Anonymous comments are off.

This is getting ridiculous. I don't need shit from people, at all.

This blog is not about infertility - it is about my life. If you aren't in a place to read a blog written by someone who is pregnant then DON'T!

The Rotund and the Nauseated

The soap opera that is This Pregnancy: It Continues.

(How about the word opera? I always want to spell it oprah. Am dumbass.)

Alternate Post titles:
All My Multi-Sized Children (Sum iz beeg, sum iz smallz)
As My Stomach Turns (Because I had to stop my ultrasound three times to dry heave)
The Infertile and the Greedy (because one baby isn't enough)
Passions (I can't use this. They didn't check my cervix today. Heh.)

Oh, this little teeny tiny twin. She's giving us problems. Personally, I think she's just skinny from all the exercise she gets in the middle of the night. I imagine that if she could talk, she'd yell at me at 2 a.m. like Olivia when she wants to go outside: "MAHM! MAHM! MAHHHHHM! COME ON! PLAY!"

Alas, my smart doctor disagrees. And he has a medical degree so Dr. Stewart FTW!

My itty bitty twin is almost 30% smaller than my normal-but-looks-giant twin. That disparity is holding strong, but isn't improving. And the doctor is worried that my itty bitty might be worse off in my Uterus of Doom than out.

Still doesn't seem to be Twin to Twin Transfusion. The single vessel cord, combined with the fact that her cord insertion is at the very edge of the placenta, seem to be the problems.

I had my 26 week appointment today and was slapped with the "come back in two weeks and we will decide if we need to start steroids so that we can deliver your babies." And then, "the nurse will be right in to get your blood pressure." Bwahahahaha!  (No, but seriously.  That's what happened.)

As he put it, we need to find the balance between Too Soon for the normal baby, and Too Late for the little baby.  We need to decide the best time to deliver them both when they will have the best chance of survival.

Survival.

We are talking about survival at my appointments now.

I mean, if anyone ever needed an alcoholic beverage, it is the OB patient discussing survival at her 26 week appointment.  I enjoyed two tasty Boosts but it's just not the same.

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One Year Ago:  FET: Makes Me Feel All Stabby
Two Years Ago:  Anatomy of an Advertisement
Three Years Ago:  Me?  I'm PUPO

All the stuff that's been happening...

In between me being pissed off at...everyone, apparently.  Let me show you it.

Olivia went to Boo at the Zoo.  She loved it but refused to look at the camera so that I could record her happiness.  Way to ruin memories Olivia GOD!



Totally NOMable Cupcake.

 At the zoo, Olivia discovered an undying love and devotion to the Oatmeal Cream Pie. She shoved it into her face by the fistfull, and gave me her best "I Will Cut You" look when I tried to take her picture.

Fact: I love Oatmeal Cream PIes.
Fact: I will cut you.

She basically ignored all of the animals, and went bat shit crazy over the little village of Little Tykes plastic houses.  She also threatened emancipation filings when we wouldn't let her get into someone else's wagon.  Because OMG A WAGON!  WANT!  She felt better after a Moon Pie, though, so it was a real successful parenting moment for us.

Then, we got family pictures taken by Felicia at FML Photo Design.  Olivia was fun and adorable and I loved all of the pictures and then I wished I was a millionaire so that I could buy them all.  The problem is that Felicia does way too fantastic of a job.  Here are a few that we aren't going to use for the Christmas Card.

Olivia's mullet seems to be slowly giving up on life outside of the 80's.  It's now spreading to the top of her head and is getting to be pretty long.  So I thought maybe I'd try pigtails...which went over in what I'd call a supremely piss poor fashion.  It was like she went through the Five Stages of Goddamned Grief over her new hair-do reality:

Denial

La la la...I am doing whatever I want and nothing has happened to my head.

Anger

WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?
I was happy playing and then you made me pose for this dumbass picture
and you can't even get the focus right!
Parenting FAIL!



Bargaining

Please!  Just take this shit out of my hair and let me poke mah eye with these nail clippers!
I won't feed my fruit to the dogs again, I swearz!

Depression

OK, I'm seriously sad.
But that noise you made was kind of funny.
Well played, mom.  Well played.

Acceptance

Oh, FINE!  I'm cute, you are correct.  Let's go watch Yo Gabba Gabba.


There's a party in my tummy!  Party party!

When I was pregnant with Olivia, I wore heels until I gave birth.  No problem.  I also wore my normal jeans with a belly band the entire time  But I'm 25 weeks right now, and for the past three weeks I haven't been able to wear anything but my running shoes and stretchy maternity pants.  Because my thighs rub so much that there is a Smokey The Bear campaign to keep me away from forests because all of that friction is damned dangerous.  And if I don't wear running shoes, my feet fall off at the ankle and are replaced with elephant appendages.

I worked all day in running shoes.  Then wore cute flats out to dinner while I sat for about an hour.
They're both swollen, but Old Lefty is really going for gold.

I've been feeling less sick, but more physically uncomfortable.  I still don't think I'm that big but people seem to be shocked by my massive girth.  So...whatever.  I can't sleep and then I'm tired all day, and by the end of the day it hurts my entire body to walk.  I look like a senior citizen when I walk and I have dirty dreams about those electric cart thingies at Wal-Mart and also about sitting on a hemorrhoid donut at work.

I can't imagine how I'll be feeling at 35 weeks, because 25 weeks is pretty insane!

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One Year Ago:  Full of The Giddy Over New Moon
Two Years Ago: 24 Weeks
Three Years Ago:  Clomid is Boring



Shocking new information about twin pregnancies!

Please, sit down. Even better: pull down your pants and sit on the toilet in preparation to drop the most spectacular deuce that has ever been dropped.

Apparently? When a woman is pregnant with twins? Her abdomen? It gets really fucking big.

Like, really big.

YOUGE even.

I know from experience that this is a very shocking concept for people to handle.

Yes, it is a matter of fact.  Women who are pregnant with twins are freaks and you should treat them as such.  It is your duty as a good citizen to be as obnoxious as possible when dealing with one of these weirdos. 

Because some of these beasts? Actually think they look good! Cute, even! I mean, don't let them walk around with this delusion.  First, you need to act really shocked at their massive girth each time you see them. You need to tell them exactly how fat they look. I know, I know, they are big and look scary, but they're fat and slow so just do it and RUN!  If you have any snacks, throw them in the opposite of the direction you plan to run.  Because they're hungry and their hate-rage blood lust can only be broken with snacks.

Sometimes? They are even excited! They think having two babies might be kind of adorable and there is no way you should let them have this excitement because it may possibly make the important things in your life seem less exciting.  I mean, if people are really busy listening to some fat heifer talk about her incubation of two humans, they might not have time to listen to you talk about what you're having for dinner or which shows you plan to watch on your DVR first. 

You should make sure to tell them how awful it's going to be. Say something like "GOOD LORD you are going to be BIZZAY! UR NVR GNA SLEEEP! EVAH!"  Or, "your stomach is going to be so messed up."  Or!  OR!!!!!  "Your vagina is going to explode, probably." 

(I don't know if that vagina part is true, but making shit up is totally acceptable in this situation.)


And of course, they have names picked out - which, by the way, you should ask about and then act awkward and pretend you like them while making some sort of passive aggressive gesture to let them know you don't. 

Because YOUR opinion is what matters.  Always remember that.

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One Year Ago:  Jennepper's Must Have Baybee Gifts for 2009
Two Years Ago: 23 Weeks: Am Hardly Showing At All, Apparently
Three Years Ago: Did You Seriously Just Say That?