I went to this weekend a woman actually left her place in the loooong buffet line just to come up and ask me if I had an 'exit strategy.'

I get it people. I am a sight to behold.

And yesterday it finally occurred to me why this is.

Save ONE, every single woman I have ever known who was/is pregnant with twins has been put on bedrest during her pregnancy. Hospital bedrest, home bedrest, modified bedrest -- some form of bedrest is extremely common. So the fact that I'm just days away from having the Twinks and by some sort of dumb luck am still driving, wandering around running errands and being seen in the light of day by the general public, makes me, in fact, an endangered species.

Which explains all the pointing and staring.

It also makes a good case for my joining the circus or being an attraction at the zoo.

Yesterday at my *final* OB appointment before I go in on Monday, I measured 46 weeks. Once again, my blood pressure was high, 142/80 and there was protein in my pee. My OB was concerned but not enough to say "we're taking the babies right now." Still, she didn't want to risk going the whole weekend without me being monitored, so I'm going in for a non-stress test on Friday. She told me to be ready to have the babies that day, just in case.

So things are moving at a pretty quick clip around here (moi, excluded of course). And because Murgdan is always so sweet and tells me she loves my pictures, I am including a profile AND a straight on shot of my belly. Now just *imagine* if THIS were coming your way as you casually sipped your latte at the mall. Let's be honest people, you just *might not* be able to stop yourself from choking on your frothy beverage.

P.S. Are you tired of seeing my bathroom yet?

Updated banner, yo

I bit the bullet and emailed my blog designer a few weeks ago about adding a few wee birds to my banner and making the title PLURAL. Yikes! She has been swamped but took the time tonight to give me this wonderful baby gift.

Two sweet little birds and an "s" added to my banner. If you add up all the birds on my blog, it adds up to five.

FIVE.

Because that's the number of people that will be in our family come Monday.

FIVE people.

In FIVE days.

Wrap your head around THAT.

And if you can't, at least enjoy the newly updated scenery.

PS - So sorry but just in case you were wondering, Megan is not accepting new clients. What can I say, we at Maison Piglet are lucky to be early adopters. Good thing because the girl has mad skills and is a dream to work with. Megan, good luck with what you've got in the hopper! Thanks for the banner update!

Be sure to read the entry before this too...TWO blog entries in ONE day. A record. Maybe. Actually, not. But hey, we're all for the dramatic around here.

The one where I went to Labor and Delivery

Yesterday I felt, for lack of a better word (and perhaps because I hang out with a two year-old all day), icky. I woke up feeling my usual aches and pains but as the morning progressed, I got a headache that threatened to turn into a migraine. And then with the puking...which I thought I had left behind me several weeks ago. Puking that even my Zofriend couldn't help.

So through the advice of my Facebook entourage medical experts, I decided I should call my OB to see if I could stop by just to get my blood pressure checked. After a few mishaps, including me being sent to my OB's office location that was actually CLOSED for the day, I finally talked to my OB who decided, given my symptoms and the way I have been trending, just to send me directly to L & D. When I called Mr. K to tell him this news, I started tearing up. I mean, I know we are going to have these babies in a matter of DAYS (six, but who's counting), but the possibility of having them any earlier than that really rocked me to the core. Planning, people! You know I love me some planning!

Mr. K met me at home, I threw some things into a bag and off we went, full of unbridled anxiety and nervous energy. They sent me to triage and hooked up the fetal monitors...except the nurse couldn't find Baby A's heartbeat. She looked and looked for the better part of five minutes (aka an ETERNITY) and she couldn't find anything and I didn't hear anything.

THIS HAD NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE. NEVER.

So you can imagine how hysterical I was. Except that I wasn't hysterical persay. I just couldn't stop crying. And Mr. K kept saying "No, no...you're 8.5 months pregnant! They've been perfect! He's fine, he's fine."

The nurse left and got another ultrasound machine as well as the resident OB. The OB kept saying she was sure it was just because the baby was really, really low. After a couple more agonizing minutes, they found Baby A's heart. FINALLY. Later, another triage nurse came in and looked at the original fetal monitor band and said "Oh hey, this thing isn't even working! No wonder!"

Apparently we'd arrived just in time for amateur hour at L & D triage! What good fortune!

In the end it was determined that while the protein in my urine was high-ish, my BP stabilized and the babies looked good so I was sent home to cook them for another week. Such drama! All we needed was a high-speed chase in a white Ford Bronco and we'd have made the 5 o'clock local news.

Enjoy the pictures of Mr. K and me basking in our visit to triage. See how calm, cool and collected we were? Psshht. Like cucumbers we were. Stone cold cucumbers.

Me, myself and well -- ME.

Dear Self,

Please ease up. You know you really should. So the house will not be perfect, the clothes will not all be put away and the garage will remain somewhat a House of Horrors, causing you to close the door as soon as the car is safely in front of the gate, lest the neighbors catch a glimpse of the 4,256 pairs of shoes that you no longer fit but cannot part with either. So what if all of these things go undone before Les Twinks arrive? Who is going to blame you? You are a thousand months pregnant with the belly and contractions to show for it. You have an exceedingly endearing, yet demanding two year-old and your dog just ate a dirty diaper which she will undoubtedly throw up on your light colored living room carpet at some unknown time in the future.

Give yourself a break.

Put your feet up.

Succumb to the desire to watch episode after episode of the Kardashians.

Your life is about to change.

You may not have a minute to yourself for at least the next 6-8 months...at LEAST.

You deserve to just be a slovenly veal. In fact, you *should* be a slovenly veal.

But alas, Self, I know you all too well. I know you will not heed my advice. I know you will continue to fold and sort and label and clean.

And in that case, can you clean out the extra fridge while you're at it? There's something festering out there.

Thanks ever so much.

Love, Me.

News

I have been in serious nesting mode all day. Piglet went to spend the day with my parents while I was at home supervising the deep cleaning and sealing of the subway tile in our bathrooms, taking three bids on replacing our roof and talking to our insurance company to add my new wheels to the policy and downgrade my other car to "pleasure" status. In between entertaining all these vendors, I was sorting, washing and organizing tiny clothes and using my label maker until the battery ran dry. I dragged out the pack n' play, located my breakfast-in-bed tray (for my recovery at home) and packed up three large bags of documents to take to the shredding place. I was a force of nature all day long.

Not to worry, I abided by Union rules and took two 15 minute breaks and a one hour lunch. Unpaid of course. :)

At 3:00 I headed to my OB appointment. I'd already had my ultrasound yesterday (long story) as well as a blood draw to confirm or rule out Cholestasis. Despite my burst of adrenaline laced energy today, I've been feeling really crummy the past few days. I think all these months of sleepless nights, nausea and pain have finally caught with me. Anyway, the nurse took my weight (down two pounds, Mr. K is soooo disappointed), my blood pressure and had me pee in a cup. I am getting worse at that last one by the way. That's all I'm sayin'.

My BP was a little higher than last week and while still in normal range, has been trending upwards. Apparently I have also had traces of protein in my pee for the past few weeks and today it was slightly more significant. So much so, that my OB ordered a test for me which requires me to pee in a jug for 24 hours so they can test the protein content. Pee Watch 2010 begins at 0800 hours tomorrow morning! And last but not least, the ITCHING CONTINUES. I even broke down and started taking 8mg of Prednisone in the evening because my middle-of-the-night itching has gotten completely out of control. The prednisone helps a tiny bit but i'm still scratching until I bleed and my arms and legs are covered in tiny scabs. It is just *too* lovely for words. And this is ON PREDNISONE which as you may or may not know, is a serious steroid.

So, with all that said, I know you know what's coming...

My wonderful OB advised that we go in sooner rather than later...my c-section/ left ooferectomy has been scheduled on the day of my last OB appointment, which is MONDAY, 3/22!

TWELVE DAYS PEOPLE!

Remember when I was going out of my gourd because I was twelve WEEKS away from the babies' arrival?

In case you're worried, by then I will be 36w1d, and my OB consulted with Dr. Fox, my MFMS who will also be at the delivery, and he agrees that the timing is great and that at 36 weeks gestation, the Twinks will be just fine. Their estimated weight right now is 5.5lbs each. So in almost two weeks' time, they should be around six pounds (or least I hope so, because Mr. K and I have a little wager going).

Oh and speaking of weeks, you'll all love this, my fundal height has me at 45.

FOUR to the FIVE to the WEEKS.

So imagine a woman pregnant with a full-term baby.

And then imagine her FIVE WEEKS LATER. STILL PREGNANT.

And that's me, right now, at this very moment. And now you know why I'm considering changing my name to Sideshow Bob. Today in the waiting room, another woman was called back and she *whispered* to her nurse "I won't get *that* big, will I?"And the nurse assured her that she would not because she was not having twins.

Seriously. I was sitting six feet away. Nice, lady. Really nice. Ever heard of Instant Karma? I hope she missed the cup and peed on her hand. Oh wait. That was me.

Anyway, this is not a(nother) post about my large, round, belly but about the fact that I am going to meet the precious Twinks in a matter of days.

D A Y S.

I think I might throw up.

Then again, what's new?

P.S. - I do have some mixed feelings about delivering at 36 weeks because part of me thinks that if I pushed and suffered a little longer, we could get to 37 weeks or beyond. I don't think the Twinks are in danger if we let them cook longer, but I also do not however, think they are in danger if we take them a little earlier either. Really, at this point, it's all gravy, so I'm rolling with it. Mostly it'd be awesome to get to 37 weeks simply for the bragging rights, since not very many people with multiples get that far. But the opportunity to have my beloved OB be there for delivery, trade in my membership to the Feral Animals Society and see my the faces of my sweet boys?Come on, that's a gimme.

P.P.S. - The post that was supposed to come today instead of this one was a big braggy post about how Carrie from Tubeless and I hung out all weekend with our families and how we are hatching plans to build a compound together. We had the most fabulous time! I'm still going to write about it, but for now I will leave you with a few teaser photos.

Peanut Gallery

Another uneventful week has passed at Maison Piglet. The babies are still doing great, fluid is plentiful, my blood pressure is perfect and ye olde cervix is still long and closed at 3.1cm. Other than the fact that my left hand now forms a permanent claw (thank you, PUPPPs), I'm having an oddly uncomplicated twin pregnancy.

Uncomplicated but uncomfortable that is.

And now, because I am a recovering infertile, I feel forever compelled to warn you that this post is going to start sounding like a big whine fest, which of course, in no way nullifies my extreme gratitude and happiness about the Les Twinks. Dems I love, I love a lot. But when you're two days shy of 34 weeks pregnant with twins, your body becomes a bit of a freak show.

Just sayin'.

Case in point: Sometimes, and by sometimes I mean -- whenever I cross the threshold of my front door and am seen, even for one second, in broad daylight, people look at me with what can only be described as a mixture of panic and fear. Comments I've gotten from everyone from the grocery store clerk to transients, include:

• WHEN?!
• How much longer?!
• Are you having that baby RIGHT NOW?
• You are enormous.
• I can't believe you can walk around without falling forward.
• I feel sorry for you.
• I feel sorry for your husband.
• Should you be eating that?
• You must feel as big as a house, because that's how you look
• BEAR DOWN!!!

More often than not, there's no comment, but people do a double take and circle around get a second look, slowing down to a crawl as they pass by. I. SWEAR. TO. GOD.

And to be honest, I just take it all in stride. Because I'll be the first to admit, I am *quite* the spectacle. I'm 5'3" and carrying ten pounds worth of baby around, not in a sling or an Ergo, but IN MY FREAKIN' SKIN. You do the math.

Sometimes, even when I'm just hanging around the house, I imagine what people would say if they were there to witness my daily impersonation of a Weeble Wobble. For instance, every time I roll from one side to the other and successfully dismount my (double pillowtop) bed on the first try, I hear wild applause, along with "Ladies and gentlemen, she did it!!! She stuck the landing!!!" Or when I make like a flamingo eating chinese food by balancing on one foot and using a chopstick gracefully lean over the counter to open the kitchen shades in the morning, I think "Damn, I'm good!" Most days I just constantly hear circus music playing in the background (dun dun duh duh duh duh dun dun dun dun dun).

And if Mr. K is around, he shows his unconditional love and support by simply pointing and laughing.

The first

Every 30 days or so (or in February's case 28), I turn the the page and there it is, lovely and crisp as ever, the number one. I love the first day of a new month, I always have. I think it's because I love shiny, new things.

So imagine my excitement when I opened my laptop (at 3:00 a.m. PST) and saw that iCalendar had flipped the page for me and I was greeted by a shiny, new NUMBER ONE. Even better that the first day of the month lands on a Monday! The same thing happened last month! Oh for the love the symmetry and the order in an otherwise chaotic world. Happy sigh.

But this number one is different, it's the first day of March 2010. The first day of the next 31 that I will likely complete my family. The first day of the last month I will ever be pregnant. With twins or otherwise. Back in August when I was so sick and counting down until week 15, the time when I would magically cross over to the ZoFREE zone (HA!), I thought that March would *never* arrive. It seemed like too vast a journey to make across the porcelain abyss. But somehow, the pages kept turning, iCalendar kept moving along at a gentle clip and here we are. March! Shamrock Babies!

The punchline of course is that I am *still* not in a completely ZoFree zone, but I did finally stop puking all day, every day around month 7.5. Go me.

My nesting instincts are in full-force, but my energy wanes, begging me to sit down, lay down, do nothing but rest. There are many days nesting wins but my body later stages a rebellion and I'm left to try and make friends with my favorite, dead-sexy accessory again. So I'm trying to find a balance between doing enough to feel prepared and productive but not so much that I feel like my body is breaking into pieces. Which it kind of is, because these boys have got to come out SOME way, right?

I have another OB appointment on Wednesday and the anxiety is starting to set in as usual. I know everything is probably fine but I need to fill my sleepless nights worrying about something! If I get the green light from my OB (currently it is yellow), Mr. K, Piglet and I are planning to head three hours north to visit my Bloggy BFF, Tubeless and her adorable brood! Some call this unwise and they are probably right. But traveling with one two year-old is going to be infinitely easier than adding two newborns to the mix. Still, we will play it by ear, see what my OB says and see how I feel. Carrie is busy baking up all my favorite cookies in between feeding her gorgeous boys and mothering her her adorable daughter A. Warm cookies and darling babes might be more than I can resist.

In other news, my OB reluctantly admitted to me that she moved my original planned c-section date out by more than one week. I'm planning a c-section for multiple reasons (saftey of my ID boys being top), but one of the main ones is so that I can take care of my cyst-ridden, gimpy left ovary then too instead of having surgery #2,509 in 6-12 months when I have two infants to nurse and three boys to look after. The reason that she moved the date out one week, which puts me one day shy of 38 weeks? She is GOING OUT OF TOWN! THOUSANDS OF MILES AWAY! To visit family and celebrate her husband's, Nana's 90th birthday. Pshhht. Priorities, woman! When did turning 90 become *such* a milestone?! And it's not just quick weekend trip, she's going to be gone for ELEVEN DAYS.

What's going to happen during those mere ELEVEN DAYS? Most of week 36, all of 37 and one day short of 38, thank you very much. Oh, just the most PROBABLE time that I will, you know, DELIVER these giant twin boys. But really, it's okay. Go on your little vacation. Have a Mai Tai, relaxxxxx, ENJOY.

In actuality, I don't really mind.

Shhhh, don't tell, but I was just going for the dramatic before. You *know* you lurve me for it. In fact, I think my OB is wonderful, the best out there. She was there to help me bring Piglet into the world and is one of my most favorite docs ever. But I do think she is all kinds of crazy to think that this little body of mine is going to make it to 38 weeks. What say you, Internets? 36 weeks? 37? Just for kicks and giggles, take my wee poll over there to the right.

Now watch this, I'm going to overcook these boys, the page is going to turn again and they'll arrive in April -- less like Shamrocks and more like Easter Eggs.