Do we feel like 30 is reasonable?

Little Drama Queen Twin A is most definitely grounded.  I'm thinking until age 30.  That's reasonable, no?

Twin B seems to be like Mark, as in I Go With The Flow, Word To Your Mother But Only If You Feel Like It, Also More Candy Plz, Etc.

Twin A seems to be like Jennepper: Look at me! Look at me!  Look at meeeeeee!  I'm sure that she will start a blog immediately at birth that will be all, "there's a nurse here in Ed Hardy Sweatpants, WTF Y'all?" and then people will be like, "Ur Stoopid" and she will be like, "Ur Stoopider" and then she will require many, many carbs.

We went to Ohio State Medical Center to see Dr. O'Shaughnessy, because we needed to decide if we had Twin to Twin Transfusion.  We do not.  So that was good news.  I will say that I wasn't overly impressed with the doctor - he seemed very competent, but barely spoke to us directly and gave us nearly zero information during our scan or afterward, really.  Aside from, "you do not have TTTS, but I want one of my heart guys to meet with you" he didn't really say anything to us at all.

I don't post that to be bitchy, I just post it because that's how it was.  At the same time, he brought in a cake for a patient who went past her Worry Date in her pregnancy and they were celebrating.  I think that sounds awesome and makes him sound like an amazing doctor - which I'm sure he really is - but for us?  Meh.  Everyone else there was very friendly, and Sally did our ultrasound and was SO NICE OH MAH GAH.  So if you've found me in a mad google search, that's my review. 

Anyway, Little Miss Drama Twin A is definitely smaller and something about the blood flow in her heart looked a bit limited.   We tried to get a same-day appointment with a cardiologist at Nationwide Children's in Columbus, but they could only squeeze us in on Tuesday morning.  So we stayed a second night in Columbus and enjoyed a date night. 

(We saw The Town - it was good.  I ate a bag of Reeses Pieces. The end.)

So, for the fourth time this month, we had a 1.5 hour ultrasound - this time, a fetal echo - and both babies were crazy little movers.  I should have been thinking of really grown up responsible questions to ask but all I could really think of is how close-up of the heart looked like the Scream Mask to me, which Boo Hoo Courteney Cox and David Arquette Break Up Woe.

The ultrasound lady was also very nice here, and the cardiologist was seriously one of the nicest people I've ever met.  We really liked him and if we lived closer we'd see him again.  His name was Dr. Kovalchin, in case you're looking for a pediatric cardiologist in Columbus.  I sat there like an exhausted moron zombie, but Mark asked some questions and the doctor was very friendly and explained things to us in a way that was easy to understand.

The general consensus is that the opening of her aortic artery is on the narrow side.  Watch and see, but it is entirely possible that it's all going to be fiiiiiiine.

That's it: overall good news!   We have to follow up with a pediatric cardiologist in Akron next month, but it's business as usual around here.

Sorry for the lack of updates, but as per usual, I haven't really felt like blogging because this shit?  Is exhausting.  Among other exhausting things happening, like home improvements, new position at work, and trying to begin preparations for these two trouble makers in my uterus of doom.  Am tired, boo hoo hoo.

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One Year Ago:  So, How 'bout That Swine Flu
Two Years Ago:  21 Weeks: My Life As A Simpsons Character
Three Years Ago:  Since You Asked...

Hospital Planning FAIL

This is the sign in the waiting room of the Maternal Fetal Medicine office.  You go through the same set of double doors if you are hugely pregnant and full of the speshul problems or if you have a rare cross-breed of malaria and syphilis.

I mean, it's pretty much impossible to come out of the office without thinking: OK, which ones of you sonzabitches is infectious?

Thank you for all of your comments - it really does help to hear from people who have been through it, and that people are pulling for my little drama queens.  I appreciate every single one.  And the emails, which I have read but haven't had time to respond to - you guys are the best. 

(Speaking of email, I changed my address because it turns out that I find Hotmail to be a complete whore.  So if you're emailing me regularly, check my profile to get the new address. Kthxbai.)

But really, I think we are doing a pretty good job of not going completely insane.  Partly because of this Fat Booth picture that my cousin took of me:

But mostly because of my little comedian.  She's like a flaming bag of adorable fun.  Kind of makes it impossible to be sad.

The other day, she pretended like she was going to give me a kiss, and then when she got right by my face she stole my glasses and belly laughed like a completely crazed maniac. 

Here's what happened: The Dramz

Thursday, 10/7: My fun taco or sausage appointment took a turn for the not-so-fun when the doctor had to come help the ultrasound tech scan Twin A's brain.  And then they Found Something Questionable and also I Will See The MFM Afterall.

And after being at the OB for nearly two hours, losing my shit for the last 20 minutes, and looking like a complete and total pistachio?  All I wanted to do was come home and play with Olivia and then bury my head under the covers and just get some sleep.

But I waited to long to eat, and then after I did finally eat I barfed it all back up.  And then I was sick and didn't sleep all night and then I had to go to work.  Isn't my blog so much fun?  It doesn't sound like as much fun as it really was.

Weekend in a nutshell: sick, woe, worry.

Monday, 10/11: Ultrasound with the MFM (Dr. Stewart, for my locals).  Ultrasound lasted about an hour and a half, and then the doctor came in.  Brains looked fine, actually.  Just fiiiiiiiine.

Howevah.

One twin weighs 13 oz, one weighs 9 oz.  OH NOES, apparently.

Identical twins are at risk for Twin To Twin Transfusion Syndrome - one baby gets too much blood, the other baby not enough.  Basically, both of them are screwed if it gets out of control.  And by screwed, I mean all sorts of things, like Probably Will Be Preemies If They Are Lucky.  And Other Very Bad Things If They Are Not Lucky.

Oh, but Dr. Stewart.  Really.  I love him and not in a naughty way.  He was genuinely kind, he explained things simply but not in a condescending way.  He really, really listened to my questions and answered them completely.  He will be my doctor for the rest of this pregnancy.

BUT.  Anyway, not to get too happy on you because DANGER AND WOE!  Dr. Stewart thinks that mah baybees have Twin To Twin Transfusion going on, and that a visit to a specialist is in order.  Because, you know, this specialist can perform a surgery in utero to help correct the problem.

Surgery.  In utero.

So I see this doctor on Monday, and it's in Columbus which is a nice 2.5 hours away from us.  And we have to be there at 7:45 a.m.   His name is Dr. O'Shaughnessy and if any of you have a rave review, please let me know.  Because I made the mistake of Googling Twin To Twin Transfusion and now I'm all kinds of worried.  Please tell me that he's the sexed-down version of Addison Montgomery Shepherd.

That's the update.  That's the reason I've been MIA.  It's just all too much right now and all I want to do is sleep and cuddle my Olivia and bury my head in the sand.  But I live in Ohio and there is no sand and so maybe I'll just stuff my face into a big bowl of cheese sauce.

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One Year Ago: Eight Months.  And By Eight, I Mean Ate.
Two Years Ago: Please Nominate Me For What Not To Wear
THREE YEARS AGO!: Trying to Conceive: A Month-by-Month Guide

We lack breakfast meats at our house.

Well, that's not entirely true.  There is Mark, afterall.  And we have two boy dogs.

Other than that it's a TACO PARTAY UP IN HERE!

Yes, two girls.  And they are bringing the drama already.  It's like the teen years are playing out in my uterus right this very second.  We're already seeing specialists and everything. 

I'll post a proper update, when I have time to document the drama, but for now: GIRLS!  TACO PARTY!  PINK BAYBEE GAP ZOMG!

Let me clear a few things up.

I haven't returned emails from blog friends since...July? August? I have no idea. Let's make a choose your own adventure out of this: if you are tired of my excuses, read The Short Of It; if you are tired of my excuses but want to read my less-than-compelling story about my inability to manage technology, read The Long of it.

The Short of It: I'm a dick, probably.

The Long of It: Hotmail was working on my iPhone. For a long time, too. But then I did my last update and somehow it is not working again.  You know how I know?  Because I sat on my lunch break and typed out two really long replies (one to the person who asked about my embryos, and one to the person who emailed me twice about identical twins) and I couldn't get them out of my outbox.  And I couldn't save them as drafts.  And I can't decide who is the dick: iPhone, Hotmail, or Jennepper. 

So anyway.  I need to return emails, but the only time I get to actually be on the computer is when I blog, which is now once a week if we're lucky.  Blah.  So if you're out there thinking I'm a stuck up bitch for not returning your super nice email (and wow, am I on a "everyone is nice streak" email-wise), then you're wrong. 

I'm not a stuck up bitch, I'm a dick.  Probably.

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Dear Cheryl from Redbook,

I fell in love with Jimmy Dean because of his delicious egg and cheese omelets. Not because of his...sausage.

Much Love,
Jen formerly from Redbook (sort of) but not anymore.

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The pioneer of IVF won the Nobel Prize, which is awesome.
Could we all stop calling them test tube babies already?  Before I set the world on fire or cut someone?

Also, I picked that link because I don't think it has comments.  And HOLY HELL you people should just step away from the comments, because I'm not the only dick out there, mkay?  Just...don't read them.  If you've done IVF or infertility treatments at all.  The end.

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Anonymous,

I DON'T find out if this is a sausage fest or taco party on the same day as Bev at A Baby Maybe.  She finds out one day earlier than me, even though she's due close to a month after me. 

The people at my OB are ultrasound Nazis.  I asked if I could come in early for my ultrasound:

She: Ultrasound will be at 20 weeks, so Thursday, October 7.

Me: Can I come early?  Kthxbai?

She: Well, you could come on Wednesday, I guess, but we don't do ultrasounds on Wednesdays.

Me: Tuesday?

She: NO.  KTHXBAI.

Alas.  I have to wait an extra day.  Woe is me, and I know you are all very heart broken over this.  And not to overwhelm you, but the K key on my keyboard is broken and do you realize how much you use the K?  DO YOU? 

Kthxbai,
Jennepper.

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I hate to even bring this up when I'm on such a roll of only nice comments and emails...but.  Just because someone has a public blog doesn't mean that they should lay down and allow you to take a crap on their face (a Hot Carl, as it were). 

(Did you know that there is also a Warm Carl, and a Cold Carl?  Yeah.  Me either.)

I know that it's really difficult to pull yourself away from my blog, you know, with that guy I hired standing behind you with a gun to your head FORCING YOU TO READ THIS DRIVEL!  I know that you'd much rather return to your more refined reading, about the proper use of finger bowls with dinner or which enormous hat goes with which wine. 

Or whatever. 

So anyway, if you don't like me, the feeling is probably mutual.  No need to point out the obvious.   I see why David Thorne chose the whole Go Away thing for his blog.  (Have you read his blog?  It completes me.)  Because wasting your time reading my blog and leaving nasty comments?  Makes you the idiot, not me.

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One Year Ago: Working vs. Staying at Home
Two Years Ago: I don't need you!  I don't need anyone!  I have a Snoogle!