No/yes/possibly/doubtful.

Updating is pointless, but I'm by myself with nothing but an iPhone and wifi soo hey hey hey, Internet!!!!

So my blood pressures and labs were all Rockstarish. Rockstarish, like, normal. As opposed to: full of vodka and traces of rhino tranquilizers. Why don't I just say they were normal? Because I'm a dick, that's why.

The doctor was all, let's look at your 24 hour urine and get you the second steroid dose and then you can be all moon-faced and complainey at home instead of here. Mmmmkkay. So I tell everyone who has rearranged their schedules to watch our outside baby so we can have two more babies and make them watch those two, too, while we go out every Friday and drink vodka and participate in recreational rhino tranqs. (because we are totally Rockstarish).

Then. Then!!! A half hour later? I go for my growth scan. Would you believe me if I told you that tiny twin hasn't grown at all in two weeks? I bet you'd believe me because I'm all woe is me and here is my dramz and oh wait! Let me lay it on you and then not update for like three weeks!

Still waiting to hear from my doctor but I'm guessing I'm having babies this week. Again. Or, always? Or...whatever.

And? AND!!!!! Mark got food stuck in his throat and had to go to the ER. And now he's in GI getting it fished out. I haven't cleared this with him, but there was a similar incident with a hot dog while we were dating that obviously is still mentioned with maniacal laughter on a regular basis. So clearly I am anxious to hear what sort of delicacy is lodged in there this time so I can prepare my ridicule accordingly.

In better news, he is in the very same hospital as me. So they can wheel him down later and we can spend the night groaning inisety while making the other patients think we are bumping uggs. Should be fun!

But a beard would go well with my lamb chops!

7 hours since my first steroid shot. I am disappointed to report that my biceps are no larger (but they do have an amazing amount of cellulite, which I officially declare to be the new black!) and I have not grown a full beard.

I am speaking in a man voice, but only because I've been awake since 3 a.m. And am running out of ways to amuse myself while sitting in bed tied to a bunch of monitors and sporting the Outkast Rib From Smoky Hot Hell (where everyone has onion BO and is a close talking overly affectionate hug giver but I can't move because OW! MY WHORE RIB!).

Blood pressures are down to normalish (128/92...better!) platelets and liver enzymes look good, babies are kicking me in my unmentionables. And by unmentionables, I mean my bladder, vagina, and butthole.

Peeing in a jug is awesome!!!! I'm sure the nurses love handling my urine. My nurse is nice and has a really cute haircut. This is the best blog ever. I love cheese.

Uterus of doom FTW!

Blood pressure: 158/104
Protein: All up in my pee
Pitting Edema: indeedy

In the hospital for monitoring. I put my gown on backwards and almost had an inappropriate nudity situation. One of my ribs is popped out and the prospect of narcotics is making me hot and bothered. I have to pee in a jug.

Should be getting steroids soon to help develop the babies lungs. You know, FOR DELIVERY THIS WEEK?!

Here we go.

Christmas Cop Out

Merry...whatever you celebrate! We are staying home and eating food and enjoying the calm before the inevitable storm.

Elegant Damask Noir Christmas Card

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Blizzy, Thankles, Reprieve. Oh my.

I had really good intentions of  updating right after my appointment on Monday.  Like, really good ones.  It was a blizzard (we got, I think, 10 inches of snow, on top of the 12+ inches we got last weekend) and so I figured I'd use that as a great excuse to curl up with a warm beverage and my laptop and just update the shit out of my blog.

Heh.

I was worried about our tiny twin.  This always happens.  I leave a good appointment all high.  Yay me!  Mah uterus is badass and mah baybees is beeger!  Mah shit smells faintly of roses and fruit punch Gatorade!  You wish you were me!  I love cheese!

But then, a few days later, I'm all mah uterus is doomy and mah baybees probably isn't beeger!  Mah shit actually smells really...shitty!  Woe is me!  Cheese is all I have left!

So that's why I decided that I'd keep my appointment during the blizzy and just make sure that both babies were behaving.  This gives you a good idea of the road conditions:



The turnpike, which is usually the first road to be cleared.

 It took me triple the normal time to get there, and I figured it would be really fun to have my blood pressure taken after that drive.  Plus, I was really excited to talk to the doctor about my ankles.  Which have been upgraded from Cankles to Thankles, seeing as my calves are so swollen that they are the same width as my thighs.  When I wear normal socks, it basically cuts off my circulation, so this picture doesn't do it justice.  But it's all I have as proof of Thankle status:

My toes have more rolls than a bakery.

Yes, that's a picture of me, watching Mark assemble our THIRD new TV (the other two we bought were defectiveish).  We've had several debacles related to our newly finished basement and our newly purchased furniture and electronics, and also I broke my iPhone* and wasn't eligible for an upgrade and thus had to pay full price for a new one which is OK because clearly I AM MADE OF MONEY AND SAUSAGES AND GODDAMNED RAINBOWS.

But anyway, my blood pressure is normal and I am not peeing protein and so my doctor was less than impressed with my Thankles and the fact that the only shoes that fit are Crocs.  You know how I feel about Crocs, and now my doctor does, too and he didn't even need to see my exposed ass to learn how I feel about Crocs.  Dr. Stewart FTW!

Here is a picture of me, in public, wearing compression hose** with Crocs (fur lined!  with Jibbitz!) and pajama pants:

I was tempted to wear Mark's shirt that has a picture of a wiener dog and says,
"Have You Seen My Wiener?" because that's what I wear now every day at home because none of my maternity clothes fit anymore.
I'm saving it for when I go totally insane, which should be in a week or so.
I can see the news reports now:
"Woman In Wiener Shirt and Crocs Goes on Eating Rampage in Target."***

The babies were looking pretty freaking awesome at my appointment!

Hog Baby: 2lb 10oz.
Tiny Baby: 2lb

Tiny baby actually grew more than Hog baby this week.  Yay for eating cheeseburgers, tiny baby!  Her fluid is totally normal and the doctor thinks that she bought us another two weeks at least before we need to talk delivery.  I'm 30 weeks today, so that will put me right at 32.  Good, good, good news!

I'm still going to the doctor every week, and now we are adding in two nonstress tests per week to keep a close eye on them.  But as long as the nonstress tests look good, we aren't even going to do another scan until 32 weeks.  Fingers crossed!  My first test is this afternoon! 

In addition to my three appointments this week, I'll do my glucose test (to determine if there will be a return of the Wilford Brimley to this blog) and a bunch of blood work.   And I have to go to the regular doctor because either someone shoved a knife in my ear, or I have an ear infection.  Or the swelling has moved from my Thankles to my ear.  So many possibilities!

A bunch of other stuff happened with my Outside Baybee, better known as Olivia the Febrile Seizure Champ, on Monday.  I'll just save it for another post.  But she's good too, and she's actually in her bed yelling "MAHM!  MILK!" right now. 

Happy Thursday!

*My fingers?  Also fat rolly sausages.  I totally butterfingered my phone and just dropped it for no good reason at all.  Carpal tunnel + sausage fingers = broken iPhone (squared).

**Thanks for the suggestion, but even compression hose can't contain the power of the Thankle.  All they did was make it more painful to take my socks off.

***I really need to get my caption length under control.

--

One Year Ago:  10 Months: You know who else can do that? My Cat.
Two Years Ago:  Too Sweet for My Own Good
Three Years Ago:  Lazy blogger has no post.  :)

Overwhelmed

With Relief...

We had our appointment on Monday...like, more than a week ago. 

It's too confusing to refer to Twin A and Twin B, because they move all around in there and it's never really the same - so we call them Big Twin (or, as my doctor says, Hog Baby) and Little Twin.

Big twin is...a hog.  No, really.  The doctor called her the Hog Baby, which is one of the many reasons I love him - nice, funny, and smart.  Hog Baby is measuring exactly on track.  No drama for her.  2lb 7oz.

Little twin is...hanging in there.  1lb 10oz.  Over 14 days she grew an appropriate amount for 13 days.  This was good enough to earn us another two week reprieve!  Yay!  As long as she keeps it up, and continues to look healthy, there is no need to rip the babies from my uterus of doom.

I am totally excited to meet these girls, but not yet!  Not just yet.

With Kindness....

Thank you very much for all the nice comments.  Really.  I do read them all and I appreciate every single one.  I promise I wasn't trying to make drama by not posting.  I've been completely exhausted and every time I thought about posting, I just took a nap or ate cheese instead.  Or, I ate cheese THEN took a nap.  Either way, it probably involved cheese and nap, is what I'm getting at. 

I have returned a few emails, but I promise to return all of them soon.

A group of my local mommy friends organized to bring us meals so that we wouldn't have to worry about cooking.  And oh my sweet baby jeezus it was the best thing ever.  I never realized how much of a relief it is to not have to worry about dinner or cleanup.

I'm not an overly emotional person, but every time I think of how nice people have been?  It makes me a little weepy.

Verclempt, if you will.



Talk amongst yourselves...


With Ouchiness...

So, I'm off work on short term disability.  Not on strict bed rest or anything.  Just, "hey, take it really easy and gestate two properly sized humans, mkay" rest.  If this little baby doesn't keep growing, we are going to have some pretty little preemies, and I figure the best I can do is eat well and sleep often.  The doctor agrees.

Yesterday I cried mid-afternoon because my body hurts so bad.  My fingers and hands and feet are so swollen.  I seriously cannot fit my feet into one pair of shoes.  If I have to go out, I wear my running shoes untied.  Today I took the dogs out to pee in Mark's shoes and I looked like a pregnant clown (partly due to the shoes and partly due to my hobo-like appearance and rosy cheeks).

I can't even open a water bottle without wincing. 

And yes, I know, woe is the pregnant lady, etc.  But wow.  I have hip pain, back and neck pain, and can't stand more than a couple minutes without getting a hot flash and feeling light-headed.  It's pretty much all I can do to take a shower these days.  I typically save up all my energy to play with Olivia and then I nap while she naps and when Mark gets home from work. 

I sleep sitting up.  Like the Elephant Man.

Being nauseated and in pain for 6 months is just...exhausting.  I am sure that Mark would agree, since he is working and then coming home and doing every single thing around the house.  I love him.

With Cuteness...

Oh, but my daughter.  You guys?  She is so much fun right now.  She's getting so smart and funny and just full of The Mischief.  She knows about half of the alphabet, she grabs the remote and starts pressing the buttons while screaming "WORD WORLD," she dances and laughs and smiles. 

I have pictures to post but not right now.  Because I don't feel like it, basically.

We switched her to a big girl bed and she loves it.  The past few nights, she has grabbed her blanket, said bye to Dad, the Dogs, and the TV (Parenting WIN!) and then climbed the stairs while yelling "BED!"

I love her. 

---

One Year Ago: 38 Weeks, 6 Days
Two Years Ago:  Possibly Changing My Name to Wilford Brimley
Three Years Ago:  What?  I have a blog?

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.

--

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!

---
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?