An Exciting Weekend

It sure has been a busy and exciting last 3 days.

Saturday was great.  Our church sent over about 35 volunteers who, in two hours, dismantled our deck, weeded my garden, weeded our perennial beds, mowed both yards, and moved all our baby supplies from the garage to the new house.  And then they made lunch for every one.  

It is  an awe inspiring and humbling experience to have all these people come help us out.  Truly, I cannot imagine something more generous than a community swoop-in to help out a family. 

I might have ended up pushing myself a little much on Saturday though.  I made Dave drive me over to the old house so I could see what it looks like without the deck. I confess I walked around and stoopd up a bit more than I should have.

I bring this up because Sunday ended up being a tour through Contraction City.  The contractions  started almost as soon as I woke up, but I didn't start timing them until 10:30.  And from 10:30 to 2:00 or so, I had contractions every 15 to 20 minutes continually.  I called the doc who said not to worry until they either got more intense or moved to every 10 minutes for an hour.  I then decided to go drink a lot of water and lie on my left side, which should stop all contractions normally.  I even started my Hynobabies sesseion to stop preterm labor.  Ironically, all of these efforts to stop the contractions (water, left side, hypnosis) occurred about the same time that my contrax started coming every 10 minutes or less. 

So we called the doctor again and went in for a look-see at the hospital. We dropped a thrilled Conor off at a friend's house and scurried to the hospital.  We were much less stressed this time because I know they can (usually) fix pre-term contractions and I wasn't bleeding.  Bleeding is scary.  

So we arrived and they set us up in the hospital triage.  They started monitoring the babies (looking great!) and my contractions (happening when I thought  they were happening).  With no other signs of labor, they decided to give me a shot of terbutaline and the nurse assured me I would be able to go home after they observed me for a while.  

I had the usual side effects pretty qucikly: a racing heartbeat and getting a bit warmer.  The contractions also stopped immidiately.  Hooray!!

Then.....

I got very, very nauseaus, dizzy and hot.  I was so hot.  I started sweating all over my body.  My hair felt damp and I could feel my belly and legs sweating.  I told Dave and he asked if she should get a nurse and I said yes.

When she came back in, I asked if this was another side effect of terbutaline.  Not really, she said.  And I kept feeling worse.  I thought I was going to pass out, which have been an amazing trick as I was lying down in a hospital room.  I closed my eyes to keep everything from spinning and focused on just trying to breathe.  I do remember thinking "If this is a side effect of this drug, there is no way I can take it for the rest of the pg."

Then all hell broke loose.  I don't really remember what happened, but all of a sudden a lot of nurses appeared in our small room. Dave said it was 5 nurses and he tried to scrunch up in a corner and be as small as he could while the nurses did their work.

I realized something was wrong when the nurse said "Baby B's heart beat is really low." "It's always low," I muttered.  "Nobody's heart beat should be this low," she said.  That's when I got the clue that something was really wrong.  (Dave says at the this point, the babies heart rates were in the 40's.  Very, very bad)

Then they turned me on the side and started oxygen.  Somebody grabbed my right arm and jabbed a needle in it (taking 8 vials of blood and starting an IV, Dave told me later).  I heard my main nurse call to get my pre-natal records.  I realized they were preparing to go to the OR for an emergency c-section.  

I started focusing on breathing deeply and willing/praying for my babies' heart rates to get higher.  I knew this had to do with the drug and was not a "real" problem once we can get everything under control.

"What's their heart beat?" I mumbled through the mask.  "In the 80's," they replied.

This not is good, I thought.  I breathed deeply and willed/prayed some more.  Nurses continued to more around doing all sorts of things.  

Then I began to feel better.  "Hey! I feel a lot better now!"  I said somewhat cheerily.  No one gave a shit.   I kept breathing, willing. and praying.  

"What are the babies' heart beats?" I asked again.  Baby A is 130, Baby B is 113.  Muuuch better.  Breathe.  Will.  Pray.  

Both babies' heart rates reached over 140 and kept climbing into recovery mode.  A nurse later told me that the whole episode was two minutes long.

"Congratulations!" our head nurse said. "You just bought yourself 24 hours in the Presby Hospital Inn!"  

The OB  from our practice showed up a little bit later.  Even though she was not on the scene deuring the "episode" as it came to be known by my nurses, she was doing her work behind the scenes.  One thing she had done after the episode had resolved was call my high risk OB for his perspective about my  very, very unusual reaction to this drug.

He said this was not related to the drug, but more likely an event of supine hypotension or inferior vena cava syndrome.   Basically, the terb may have made the dialation of my veins and arteries more likely, and then in the position I was in on the bed, Squiggle squished my vena cava and prevented the blood from the lower half of my body from returning to my heart.  This is why pg women are not supposed to lie on their backs.   The dizziness, the heat, the sweating, and the nausea are all signs.  If my blood pressure cup had still be on, they would have seen my blood pressure plummet. All I needed to do was roll over. (Which if they had done that when I first complained would have stopped the whole problem!)

In any case, I wasn't going home Sunday night. Mom and twins crashing at a hospital tends to cause them to gat a little more attention.  We were checked into a room.  Dave went to get Conor from our friends (and promptly put Conor, as I would have, in our bed for a comforting snuggle), and everything was fine for the rest of the night.  No contractions for me and excellent baby heartbeats.  The adrenaline stole my ability to sleep, despite an ambien, but knowing they were ok and I wasn't contracting any more was wonderful.  

Tomorrow, Day #2 at the hospital:  To Previa or Not To Previa:  That is the Question. 

Finally!

The mortgage/renovation loan has been approved and we're finalizing the date for closing. The appraisal came back on Friday and it was still about $20 less per square foot than our appraisal in 2006 (which was considered highly conservative).  I know that folks may be thinking that is normal for this time, but our neighborhood is considered one of the few in Charlotte where prices are considered stable since 2006.  And, adding insult to injury, it's still about $70 less per square foot than a similar house on a smaller lot three blocks from our house that sold 6 weeks ago.  Phhht.  We had better not get the same appraiser at the end of building.  Otherwise, I'll be opening up a can of sleep deprived twin mother whoop-ass on those people.  It will be even uglier.

In any case, we should start the remodel/rennovation last week. Yippee!!!  I will be able to pick out fixtures and tiles from pictures online and from samples Dave brings home.  I trust Dave with the things that cannot be sampled (e.g., toilets).  And on Saturday, a huge posse of volunteers are coming over from our church to help us demolish the deck; we took on that project to save a couple of thousand dollars, but with me laid up at the new house, I'm not able to do as much as I thought (i.e, nada).  Therefore, our church has asked for volunteers to help us, and they got a really big response.  

I don't talk much about religion on here or our religious beliefs.  It's a lot like telling strangers your weight.  People are going to make judgments which may be quite out of touch from your own reality.  So, I'll just say that we joined a new church in January and love it and are stunned by the outreach they've given to us since I entered the hospital.  (Conor loves this church, too, which makes a big difference) 

So, they are coming over on Saturday and I think that means, we're actually starting the remodel.  Finally.  

We are very, very excited.

Happy Happy Joy Joy

We went back for a level II ultrasound yestrerday and received mostly great news.

The babies are looking fantastic.  Peanut (the girl) is at the 55th percentile of weight.  Squiggle (the boy) is over the 70th percentile of weight.  I asked for clarification and found out that, yes, these percentiles are for singleton pregnancies.  So my twins weigh more than at least half the singletons do for their gestetational age.  It also means that at 30 weeks, I'm carrying about 7 lbs of baby in me, but I don't care.  The nurse even said that it's like I'm carrying two single pregnancies at the same time, the babies are doing so well. 

!!!!

More good news includes that my cervix remains at the very same length as it was 6 weeks ago.  Because it's so long adnd healthy (the doc joked that I have the cervix of a 24 year old!) that means I am highly unlikely to go into preterm labor.  Yay!!!

Of course, this doesn't mean anything changes for the bedrest.

The bad news is that I still have marginal/partial placenta previa.  The good news is that it's not even close to being complete previa.  But it's still there and they are still worried about placental abruption, etc. etc.  So even while I'm doing great and the babies are doing great, I still have to be on bedrest and as the doc says " better" on my bedrest than I've been.  I have been better today, although I'm not really sure what all that means.  

We also found out that both babies are now head down.  Peanut is no longer transverse and that horrible pain in my belly I felt in the hospital?  That was Squiggle turning around. We had a clue when we couldn't find his heartbeat at the regular place and ended up moving to an entirely different quadrant.  The kicks under my right elbow were also a clue.  

What a waste though, huh?  The babies are in perfect position (only happens 40% of the time) and we have to have a c-section.  

Well, that's life and life is better if both of the babies and I are alive after delivery so C-section it is.   We're now just all pulling for a c-section towards the end of my 36 weeks and not the beginning.

But the news is looking great (for the most part) and I am thrilled about it!

How Big Am I?

"Honey, do you know how I can tell my belly is really, really big?"

"Because you can't get into the bathroom closet anymore?"

"Nope, that's not it."

"Because you can't wear my large pajamas and you can only wear my XL pajamas if the drawstring is not tied?"

"Nope, that's not it."

"Becuase of the gravitaional pull, there are small objects orbiting your belly?"

"Nope, that's not it!"

"Because there are tides in Conor's bath water when you walk by?"

"Nope, that's not it!!"

"Then how can you tell that your belly is really, really big?"

"Because I feel like this picture makes my butt and thighs look thin.  The enormous proportion of my belly is throwing off my body image!"

Week 28 1/2

Well, things are looking a lot sunnier around here!  

Can you stand that picture?  I cannot stop laughing every time I see it.  I do know of one friend in particular, ahem, Brian, who has real issues with belly buttons, who finds this picture pure torture.  But it feels like making lemonade of of lemons to me.  

Yes, that is the scar from last year's colon resectioning surgery.  It's actually grown about an inch during this pregnancy.  I thought it would get thicker, but instead it's just getting longer.  Lovely.

Things are truly going as well as can be expected around here.  My doctor has released me from 24/7 Anita-sitting.  My parents are down here and, I have to say, that's been a blast. I am unfortunately working their booties off, but I am enjoying their company and Conor fairly levitates every time he sees them.  

I am having a couple of contractions a day, but nothing that the doctors find worrisome.  I've also figured out the difference between contractions (hardness from top to bottom of the ute) and Braxton-Hicks (softness in one or more parts of the ute). I'm pretty sure Squiggle has turned head down.  I can feel his back on the outside of my belly and his kicks have changed directions.  Of course, we'll find out Monday when I go back in for my level II ultrasound at the high risk doctors.  

But otherwise, I'm keeping off my feet most of the time and trying to get some school work done for the end of the semester.  It's funny, I don't really think the picture below is that much bigger than the one last month.  Maybe your impression differers.

However this one is the one Dave says I look enormous in.  I agree.  And we still have 8 more weeks to go.  I will achieve whale status, I promise. 

There are other things going on.  We are awaiting the revision of the appraisal of our remodel.  We objected strongly to the appraisal (from an apparently junior appraiser) that rated our house $100/sq ft cheaper than a very similar remodel for a house 3 blocks from us on a lot 1/3 the size of ours.  Actually, they had left that house off their comps and instead used comps from a high crime area 1.5 miles from our house.  We were not amused.  The phrase "legal action" may have been used.  

In any case, life moves on and we expect (more)  good news from our appraiser and the doctors very soon.  Time to go down and chat with the parents.  I really have been running them ragged and I really enjoy our afternoon chats.  

And of course it's been 30 minutes and I have to pee.

Report From the Bed

Admit it:  you think bedrest would be fun.  It sounds very appealing when life is hectic to be told by the doctor to get off one's feet and hang out, usually in front of the TV, and have folks wait on you hand and feet.  You would think this, that is, if you've never been on bedrest.  

Bedrest, in reality, sucks mightily.  My mom and dad, and of course Dave, and of course, many neighbors are helping out.  But here are a few surprising things:

*Daytime TV is worthless.  In one day, you can catch up on the marathon America's next top model or the Law & Order: SUV special abusive car victim's marathon of freaking you out and you're pretty much done with daytime TV.  I am actually finding work to be a delightful distraction from any daytime TV.  

*Many women have to lie on their side the whole time.  I get to recline and can more easily use my computer.  It still sucks. My lower back is not amused.  My knees are achey.  And my calves notice the lack of exercise in any form.  

*And to be all day in bed and then to "go to bed" really, really, sucks.  

So enough of the whinging on.  The babies are doing great.  I'm having a few contractions and a few more Braxton-Hicks.  No bleeding though and the swelling in my legs has gone completely down.  They even look skinny right now!  (You know they must have looked fat if I now think they look skinny)

The best news of all is that although they have it written down as complete placenta previa on my hospital chart, the official doctor's report is marginal placenta previa.  This is GREAT news.  The chances of my bleeding out or Peanut dying are much, much less with marginal instead of complete previa.  (The placenta only touches the cervix; it doesn't cover it)  

So yeah, the worrisome parts are looking better now. It's just the lying here that's going to be tough.  Fortunatetly, I have papers to grade, a book chatper to write, and a few things to review to keep me busy.  I would like to get the papers and the chapter done so I can read more fun things and take a few naps.  All this lying down is actually tiring.  

More on some new  remodel drama later.  We're still moving from Point A to Point B, it is just not even close to a straight line.  

Update from L'Hopital

Well, when one is not on bedrest, one might imagine it's fun. And honestly, it's better than a smack in the head. But it's not nearly as pleasant as one would think in the middle of the busy, hellish part of the semester.

So everything continues to look good. I'm at the very end of spotting and it's not "fresh blood," if you know what I mean. The doc-of-the-day thinks I should be out of here tomorrow, but she also said they want me to not be spotting at all. I think there's a real shot of that. I'm also having about one contraction a day, which is fantastic. My body continues to be happy about having the babies in here, and I think we have a good chance of going 36 weeks plus.

I've also been really lucky and had some really good friends stop by and visit. It really says a lot about my friends who take time out of their busy lives to stop by and chat and catch up. It's a big reminder to me to make that extra effort to stop by and see friends when they are laid up, too. (You should do so, too. But you probably already do and I'm a lesser friend than you all are)

But otherwise, bedrest is quite literally a pain in the butt. I have to find out tomorrow if I can sit up in regular chair at a table when I go home. The good news is that I don't have to be flat on my back, which would suck in a horrible shit-ass way. So reclining is better than that. But my tailbone is sore. Sitting up at a table just sounds so nice right now.

And thank god(dess), I'm not a picky eater. They are really trying hard around here to make sure there is enough food that I like for me to eat. That may have come from the first morning I was hear when I used the words "starving" and pointed out that if I hadn't just had a bowl of cornflakes, I would have "knocked the nursing assistant down and gnawed on her arm." Since then, they've been brining me tons of high protein snacks, lots of fruit, and other assorted snacks. My room fridge is actually full!

I had planned on blogging sometime in the future about following the Hypnobabies natural birthing program. I was actually about 3 weeks into the 5 week program and had just bought a Sansa Fuze MP3 player (LOVE IT! and $50 cheaper if you buy the black one instead of the white one) to practice my lessons without hypnotizing the whole house into a easy, painfree birthing process. In any case, I've been telling all docs how much I want a vaginal birth, and I was going to start pushing the unmedicated part at my next visit.

Before I get to the point of this whole story (yes, there is one!), I have say the self-hypnosis part is really cool. You get to a point of deep relaxation and she has you test whether you can move certain body parts, and you can't. And then ironically, 5 minutes later, she tells you to move them and you totally do without effort. Weird. Except, of course, there is the time that Dave came in and I had fallen asleep during my practice and as the instructor kept saying "Open you eyes, open your eyes" and drooling, with my mouth open, I continued to snore. Ehhh. Whatever.

So the point: I've been very focused on a vaginal birth and I was really going to push non-medicated. And the moment they said placent previa, I knew we were doing a c-section, and I didn't get upset or mourn the difference for a millisecond. It was not at all that I "secretly wanted" a c-section. I still don't want one. But my understanding is that if this had happened 100 years ago, when doctors really didn't do c-sections, the probably of both Baby A and I bleeding out and dying was pretty damn high. Now, the maternal death rate is really low at about .03%. Hooray at how low that is, but it's the only pregnancy complication, I've ever seen with an actual estimate.

The doctors and nurses were very wary of telling me about the c-section despite the fact that I'd already figured out. But I'm not going to wail and cry if I open a door and find a brick wall behind it. What the hell use is that? The most important thing is that the babies and I all three live and are healthy. A vaginal birth is completely off the table. Now, my goals are to go at least 36 weeks and to deliver the fattest, most mature babies that I can.

And I think it's going to happen. I bought the hypnobabies track for stopping premature labor. I'm not in premature labor, but the twins make it more likely my ute is going to be irritated and have contractions and we don't want any contractions with the previa. So, we'll hyp-no-tize my ute into being calm and keeping those babies healthy.

You'd be surprised how powerful the hypnosis visualizations can be.

From the Hospital

Well, that certainly sounds dramatic.  Things are actually fine, but there are complications.  

I woke up this morning and went to the potty and I  had blood 6 inch diameter circle of blood in my pajamas in a part which made it clear where it had come from. I called out to Dave "This is not good!  There's a problem!  We need to call the doctor!"

I reached the triage nurse and eventually the order was given to come into Labor and Delivery at the hospital.  We dropped Conor off at some friends whose son goes to the same school as Conor and went to the hospital.  In one of the happiest blurry sights (I left my glasses at home) I've ever kind of seen, I saw my OB at the L&D desk:  today is his day at the hospital.  

They hooked me up to the monitor and both babies heartbeats were great and they were both quite active.  I was having minimal uterine movement, and it looked more like at "irritated uterus" than contractions.  

My main concern at this point was that my membranes had ruptured.  At 27 weeks, this would be a Not Good Thing.  The doctor did an internal exam and did not see any leakage and a manual check of my cervix link showed that it was still long and closed.  A bonus is that he was so far up my coochie, he aslo checked out my sinuses and found them healthy, too.  

In the next happiest sight I've seen during an unexpected visit to the hospital, my high risk doctor walked in the door with an u/s.  I love this doctor, too.  And pretty soon, he and his nurse figured out the problem:  placenta previa.  At my level II u/s, they thought it looked low, but at the last check up, we didn't notice anything bad.  However, now, it looks low and over/near my cervix.  I'm really not sure whether it's complete or marginal, but it's low.  And Baby A is really transverse low, probably because she can't get her head down past the placenta to be headed towards my cervix.  

Besides that not-so-great news, the babies look great.  It seems like the bleeding has stopped.  And if we can keep it from bleeding again and the placenta stays in the same place, the goal is to get to 36 weeks and do a c-section.  I'd like a little longer, but we're going to have to see what we can do with that negotiation.  If the placenta moves (which may be unlikely considering how far along we are), we may be able to go longer.  

I still have  some blood in my "vault."  Yes, that's apparently the medical term for the inside of your hooha.  Your "vault."  Shouldn't there be a lock and key to my vault?  The first thing I thought of was my "Chamber of Secrets" although depending on my mood, it could be my chamber of horrors.  

In any case, there is blood still in my vault, so I'm still spotting, but no one is worried.  I'm in the hospital for a couple of days for observations so that they can be assured I've stopped bleeding.  And then I'm on bedrest for the rest of the pregnancy.  

Ironic, eh?  Well, the babies are doing great in size.  And the Dr. Luke diet improves everything EXCEPT for placental previa, which is a pretty random thing anyway.  To be honest, what I'm most concerned about is eating enough here.  I inhaled lunch and had a snack of chicken noodle soup.  Dr. Luke would have a hissy fit if she saw how little I had eaten today.  Now, more than ever, I need these babies to have as much weight on them as possible.  

I hope I can leave the hospital this weekend.  And I hope I don't have to come back again until it's time to give birth.  9 weeks folks.  that's the new minimum I want to go.  (Originally, it was 11 weeks minimum, but 9 is the new 11).

And I need  a pillow.  Food and a pillow.  But the babies are both ok.

Being a Psychologist

One of the nice things about being a psych professor is having colleagues who know a lot about human cognition and behavior.  A good friend/colleague pointed out yesterday that the twins don't understand there are two of them in my belly. It takes a long time for infants (much less babies in utero) to understand that there is a world apart from them.  Infants don't understand that they end at the boundaries of their body and the rest of the world starts then.

What that means, we figured out, is that the twins probably "think" about each other as part of themselves.  There is not this "other baby" in here with me.  There is  "me",  and sometimes I kick myelf in the head or I take up too much space and squash myself and sometimes, I can cuddle with myself.

But it certainly explains why twins should share the same bassinet in the hospital and why they sleep better  beside each when they are still newborns/infants.  Otherwise, they are missing half of themselves.  

24 weeks

I forgot to update my blog with my latest belly shot.  At this point, I'm 24 1/2 weeks measuring 32 weeks.  I'm still getting bigger by the day.

The Politics of Childbirth

I've been through this once before.  The "this" I'm referring to is the politics and, essentially, the judgments of giving birth.  We had a wonderful doula before and want to use a doula again.  A good friend of mine has recently become a doula, but her mother has some serious health issues and I am either not selfish enough to demand that she give her full attention to me or too selfish that I want it.  Our doula for Conor's birth will be on vacation during the twins likely time to pop out, so she can't commit to fully being there, either.  

So we've been looking for a new doula.  I have to admit, right off the bat, that my tolerance for annoying things is very low right now.  I just can't be bothered with bullshit lately.  It makes me cuss (more than usual).  

So I've spoken with two doulas who are members of the Local Doula Network (LDN).  I'm not going to name names or name organizations, so the LDN is not a real group.  I also don't want to offend anyone in the area who absolutely loves their experiences with this group.  To be quite honest, if I was having a singleton, they would fit right in with my goals.  But I'm not having a singleton.  And some of the statements I've been hearing could be  interpretted as dogmatic.  I'm sure in a less pregnant state, that would not be the case, but I actually do not agree that the *only* way I can have a vaginal birth with twins is to have a home birth.  After 8 miscarriages, I am not giving birth to my twins at home.  I want a hospital birth.  Besides, 50% of twins are delivered vaginally in a hospital.    I can explain the difference between 50% and 100% if you need me to, but it will only make me much, much more annoyed.  

I assume that most professionals (OBs and doulas alike) are trying to do the best they can. I fully understand that professionals view their jobs through particular lenses, which may not be the same lens I view the world through.  But that alone does not make them evil incarnate.  And people who automatically assume that others are GOING TO DO BAD THINGS, because of their gender, ethnicity, country of origin, or PROFESSION, annoy me in the best of circumstances.  Now, it makes me likely to open up a can of twin pregnancy whoop ass on them. 

So I would argue that the premise that I can only have a vaginal delivery at home is false.  In addition, do you know how rare a twin pregnancy is?  1 in 87 births are twins.  Do you know the current probability of being an adult and being in prison in the US is?  1 in 33.  You're more likely to be in prison than to give birth to twins.  Even if you account for both a mom and dad (2/87), you're still more likely to be in prison than to be a parent giving birth to twins this year.  

So, let's go back to the home birth option.  A doula and/or a midwife would have to see well over 150 births to see 2 sets of twins being born. At 24 a year (two births a month), they would need over 6 years of experience to attend two twin births.  There is no way in bloody hell that I am going to be the first twin birth someone has every attended.  You are effing kidding me.  And for someone to push a home birth for  me feels to me like they are working off their own agenda (to see a home twin birth) than to help me have the birth I want to have.  

So what birth do I want to have?

1)  I want a vaginal birth.  Baby A is already head down and my primary OB has been trained in vaginal breeches.  So even if Baby B stays breech now or after Baby A pops out (the second twin will somtimtes turn after Baby A leaves), I believe I have a real option of having a vaginal delivery of my twins.  

2)  I want a vaginal birth because I want to be able to breastfeed as easily as possible.  Vaginal births help one's body know more quickly that it's time to make milk.  Even if I have to have a c-section for the second, my body will already know from the vaginal delivery to pump up the jam.  (or whatever)

3)  I'd rather have an unmedicated birth, but I'm willing to give on this.  If they did have to do a c-section for the second baby and I wasn't using an epidural, they'd have to put me completely out.  The delay in starting breastfeeding and bonding would bother me.  

4)  Instead, I want to labor as much as I can at home and perhaps I could even bypass the whole problem by popping the babies out before there was a chance for an epidural or a c-section.

Things I know that are going to be sucky for me giving birth at a hospital:  I'm going to have to deliver in the OR.  I hope I can labor in a regular room, because I would hate to spend 4-6 hours in a cold, sterile OR.  Bleah.  It is more likely they will push for a c-section early on.  However, with my doula and my primary OB, I believe I will get the support I need.

But still the main goal is a vaginal delivery of (at least) Baby A, no NICU time for either baby, and two healthy twins coming home with me 48 hours after delivery.  

All of those options seem reasonable.  And they seem reasonably likely in a hospital.  To say otherwise and imply that I am wrong and I don't know what I'm talking about is likely to let you hear a stream of words and phrases you didn't think pregnant woman could say outside of an unmedicated labor.  You don't want to go there.   

And, BTW, we do have a doula.  She is not going on vacation this year and she works as a childbirth educator at the hospital we are going to use.  She will help us find the right nurses to meet our goals and she thinks a vaginal delivery is quite possible.  So, phhht.  

Don't annoy me for stupid reasons.  It doesn't help anyone.  :-)

Oh, Yeah, The Snoring

I forgot in the post, while focusing on how tired I am, how sleeping with twins is going.  I can assure you, Dave has not.

So, um, yeah.  I snore a bit now.  When we were first married, Dave said I snored like a kitten.  He was very much in love then.  Things have definitely changed.  

I woke up the other night and Dave was smothering himself with a pillow.  Actually, we was trying to sleep with a pillow on the top of his head because my snoring was so loud, it was waking him up.  The other night, he said he just started laughing because he had never heard such a loud sound coming from another human being.  Such a delicate flower of pregnancy, I am.  

I have also been having major pains in my hips while I sleep.  Then I figured out that's why they recommend pillows for pregnant women.  As long as I put my top leg on a pillow, I don't have pain.  No pillow, great pain.  Poor Dave is hanging on for his life on his side of the bed.  I try to move the pillows from one side to the other when I turn to give him more room, but there is a great deal of grunting involved.  I'm not sure that's a real improvement.

And the final sleep yucky part is the 1:30 to 2:00 am acid stomach. Oddly, when I roll over to my left side (the side you're supposed to sleep on when you're pregnant), my God(dess), the acid that comes up to my mouth.  Invariably, I lie there debating about whether to let acid burn in my throat or waddle downstairs and get the tums.  Usually, I waddle.  But I will be really happy to not have acid in my mouth every night.  It's not nearly as much fun as it sounds.  

I'm sure none of these issues have anything to do with the fatigue I feel throughout the day.  Not at all.  No sirree.  My less than ideal sleeping has nothing to do with my desire for 2 naps a day.  

Being Pregnant With Twins

A few people have asked me if this pregnancy is different from Conor's pregnancy.  The short answer is Hell to the Yes.  Actually, it's not that dramatic.  Except it sort of is. 

This is  qualitatively different than Conor's pregnancy, even though I'm doing really, really well as a twin gestator.  The main thing is that although I'm 6 months, I'm measuring 8 months, and I feel like I am 8 months.

First and foremost, I am tired.  Really, really tired.  And when I complain about how tired I am and people around me say, "Oh, yeah, I'm tired, too," I want to hit them.  There's a difference in feeling like you could use a cup of coffee and the utter fatigue I am feeling.  Case in point:  Conor and I went to Trader Joe's this morning. When we got home, I asked Dave to get the groceries from the car because I felt dizzy and tired.  I then lay down on the sofa and immediately fell asleep for about two hours.  This was 11:30 on a Saturday morning, when I'd (mostly) slept from 9 pm until 7 am the night before.  

The whole fatigue thing reminds me of last year's surgery.   At one point, after looking at my CAT scan, the doctor noted that most of the time, people are so much pain, he has the discussion about the surgery in the emergency room.  I thought to myself "I said it hurt."  Maybe what other think of as utter fatigue is my "need a cup of coffee", but when I say I'm tired, I mean, I'm tired.

I'm also very slow.  Walking around now is a lot more difficult than it ever was with Conor.  Walking up the stairs at the rental really winds me.  And whereas it used to take about 5-7 minutes to walk from the parking lot to my office, we're now looking at a good 15 minute shuffle.  And sometimes, I actually have to stop and rest!  While I'm *walking.*  I'm honestly not going to push it.  There will be plenty of time after the babies are born for me to set a personal record in the parking-lot-to-office commute.   But now, if my body says, "Dude, slow this shuffle down," I'm going to.  

Finally, one really good thing is that my belly is so big that my butt looks good.  It's amazing what (dis)proportion will do, but yeah.  My butt looks small and firm.  HA!!  HA! HA! HA!  Maybe the solution to our warped body images should be  a new fashion trend of sticking a basketball under our shirts so our butts and thighs look good!  

Of course, there are the other usual things (swollen feet, smaller brain, increased thirst and appetite) all of which are happening earlier than with Conor.  But those seem normal. The fatigue, the speed and the belly size just seem very, very different this time.   

In fact, even talking about this makes me think another nap this afternoon would be very nice!

Kickin' Ass and Taking Names

Eventually, we will get to that portion of the blog, but first I have to talk about Conor, because it's been on my mind to blog about him.  I have been focusing a great deal on the house and on the pregnancy, but I don't want anyone for a second to think that he is not the light of my life.

He has been absolutely adorable lately and this has to be some of the best times of childhood.  Because everyone has been asking, I will go on record saying that he is very excited about the babies.  He tells everyone we meet that we have twins, a boy and a girl, and he will point to my belly.  He likes to talk to them and tell them about his day ("it's cold here today") and last night, we wanted to read to them, an act that generally involved shouting CURIOUS at my belly, every time George was described in the book.  

School is going very well for him and he's taken to singing lots of songs in the backseat on the way home.  He loves to color and will spend up to an hour working on one picture in his coloring book.  He is "writing words" in a journal and will now take 3 or 4 books to bed with him after we've read to him so that he can "read" them while he goes to sleep.  

We've had some rough nights getting him to bed after daylight savings time started (coincidentally, the same weekend we moved).  Two nights ago, when he was starting to get all riled up again, I plainly told him that we'd had a lot of fights before bed recently and neither he nor I liked it.  I stopped talking and then he immediately started doing what I'd asked him to do earlier (pull the plug on his bath).  It is moments like those that I think he has got to be the most mature, empathetic 4 year old that has ever lived.  I didn't tell him he HAD to do something; I just pointed  out that we hadn't had a lot of fun at bedtime lately and implied his lack of following the bedtime routine had a little something to do with it.

The best part of all, though, is that Conor is still the same smoochie monkey he has always been.  When that changes, and it will eventually, I'm going to be crushed because I love his snuggles and kisses now.  I think he's going to be the best big brother in this whole entire world.  (Sorry, Scott!  You can be second!)  

So what's this about kickin' ass and taking names?  Well, we went to the maternal and fetal/ high risk pregnancy office today.  The babies are  growing really well. Baby A is at 51% weight and Baby B is at 67%.  Baby A is in head down position, so a vaginal birth is definitely an option now.  (We'll be more sure after the next visit in a month)  Baby B's head is pretty much resting on Baby A's booty, which I think is hysterical!  I'm so going to tease him about that when he's older.  Baby B's feet are near Baby A's head, so I worry that he is kicking her.  

It's amazing how squished they are in there.  There is not a lot of extra room for anyone there.  I feel guilty, but they are truly doing ok.

The BEST news is that it's looking very much like I should be able to go for full term for this pg without any bedrest.  They measure cervical length at this point.  And I had read an article previously about cervical link and premature labor/birth, but I couldn't remember what it was.  Fortunately, my doctor was one of the co-authors of the study.  (Who knew?!)  They found that a cervical length of 34 mm or more increases the probability of going all the way (defined as at least 34 weeks) to 95%.  It's the same risk as a singleton!  My cervix is 47 or 48 mm!!!  He definitely thinks I should be able to go to full term with these babies with no restriction in physical activity.  WOOHOOO!!

He also said if I was a boy, I'd brag about that length.  I told him I was going to brag about it anyway!  

We are actually thrilled here.  The babies look great and the carrier pod is looking great, too.   I have gained a boatload of weight, but I think there is a direct relationship between my double chin and my cervical length.  Ok, that sounds really weird, but you know what I mean.  

We're going all the way with these babies!  And if they keep up this weight gain, they will both be over 7 lbs when they are born---the same as Conor!!

The Dark Side

Well, despite that ominous heading, things are much, much better.  We spoke to W--- again at Citibank who assured us that all the information had been updated on Citibank's end last Friday.  Dave also contacted the president of Citibank Student Loans (so not kidding!) and has been working with someone in their office to resolve this problem.  As of this afternoon, the president's office had resent all of our corrected POSITIVE information to the credit bureaus and by this Friday, everything should be fixed.  Note: they resent our information specifically this afternoon to the bureaus.  Wow!!  Thanks, honey!! We also called Equifax and the information there is finally correct there and after yesterday's very frustrating call to Transunion, we're just going to wait until Friday to see if everything is ok.  

Hoo-dang-ray.

What a pain in our collective asses and what a relief that it's finally going to be resolved.

And not a moment too soon.  Here is where we're giving in to the dark side.  As a graduate student, as a new faculty member (PAYING OFF ENORMOUS STUDENT LOANS, ahem), and then as a newlywed in a modest house in the city of Charlotte, I am used to living small.  I love our house, the one we are remodeling.  It is cute and old and very, very small.  But we figure that we're used to city living, so it's not that big a deal.

Well, this new house is not that much bigger.  However, our friends gutted it several years ago and remodeled the attic into the master suite.  The downstairs bedrooms are still small, typical of our 'hood.  But the living room and dining room are enormous.  And the kitchen was designed with a cook in mind.  And the upstairs master bedroom.  Oh. My. Lord.  

Space!  We have space!!! In our bedroom!!!!  Our bed is finally proportionate to the room. And all of our bedroom furniture is in our bedroom.  And there are Two. Walk. In. Closets.  

I feel so guilty.  After years of convincing ourselves and others that small is absolutely fine, I am finding that I like to be able to twirl around the bedroom and avoid the furniture and the walls and the husband and the cat and the dog. 

And this street!  When we moved to the neighborhood, our street was a good street.  It wasn't as good as a few other streets, but it was certainly fine.  Then about 3 or 4 years ago, the developers started remodeling this street.  The houses are so cute now.  And they are close together.  And while some folks might think that's a bad thing, we notice that everyone is walking up and down the sidewalks.  We've already met 4 different neighbors,  all of whom are really nice and similar in many ways to us.  Even our neighbor from our old street stopped by and we marveled together about how friendly and nice this street is.  

Our old street has big lots and so there is a lot of spaces between houses, at least, "big lots" and "a lot of space" for the city. 

The other funny part about living here is how well we can see our back yard.  We need to work on our back yard a wee bit more.  Ok, not a wee bit more, a helluva lot more.  This house has a better view of our back yard than we do.  (Which makes me think the evil renters probably *did* see me flip a double bird at them on more than one occassion)  In any case, we can even see our old neighbor (and good friend's) backyard better now than we ever did at the old house.  Yikes!! 

So there.  This is what we have learned about our old and our new houses in one week.  We are still madly in love with our old house.  But we are really looking forward to the remodel and a much expanded bedroom.  I also think we'll have some better ideas about how to use the space downstairs that isn't being expanded to make it more user friendly.  

In any case, the outcome of today is that we are actually going to be able to get the mortgage for the remodel.  And what the heckity heck, we've got the organizational strength of Citibank student loans behind us to help.  Who woudda thunk?

Annoyed and Annoying

I had no intention of starting this blog with this level of crankiness.  We've moved into the rental and truly love it.  It's cute; it's bigger; it's on a cool street with lots of young families.  We're getting some ideas for our remodel (like the closet under the stairs).  Generally, the move has gone well.  

However.  

We are STILL having problems with the effing credit reports.  Despite Citibank's assurance that the problems were fixed and the new improved info should be at the credit bureaus in a few days, my calls to two of the credit bureaus still showed the same problems.   We've now started disputes of the disputes  and some of  these people (ok, one in particular) thinks that I'm lying when I say that Citibank was supposed to have fixed it already.   I have a call into W--- to see if she can help us out again or give us advice.  

Can I just say that some folks are better customer service agents than others?  Well, trust me.  It is true.  And I am CRANKY lately.  I mean cranky.  I am ready to open up a can of twin pregnancy whoop ass without much provocation at all.  I even mouthed an angry FUCK YOU to a colleague who, upon observing me wheezing after climbing a flight of stairs, condescendingly told me that walking is good for me.  

RIGHT, jerk.  That's why all my twin pregnancy books explicitly say that twin gestators should NOT take the stairs.

So, um, yeah!

I am a joy to be around.  It doesn't help that I often long for a nap by the middle of the day.  And unpacking is a sure fire way to start up a series of Braxton Hicks.  This morning's call to the nurse revealed that using my stomach muscles can irritate my ute enough to start the Braxton Hicks.  So I can't really bend over much any more without ending up on the sofa on my left side constantly poking my belly to see if is hard or soft.  

And the babies are moving around tons (yay!!!) but there is some position they take that puts a lot of pressure and pain on my pubic symphysis. I had this problem with Conor so I know what it feels like.  But essentially, the joint over my hooha hurts.  There's nothing bad for the twins or for me in this.  But one never really enjoys a painful hooha joint, so there.    

So there you go.  There have been a lot of emotional ups and downs lately.  I know it's going to work out in the end, but the day to day can be annoying.  Just in case you are wondering, I still believe that remodeling (like life) is a trek from Point A to Point B.  And just like life, the journey is not straightforward.  

I feel better!  Thanks for letting me turn this blog entry into a bitch and moan session.  Now it's time for my nap.  

Hooray!!!

God(dess) bless W--- at Citibank for immediately correcting the reporting problem on my student loan.  There is no problem, there was no problem and she is giving me direct access to her to help us get our remodel mortgage approved.  In fact, she said "when we get your information, we can investigate it and can correct it immediately."  Then she pulled up my account and said "Oh, there is no problem.  I've fixed it now."  I made her repeat it three times before I finally believed her.   

Hooray for W---!!  There is (at least) one wonderful competent person working there!!  And I know who she is!!!

What an emotional day!!  

Welcome

Hi to everyone who heard me on Charlotte Talks today or who is now following me on twitter!

That was a really fun show!  They are hoping to do more of them in the future, so let WFAE know how much you enjoyed it!  Also, check out our Organizational Science PhD program 

and the UNC Charlotte Psychology Department for more information on how we are doing studies like the ones we discussed on Charlotte Talks.

Thanks for stopping by!

Glitches

It has been an emotionally up and down week again, focusing fortunately only on the remodel.  In fact, the only effect this has had on the twins is that I'm too worked up to get to sleep early enough at night and as a result POOPED.  That would explain why yesterday, I went to bed at 8 and got up around 6.  In all honesty, I've been doing that about once or twice a week since about 16 weeks.

Anyhoo, this week's glitches came because our contractor's estimate did NOT decrease as much as we'd thought from cutting off 300 square feet off the plans and from my stupid Citibank Student Loans, from grad school, which I'VE PAID OFF!!!

First, the bigger issue: the contractor's estimate was still about $30,000 more than we can afford.  Again, $5,000 or $6,000, we can deal with.  $30k is  a deal breaker.  I pretty much decided we couldn't do the remodel or we'd just do the first floor and have a very small family room on the deck.  Dave, Kumbaya Boy, was still holding out hope that the contractor could bring the $30k down to a number we could deal with.

Foreshadowing what would happen, I told Dave that if this deal did work out then he could lord his Kumbaya-ness over me forever.  And indeed, 24 hours later, the contractor came back with an estimate only $6,000 over our budget, a number we could afford with some of the savings we've squirreled away. So, Kumbaya, oh lord, kumbaya.

The second glitch is in actuality minor but in reality could be a real problem.  My credit report came back will multiple disputes on it with my Citibank Student Loans.  Considering 1) I was never late with a payment,  2) that these loans are all paid off and 3) this has never shown up on my credit reports before (including the ones for our current mortgage), I was not amused.  When I called up the Citibank Loan services, the service representative quickly new what the problem was:  there is no problem with my account.  Instead, the credit bureaus often "misunderstand" what Citibank  reports and put down that there is a dispute when, in actuality, there is not.  

W. T. F.  

Maybe Citibank should change what they report to the credit bureaus so that this is not such a common  issue!!!  I faxed my info requesting the problems be corrected on Tuesday morning and just called and they "still haven't received the fax."  I put that in quotes because Dave, my calm and Kumbaya husband, called bullshit on that one.  I'm calling back tomorrow and at that point, Dave told me I need start getting nasty.  I'm pregnant with twins:  I can do it!!!  The distance between calmly hanging out and raging bitch is pretty short!!  

So tonight I continue packing.  I actually stopped on Monday because we weren't sure the remodel was going through.  We thought we'd pay the first month's rent and give our 30 day notice.  Now we're actually going through with this!  Of course, we have still not resolved the second glitch, which annoys me to no end.  One possibility is that we go ahead with just Dave to qualify for the loan, but that would mean that although I'd be on the deed, I wouldn't be on the loan, and I have to be perfectly honest with you:  it makes me feel like less of a partner.  I don't like it.  

But just like the contractor estimate worked out, this is going to work out.  And if I need to let my pregnancy freak flag fly to get this done, by jove and by golly, I will.  

We're switching internet from the old to the new house tomorrow, so I may not be available.  I'm sure this weekend, I'll be able to update what is going on as we move into our interim new house.  WOW!!!

20.5 Weeks

Today was a quick trip back to the OB for my 20 1/2 week appointment.  Although I am only 20 1/2 weeks, I am measuring 27 1/2 weeks.  Yeah, that's about typical for twins and basically confirms that I am enormous.

The doctor kindly said my blood pressure, protein in my urine, and weight gain were "perfect", which made me feel less like the  calmly peeing whale I have become.  

On the other hand, I remain exhausted.  So exhausted , that I cannot think of anything else clever to say for this post. 

So there.  I am done. It is 7:15 and time for me to go to bed.

ETA:  For comparison, this is a picture of me when I was 7 months pregnant with Conor.  I am about 5 months pregnant now. 

Oh, Lots of Things

We're packing up and moving into the new house.  It's really nice, especially now that we've painted the black S&M bondage room into a happy, light blue, little boy appropriate color.  Being that we lived in Los Angeles for 10 years, I also went over and smudged the whole house this afternoon. I smell like pot now, but what the hey.  I get a natural high off of smelling my own hands.  

I have felt guilty for not blogging much about Conor lately.  He is still the apple of my eye and the joy in my heart, and I guess I've been selfishly focusing on my body and our upcoming move.  But he continues to be as adorable and smoochie as ever.  

And continuing in this selfish vein, I will now blog about Conor's opinions about the twins ("It's awesome!") and his questions about their upcoming birth both a month ago ("Mommy, how are the babies going to come out of you?") and more recently ("Mommy, where is your pagina?").  He loves to say "Hi" to them and gives them lots of kisses.  I had to ix-nay the high fives he wanted to give them, but overall he knows he needs to be gentle.  He cannot wait to officially be a big brother and likes to tell everyone we meet about the boy and girl twins in my belly.  

He's also excited about the new house we're going to be moving into ("I can't wait to play there!!"), which is impressive considering that his daycare just moved campuses and he is handling that well, too.  I don't know if this is the correct parenting strategy or not, but with all these changes, I try to be as straightforward as possible about what is happening and when and what will be easy and what could be hard.  I don't think it's fair to say "Everything will be butterflies and warm cookies" when we are likely to encounter some over-cooked and under-seasoned spinach on this path.

That said, can I just say how much we still like having Conor end up in the Big bed about 2 or 3 nights a week?  Maybe it's because we're a working couple, but those middle of the night and early morning snuggles are the whipped cream on the top of our spicy hot chocolates.  Yes, it's crowded.  But the cuddles and snuggles and sleepy "I love you"s are worth every funky twist and turn.  Besides, you know I'm not sleeping anyways.  I might as well get a little snuggle out of it.  

How big is my belly?  It is pressed up against the desk as I sit in my normally comfortable spot on this computer.  It is big.  

But in not so big news, we went to the mothers of multiples sale on Friday night and OH MY GOODNESS!!!!  For $180, we got a double snap n go,  a duoglider stroller,  a purple bumbo with an activity tray, an arm's reach co-sleeper, a my brest friend nursing pillow for twins, and a new baby monitor.  I'm just saying, that much baby paraphenalia for that prices sounds pretty dang good to me!

What's freaking me out though is that every time I look at that double stroller, I think to myself "HOLY CRAP! WE ARE HAVING TWINS!!!" just like that and in all caps.  

Well, I'm missing blogging because I'm thinking up posts daily.  But the eyelids get really heavy after dinner and I'm really trying to focus during the day on getting my school work done.  I'm just over 20 weeks now, so we're over half-way there.  

And in exciting news, we're expecting a big snow storm (for us) tonight:  4 to 8 inches.  School will be closed for at least one day.  I don't know if I have any warm clothes to wear out, but I am looking forward to hopefully having some good snow play time with Conor after this storm.

I should pack some more boxes, but I'd really rather go eat a snack.  I wonder whether my obligation will beat my desire?

Getting Ready

I went by the rental on Friday.  I have to be perfectly honest:  I love our house.  But seeing this house, with its wonderful craftsman charm and BIG BEDROOMS AND BATHROOMS and a GROWN UP REFRIDGERATOR made me feel a little ungrateful towards our home.  We have a wonderful living space in our house.  The heart of our house is our very open kitchen, dining room and close by (but small) family room.  Considering I spend most of my time in the kitchen, because it is that nice, I love our house.  

But our bedrooms are so small.  Our closets are tiny:  I have about 4 feet of usable hanging space. And the bathrooms, while nice, are just not big enough. It doesn't help that in the mornings everyone including the cat and the dog tries to get in the 7 foot long "master" bathroom. 

So we are pretty excited about the rental, our new home while they pop the top here.  Dave put a gate in the fence between the two houses, so now we'll be able to move back and forth without driving around the block.  And we're hoping it makes clear to the renters after us that We Are Friendly People and We Get Along With Our Neighbors.  Unlike the nutjob renters who moved out---and painted the room that will be Conors, wait for it, black!  We'll be repainting Conor's room next weekend.  

We also moved plantbeds this weekend to get them out of the way of the construction.  The hardest plants were my grandmother's hydrangeas, which have grown quite large.  We moved one to the front of the house and one near the back.  I'm hoping they will both like their new homes.  

And I am pooped.  I did not do that much today besides digging, but I am just whooped.   

I have to start packing this week and determine what we take with us and what we leave in the garage or my home office.  I don't want to move everything, but I also don't want to spend the next 6 months skimping on things.  Of course, the remodel will be done right around the time twins are due so minimizing repacking is a goal, too.  Advice is welcome.

That said, whatever we decide to do, it won't be "wrong."  There is just going to be slightly more convenient and  slightly easier.  

Holy Cow

I think we're going to do this remodel thing.  Last week, after the Kumbaya post and the meeting of Squiggle and Peanut, we met with our architects and the man who is more than likely going to be our contractor.  He came back with a very, very reasonable estimate for the remodel.  It involved us doing a non-trivial amount of work and all the extras we said we could cut out, he cut out.  Nonetheless, it was still about $50,000 more than we could afford.  

We decided that although we loved this plan, we needed to go back to the original plan, Plan A. It had the square footage we could afford, but did not have the extra bedroom we needed.  We figured that the architects could just get rid of the loft (a "landing area" off the stairs) that served as an open room, and just add a bedroom there.  It would not be nearly as cute, but it would be functional.  

Folks, this is why you hire architects.  Tonight, we had a charette with our architectural team.  Although one might imagine that a charette is a short game of charades, it's actually a intense design meeting to figure out our home issues.  Our architect's goal was to keep Plan B but to reduce it in size to meet our budget. At that point, she had easily been able to delete about 150 sq feet for a $20,000 savings.  However, one might note that $20K NE $50K.  So although that was nice, that wasn't going to cut it.  I actually was feeling disappointed because I had in my head that we had to go back to Plan A and try to make that one work.

Then....Then....THEN!!! Dave suggested a new location for the master bathroom and everything fell into place.  She figured out how to arrange everything and cut off 4oo sq feet.  Our closet will be a little smaller than before, but still a boatload bigger than anything we've had before.  The loft (we still have a loft!) will be smaller, but can still serve as a small bonus room.  The child's bedroom/nursery will have a fine closet *and* the ceilings will be high enough to build  a sleeping loft later on.  Our bedroom will be the same size and will still have a sunroom off of it.  And all this will be within our budget.  It's Plan B writ slightly smaller.  And all because Dave suggested moving the bathroom!  In fact, we needed the entire addition to be 1000 sq feet and at this point, we're looking at about 972 sq feet.  

Holy Fracking Shite.  I think we can do this!!

In fact, I think we're ready to call our neighbors and move into the rental behind us March 1st.  

!!!!

Yes, there's still the whole business of getting the remodel funded.  But so far, all the signs point to yes.  And now that we have a realistic plan with a realistic budget and we're still going to have everything we want, (holy cow!), this may work!

Ok, yes, we are only going to have one bathroom upstairs.  This means that middle of the night pitter patter to go piddle pee is going to go through our bedroom and is likely to end up the rest of the night in our bed.  But really, how is that different than now?  It's not.  And when whoever is sleeping up there is older, I have no doubt he/ she can figure it out in a way that keeps everyone's privacy.  (There will be stairs down to his or her own bathroom.  Take them.)

Oh my goodness.  I think this is going to work out.

Hooray!  YIKES!!!

Peanut and Squiggle

I've had a hard time coming up with nicknames for the babies.  The main reason is that Baby A and Baby B works ok.  Another is that we used a lot of the gender neutral names with Conor and the subsequent miscarriages.  

But today, after our Level II ultrasound, it became clear that their names are Peanut and Squiggle.  Peanut is Baby A because she (!) is measuring a little smaller than her brother (!), Squiggle, who is very, very active.  

The ultrasound went perfectly normal and we are so excited to be having a boy and a girl.  I will tell Conor today when we pick him up from school.  But his request this morning was for a boy and a girl.  He gets to have a little brother and a little sister. 

Everything seems just wonderful for our growing little family.

As for our (hopefully) growing house, we're meeting with our architect and preferred contractor Thursday afternoon to figure out if we can build the house for the price we want as-is or if we have a do-over on the design.  

It's all going to work out.  That, I'm sure of.

Kumbaya

We ran into a good friend of ours, who is a developer, today at lunch.  Once we told him about last night's estimate, we are feeling much better that we can do the remodel "as is" for the budget we want.  Just one example of how this guy was way overbidding: he was proposing that just the electrical part of the addition would be about $20k.  Our friend had the electrical stuff done on his entire house  for about $12k.  Granted he is a developer and thus has better connections, whereas we are just regular lame folks.  Still, that estimate is stupid.

And though it's been on my mind, I haven't even broached the topic of the mini-van we are going to have to buy.  The night we found out about the twins, I found a used Odyssey for about $12k.  We should have bought it then, because now we can't find anything better than a 2005 Odyssey with 60K miles for, oh, $20,000.  One might note that a new 2009 is $25,000 or so.  YIKES. 

So then we started looking at Mazda5's which are mini-mini vans (micro vans) and start at $17k.  The good news is the price and the gas mileage.  The bad news is that it's small, and that we're sure Dave could fit in it, much less 3 kids, a dog, and luggage.  We don't travel all the time, but the only other car we could travel in right now is 13 years old, can't go up a hill without losing power, and may not fit two infant car seats at the same time.  So, um, yeah.

Now we're leaning towards a Toyota Sienna with the 8 seat option; Conor could sit with the twins and Patches and the luggage could sit in the back. Mom and Dad could even ride with us out to dinner when they come up to visit.  Dave even found a 2008 model with the options we want for $22k.  

We are, by the way, going to be selling the Jetta which should help us pay for this thing.  The Jetta's gas mileage is so good it's going to sell itself.  

In any case, I wonder why I'm having a hard time sleeping lately?  I mean apart from the fact that my uterus is twice the size of mothers of singletons at 18 weeks. And that I have an horrible stuffed nose and am sucking the paint off the walls with my snoring.  The result is a dry mouth that takes about 45 minutes to recover from when I wake.  And that my ginormous husband's nobby knees keep drifting over to my side of the bed.  It's not generally a problem when by belly isn't bigger than my boobs, but for some reason, his knees are inhibiting my ability to stretch out in a position that, theoretically, could be comfortable to sleep in.  And yes, I'm ending that sentence in a preposition and I don't care. 

Whatever.  Kumbaya.  It is all going to work out.  Right?

Financial Bleah

The first contractor just came back with an estimate on the model, at THREE times our budget.  It freaks me out more than it freaks Dave out, well, because that's how we are as a couple.  (Hence, I'm a nut and he is kumbaya boy)  

What worries me is that even if this is an outrageous quote, how can the quote we think is the most realistic be 1/3 what his cost is?  Seriously.

Then, we did a little math.  We've been told that square foot building cost around here was $135 at the highest.  We're hoping it's much lower now, or we still can't afford it.  However, this dude was coming in at $225 per square foot.  You have GOT to be kidding me!  That is a generous square foot equity estimate right now.  So this dude is on drugs.  We are not going to pay someone to remodel our house at the exact same amount of equity we would be adding.

So Dave, Kumbaya boy, came up with that reason for why his estimate was outrageous.  I, on the other hand, still am not convinced that our cheapest estimate is going to be within our budget.  Our budget is not flexible.  We cannot afford to go to a jumbo mortgage.  

Thus, I am getting ready for Plan B:  going back to the architect for a do-over.  We live on a half acre of land.  SURELY, there is some way to economically add another bedroom and a master suite.  And if it all stays on one floor, then hooray!, we won't have to move out.  But yeah.  I'm not thinking the current "dream plan" is going to work out.  

Kumbaya.

And yes, I know no one reads blogs over the weekend, but I have been in the weeds this week, and exhausted when I come home.  I don't think that's going to change any time soon.

Like Mother, Like Son

I swear, he was just showing me a boo-boo.

Financially Speaking

We are in the midst of figuring out how to finance our remodel and, more importantly, the twins.  Because I am new to most of this financial stuff, I thought I'd share some of the things we've learned, in case you, or some random googler, needs some information on what financing a remodel involves.  (I'm talking mostly about financing the remodel.  We aren't financing the twins beyond eating nothing but ramen noodles from January until August of next year, when we're paying $2000+ a month for three children in daycare.  Y.I.K.E.S.)

First, some basics about how we are approaching this.  Our remodel has to cost less than $120k, so that we do not have to get a jumbo loan.  When you hear all the news about current low interest rates, it applies only to loans under $417,000.  Over that amount and I think the lowest interest rates are around 7%.  For all of my friends and family in NYC and CA, bless your little high mortgage paying hearts.  We actually have the option of going a bit more than $120k for our budget, but we are not going to tell our contractors. 

We are also planning on doing a lot of the remodel ourselves to save as much money as we can.  We're going to paint.  We're going to put in the baseboards and crown molding. We're using laminate instead of granite.   We are going to finish one bedroom and bathroom ourselves.  We are going to build the master closet organizational system ourselves.  We're going to re-use or kitchen cabinets when we move one wall.  We're making the remodel of the downstairs bathroom (the "Butt Ugly Bathroom" as it's known) and the claw foot tub for the master bath optional. Those can wait several years (approximately 5 years, when the twins are out of daycare!) before they are done.  Whatever is optional for us to get an occupency permit, if it doesn't fit in the budget, it's not getting done.

Another key issue is that we're going to have to move out the house while they remodel.  They are taking the top off our house.  No roof on the house means, well, no roof over our heads.  That means we have to rent a house for about, oh, 4 to 6 months, while they do the remodel.  Perhaps now, you're thinking, hmmmmm, rent and mortgage?  ARE YOUR OUT OF YOUR EVER LOVING MIND?!?!?!?

Here's where Dave's hard work comes in.  He has found that banks carry a whole bunch of different "products"  to help with remodels. Some fully expect that you are going to pay mortgage and rent at the same time.  (Assholes)  Some will let you only pay accruing interest on the mortgage and renovation loan.  (Not really a bargain, but not as assholishly unrealistic)  And we think that the state employee credit union allows a 6 month grace period where you don't pay anything on the loan.  (WOOHOO!  Except that interest gets rolled into the final loan and eats up a significant part of our wiggle room to stay under jumbo loan size).  The good news is that we've found a rental for quite a bit less than we're paying now that would allow us to pay interest during the remodel. So that may be workable.  

At the end of the remodel, the bank then refinances everything---the mortgage and the renovation loan---into a new 30 year loan.  (Or a 15 year one, I guess. Bwhahahahahah! Those folks can afford both mortgage and rent)  Our goal is to end up with this final loan at one of the non-profit banks (banking services?) in which we are members.  Why?  If we choose an ARM, at the state employee bank, the max the interest rate could increase after 5 years is 1.5%.  At Wells Fargo, it could go up a full 5%.  If we go for a fixed-rate loan, USAA just has better rates and services than we've seen elsewhere.  I also feel like I can trust a non-profit better to not take advantage of us over a for profit bank (trying to make up profit for bad decisions over the last decade).  

So that is all I know about how one finances a remodel.  I have to be honest that I freaked out a bit last week when I found out that the new plans add more square footage (and more $$$) than we had originally planned.  But I still think we're in the ball park to get this thing done.  And if we're not, well.  I don't know what we'll do if we're not at least in the ball park.  Actually, I do know what we'll do.  The architects have already said they would work on the drawings until they get the plans to the budget we need.  

There you go.  YIKES.  Here we go!

Twins

So, at a little over 15 weeks of twin pregnancy, I have some observations to share about what it's like to be pregnant with twins.

First, it is a boatload of fun to see people's reactions when they find out that it actually is twins.  The most common response is the bug-eyed, slack jawed reaction. There is also a slight head adjustment  in which people move their entire heads forward in disbelief.  It's a lot of fun to tell people I'm having twins!  I'm going to be sad when everyone knows and I can't shock anyone any more.

Second, shocking people at having twins is going to be less likely over the next weeks and months.  My belly is HUGE.  And it's just going to get bigger.  I know you've seen the belly shots from a few weeks ago, but it really doesn't do justice to how quickly I'm growing.  Here's an objective example.  On Monday, I bought a new jumbo sized swimsuit to swim laps in.  While there are tons of maternity swimsuits, they are mostly for splashing around the pool and not for actually exercising in.  My enormous arms and back are crying out for a little toning, so I want to swim.  So I bought a regular, but jumbo sized speedo swimsuit on Monday.  On Friday, when I put it on to go to the gym:  it didn't fit.  I could not pull it up over my belly.  Monday, fit; Friday, too small.  That is how quickly I am growing big.  Again, let us all note that I am 15 weeks.  I swam in my regular jumbo sized bathing suit with Conor until I gave birth.  Y.I.K.E.S.  

Finally, I am pooped.  POOPED.  POOOOOOPED.  Friday night, I passed out on the sofa at 7:15.  I finally got off the sofa and stumbled into bed about 9:30 and slept mostly ok until 7 am.  Then on Saturday afternoon, I took a 2 hour nap.  I had only a little problem going to sleep Saturday night and am looking forward to going to bed early tonight.   I am concerned about my energy level.  To read and write (what professors do a lot of), I need a wee bit more energy than I am feeling at this exact moment.  And without the liquid motivation that is coffee, I am concerned about writing the 4 papers and the grant I want to get done before I pop out these two babies.  

So, umm, yeah.  Twins.  It is not the same pregnancy as Conor.  I'm sure my age isn't helping, and the fact that I'm not in as good of shape as I was with Conor.  Still.  It's not the same at all.

It's great.  Really.  I am loving it.  But a few extra hours in the day when I could sleep would make it all a lot better. 

The Long and Short of It

I'm back to my curly headed self.  And my hair has shrunk back up to between my shoulder blades.  Also, the blow drying and flat ironing fried my hair.  It was straw on Monday after I washed it.  I put in a deep conditioner tonight and hopefully by tomorrow, it will be somewhat back to normal.

This is the longest time I've had straight hair and the only time I've let people close to me see it.  Carrol is right that being curly is a key part of my identity.  And it freaked both my husband and my family out.  It really changed the way I look.  Fortunately, I do not often look like Kirstie Alley.  But there were other things.

It made my face look bigger.  My curly hair has always dominated my face and my bone structure has looked too delicate.  But straightening my hair made my bones look bigger (I think) and certainly made me look very bloated.  Yes, the weight gain has something to do with that, but I looked like I put on 10 lbs pre to post straight hair.

Second, I've always wanted long straight hair.  But I have to be honest with you:  straight hair is a pain in the butt.  My hair was everywhere all the time.  With my curly hair, I can just pin back a curl or two and go.  With long hair, I had to deal with whole swaths of it and even then, it kept creeping back to hang in my face.  (Probably trying to hide one of the chins)  I'm sure it's just what I'm used to, but I'm surprised to find that I like my curly self.  I wouldn't mind playing with straight hair a couple of times a year and be curly the rest of the time.

As for my weight gain, thank you all for kindly saying that I was not quite yet the size of Moby Dick.  I am, however, about 4 lbs from what I weighted when I gave birth to Conor.  One might note that at 14w5d, I still have a ways to go and a boatload of weight to gain. I know it's for the babies.  And I do believe with every pound I gain, I am more likely to have healthy, term babies ready to breastfeed and take home from the hospital.  That said, when you see my chins, my enormous butt, or worst of all, the rolls of fat on my back (AHHHHHH!), judge me not.

Or I might eat you.  It could come to that.    

Cousin Itt, Jennifer Aniston, and Kirstie Alley

Yes, indeedy.  What do Cousin Itt, Jennifer Aniston, and Kirstie Alley have in common?  Why, me with straight hair.  

Yesterday, while getting my roots dyed to sort of match my highlights, my junior stylist-in-training suggested that we blow dry my hair straight  Since it wouldn't cost anything more than walking out the door with wet hair, I said sure!  Well, 1 1/2 hours later....

Yes.  It took my junior stylist and 2 other senior stylists One and One-Half Fracking hours to blow my hair straight.  Maybe people with normal hair would feel special in a positive way having 3 stylists working on her hair, but I was feeling most definitely short-bus special because of my ultra curly, ultra fine (who knew?), many haired head.  I will be quite honest that when they started working on the front of my hair, I could barely see through the strands, and the image I saw was much like Cousin Itt above.

But then they finished, and parted it to the side.  And maybe it was because my hair was hanging half in my face and I didn't have my glasses on, but my first thought was "Holy cow!  I look like a fat Jennifer Aniston!!!"  When I was skinny and first moved out here, my students thought I looked a bit like JA, but now, honestly, not so much.  Dave, probably just being kind, does agree that he can see a bit of the chubby Aniston look.

Nonetheless, the resemblence to Jennifer was fleeting at best.  No, every time I look in the mirror now, Kirstie Alley peers back.  And not the thin Kirstie Alley.  The current Kirstie Alley.  With bad makeup.  And Dave agrees.  Yes, there is a Kirstie in there, too.

Ok! Ok!  I know you want a picture.  Look how long my hair is!  Friends in real life just screamed that out loud.  Who knew that curly hair could stretch that far when straight?  It's past my bra straight and curly, it's between my shoulders.  

And ((((sigh)))), what I notice most about this picture is how fat my back is.  I didn't realize how much this weight gain is bothering me until I warned a friend that when she saw me, I was going to look really bloated and I started to cry.  Dave keeps reassuring me that I'm pregnant with twins, not fat.  But when I look in the mirror and count the chins, I feel ugly.  (Which explains my recent binge on cosmetics--as soon as I feel fat, I but something cheap to make me feel pretty.  I have 3 new lipsticks, new mascara, and eye shadow de-creaser).  

I believe from the research that the weight gain will strongly increase my chances of carrying the babies to term. And even if they are early, my weight gain will make them fatter, which is one of the best predictors of premie survival.  

None. The. Less.  I am fat.  I've gained 15 lbs already, which is on the low end of what Dr. Luke recommends.  And I'll likely gain about 30 more lbs.  45 lbs in total is, again, what she recommends that I gain.  Bleah.  Fat.  

Skinny, though, I think this hair style would be cute.  And maybe I really would look like Jennifer Aniston.

A Clean House

Last year, after some raise or another, we decided to splurge on getting a housekeeper to come to our house twice a month. (I'm pretty sure that blew the entire raise and then some, but the joy of a clean house makes it worth it)  We have some  friends who have objected to hiring someone to clean the house because of its bourgeois implications and the possibility of taking advantage of others.  One might note, this same couple recently hired our housekeeper. 

In any case, last night we arrived home late and entered the back door rejoicing in the smell of pine sol as well as a variety of other clean smells.  I realized at that moment how unusual those smells in our house and felt a mixture of compuction and sloth.  We love Sue.  We love what she does to our house.  And we love how every two weeks, our house is clean and beautiful.

Of course, the night and morning before her visit, we clean our house the most.  It's a frenzy of laundry folding, toy storage, and magazine stack recycling.  Dave has noted that we really don't need a cleaner as much as the threat of a cleaner coming the next day to make us actually clean our own house.  

But then we'd miss the clean smell. And that would make me unhappy.  

And last night was ironic as I walked around loving my house and realizing that we had just had our last meeting with the architects on the remodel.  I think we've worked out most of the details and are working on a schedule to start construction Feb 28.  (YIKES)  We may be renting the house directly behind ours for the duration of the remodel, a stroke of luck after the poopie head, dog hating renters will be moving out mid-February.  The joy of their 10 surrounding dog owning neighbors was assumed after a collective cheer followed by hip shaking, tongue sticking out dancing was observed.    Na-na-na-na-boo-boo was also heard.  

The babies are also doing really well.  We had our latest OB appointment on Monday, in which I attended the OB Clinic.  I thought it was sort of a Welcome to Our OB Practice, until I found out it was a special event for high risk patients (twins, auto-immune, old hag).  Pick just one and I qualify.  Baby A's heartrate was 164 and Baby B was 168.  They are perfect.  

I, on the other hand, am huge.  I'm starting swimming again this weekend, once I find a ginormous speedo (not an oxymoron).  I will feel better about my arms if they a little more muscle and a little less flab in them.  Ditto for my fat back.  Swimming will also help my core, so I'm hoping to start swimming 3 or so days a week.  I'm not going to get any smaller; I might as well get a bit more muscular.  Of course, will anyone be able to see muscles under the layers of fat?  Good question. Don't ask it to my face.  

So, in conclusion, our house is clean, we're really going to add on to it, the babies are fine, and I'm enormous.  (Double chins have been spotted.  Easily.  Although considering that my face sort of fades into my neck without the assistance of a jaw, it's not that hard for me to get a double chin) 

You are now up to date on the mother thing household.   

Start of the New Year

I am back from a wonderful family cruise to celebrate my parent's 50th wedding anniversary.  Yes, we celebrated Dave's parent's 50th wedding anniversary at the end of the year and my parent's 50th anniversary at the beginning of the year.  We have celebrated anniversaries this last month.

The cruise, our first, was actually pretty cool.  The weather was nice and the food was good.  Carnival Cruises has *free* camp daycare for children over 2 years old from approximately 9 am until 10 pm at night (with a few breaks).  We did not leave Conor in there for even just one entire day, but it was nice to drop him off for a few hours so he could do kid things (color, dance lessons--the sprinkler?, crafts, truck races, etc) and we could do grown up things (be lazy, play cards).  

All in all, we totally recommend cruises for family vacations.  Lots of opportunities for everyone and you don't have to cook or clean.  How cool is that?

Of course, we unwittingly continued Dave's family tradition on family vacations--a somewhat serious trip to the emergency room.  We did not plan on doing this, yet, it happened.

We got on the ship about 11:30 am on Monday.  At about 4:30 pm on Monday, the ship pushed off the dock.  At this point, Dave got his first umbrella drink* and I got a fake umbrella drink.  We were all on the top deck of the ship looking watching the cruise shop and enjoying the weather.  Conor was playing "make believe" golf on the putt-putt course we were looking forward to playing on.  Make believe golf is apparently a combination of golf and baseball, in which one pretends to putt the ball and then run around the hole.  Except this time, Conor decided to run up the putt-putt course and tripped.  He fell on the only big, jagged obstacle on the entire course, a fake tree stump with pointed edges. 

He screamed.  Even as I was running towards him, I could see the blood around him on the putting green.  I picked him up and he had a bloody hand over his eye.  I swear to God that for one horrifying moment, I thought he had punctured his eye.  I pulled his hand down and saw, instead, a huge bloody hole in his forehead.  

Dave reached us and scooped up Conor as we began to run for the infirmary, having absolutely no idea where it was.  We went down a deck and found a waitress serving drinks.  She took one look at us, put her hand to her mouth and screamed.  ("Ok!  It *is* as bad as I think it is," I thought to myself)  She ran us down to the elevator and sent us to the third floor.  A kind couple got on the elevator with us and helped us get to the third floor, explaining where the infirmary was.  Fortunately, it was directly off the elevator.

We arrived and a very efficient and calm nurse took us immediately to the back.  Conor was covered in blood by this time and we were all very upset.  She wiped off the blood off his hands, his chin, and his face and we got to see that yes, indeedy, that was a big ass gash on his forehead.  Stitches were not optional.  

I can go into the gory details, which I do repeatedly when I think about it and get upset, but it was pretty awful for both Conor and me.  Dave, being used to stitches on family vacations, was less freaked out.  But there was a flushing of the wound with a long needle from underneath the skin.  We had to restrain Conor for quite a while as he screamed "OUCHY!  OUCHY!  IT HURTS."  The first set of thin stitches broke, so we had to go with thicker ones.  It was rough.

And then it was over and Conor felt much better.  Once the act of giving him the two stitches were over, he was really and truly fine.  And our nurse spent a substantial amount of time determining that Conor had indeed had his tetanus shot and followed up with us 3 days later to check on the wound and Conor.  Really.  That meant a lot to us.  

Of course, that's still not the whole story.  As we were running for the elevator, my narcissistic body decided to have its own breakdown.  Turning and running into the elevator door, I felt my calf seize and I heard it pop as the cramp ripped apart.  This is the time when all the attention should be on my son and his injury and all of a sudden, I'm lame and shouting out "Fuckity fuck" on the elevator.  The good news is that I really only couldn't walk for about 2 or 3 days.  The bad news is that when I started to be able to walk better, that's when the bruise from the muscle ripping started to show.  By Friday, the entire back of my leg from the middle of my calf to the bottom of my foot was black and blue.  Why yes, it *is* very attractive.  

Dave said he was holding a bleeding Conor and saw me limping into the elevator, he was like "Oh, crap.  How can I take care of both of them."  He later told me "I chose Conor, you know."  "As well you should have," I replied.  We, unlike others, agree this is the right choice for us.

In any case, we got the family drama over with early.  The rest of the trip was thrillingly and happily healthy and fun.  Conor's scar should be minimal and I don't really care about my leg.  It still works and that's fine.  

School starts back tomorrow and I certainly cannot complain that I did not do anything this winter break.

Looking Swell

We had our first trimester screen on Wednesday, and, as the doctor says, everything looks perfectly normal.  Both babies were jumping around, measuring right on time, and had fantastic heartbeats.  Their nuchal folds were well within normal, indicating a low likelihood of a chromosomal problem.  We are obviously thrilled.

Even better, I finally got to talk to a doctor who has some serious knowledge about my auto-immune treatment.  He was able to cite research and has done the most to convince me that after the first trimester, now that the pregnancy is well established, I no longer have to inject myself with Lovenox.  I do not have an identified thrombophilia problem (blood clotting issue).  And although no one has yet to disagree that my eczema from the last pregnancy was a sign of an auto-immune problem, Lovenox is not going to affect that--the prednisone did.  He did say I could continue on with the Lovenox injections for the rest of the pregnancy if I wanted, but he did not think it was necessary.  

In any case, I am seriously considering stopping the Lovenox.  

And tonight is our last progesterone in oil shot and my last dose of estrogen tablets.  I am so psyched!!!  My husband will no longer be a literal pain in the butt!!

I am also pretty sure that I've already felt both babies move.  I am twelve weeks along, folks.  Women who have already had children seem to quickly forget how incredibly early that is to feel something.  (indeed, I just felt a little butterfly squiggle when I wrote that)  I didn't feel Conor until February of our pregnancy, at about 17 or 18 weeks.  I'm a full 6 weeks earlier with these babies.  And my belly is HUGE.  And it's just going to get bigger!  

It just feels crazy.  Twins are crazy.  And we're crazy about them already.