One Month!
One Month... the Sequel
Friday, May 1, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
3 Week Time Warp
(Olivia shot poop 5 feet across the room about 2 minutes before this picture was taken)
OK, people. I need to get back on the blogging horse or I will become one of those mom bloggers who posts once a week to put up a few pics, report on runny noses, complain about lack of sleep and declare my love for the kids. Not that there won’t be posts like that from me, not that those kinds of posts are not interesting to people who care about the girls, just that those posts don’t call for a lot of reflection and insight. And if I get in the habit of taking the easy route, I am afraid I will get stuck there.
So.
First a real-time update.
The kids are doing great.
There is very little sleep occurring in the household at night.
I am off the percocet but the hardest thing about weaning off of it was my nipples. Oh, my tender tender nipples. There are not words.
And the love. Oh, the love. I love loving these babies. I love watching Dearest, my mom, my in-laws loving these babies. I am so proud.
So there is your “the kids are great, I am exhausted, God I love them” post that I just said I was not going to do. Um, maybe I just needed to get it out of my system.
Having my mom here was incredible, and I had a mini panic attack every time I think about the fact that she was leaving this week. I literally do not know how I am going to survive without her. She has taken on all aspects of running this household, from cooking to cleaning to laundry to walking the dog to caring for the girls to being my full time psychologist and cheerleader. Having her here has allowed me to really focus on the babies, and specifically on breastfeeding, which I am doing about 8 hours a day and therefore should qualify as a full time job. It is immensely satisfying to watch the girls starting to get chubby cheeks and to think that I did that, my body is feeding them and giving them all they need.
The girls are really starting to show their personalities. I know a lot can change, and I will be curious to see if our initial impressions prove to be accurate over time. Sophia (Baby A) is… intense. Can a baby be intense? Absolutely. Everything she does and needs is with a certain urgency. She goes from zero to screaming in a single breath, nurses like a frantic barracuda, and stares at you like she is really studying your soul. Olivia (Baby B) is a little more easy going- her cries tend to ramp up instead of going straight over the top. She seems a little more social, already she is trying to coo and turning her head when she hears familiar voices. Yesterday we put the girls on the floor next to each other and they made eye contact with each other for the first time that I am aware of. It was kind of a special moment, even though I can’t really articulate why.
We have been going to weekly pediatrician’s appointments, and the girls are growing right on schedule and passing every test with flying colors. They were 5-12 and 5-13 when they were born, both 5-5 when we brought them home from the hospital, 6-4 and 6-2 at their 2 week checkup and about 7lbs when we weighed them at the hospital Wednesday. Amazing how quickly they are growing.
One thing about the 2 week visit to the pediatrician. We had been watching their little umbilical cords dry up, but they had not yet fallen off. No big deal, as far as we were concerned, right? Well, we went last week and the OTHER pediatrician there (NOT the warm fuzzy Ghandi guy we selected) said “I need to remove these umbilical cords or they are going to have nodes there and will have to have surgery when they are older.” Oh my God, right? Absolutely! Remove them! How bad can it be? “It will sting a little,” she said, “when I cauterize them.” Uh… cauterize? Like burn off? “Well, it’s a chemical cauterization, it is quite simple.” At this point I look at my mom, but what can we do? No one wants them to have surgery. What even is a node? I thought I had read every book about every possible thing that could happen to my kids during the first month of life. Belly button nodes? Did I skip that chapter? Shit shit shit. As much as I am reluctant to unconditionally trust doctors, I didn’t know what else to do. So I let her do it. And within 30 seconds I wanted to jump out the window with my precious babies and never look back. The babies SCREAMED. They screamed until they had the silent screams and turned purple. I couldn’t even stand there next to them. I stood in the corner and bit the inside of my cheek trying not to cry. My mom talked to them and tried to soothe them while they protested. It seemed like hours, it was probably 5 minutes, and she was done. But the kids were not right all day. And I felt absolutely sick about it.
So there’s my first parental high holy drama.
The babies are fine. I cry every year when I have to get my cat vaccinated, so maybe I’m just hyper sensitive and protective. But I HATE feeling helpless. And I have a feeling that a lot of parenthood is going to be about feeling helpless. And I would be lying if I told you that doesn’t freak me out a bit.
Stay tuned for the preface to the birth story. I have to do it a little bit at a time or it will never get done. But I don’t want to wait too long or the memory will get hazy. Also- gory c section pictures or no gory c section pictures? You tell me, dear readers, if you are horrified by bloody babies.
My girls at 2 weeks:
.jpg)
OK, people. I need to get back on the blogging horse or I will become one of those mom bloggers who posts once a week to put up a few pics, report on runny noses, complain about lack of sleep and declare my love for the kids. Not that there won’t be posts like that from me, not that those kinds of posts are not interesting to people who care about the girls, just that those posts don’t call for a lot of reflection and insight. And if I get in the habit of taking the easy route, I am afraid I will get stuck there.
So.
First a real-time update.
The kids are doing great.
There is very little sleep occurring in the household at night.
I am off the percocet but the hardest thing about weaning off of it was my nipples. Oh, my tender tender nipples. There are not words.
And the love. Oh, the love. I love loving these babies. I love watching Dearest, my mom, my in-laws loving these babies. I am so proud.
So there is your “the kids are great, I am exhausted, God I love them” post that I just said I was not going to do. Um, maybe I just needed to get it out of my system.
Having my mom here was incredible, and I had a mini panic attack every time I think about the fact that she was leaving this week. I literally do not know how I am going to survive without her. She has taken on all aspects of running this household, from cooking to cleaning to laundry to walking the dog to caring for the girls to being my full time psychologist and cheerleader. Having her here has allowed me to really focus on the babies, and specifically on breastfeeding, which I am doing about 8 hours a day and therefore should qualify as a full time job. It is immensely satisfying to watch the girls starting to get chubby cheeks and to think that I did that, my body is feeding them and giving them all they need.
The girls are really starting to show their personalities. I know a lot can change, and I will be curious to see if our initial impressions prove to be accurate over time. Sophia (Baby A) is… intense. Can a baby be intense? Absolutely. Everything she does and needs is with a certain urgency. She goes from zero to screaming in a single breath, nurses like a frantic barracuda, and stares at you like she is really studying your soul. Olivia (Baby B) is a little more easy going- her cries tend to ramp up instead of going straight over the top. She seems a little more social, already she is trying to coo and turning her head when she hears familiar voices. Yesterday we put the girls on the floor next to each other and they made eye contact with each other for the first time that I am aware of. It was kind of a special moment, even though I can’t really articulate why.
We have been going to weekly pediatrician’s appointments, and the girls are growing right on schedule and passing every test with flying colors. They were 5-12 and 5-13 when they were born, both 5-5 when we brought them home from the hospital, 6-4 and 6-2 at their 2 week checkup and about 7lbs when we weighed them at the hospital Wednesday. Amazing how quickly they are growing.
One thing about the 2 week visit to the pediatrician. We had been watching their little umbilical cords dry up, but they had not yet fallen off. No big deal, as far as we were concerned, right? Well, we went last week and the OTHER pediatrician there (NOT the warm fuzzy Ghandi guy we selected) said “I need to remove these umbilical cords or they are going to have nodes there and will have to have surgery when they are older.” Oh my God, right? Absolutely! Remove them! How bad can it be? “It will sting a little,” she said, “when I cauterize them.” Uh… cauterize? Like burn off? “Well, it’s a chemical cauterization, it is quite simple.” At this point I look at my mom, but what can we do? No one wants them to have surgery. What even is a node? I thought I had read every book about every possible thing that could happen to my kids during the first month of life. Belly button nodes? Did I skip that chapter? Shit shit shit. As much as I am reluctant to unconditionally trust doctors, I didn’t know what else to do. So I let her do it. And within 30 seconds I wanted to jump out the window with my precious babies and never look back. The babies SCREAMED. They screamed until they had the silent screams and turned purple. I couldn’t even stand there next to them. I stood in the corner and bit the inside of my cheek trying not to cry. My mom talked to them and tried to soothe them while they protested. It seemed like hours, it was probably 5 minutes, and she was done. But the kids were not right all day. And I felt absolutely sick about it.
So there’s my first parental high holy drama.
The babies are fine. I cry every year when I have to get my cat vaccinated, so maybe I’m just hyper sensitive and protective. But I HATE feeling helpless. And I have a feeling that a lot of parenthood is going to be about feeling helpless. And I would be lying if I told you that doesn’t freak me out a bit.
Stay tuned for the preface to the birth story. I have to do it a little bit at a time or it will never get done. But I don’t want to wait too long or the memory will get hazy. Also- gory c section pictures or no gory c section pictures? You tell me, dear readers, if you are horrified by bloody babies.
My girls at 2 weeks:
.jpg)
Monday, April 6, 2009
Shock and Awe
OK, I have every intention of posting the full-length birth story here, but bear with me because I will probably do it in little bits and pieces because at the moment my attention span is about the length of your average gnat's. Also I must go admire my boobs in the mirror about every 45 minutes or so, because the Titty Fairy came and left me a very nice present.
But enough about me.
Here are the cliff notes of the events of Thursday, April 2nd, 2009.
It starts something like this:
Don't look at my butt! Oh, you couldn't help it, could you?
And then the climax resembles this:
Don't worry, it has a happy ending:
In summary:
Sophia Katherine was born at 4:28 pm, weighing 5 lbs 12 oz
Olivia Roselyn was born at 4:29 pm, weighing 5 lbs 13 oz
They are doing great, we all came home yesterday, and we are excited that this long awaited chapter of our life has begun.
But enough about me.
Here are the cliff notes of the events of Thursday, April 2nd, 2009.
It starts something like this:
Don't look at my butt! Oh, you couldn't help it, could you?
And then the climax resembles this:
Don't worry, it has a happy ending:
In summary:
Sophia Katherine was born at 4:28 pm, weighing 5 lbs 12 oz
Olivia Roselyn was born at 4:29 pm, weighing 5 lbs 13 oz
They are doing great, we all came home yesterday, and we are excited that this long awaited chapter of our life has begun.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
It's the End of the World as We Know It
And I feel fine. No, really. Well, ok, maybe a little strange. Dearest and mom and I went to lunch today, and it was rather odd to have this huge… event… looming in the immediate future while watching the rest of the world go on with their normal, everyday lives. They are just pumping gas, talking about basketball, mowing their lawns. And tomorrow I am going to have major surgery that will result in the arrival of my children.
This anticipation reminds me so much of the day before the embryo transfer. It’s this huge, life-altering experience, but one that you have little to no control over. Once again, like the embryo transfer, I will be on the table under the lights taking the doctor’s word for how things are going and helplessly hoping for the best. I would be lying if I said I’m not a little concerned, but it is for the kids well-being, not mine. If I have a glitch in my recovery, at least I can understand it, but if something is wrong with one of the babies that requires intervention, there is no way to explain to them why they have been wrenched out of this warm, cozy, comfortable place into the cold bright world full of strange people poking at them. No way to tell them it’s for their own good. No way to let them know how much I love them.
So here’s hoping they emerge perfectly and can be promptly wrapped in a nice warm blanket and quietly cuddled, because the hippie in me still wants that experience for them, even though I know a natural unassisted water-birth in a dark room with a CD of whale sounds playing and patchouli scented incense burning is not exactly practical at this point. Also I don’t think I like patchouli.
Having mom here has been an enormous help, not to mention a lot of fun. I can’t imagine being any more ready for the girls’ arrival, and mom has really helped us put the last few pieces into place. It’s nice to have someone new to share the excitement with, and even though I am TOTALLY tired of being the sober one at the nightly wine fueled debates, it’s fun to have a different perspective and energy in the house. It was great last night to sit on the couch with mom on one side of me and Dearest on the other, all three of us talking to the babies and stroking the little parts that they pushed to the surface thanks to the Oreos I had eaten- here’s an elbow, what do you think that bump is? There went a foot, here are their little heads together, what do you suppose they are whispering about in there?
We decided unanimously at dinner tonight that tomorrow morning at 9:30 (I have to get to the hospital at 10) I will dramatically holler, “Honey, it’s time!” and then Dan will run down the stairs with no pants on, back over the garbage cans with the van, and drive halfway to the hospital without me. Just because we have not really had one ounce of spontaneity in this whole experience, and it seems like the thing to do. Although I guess the fact that we planned it also makes it non-spontaneous. Dammit.
So anyway, good Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise, tomorrow’s the day. A million thanks to everyone who have been a help and a support to Dearest and I on this journey. We love you and we’ll see you on the flip side. I’ll leave you with what I wrote for the first page of my pregnancy scrapbook:
I have not seen you yet. I do not know if your eyes are hazel like mine, or deep velvet brown like your fathers. I have not sniffed your head, buried my face in your sweet baby softness, or heard you laugh. I do not know what your favorite color is, whether you are a night owl or a morning person, what you will choose as a major in college. But I do know you. I have sung to you. I have protected and taken care of you the best way I know how. I’ve studied your movements in me, and I have stared for hours at your bony visages on the ultrasound pictures, trying to imagine the kind of babies you will be and the adults you will become. We have given you life, in the most literal sense of the word, but know that your very existence has given us life too. I look forward to growing, exploring, and sharing with you all this amazing world has to offer. Thank you for the joy you have brought me. I only hope that I am able to return the favor.
Love,
Mom
This anticipation reminds me so much of the day before the embryo transfer. It’s this huge, life-altering experience, but one that you have little to no control over. Once again, like the embryo transfer, I will be on the table under the lights taking the doctor’s word for how things are going and helplessly hoping for the best. I would be lying if I said I’m not a little concerned, but it is for the kids well-being, not mine. If I have a glitch in my recovery, at least I can understand it, but if something is wrong with one of the babies that requires intervention, there is no way to explain to them why they have been wrenched out of this warm, cozy, comfortable place into the cold bright world full of strange people poking at them. No way to tell them it’s for their own good. No way to let them know how much I love them.
So here’s hoping they emerge perfectly and can be promptly wrapped in a nice warm blanket and quietly cuddled, because the hippie in me still wants that experience for them, even though I know a natural unassisted water-birth in a dark room with a CD of whale sounds playing and patchouli scented incense burning is not exactly practical at this point. Also I don’t think I like patchouli.
Having mom here has been an enormous help, not to mention a lot of fun. I can’t imagine being any more ready for the girls’ arrival, and mom has really helped us put the last few pieces into place. It’s nice to have someone new to share the excitement with, and even though I am TOTALLY tired of being the sober one at the nightly wine fueled debates, it’s fun to have a different perspective and energy in the house. It was great last night to sit on the couch with mom on one side of me and Dearest on the other, all three of us talking to the babies and stroking the little parts that they pushed to the surface thanks to the Oreos I had eaten- here’s an elbow, what do you think that bump is? There went a foot, here are their little heads together, what do you suppose they are whispering about in there?
We decided unanimously at dinner tonight that tomorrow morning at 9:30 (I have to get to the hospital at 10) I will dramatically holler, “Honey, it’s time!” and then Dan will run down the stairs with no pants on, back over the garbage cans with the van, and drive halfway to the hospital without me. Just because we have not really had one ounce of spontaneity in this whole experience, and it seems like the thing to do. Although I guess the fact that we planned it also makes it non-spontaneous. Dammit.
So anyway, good Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise, tomorrow’s the day. A million thanks to everyone who have been a help and a support to Dearest and I on this journey. We love you and we’ll see you on the flip side. I’ll leave you with what I wrote for the first page of my pregnancy scrapbook:
I have not seen you yet. I do not know if your eyes are hazel like mine, or deep velvet brown like your fathers. I have not sniffed your head, buried my face in your sweet baby softness, or heard you laugh. I do not know what your favorite color is, whether you are a night owl or a morning person, what you will choose as a major in college. But I do know you. I have sung to you. I have protected and taken care of you the best way I know how. I’ve studied your movements in me, and I have stared for hours at your bony visages on the ultrasound pictures, trying to imagine the kind of babies you will be and the adults you will become. We have given you life, in the most literal sense of the word, but know that your very existence has given us life too. I look forward to growing, exploring, and sharing with you all this amazing world has to offer. Thank you for the joy you have brought me. I only hope that I am able to return the favor.
Love,
Mom
Monday, March 23, 2009
Time Creeps, and then Suddenly it Flies
I've been thinking a lot lately about the future of this blog. There is a big push in the infertility community to separate blogs that address that issue from "parenthood" blogs, and yes, technically this blog did start out as a blog about our IVF experience. And I'm sure that I will be (at least temporarily) a "bad blogger" once the babies get here- probably I won't update enough, and when I do it will be about such riveting subjects as projectile vomiting and sleep deprivation. I have to be honest, I really like reading infertility blogs, while some of them are heartbreaking, a lot of them have a healthy amount of tongue-in-cheek wit that I can relate to. I have also found some "mommy blogs" that are so much more than that- they are also funny and beautiful and deep and I love reading them. But they are all mommy of toddler blogs. Mommy of infant blogs tend to bore me to tears. Am I a jerk for saying that? Am I destined to slip into that oblivion for a couple of years? Yuck. I guess once again it all ties into my fear of losing myself, of becoming Mommy and not being Lindsay anymore. I want to be a mommy, obviously. But I really don't want to become one-dimensional. And I have seen it happen. The blogs that are just all about "I am tired. But the baby is so wonderful," over and over and over, variations on the theme every day.
So what am I to do?
i thought about changing the name of the blog to Linz and the Twinz (cute, right?) but it's so NOT me. The idea of Long Way Around the Barn stands for so much more than our fertility struggles, it really speaks to the non-linear way everything in my life seems to unfold. So I'm keeping the title. And I'm going to resist slipping into "mommy blogging" oblivion. I will try to stay honest. Yes, I am sure that the posts will be largely about the girls and parenting, just as the posts were about IVF and then about pregnancy, but hopefully they will evolve into something more dimensional than "I'm tired. Babies are great."
It's worth a shot, right?
So stay tuned. I might get quiet here this next week, my mom is coming to help us get ready for the darlings and to keep us sane for the first couple of weeks after their arrival, so I will have someone here to entertain me. If anything news worthy happens though, I will be sure that myself or Dearest posts about it. For now, I'm hanging in there, and I am SO ready to not be lonely and stranded anymore. Huge hugs to those who have been supportive and involved, either through the internets or in real life, these past couple of months. Your calls, e mails, and visits, have given me something to look forward to in what has frequently been an isolating situation. Times like these I guess you find out who your real friends are, and I have had some surprises in both directions- people who I didn't think I was that close to who have made an extreme effort to stay in touch and be involved, and people who I thought would be there for me who have been nowhere to be found.
I also want to say something about Dearest while we are both still in our right minds. This whole thing, from the infertility to the IVF to the pregnancy, has been emotionally draining, but he has been there beside me for every single second, showing compassion, patience, and loyalty that has been above and beyond even my expectations for him. As my world has gotten smaller these past couple of months, focussing on taking care of myself and preparing for the kids, his world has gotten exponentially larger: having to deal more than his fair share of housework, financial management, hormonal and physical changes from a once consistent partner, and the anticipation of being a father at a time when the world is far from stable and predictable. As much as I am a touch weirded out about the fact that these babies are soon to be "public domain" after being my responsibility alone for these nine months, that reservation does not apply to Dearest. I can't WAIT for him to see these little creatures that are a combination of our blood, sweat, and tears. I hope we can keep our collective sense of humor, because I have a feeling that things are going to get more absurd rather than less. As we often say: if it was normal, it would be happening to someone other than us. So thanks, babe. You have a lot to be proud of. And I probably don't say it enough.
That's it for now. Just a few more hours and mom will be here and just a few more days and the kids will probably be here too. Where did the last nine months go...?
So what am I to do?
i thought about changing the name of the blog to Linz and the Twinz (cute, right?) but it's so NOT me. The idea of Long Way Around the Barn stands for so much more than our fertility struggles, it really speaks to the non-linear way everything in my life seems to unfold. So I'm keeping the title. And I'm going to resist slipping into "mommy blogging" oblivion. I will try to stay honest. Yes, I am sure that the posts will be largely about the girls and parenting, just as the posts were about IVF and then about pregnancy, but hopefully they will evolve into something more dimensional than "I'm tired. Babies are great."
It's worth a shot, right?
So stay tuned. I might get quiet here this next week, my mom is coming to help us get ready for the darlings and to keep us sane for the first couple of weeks after their arrival, so I will have someone here to entertain me. If anything news worthy happens though, I will be sure that myself or Dearest posts about it. For now, I'm hanging in there, and I am SO ready to not be lonely and stranded anymore. Huge hugs to those who have been supportive and involved, either through the internets or in real life, these past couple of months. Your calls, e mails, and visits, have given me something to look forward to in what has frequently been an isolating situation. Times like these I guess you find out who your real friends are, and I have had some surprises in both directions- people who I didn't think I was that close to who have made an extreme effort to stay in touch and be involved, and people who I thought would be there for me who have been nowhere to be found.
I also want to say something about Dearest while we are both still in our right minds. This whole thing, from the infertility to the IVF to the pregnancy, has been emotionally draining, but he has been there beside me for every single second, showing compassion, patience, and loyalty that has been above and beyond even my expectations for him. As my world has gotten smaller these past couple of months, focussing on taking care of myself and preparing for the kids, his world has gotten exponentially larger: having to deal more than his fair share of housework, financial management, hormonal and physical changes from a once consistent partner, and the anticipation of being a father at a time when the world is far from stable and predictable. As much as I am a touch weirded out about the fact that these babies are soon to be "public domain" after being my responsibility alone for these nine months, that reservation does not apply to Dearest. I can't WAIT for him to see these little creatures that are a combination of our blood, sweat, and tears. I hope we can keep our collective sense of humor, because I have a feeling that things are going to get more absurd rather than less. As we often say: if it was normal, it would be happening to someone other than us. So thanks, babe. You have a lot to be proud of. And I probably don't say it enough.
That's it for now. Just a few more hours and mom will be here and just a few more days and the kids will probably be here too. Where did the last nine months go...?
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Another Day in L and D
I was so hungry at lunch time Tuesday that I bit into a piece of pizza that I knew was entirely too hot. And I burned my lip. Significantly. And now I look like I have the herpes. Or better yet, like I have a cigarette burn on my lower lip. So these babies are just going to have to wait to be born until this heals, because I can not have my daughters meeting me for the first time looking like I have lip leprosy or scorched myself with my crack pipe. They will probably take one glance at me and put themselves up for adoption. Lovely.
Yet another doctor's appointment today, now I will be there every week. The appointment went pretty well, although when I told them about the wicked but occasional contractions I have been having followed by the babies being very quiet for 30 minutes or so, the doctor suggested a trip "upstairs" to labor and delivery for a non-stress test. Poor Dearest, he was originally not going to go to the appointment at all, but he got some stuff moved around at work so that he could go, figuring it would just take an hour. Wrong-o! It is next to impossible to get two babies on the monitor simultaneously, or at least impossible to get my two stealth ninja escape-artist babies on the monitor. The poor nurse would get one, and then the other one would some how quietly slip out of my uterus, tiptoe down the hall, and head towards the cafeteria. Then we would find that baby, and the other baby would climb under my ribcage, up my spine, and into my skull. Or something. It literally took a TEAM of nurses poking, prodding, and cajoling the darlings into submission to get their hearts both on the monitor at the same time. I mean, my belly is only so big people, and the babies are nearing six pounds a piece, how far could they really go? Anyway, eventually we pinned 'em down, and managed to get them both traced for the requisite 20 minutes. By now it's been 3 hours since our adventure began. The good news is that they "passed" the non-stress test. I go back for my next one Tuesday.
Sophia's Heart Tracing:
Olivia's Heart Tracing:
Olivia's Profile:
The triage nurse in charge of the monitoring was great, and on the way out she gave me this:
My OWN biohazard! I KNOW! It RULES! OK, it's not really a biohazard. It's just the straps that held on the monitors, and since I am going to have several more of these stress tests, I get to have my OWN set! In a BIOHAZARD bag! Not really the kind of cute thing I can work into a scrapbook layout, but I am looking forward to going back Tuesday and when they are like, "Hang on, let us get out some straps for the monitors," I can be all, "That's ok, I actually travel with my own straps. I have them here in my BIOHAZARD bag."
There is one thing about this hospital that I think bears mentioning. I understand that the cafeteria in our little local-yokal hospital can not possibly compete with the big big downtown hospital, which had like a Starbucks, Freshens, etc etc in it, BUT there is no excuse for the condition of the vending machines there. Come ON. I don't ask for much in my vending machines, just Cheetos, Twix, and possibly Swiss Cake Rolls in a real high-end vending environment. THESE vending machines, at the hospital where I shall be giving birth, feature 4 types of beef jerky and 3 varieties of SunChips, one of which was Black Peppercorn Ranch. What? Also many kinds of "Captain's Wafers" featuring a variety of gritty fillings that are of no use to me. This is not good. Where are my Cheetos? Where is Little Debbie? And it's between a soda machine and one of those coffee machines that drops the cup and pours the coffee in. No juice? At the hospital? Hmmpf. So much for the instructions to pack lots of change in my hospital suitcase for the vending machines. Forget it.
This visit to L & D brought the reality of what is about to happen a bit closer. There were BABIES, ACTUAL BABIES in the nursery, and they were so so tiny, laying there in their little tiny diapers waving their little arms under the warmers, and something about seeing those babies made me go "Wow. Soon the little new babies in the nursery that everybody is oohing and aahing over are going to be MY babies. Crazy." Also we had to fill out forms for the birth certificates today, and there is a line that says "Mother's Name." I truly had to stop myself from writing MY mothers name. I am the mother. Something about writing my name on that line seems so huge. I am the mother. I pointed out to Dearest this evening that not only are we the mother and the father, we are also the tooth fairy, the easter bunny, AND Santa Claus. Woah. That's a lot of responsibility.
Yet another doctor's appointment today, now I will be there every week. The appointment went pretty well, although when I told them about the wicked but occasional contractions I have been having followed by the babies being very quiet for 30 minutes or so, the doctor suggested a trip "upstairs" to labor and delivery for a non-stress test. Poor Dearest, he was originally not going to go to the appointment at all, but he got some stuff moved around at work so that he could go, figuring it would just take an hour. Wrong-o! It is next to impossible to get two babies on the monitor simultaneously, or at least impossible to get my two stealth ninja escape-artist babies on the monitor. The poor nurse would get one, and then the other one would some how quietly slip out of my uterus, tiptoe down the hall, and head towards the cafeteria. Then we would find that baby, and the other baby would climb under my ribcage, up my spine, and into my skull. Or something. It literally took a TEAM of nurses poking, prodding, and cajoling the darlings into submission to get their hearts both on the monitor at the same time. I mean, my belly is only so big people, and the babies are nearing six pounds a piece, how far could they really go? Anyway, eventually we pinned 'em down, and managed to get them both traced for the requisite 20 minutes. By now it's been 3 hours since our adventure began. The good news is that they "passed" the non-stress test. I go back for my next one Tuesday.
Sophia's Heart Tracing:
Olivia's Heart Tracing:
Olivia's Profile:
The triage nurse in charge of the monitoring was great, and on the way out she gave me this:
My OWN biohazard! I KNOW! It RULES! OK, it's not really a biohazard. It's just the straps that held on the monitors, and since I am going to have several more of these stress tests, I get to have my OWN set! In a BIOHAZARD bag! Not really the kind of cute thing I can work into a scrapbook layout, but I am looking forward to going back Tuesday and when they are like, "Hang on, let us get out some straps for the monitors," I can be all, "That's ok, I actually travel with my own straps. I have them here in my BIOHAZARD bag."
There is one thing about this hospital that I think bears mentioning. I understand that the cafeteria in our little local-yokal hospital can not possibly compete with the big big downtown hospital, which had like a Starbucks, Freshens, etc etc in it, BUT there is no excuse for the condition of the vending machines there. Come ON. I don't ask for much in my vending machines, just Cheetos, Twix, and possibly Swiss Cake Rolls in a real high-end vending environment. THESE vending machines, at the hospital where I shall be giving birth, feature 4 types of beef jerky and 3 varieties of SunChips, one of which was Black Peppercorn Ranch. What? Also many kinds of "Captain's Wafers" featuring a variety of gritty fillings that are of no use to me. This is not good. Where are my Cheetos? Where is Little Debbie? And it's between a soda machine and one of those coffee machines that drops the cup and pours the coffee in. No juice? At the hospital? Hmmpf. So much for the instructions to pack lots of change in my hospital suitcase for the vending machines. Forget it.
This visit to L & D brought the reality of what is about to happen a bit closer. There were BABIES, ACTUAL BABIES in the nursery, and they were so so tiny, laying there in their little tiny diapers waving their little arms under the warmers, and something about seeing those babies made me go "Wow. Soon the little new babies in the nursery that everybody is oohing and aahing over are going to be MY babies. Crazy." Also we had to fill out forms for the birth certificates today, and there is a line that says "Mother's Name." I truly had to stop myself from writing MY mothers name. I am the mother. Something about writing my name on that line seems so huge. I am the mother. I pointed out to Dearest this evening that not only are we the mother and the father, we are also the tooth fairy, the easter bunny, AND Santa Claus. Woah. That's a lot of responsibility.
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