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

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.

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.

My wife, my calf

During my most recent two dr. appointments, I've logged two weight losses. Two pounds each visit for a total of four pounds.

Mr. K who is just NOW reading this book by Dr. Barbara Luke (after months of listening to me say "You know, Dr. Barbara Luke says I should be taking a nap right now instead of helping you decide where to put things in the garage) has now decided that his main mission in life is to make me his own personal fatted calf. Seriously, he is getting Biblical with his obsession.

Whenever I call him after an OB or MFMS visit, his first question is "How's your weight?"

So you can imagine how happy he was to hear that I had lost yet another two pounds.

I swear it was the defeated sigh that could be heard across the 3G network land.

Clearly I am no waif and I am not wasting away, but as you all know I was pretty sick for the first, oh, I don't know MERE SEVEN MONTHS of this pregnancy and if I don't take my two Zo.friends a day, I still get sick, so food has been difficult for me. That said, I really do need to eat a little more. But not as much as Mr. K (or Dr. Barbara Luke) would have me consume.

You see, Mr. K believes that if I don't gain enough weight, it will somehow retard the development of our wee babes. Which is true to an extent, except that every single level II ultrasound I've had has shown that the Twinks are growing steadily and are very healthy weights. They always fall somewhere in the 60-80% so I have never been worried and neither have my docs. Mr. K however is a different story.

So now every single day he asks me what I want to eat...not just at that moment or for dinner in a few hours, but for several days.

For instance, on Thursday, I will get: "Do you want Chili Verde for dinner on Saturday?"

And on Tuesday I will get: "Do you want bacon for breakfast (in three days)?"

Plus he's constantly trying to lace my food with protein powder. Then when I discover the foul tasting stuff we get into the "just have one more bite" debate. I swear he has reduced me to being three years old with his antics.

It does have its benefits though. Mr. K will basically bring me anything that suits my whim as long it is high in protein or calories. Most times.

Lately I have been craving a lot of frozen yogurt from a place called SkinniDip. When I asked him to stop and get me some on his way home, he replied "Babe, I don't think that stuff has enough calories. You don't need SkinniDip, what YOU need is FATDip."

I'm pretty sure no place called FatDip would bring in a lot of customers (except perhaps husbands of women pregnant with multiples) but the suggestion alone did illicit a giggle from me. Well played, Mr. K, well played.

29 weeks

At my shower last weekend (newsy post and pictures to follow) my friends said I don't post enough pictures of my belly. My response?

"Nobody wants to see my belly!"

Their response?

"Yes we do!"

Then this week in one of our epic voicemails to each other, my BFF in Hotlanta said something along the same lines..."Dude! I want to see your belly! Send me a pic!"

So I guess the masses have spoken.

Here is my ever growing belly.

Are you scared?

Do you need me to come hold you?

Because I would, except that there's a bit of a hindrance.

I think the shirt makes it look bigger because you can't really see where the curve of my stomach ends (it's a bit more basketball like, I'll post another picture wearing a tighter shirt), but you get the idea. And the idea is that my belly is gigantic and dwarfs everything and everyone growing.

Despite my second official weight loss in a row (sore subject with Mr. K also to be elaborated upon in an upcoming post), it would appear that Les Twinks are growing by leaps and bounds. They are approximately a combined 7lbs, which means I'm carrying the equivalent of one full-term baby right now.

By the way, they could feasibly arrive safely anywhere between FIVE AND SEVEN WEEKS from now. Wrap your head around THAT, people. Do it for me.

Because I really...can't.

And right before Valentine's Day

Today I went in for my bi-weekly appointment at the Maternal Fetal Medicine Specialist's office. As per usual, I packed myself a snack and my knitting in preparation for a three-four hour visit. I'm a veteran, they know me there now despite seeing a large number of patients for various reasons (CVS and amnio screenings and varying degrees of high risk pregnancies).

I'd started feeling very anxious about this visit because the last time I'd been in, they'd seen Baby B's arrhythmia for the first time. I let my mind wander to bleak places, considering what I would do if they discovered that it had gotten worse or if Baby A had now developed something worrisome too. It always seems that whenever I let my guard down, something comes up and smacks me in the face -- with an open hand no less. So I braced myself just in case of more bad news.

And I did get some bad news.

Depending on how you look at things.

My MFMS, Dr. Silver Fox, upon reviewing my ultrasound and other labs delivered some news that sent me reeling momentarily.

He knocked on the door, walked in the room and said "See Ya!"

I was all "What? Really?!"

And he was all "My dear, your cervix is absolutely astonishing, most women with only half a baby in them don't have a cervix like yours. It's 3.9cm!"

And I was all "Nah-uh..."

And he was all "Yes and also Baby B's arrhythmia seems to be less distinct, which means it's a (insert medical jargon that I am too lazy to Wikipedia for you) that's going to come and go into his teenage years. It is the mildest of all types of arrhythmias."

And I was all "Dude. Are you BREAKING UP WITH ME???"

And he was all "I knew you were a special patient within two minutes of meeting you and marked your file as MFP within five. You will be sorely missed, but my work here is done, you are doing beautifully, so yes, we are breaking up." (In case you were wondering, MFP stands for 'most favored patient.' I am so not kidding you. What is there not to love about this man? Did I mention he speaks four languages and was recently named the top MFMS in the state?)

So we said our goodbyes and he said he wanted to stay friends and would I please send him pictures of the Twinks after they arrived and then we hugged one last time and I left. I walked right by the scheduling desk and into the elevator like some kind of normal pregnant woman.

I'll admit, I'm sad that Dr. F and I broke up, but really it's for the best since I already have four men (not counting the Dreamster) in my line up. Good thing my OB is a woman.

In other exciting pregnancy news, I have developed pubic symphasis and it is all kinds of awesome. The advent of this development means that I also just ordered THIS. Go on. Click on the link...I'll wait.

Tell me, is it dead sexy, or WHAT.

I mean, I might as well wear a sign that says "You know you want a piece."

The nurse at Dr. Fox's office and I were cracking ourselves up talking about it and the multiple uses it could have after I'm done with it. She and I also have a little wager about whether or not it will sell on Craigs.list. Bahahahahaha. I can see the ad title now "Gently Used Prenatal Cradle" cross referenced with "sporting goods/used female jock strap."

I just cannot *wait* to see the spam comments I get from this post!

Top of the mornin'

This morning at approximately 5:42 a.m. this was the scene at Maison Piglet:

Mr. K: (getting ready in our bathroom)

Me: (groggy, turn over to try and sleep a little longer, throw leg over comforter because am suddenly sweltering and then...) Ahhhhhhhh! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Oh-my-gawd! Owwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!

Mr. K: (comes running) What?! What?! What's wrong?!!!!

Me: (thrashing around, yelling like wildebeast) Mah...mah...mah...llllllllegggggg! Crrrrraammmmmp!!! OMG! OMG! Ow! Ow! Ow!

Mr. K: Which leg? Where?! Do you need a wooden spoon to bite?!

Me: (slamming leg into comforter whilst continuing to thrash like rabid animal)

Mr. K: (pins down leg, rubs calf) Better?

Me: (after approximately 60 seconds) What the hell was that?! I think I stopped breathing momentarily.

I love, love, love Les Twinks, but boy are they wreaking havoc on my poor little body. If you have any crazy remedies for leg cramps (Katell, I remember your bar of soap in the sheets one), please for the love of Jude, pass them along!

Just added to my list of To Dos? Wooden spoon on bedside table.

At long last

An update.

From moi.

This post threatens to be so long that I almost think it deserves a foreward. No really. However, seeing as it's 10:29 p.m. on a Friday night and I'm fresh out of famous people or experts to write one, I'll just jump right in. For some reason, I'm feeling the list format for this one.

1. I saw Dr. Dreamy this week...the tie was green with a silvery diamond print and the shirt was crisp and white with a subtle tone-on-tone stripe. The loafers were black and shiny, but not too shiny. There were four hugs and much friendly banter. I may or may not have hugged too tightly back. Clearly my crush is still present and accounted for. In fact, when I took attendance, it jumped up and said "That's ME! I'm here! I'm here! Alive and kicking!" What can I say, old habits die hard. Good thing Mr. K is not the jealous type. For my new bloggy friends, you can read a bit about my obsession extremely professional relationship with the Dreamster here.

2. I bought more twin gear. Not just clothes, but real stuff that requires assembly and installation and swearing whilst using allen wrenches. I am now the owner of not one, but TWO double strollers. The nesting continues. Today I washed bottles even though I know I will have to wash and sterilize them again once the babes arrive. I just needed to go through the motions to remind myself how it all works. I found all my pump parts and milk storage stuff...ah the memories. I've already been scoping out places with the plumpiest cabbage.

3. I've been having a lot of contractions, both real and Braxton Hicks. I had my first episode of feeling short of breath and had to lay down on my side and drink lots of water before it passed. My OB says the contractions are to be expected with a second pregnancy and especially with multiples. I lost two pounds last week. What?!

4. Mr. K's company party was this week. I was bad, very bad and stood up and walked around for three straight hours. Because it was an all-company party with the folks from the UK and Japan in attendance, not to mention all other remote and local employees, Mr. K needed to make the rounds. I have to say I had a great time because I've been around long enough now that I have made friends of my own within the company. Plus, I got to see my pie-baking friends from the condo, Avery, Caden and Josie's mom and compare bellies with Dr. A. The only downside was that the next day my body said:

Oh, so *that's* how you want to play?!

Take THIS! (sciatic pain) and

THIS! (contractions) Oh, you still want more?

How 'bout a little of THIS! (toilet facial)

5. And last but not least an update on Les Twinks. A week ago Friday I had another appointment with my MFM practice. It was a standard fetal growth scan where they measure the babies growth, check their amniotic fluid, make sure all their important bits are present and no irregular bits have popped up. They also listen to the babies' heartbeats and take note of the BPM. It usually takes about 90 minutes or up to two hours if the babies are feeling particularly wily.

My ultrasound on this particular Friday took over three hours. It appears that Baby B has an arrhythmia so they did an immediate echocardiogram. Structurally his heart looks fine, no abnormalities so that rules out more serious types of arrhythmias. But I have to tell you, MY heart was in my throat when I heard his heart skip a beat on the doppler. I was all "What, why, um, did his heart just SKIP A FREAKING BEAT?"

My MFMS, who is a prince of a man (perhaps could have had Dreamy status were he about 20 years younger), and not at all alarmist, said that while many arrhythmias resolve themselves, he did not think Baby B's would. And for some reason in my mind, I still thought that it would be something he'd eventually outgrow, but nope. Dr. MFMS said that it would likely not cause him any problems in infancy, childhood or even adulthood. Adulthood - WHAT?! I was so sad to learn that it's something he'll probably have his ENTIRE LIFE. Eff.

The good news is it will not preclude him from doing anything (Mr. K's response was "Does it mean he can't run?!"). It just means he will be monitored for it his entire life. When I take the Twinks to the pediatrician, I'll always have to say "Oh and he's the one with the arrhythmia." As an adult, when filling out medical forms, he'll have to check the box with "arrhythmia." And while the news is not devastating, it it never feels good to hear that there is something, anything irregular or wrong with your child. And especially not a major organ. Sigh...

And were that not enough drama for one visit, my cervix shortened nearly one centimeter in a week to 3.4 cm. And while the sonographer was checking it for funneling she saw that I was having contractions that I WAS NOT FEELING. Eff!

I had another ultrasound this week and all looks the same - cervix still 3.4 cm and arrhythmia still present. Oh and the boys' weights are discordant for the first time ever. Baby B weighs 2lbs 12oz. and Baby A weighs 2lbs 6oz. At least they're both still fatties. :)

Twenty five big ones

We have officially surpassed the viability mark by a full week! Les Twinkies have been cooking for a full 25 weeks as of today. I just went back and re-read my posts from right after I found out I was pregnant and then the ones after I found out I was pregnant with identical twins.

I was a leeeetle bonkers.

In fact, I believe I still am.

Perhaps I have always been.

I'm pretty sure Mr. K would say the last statement is the truest.

Getting back to the Twinks...

They have been gestating for 25 weeks! They are active and growing and their heartbeats are strong (I know this because I check every night, sometimes Piglet helps). Tell me that doesn't break your heart with sweetness. And were your heart not already broken by that admission, I would share that one of his top three favorite things to do right now is lift up the hem of my shirt, rub my belly, put his face next to it and plant a loud kiss near my bellybutton. Mmmmmmwah!

I SWEAR TO GOD.

And it's not like he's mimicking Mr. K either because Mr. K isn't quite that squishy and sentimental. He's more into making me eat lots of leafy greens and avocados and well anything that I can keep down. :)

So back to the Twinks, I could meet them anywhere between 10-12 weeks from now.

TEN TO TWELVE WEEKS PEOPLE.

And next week I will say NINE TO ELEVEN WEEKS.

And the week after that I will say...well you get the picture.

Soon both those numbers will be single digits.

We are closing in on the home stretch and I have started feathering my nest. Right now it's full of tiny white onesies and blue and white polka dotted sleepers for babies "Up to 7lbs."

There I go breaking your heart (and mine) again.

So you will forgive my cruelty (and keep reading!) tomorrow I will write about my hilarious and circular conversation with Mr. K about the car we need to buy in the next TEN TO TWELEVE WEEKS.

TEN TO TWELVE.

I just had to say it again.

P.S. I heard from Murgdan that it is International Blog Delurking Week! Wahooty! Remember my philosophy - to lurk is to love. But I would like to return your love (unrequited is soooo 1992) so pretty please if you read my blog, if you are entertained by my Piglet, if we inspire a little giggle from you now and then, leave a comment! It will thrill us to the very core. No, really.

My appointment today

A short and sweet update about my boys. I am happy to report that they are still doing so well! They are in fact, thriving. Fluid levels look perfectly even, my cervix grew and is now back to its former glory of 4.37cm and in the past 2.5 weeks the Twinks gained a half a pound each and now weigh 1.5lbs a piece. My perinatologist said that they are bucking the trend of twins being small. Of course I beamed with pride.

Let me just say it again...

THREE POUNDS WORTH OF BABIES!

Les Twinks -- MY Twinks are fatties!

This puts them in the 83% for weight at this gestational age and the scale is based on singletons!

That's right.

You heard me.

I've already pulled out the percentile brag sheet and the babes are STILL IN MY WOMB.

And that, my friends, is how we roll here at Maison Piglet. :)

P.S. - Lest you think it's *all* rainbows and sunshine here, I will confide that I'm thinking about switching our final name choices for the boys to Z.ofran and Z.antac. The boys may be thriving but I am unfortunately NOT! Really the only thing that doesn't make me totally nauseous or give me wicked heartburn are sweets - ice cream, pie, pastries and candy. Now watch me get gestational diabetes. Sheesh.

Update on Les Twinks

Today I had another long ultrasound followed by an appointment with the Maternal Fetal Specialist. I must say, 4.5 weeks really is too long between visits. I started to get anxious at about the three week mark. I am happy to report that Les Twinks / Wontons are doing fabulously!

Here are some pictures of the little darlings. Sorry they aren't the best quality, I took them with my phone and then just emailed them to myself. Too tired to go downstairs to get my camera!

Baby B's foot...though it looks just like Baby A's and also just like Piglet's!

Baby A's winning profile!

Baby A's face from the front. I must say it looks EXACTLY like Piglet's ultrasound pics from the same angle. And I stared at those day in and out and carried them around in my purse so I know what I'm talking about!

Baby B laughing. I had just started to tell the sonographer that I thought Baby B was going to be my calm one and then he started moving his jaw up and down like this as if to say "Sucker. I am a total hellion!"

Man, they are BIG little buggers.

Average at this point in gestation for singleton is about 10.5-11 ounces and 6.5 inches in length.

Les Twinks? Care to venture a guess? You're going to be stunned. I was!

They are 15.7oz and 16oz and 11.5 inches long.

Seriously. What?!

Yes, there is a margin of error, but still, it means they are at least the same size of singletons, or gulp, even bigger than what was shown.

Plus they are measuring nearly a week ahead! My little overachieving Wontons! My guess is that I'll deliver a little after 35 weeks and they'll still be in the 6lb range. There I go counting my chickens again. But so far, I've been right. These babies are made of duct tape or something, they are amazingly strong!

Cervix doing great too! Fluid levels even and clean! All in all it was a fantastic visit.

I also got the sonographer whom I just LOVED which made my almost two hour ultrasound fly by. Plus I had really missed my Twinks, so I was happy to see them bobbing around in there. I even got to witness Baby A deliver a swift kick to Baby B's head. Baby B then migrated all the way up above my belly button. It was so wild and fascinating to observe. I felt so lucky. I still feel lucky.

And now? Yep, still feeling lucky.

The reasons are obvious but I'll tell you anyway. My baby boys are thriving despite my complete inability to stop puking every single day. They are still getting what they need. They are happy in my cozy womb. They are healthy. They are interacting with each other and smiling as they do.

They are perfect.

And in my own way, because of them, I feel perfect too.