Twin pregnancy: Week 32

It's been another crazy roller coaster week, but today I'm happy to be on the upswing.

Things improved since last week's visit to labor and delivery, thank the heavens above. But it still hasn't been a cake walk. It's been just over a week and I've only left the house a handful of times. While that normally would make me nuts, this time it's been awesome. I really need to be hunkered down. I'm getting to the point where moving around is difficult not because I'm so big, but because I have contractions pretty much all day every day. Thankfully they're not too intense (yet), but the pure fact that they haven't stopped in 9 days and will not stop until I deliver these babies has just made the situation really ridiculous. Frankly, I'm now kind of pissed off about it. It's just exhausting and so pointless. Nothing else is changing physically, the babies are not on their way yet (at least so far). So hey, body, let's just settle down now, huh?

At 31 weeks

OK, so the attitude is not part of the upswing (although it does keep me from getting depressed, so maybe). Today I'm feeling good because I had another appointment and everything looks great. Plus, I have a possible explanation for all the pain and craziness this past week. Last Wednesday Baby A was head down/feet up and Baby B was feet down/head up — a little yin-yang position for the two. This morning, Baby A was still in the same position but Baby B is now on top and perpendicular, so they're making a "T" shape. That's 4 lbs. of baby, plus a placenta and amniotic fluid, jostling around and turning every which way — not to mention the other 4 lbs. of baby trying to stay put while all that goes on around her. With all this jockeying for position, no wonder my uterus is angry and not reacting kindly. That's a lot of action in such close quarters.

Speaking of close quarters, I am baffled at how so much is going on in such a small space. I am 32 weeks pregnant with two babies measuring right on track for their gestational age, so there's roughly 8 lbs. of baby with another 3-ish lbs. of placenta and fluid, and yet I'm only measuring 35 weeks. Even more confusing: At 29 weeks I was measuring 36. Some more numbers for ya: Despite eating like a linebacker the past month I have only gained 33 lbs. total, 3 of which happened since my last appointment. And, I am only 5'2" so there's really nowhere to go but out.

Ouch. Math makes my brain hurt — especially math that doesn't actually add up.

I'm guessing that the babies' new positions make my stomach seem ever-so-slightly smaller. Or maybe my organs have been pulverized by the weight and vigor of two very active babies and are not actually solid mass anymore. Or maybe my doc is just messing with me.

Mostly likely it's just what I've been saying all along: Growing a baby is HARD WORK. Growing two must be double that, because although I've been sitting or lying down for the better part of a week and stuffing my face indiscriminately, I still feel like I've run a marathon every day. So in a really weird way, getting pregnant with twins is the best diet I've ever been on. My body has never been so efficient at putting these calories to use, even when I don't put the best ones in. Almost makes up for the constant pain and agony and the likely permanent scars I'll bear at the end of all this.

Almost.

Twin pregnancy: Week 31

Yep, I hate this.

As a fellow mom of multiples put it, a twin pregnancy is the one crazy time when you've never wanted to simultaneously stay pregnant and be done being pregnant so badly in your life. 

I can handle the physical aspect of being big and slow (other than the daily contractions, but more on that later), but I hate how it's messing with my head. I'm not one to say "I can't," even when I should. I'm a pusher. It's what's gotten me through the awful times in my past, so it's an instinct I can't easily turn off. That's why it's so hard to suddenly feel useless and helpless--and even harder for me to ask for help or even take it when offered. I survived on grit alone for years, but now it's not healthy to do that. This is probably exactly why I've been given this challenge. I haven't learned these skills, but I literally cannot do all the things my brain tells me I can totally handle if I just suck it up. I need to stop, I need to lay down, I need to let others take over... But I can't shake that feeling of duty and responsibility that drives so much of my life. 

What I need to keep reminding myself is, my duty needs to be all about these babies. Even my son can wait, because I am literally the only person who can take care of my daughters right now. 

I was slapped with that reality today when I ended up in the hospital, again. I started having contractions around 10 p.m. last night (side note: Why must these things always happen after hours?). By 4:30 a.m. they were every 6 or 7 minutes, so I made my way into labor & delivery around 5 a.m. 

The good news is it didn't look like the babies themselves were coming, but my body couldn't care less about that fact. The twins are healthy and doing just fine, I was only dilated to a 1, and the fetal fibronectin test that predicts imminent labor came back negative--but still, the contractions got to be just a few minutes apart and weren't slowing down. 

My doctor put it this way: I may only be 31 weeks along, but with the size of my uterus and the weight of these babies, my body thinks it's 41 weeks along. It can't figure out why I'm still pregnant and is trying to do something about it. 

And yes, all of this is common and even expected with a twin pregnancy. So yes, this could be my life for the next few weeks. Cue sad, self-pitying tears. 

Around 7 a.m. I was given a steroid injection to help the babies' lungs mature, should they decide to come early anyway. I was also given a shot to relax the uterus and stop the contractions. It didn't work at first, but they couldn't give me another because it made my heart go crazy so I sat and waited for another hour. At long last, things settled down and the contractions, while still consistent, were down to 10 minutes apart. Finally, at 8:30 I got to go home. 

The other blessing in this is that I'm not on strict bed rest, which I really feared. Some women are in such dire straits they are relegated to the hospital for months on end. Even though I only have 6 weeks to go and even if I could have take my bed rest at home, I still think I would absolutely go mad. Thankfully, my doctor says that while it can help you relax, there's no concrete evidence that bed rest prevents or stops preterm labor--and in fact, new studies are saying it can do more harm than good. So I'm in bed today and probably tomorrow, but after that I just need to take it easy. Which is ironic, because if I take it too much easier I might as well be on bed rest anyway. 

I've already had to stop doing, well, pretty much everything I do around here on a daily basis. My husband has the house taken care of and Evan is pretty low-maintenance for a 3-year-old. But the biggest change is that I recently lost both of my jobs unexpectedly, for unrelated reasons that are beyond my control. This has been frustrating beyond compare and terrifying financially, especially right NOW just weeks before Christmas and before we become a family of 5. I don't have any clue how it's all going to come together, or if it really will, but I'm trying to just have faith and focus on the positive--mainly, the belief that this is God's way of telling me to let go. 

I have been pushing and struggling for months trying to find a better way, trying to give us more of a cushion post-birth since there's no telling when I'll be able to work again, if ever (at least while the kids are young). I have tried about everything I could possibly think of, and all to no avail. And now to have this door slammed in my face, I have no choice but to finally take it as a sign that I need to put it down, all of it. You have no idea how hard it is for me to essentially be told, "Your job right now is to do nothing." But that's the only guidance I'm getting. It is all completely out of my hands now, so I need to let it be. I don't know what the answer is, but I know it's not me. It is not my job to come up with or be the solution. If it was, then something would have materialized long ago. It's cold comfort at best, but just another one of those things you have to wade through before you finally find the lesson and see the light. And hey, there's still time for a Christmas Miracle!

So that's where I am now: metaphorically waiting in the dark while literally sitting on the couch or sprawling out in bed. Frustrating? You bet. But I can still find plenty of blessings, and that's what I'm holding onto. 

In the meantime, I'll just binge on Christmas movies and get all the Evan snuggles I can before two more tiny people need my complete attention. And I'll focus on the most important duty I have right now: to get these girls here safely. After all, no one else can do it but me. 

Twin pregnancy: Week 29

Just a quick update with some significant numbers:

Months pregnant: 7

Weeks pregnant: 29

Weeks belly is measuring: 36

Pounds gained: 30

Number of babies on board: 2 (I keep asking my docs to make sure no one else is hiding in there)

Minutes I can stand before the pain takes over: 15

Final eviction date: January 14

That's right: These babies will be here in 8 weeks or less!

Kinda freaking out right now...

Twin pregnancy: Week 28

Good news and bad news on the twin pregnancy front.

The bad news is, despite really watching my diet, I now have gestational diabetes. 

Apparently the "experts" don't actually know what makes someone develop diabetes when pregnant exactly, aside from making an educated guess based on risk factors. And I do have a few: I'm over 30, I have a family history of diabetes, and I have more than one baby on board. Seems that the placenta is most likely what affects insulin use, and having two placentas put me at a much higher risk for developing gestational diabetes. So now I have to take a class on it and test my blood sugar four times a day for the next week and hope that a more controlled diet will take care of business. Keep your fingers crossed for me, because I really don't think I can handle going off carbs completely. My depression would not take to that kindly.

The good news is, I have just 10 weeks left to go!

I am now 28 weeks pregnant, which translates into 7 months. When I see that written out, wow, I can't believe how much time has already passed. It seems crazy how this pregnancy, with all its ups and downs (OK, mostly mopey downs), has just flown by. What's even more nuts is that "10 weeks left" business. It's not "10 weeks give or take" — it's "10 weeks maximum." Twins are full-term at 37 weeks  but often come even earlier. My doc won't let me go past 38 weeks, so if the babies aren't here by then, she'll make it so. 

That's right, folks: I will officially be a mom of three and a Mother of Multiples no later than January 25!!!

This is incredibly exciting and terribly daunting. For the last few months I've been going back and forth between, "How on earth am I going to manage all the craziness that comes with having twins???" and, "Hey, I got this. Yeah, it's going to be tough, but I can do tough. I AM tough." 

Today, like most days, I have experienced just about all of that and everything in between. This morning when Evan nearly had a meltdown because I attempted to put gel in his hair, I had one of those "Why is being a mom so full of this kind of crap?" moments where I can't believe these are the things that make up my life. But an hour later, when he was off at preschool and I was alone in the peaceful quiet of an empty house, I put all the baby clothes into their dresser and closet. Pulling out each little onesie and pair of footie jammers put a little flutter in this mommy's heart, mostly because my hormones are working on overdrive but also because OH MY GOSH BABY GIRL CLOTHES ARE SO CUTE!! And even though the nursery isn't even close to being finished (though it is remarkably cleaner), stocking it up with supplies gives me the illusion that I am prepared (or will be in time) and this is really happening and it's going to be great.

In the meantime, I am just trying to survive physically. After my last post things unfortunately got much worse and I ended up in L&D again, but then they also got better for a while. I'm somewhere in between now. I realized that I am going to be in terrible pain by about 3 p.m. no matter what I do, so I may as well try for a little productivity in the morning if only for the sake of boosting my mood and making me feel like I am still participating in life. Admittedly I'm still really limited and can't do much; putting the aforementioned clothes in the room was about all I could handle this morning, and a quick afternoon jaunt to the store (read: a slow and painful hobble to and from the pharmacy) had me doubled over in pain when I got home. But at least I can still walk! I may not be able to say the same in a few weeks, so I'm trying to make the most of it while I can.

On a related note, I'm thinking my progress pics just aren't doing my belly justice. I thought the camera was supposed to add 10 lbs., but in these it seems it's whittling me down. I swear to you I am so much bigger in real life ... or maybe that's just because I feel enormous and heavy beyond belief.

At any rate, here I am at 28 weeks. And yes, even though I felt ridiculous, I smiled.

I may seem small for having two babies in there, but kindly compare this to my pregnancy with Evan at 35 weeks:

So, yeah... That pretty much speaks for itself.

But you know what's really making this phase of my life more enjoyable? My awesome little family. If I haven't mentioned yet how amazing my husband is, I'm going to do it now. He's taken over the housework with no complaint — and not only that, he's the one who forbade me from doing it anymore. He's helped me with all my projects and things I can't physically do anymore, AND it seems we might actually be meeting in the middle on some baby names (finally!!). Throughout all of Evan's life, Aaron has absolutely been an equal parenting partner, and I know that when the twins get here we'll be an awesome team. It takes so much stress out of this situation knowing that I will be supported by this guy 100 percent.

And even though he may put up a fuss like nobody's business, my little Mr. The Dude is pretty awesome. Evan turned 3 last month, and it's like he turned a corner that day. He has been so much more content, happy, and silly, not to mention more independent and loving. Yes, he has his share of tantrums, but what child doesn't? Besides, they are dwindling and he's happier to get with the program and live up to his "Big Boy" status now. Evan is absolutely one of a kind and has me cracking up with the things he says and does. Being stranded at home most days is actually pretty entertaining with this knucklehead putting on a one-man-show.

This is still to say nothing of the truly wonderful friends and family who have also stepped up to help out. I can't say enough about my parents and in-laws taking care of Evan when we need it — especially my dad, who will drop whatever he's doing and take Evan for the entire day if I need it. I know Evan really loves his days with Papa, and it's a bond that will last a lifetime. The offers of help from friends and neighbors keep coming in, and rest assured I will take every single one of you up on those offers when these babies finally make their arrival! I feel really blessed to be surrounded by such a wonderful community. 

Until then, don't be shy to come for a visit. I don't get out as much as I used to, and I fear the days will get pretty bleak without some more social interaction. So drop me a line and stop on by. I may be slightly unkempt and plopped on the sofa, but I'm always up for a little chat.

Twin pregnancy: Week 26

I've worked really hard on being upbeat about this pregnancy, but the time has come to just say it:

Being pregnant with twins sucks.

It's a good thing I got this silly, goofy belly pic out of the way at week 24, because from here on out, you probably won't see such happiness from me for a while.

Granted, I was being sarcastically happy here. I keep getting flak from friends and family about having such cranky, mug shot-looking belly pics, like so:

I'm not trying to look grumpy, and I don't even feel grumpy in these shots; I just really dislike my profile and don't relish having pictures taken of it.

Now, however, I'm feeling the grumpy.

Actually, what I'm really feeling is pain. Before, I'd get the occasional twinges and stretching sensations — uncomfortable and unpleasant, but bearable. Now it seems that about every four or five weeks the babies (and, subsequently, my belly) go through a growth spurt. The first round of this at about 17 weeks wasn't great, but it wasn't so bad either. Week 21 was pretty painful, with Braxton Hicks contractions starting in earnest, but still bearable. Now, at week 26, I'm dying. I'm ready to just curl up on the couch and stay there until this whole experience is over.

It's not just the pain itself that has me wanting to throw in the towel; much of the agony is due to the sheer repetition of it. Just when I start to feel a bit better, in a few short hours it starts all over again. I am now on day 5 of this growth spurt with no end in sight — and my doctor tells me this is likely to be the norm from here on out. Which makes sense, considering the babies are about 2 pounds each but only have 12 more weeks to grow about 4 additional pounds apiece.

What's worse, there's not much to relieve the pain. That's because it's not a muscle pain or even a contraction that you can ease with a warm bath, Tylenol or massage. These babies are growing, fast, and while that's a wonderful thing, my poor belly just can't handle it. Every bit of tissue is being stretched, every muscle is being pulled apart, every organ is being smashed. And on top of it — literally — two hard, writhing, thrashing lumps of baby are bursting out every which way, apparently trying to make a break for it directly through my skin.

Oh, and have I mentioned the throat-boiling acid reflux and the return of the morning sickness? And the exhaustion that never left? And the shortness of breath that occasionally sends me into a panic attack because I can't get enough air? And the restless leg syndrome that keeps me awake all night — that and having to pee every two hours and the fact that we cannot agree on names for these baby girls for the life of us?

Yeah. Being pregnant with twins sucks.

This is why it always boggles my mind when people tell me they're jealous, that they've always wanted twins. I can kind of get this in theory; if you have terrible pregnancies and you really love babies, then sure, having two at once sounds like a dream come true. But this is no dream, my friends. This nightmare is my reality, and guess what? I have three months to go, and it's only going to get harder — to say nothing of the next 18 years ahead of us in which we must parent not one, but two children at the exact same stage (along with their older brother). So forgive me if I stare at you, incredulous, and ask, "Really? You really want twins??"

All right, that's enough out of me. I can't be all doom and gloom with no silver lining. When I look at the bigger picture, I actually have it pretty great. Yes, this feels pretty icky right now, but in the grand scheme of things I'm having an incredibly healthy pregnancy. Both babies are growing right on schedule and are as healthy as can be. And other than the pain and discomfort, there is nothing actually wrong with me — such a great blessing when you consider all the horrible things that could and often do go wrong in a twin pregnancy. In fact, I've actually had some really great things happen. For instance:

• I have zero stretch marks or varicose veins!
• My babies are perfectly formed and growing strong!
• My husband has taken over all the housework!
• My son has started kissing my belly and "giving loves to the babies"!
• I finally found some really cute and comfy maternity jeans!

And this is just some easy-to-find surface stuff. I probably could have devoted this entire post and then some to all the wonderful things in my life right now, just as easily as I did all this negative stuff. But sometimes, a girl just has to vent. And when that girl has twice the pregnancy hormones coursing through her veins, it becomes an imperative.

To keep myself focused on the positive, a few weeks ago I came up with my twin pregnancy mantra. I should probably plaster this all over my house to remind myself that yeah, this does suck, but I'm actually doing something pretty amazing, so it's worth it:

"Some people run marathons or climb Everest.

I grow two babies at once."

Thank you for indulging me in this rare but necessary pity party. I just want the reality to be known that this is no picnic. It is exhausting, physically demanding work — night and day, day and night, taxing my body from head to toe. Not that I want some pat on the back (though a massage of some sort would be awesome right about now); I just want the truth to be known, that growing babies — whether one, two, three or more — is incredibly, astoundingly difficult.

So the next time a pregnant woman in your life starts crying over "nothing" and will not be content until she has consumed an entire carton of ice cream, give her a hug and then go get her a refill. The lady has earned it.

Nursery odds and ends

Now that we know we're for sure having twin girls, I've been dying to get the nursery set up. The trouble is, the room looks like this:

It's currently the office/junk room. (And yes, that is a painting of Jimi Hendrix. Long story.) It's killing me that it's such a disaster, but I have been relegated to the couch and/or bed most days lately, so it's really slow going getting it cleaned out. My husband's been a champ getting a lot of it done, but most of the stuff in there is mine so I still have a lot to do.

Nevertheless, my wheels are turning. After kicking around a few twin nursery ideas, we have officially decided to go with an "Alice in Wonderland" theme. I'm so excited to actually have a girlie space in my house, as most of it is pretty dark and masculine (what can I say, I like visual drama), but this also allows my bold and colorful side to come out. 

When I first started putting together a mood board, I designed more of a nod to the stories by Lewis Carroll and the bygone era from which they came:

If you'll recall, I already have the $15 thrift store chair and the vintage dresser (plus the boring crib, but it pays to be frugal so I'm keeping it) so I'm well on my way.

But then one day while cruising through Target I was stopped dead in my tracks by these crazy curtains:

I was smitten. True, they are pretty bold, and not in keeping with the soft, delicate feel of the mood board. But what is "Alice in Wonderland" if not wildly vivid, even a touch psychedelic? It made me take a closer look at the Disney movie and the concept art by Mary Blair:

Truly inspiring. So the vision has been adjusted, and a new mood board is in progress trying to mesh the two ideas:

Not as complete or cohesive, but I'm still working on it. In the meantime, I keep finding totally awesome stuff for the nursery, like this $5 huka-looking lamp from the thrift store that my husband has painted bright purple:

And this teapot nightlight that makes me want to die of cuteness:

I also have a little medicine bottle and heart-shaped keepsake box for an "Eat Me" "Drink Me" homage, and wait until you see the piece de resistance: the mad tea party-inspired mobile I'm going to make. It's gonna be awesome.

In the meantime, I'm stuck picking away at the room one itty bitty piece at a time (*insert sad, pouty face*). It's maddening to be so restricted, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. 

Twin pregnancy: Week 21

One of the best things about the frequent doctor's appointments required for a twin pregnancy is the number of ultrasounds we get to have. Our latest set was last week, the big anatomy scan, otherwise known as the 20-week ultrasound where you're most likely to find out the gender of your baby.

For us, the prediction made by the tech at 14 weeks was confirmed: We are expecting two girls!

And by the looks of things, we are also expecting two kickboxers. It's no wonder Baby B likes to hide out on my right side — she was getting a foot-to-face beatdown from Baby A, whose feet were right in her face.

It was funny to watch and a little sad that in response, Baby B kept putting her arms and hands in front of her face to fend off the kicks.

But not to worry; Baby B could give as good as she got.

I guess it's to be expected when they're in such close quarters. Even though they are in separate amniotic sacs, the membrane is about as thin as cellophane (though thankfully much stronger). It's no wonder I feel these two kicking and moving all day long. They are not only jockeying for position and fighting for space, they're constantly throwing elbows and knees and then trying to get the heck out of the way. Must be rough being a twin in utero. I mean, can you even tell what's going on or who is who or what is what in these two pics?

While the ultrasounds are always fun, they've taken on a more serious tone of late. In the past I have always taken this milestone for granted. When I was pregnant with Evan (and even before), the 20-week ultrasound was just the chance to finally get a glimpse at your baby-to-be, find out the gender, and take home a cute little black and white photo of Junior. But now having three vastly different pregnancy experiences, I realize this is actually serious business. 

It's called an "anatomy scan" because that's what the doctor is doing: scanning the baby's anatomy from head to toe to be sure all the organs are in working order. I have known too many parents whose scans did not go well, and in the week before my own scan there were three other mothers on my Twins and Multiples message board who found out they lost one or both of their babies at such an appointment. After having lost a pregnancy myself and realizing that a twin pregnancy contains many perils, I now approach these appointments with equal parts excitement and trepidation. It's another reminder of how precious life is, and that the things we take for granted are not always given to everyone.

With that all going through my mind, it was with great relief and joy to hear that both babies are healthy and growing perfectly. There are no deformities or imperfections, and their growth is right where it should be. How blessed we are indeed to have such a healthy pregnancy.

And it's a good thing I was able to have that perspective, too, because this week has been particularly rough. I've started having Braxton Hicks contractions, which is normal at this stage of a twin pregnancy. But I was having them for more than 48 hours straight, followed by an intense shooting pain. I could still feel both babies moving, so I knew they were OK, but the doctor was concerned that too many contractions (mild as they were) could be preparing my body for labor already, so I had to check into the hospital to be sure everything was all right.

The only thing worse than going into the Labor & Delivery ward for pre-term labor is leaving without any answers. The nurses were able to determine that there has been no actual labor progression, thank the heavens above, but they don't know why I was having so many contractions or what that horrible pain is. It could be that the contractions were causing the pain, or the pain causing the contractions. It could be that the babies are just growing so fast that my body can't keep up. Whatever is going on, it hurts like the dickens and I am terrified that the next 16 or so weeks will be more of the same, or worse.

Subsequently, I've been on the couch or in bed for two days straight, and although it has helped with the pain, it's killing me to be incapacitated. I don't like feeling helpless, and even worse I don't like actually BEING helpless. Luckily I have one amazing husband who has been taking care of Evan and me and doing all of the housework (a girl can definitely get used to THAT!) and we have wonderful family who jump to help when asked.

So thank goodness for silver linings, or else I would probably be losing my mind right now. I'm choosing to focus on the thought that I am just so awesome at growing babies my body can't handle the two supergirls and their bodies of steel. I am hoping that it's just a growth spurt and in a few more days I'll be back on my feet, at least enough to feel like I'm participating in life.

In the meantime, if you need me I'll be catching up on my Netflix queue. Any suggestions?