My Lovely Lady Lumps...

Check it out!

OK, here is the 20 week belly shot, aka the reason why I feel like I might have been a candidate to be a balloon in the Macy's Parade this year.

No real news this week, starting to have a few contractions here and there, which the Dr. said was to be expected around this time. Nothing really in a pattern or anything.

Last night, Baby A (Sophie) apparently decided to do some remodeling on her side of the womb or something- I swear, she was hanging drapes and laying wall-to-wall carpeting in there. Dearest could plainly feel it from the outside, and the two of us sat there trying to figure out what body parts she was using to thump against my side. "Was that an elbow? Was that a butt? Was that a freaking Bobcat? Or a backhoe? Is she driving heavy equipment around in there? Doesn't she need a special license to do that?!?" It was pretty bizarre. So far from Baby B (Livi) all I'm feeling are rare dainty taps. 

So other than being a human construction sight, all is well. Don't you love the veins I am developing on my sides? I am so sexy I can barely stand it. Retch.

The Boring Part

Clearly, the previous post was our Level 2 Ultrasound experience in a nutshell, and if there was anything else huge to note, I would have mentioned it. But, for posterity's sake, I feel like I should round out the experience with a more detailed explanation of our visit.

The Level 2 (aka "Anatomy Ultrasound") was scheduled at the big women and infant's hospital in downtown Orlando (not that the hospital is for big women, I'm trying to say it's a big hospital. For normal sized women. And tiny infants.), the place where we initially wanted to deliver and where, if the girls are premature or have any problems, we will probably wind up. The appointment was scheduled for 11 am, but they told us to arrive at 10:15 because there would be a lot of paperwork to fill out. We left around 8:30, stopped and ate a delicious breakfast, and got downtown at a little after 10. (A straight shot from our house to downtown Orlando takes about 40 minutes, just fyi.)

This hospital was AMAZING. Well, the lobby was at least. How can there BE so many pregnant women on this EARTH to fill this hospital? A year ago, when we were still struggling to conceive these babies, this would have been the most depressing place on earth for me. Round bellies everywhere you look. I went to use the restroom in the lobby, and I swear to you it was like a scene out of an improbable comedy-- 4 of us preggers people in there, all trying to navigate around each others bellies in a crowded bathroom. It was like a small parking lot with 4 big rigs all trying to drive around in it. It was like a game of tetris. I swear. 

Anyway, we cruised into the office at about 10:15, and started filling out paperwork. Then some robot who was thinly disguised as an actual woman asked us the requisite questions to confirm our identity, and by 10:45 I was weighed (124!), my blood pressure was taken (104 over something... really wish they would not tell me the numbers and would just give me a thumbs up or thumbs down, because I have no idea what it is SUPPOSED to be, so am never sure how to react. Relieved? Horrified? Guess if there is a problem they will tell me!) and the ultrasound tech (who was amazing by the way, and whose ID said that she is an RN which sounds so much more professional than "ultrasound tech" to me for some reason) was having a look.

Immediately, what has been the pattern in the past revealed itself. Baby A (now known as Sophia) was NOT particularly interested in our agenda of looking at her. No thank you, she clearly stated, I will be over here behind your spleen or something until you go away. She treated us to some interesting acrobatics and the ultrasound lady said "My goodness, you have a very very active baby here!" Yes, we have heard that before. It was a game of cat and mouse trying to get the measurements on this little girl, but she did- heart, spine, umbilical cord, brain, etc. She printed pics of all of the major parts for the actual doctor who had just appeared. The Doctor, another really nice lady, analyzed the anatomy pix while ultrasound lady tried to get a look at gender. It didn't take too long before she said "This one is a little girl!" 

Time to start on Baby B (Olivia). Same routine, much calmer baby. Took about half as long as Sophie's did because she was being pretty still and was more stretched out than her sis was. Again printed out all of the measurements for the doctor who studied them while we went on a gender hunt. This one was a little more tricky, because Livi, while cooperative, was a bit more modest than Sophie when it came to showing the goods. She had her legs crossed and she was staying that way, thank you very much. Finally, the ultrasound lady took the actual transducer (yes, I had to google "Parts of an Ultrasound Machine" to find out what that thing is called. Probe? Paddle? Sure as hell ain't a wand, I know those when I see them) anyway she took the transducer, pulled it back, and thumped the baby's actual butt with it. That was the weirdest feeling, because of course I am now watching her butt on the screen but I am FEELING the rest of her body reacting to getting whacked on the tush. Really odd. Anyway, that rude maneuver was all the persuasion she needed, she opened her legs to reveal... no boy parts. Another girl, we were told, for sure.

Now we are holding our breaths and looking at the doctor, who has 7 billion pictures of our kids... our daughters... in her hands. She finishes reviewing them and says "What I am looking at here is 2 perfectly healthy babies. They look perfect." Enormous sigh of relief. Perfect. They both weight around 12 oz., right where they need to be. The are both transverse- laying across my belly with their heads on my right and their feet on my left. Heart rates were normal. Down's odds from the quad screen came back at 1/300, which for multiples is pretty standard. 

They look great.

20 weeks tomorrow. That would be half way if this were a singleton pregnancy. As it stands it's MORE than halfway, which is incredible. By Christmas, these will be viable babies. Not that we are by any stretch ready to meet them: stay put until March please ladies!

Because Sometimes 4 Pictures are Worth a Million Words...

Baby  A: Sophia Katherine Fontana

Baby B: Olivia Roselyn Fontana

Do these babies make me look fat?

The answer, apparently, is yes.

Look, I understand that there is an "old school" philosophy about being pregnant- that it's something that should be hidden and covered up. I am aware that people used to think that. I just thought those people were all dead already. Lucky me, I found one who is still alive, although her life was NEARLY cut short on Wednesday.

I can see the headlines now: "Pregnant Kindergarten Teacher Attacks Senior Citizen, turn to page 2A."

This charming co-worker of mine, as we walked out of a meeting on Wednesday, found it appropriate to comment on my size and wardrobe. The conversation went something like this:
Her: Wow, girl, you need to get some bigger shirts!
Me: This IS a bigger shirt.
Her: I mean some MATERNITY shirts!
Me: (growing agitated) This IS a maternity shirt. Wow, you really know how to raise a gal's self esteem!
Her: Well, I know you can't really tell from your perspective, but from here it's not pretty.
Me: (growling) I think you should stop talking now.
Her: Oh, I don't mean anything by it! Bye now!

Luckily for me there was an actual witness to this discussion, who promptly FELL into my classroom door laughing hysterically because she knew how mortified I was and how very close I had come to ripping that lady a new one. Usually when things like this happen to me there is no witness, so I was relieved that she had actually heard the exchange and that she also thought this woman's comments were WAY out of line.

I know I'm not getting any smaller here. I know people used to wear muu-muus to hide their bellies. Guess what? They don't anymore. Maternity clothes are more form fitting these days. For christ's sake, it was a knit henley from Old Navy Maternity, size medium. Not a tube top or something.

The best part of the story is that now whenever I am in a room with the rest of my team and the offender happens to walk in, they all start complimenting me on my wardrobe just to watch her squirm. They rule.

Another reason I am thinking that these babies make me look fat is because of the kids in my class. You know 5-year-olds, the filter is just not quite fully developed, and for that I absolutely adore them. One major work challenge as my girth has expanded has been tying the kids shoes, which I seem to spend approximately 3.5 hours a day doing. Truthfully, tying my OWN shoes is quite a feat anymore. Lately at school, I have resorted to asking my kids to put their foot up on a chair so I can tie their shoe. While I was groaning trying to tie this kid's shoe over my belly he looked right at me and in a very concerned voice said, "You know, Mrs. Fontana, junk food? Um, it can make you gain weight." Thank you dear. Thank you so much. Because that is all this is, 20 lbs of Cheetos. Now, thanks to your little public service announcement, I have seen the light and will be back to tying shoes on the floor in no time.

Finally, on the expanding waistline subject, this. I know this day has been coming for a long time, and it has arrived. I can no longer see my pubes. I am very sorry, dear readers, that you have to hear this, particularly if you are related to me, but there it is. Pube maintenance has become a completely blind endeavor the past couple of weeks, and from the feedback I have received from Dearest, the outcome is not pretty. But what am I supposed to do? Just let it go? I don't really want a wild pube jungle occurring, I'm pretty much anti-pube normally, and I really can't see lettin' 'em grow free when medical professionals are in that vicinity so often. What can I do? Hand grooming over to Dearest? Go to the nice little vietnamese ladies and let them wax the whole thing? Help me out here people, I am not going to see my pubes until SPRING!!!

I knew pregnant people got bigger, but I had no idea the many complexities that went along with the larger waist line. These are not things people tell you. I'm starting to see why.

Kicked Under the Table

When I was 15 years old, I got a tattoo. Did you know that about me? Well, it's the truth. I got a Phoenix, the bird of rebirth, rising from the ashes of a destroyed life. I felt like it was the perfect symbol for me. Because, when I was 15, I was really struggling with... um... my upper-middle class two parent household? Their insane demands that I go to SCHOOL and even tell them where I AM sometimes? The torture of just being generally MISUNDERSTOOD by EVERYONE because couldn't they SEE that Trent Reznor of "Nine Inch Nails" was the ONLY one who REALLY GOT me? Uh... maybe it was hormones. I'm truly not sure. All I know is that an abstract post-modern Phoenix tattoo (also the logo of the theatre company I was involved in, who at that time was preparing to stage a production of Dr. Faustus in which I was planning to shave my head and appear topless-- it's ART people, can't you SEE that?) made absolute sense to me as a mode of self-expression.

Now, not so much.

It's not that I give the tattoo much thought, truthfully. As I talked to my mom about it today, I pointed out that I have had that mark on my body for longer than I existed without it, so I'm pretty well used to it by now. It doesn't show when I am clothed, so it was not a disqualifier for anything I have wanted to do in my life, really. It's just kind of there, like a birthmark, or maybe a scar.

The only thing is this. Location, location, location. The placement of this particular tat seemed really super logical to 15-year-old me, and by that I mean it was somewhere that my parents couldn't see it. But hindsight being what it is, perhaps the hip/lower abdominal location was not exactly ideal. Because, my lovely phoenix, you see, is being encroached upon by my darling children, and it is starting to stretch. Dearest helpfully pointed out today when I got out of the shower that it now looks more like a coat hanger than a mythical bird. Crap. He's right. And I don't even have stretch marks yet. I have the feeling that it is only going to get more and more attractive as the next couple of months go by.

I told my mom (who finds the whole thing downright hysterical, in an "I told you so" kind of way) about my regrets about that angle of my rebellion. I also told her that I might plan a tattoo to put on my boob, one that will look BETTER as it stretches and eventually sags and droops like a deflated balloon. So if you have any design ideas that will look better as my boob eventually deflates, please pass them along to me.



We had a busy day today, but it was the really nice kind of busy. First, we met my Uncle Bob, who was in town for a conference, for lunch, which was lovely because he is just a nice guy and it's my philosophy that you should stay close to your family, if you are fortunate enough to have one, particularly to those members of your family who are not completely insane. It was great to catch up and chat uninterrupted, possibly for the last time in our lives, as we are about to have 2 kids and both of my uncle's kids are expecting babies this spring too!

A lot of people have been asking me lately if I am feeling the babies move yet, and the answer has been a resounding no until really the last couple of days. Lately, I am feeling them move and I have to admit it's pretty neat. A just feels more like a squirming, the classic "butterflies in the stomach" feeling, not any distinct kicking, and I feel him/her about every other day, maybe once a day. B, however, is a distinctive kicking feeling, like popcorn popping, right below my rib cage on the left. That one I feel pretty regularly, especially whenever I drink orange juice or eat two Mrs. Fields chocolate chip cookies at the mall. :) Clearly, the coconut shrimp at lunch today were a big hit, because B was tapping away under the table. :)


After that we ran some more little errands, hit the mall for a while. We went into Gap, even though I do not consider myself a Gap kind of person, they were having a sale on some maternity stuff so I picked up a cute shirt and tried on some bras. No comment on bras right now, other than to say that I am going to have to start wearing something to contain the bosoms at night, because they keep getting kinda under my armpits and getting squashed and waking me up, and believe me, for a formerly A-cup kinda girl, that is shocking every time. ANYWAY... so we went into the Gap, and to get to the maternity part you have to walk through the baby part, and I have to admit that they have some very cute stuff. Also a LOT of PINK. Like someone came in with a spray gun full of pepto-bismol and just covered about 70% of the store. Woah. Dearest is so much better adjusted about the potential girl thing, he even picked up a few things to show me that he liked. I am not quite there yet. Then the cutest thing happened. There was a real live ladybug on my shoulder, right there in the Baby Gap. I don't know what it means, but it did make me smile.

Now if I can just convince my girls not to get tattoos when they are 15. Help...

tuf

more animals

Well, Crud.

I was so fired up about today's ultrasound. I really didn't realize HOW fired up I was until it was over and I was standing in the parking lot of the Dr.'s office bawling my eyes out.

Here is, of course, the part where you think that something horrible has happened.

It has not.

The babies look fine. Really good, actually. They were moving all over the place, kind of two blurs that would occasionally whir across the screen. "Oh, there's a head...or that was a head, that thing that just went by, there," the Dr. would say. "Did you see that thigh bone? That white line that came up there for a minute and then went away, that was a thigh bone." She did get heart rates on both babies, they were in the 140's, right on track. She got enough measurements to determine that they are both growing really well. Baby A came in at 8 oz and B was right around 7 oz, exactly where they should be. But I guess I learned a valuable lesson on ultrasounds: don't drink a chocolate shake right before you go in there if you hope to get any kind of definitive answer as to what variety of baby you might be having.

Thus the reason for the sobbing in the parking lot.

I REALLY wanted to know. 

She did not see any boy parts. But, she said, not being able to see boy parts does not by any stretch mean you should go painting things pink right now. Which is good, because as I have certainly mentioned, I can not stand pink. The thought of 2 girls did make me feel a little panicky, I have to admit. That was the only outcome of this situation that could really really throw me for a loop. I am just not a girly girl. I was more of a wear my overalls and catch bugs barefoot kind of a girl. I guess there is no reason my girls have to be "princesses" either, they will certainly not be getting that kind of pressure from their mom. 

Anyway, no need to panic now, because while my Dr. is a very nice lady, she is not a very great ultrasonographer. So I just won't panic. I won't even spaz a little. I'm not. Right now. Freaking out, I mean. Because anything could still happen, right? Of course. So for that reason, I am completely relaxed and not at all upset. I bet.

Level 2 Ultrasound in 2 weeks. I will be holding my breath until then.

Also I will apparently be waiting another 2 weeks before I can go on sckoon.com and buy every baby item on there. Double triple crud.