Things are going well here (knock on wood). It took us a while, but we're starting to settle into a bit of a schedule, and the babies are even figuring out that night time is for sleeping (and eating, but at least not for being awake for hours at a time). I have a lot of help (my mom comes one day a week, a mother's helper comes a few times, and now we have someone at night a few times a week for a couple months because we're exhausted). I can't complain. My babies are beautiful.
I was contacted by the RE's office a few weeks ago to find out how everything went in the end, and they invited me to come in and visit with the babies. I called to schedule it and they gave me an 11:45 appointment. I assumed that they gave me what was essentially a lunchtime appointment because there wouldn't be patients there who would get upset.
I was wrong.
Man I felt like shit. I pushed my double stroller in, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, and checked in at the front desk. In the meantime, a woman got up and went outside, leaving her purse behind on the chair, and stood with her back to the door. I wasn't sure at first, but it soon became obvious she was wiping her eyes and trying to pull herself together.
I felt bad for her. I felt bad for ME, too. I didn't want to hurt anyone, and now someone was outside crying, solely because of my presence. Man, what an awful feeling - a feeling I felt BECAUSE I am infertile and I know what it's like. A fertile person wouldn't have had a clue. I kept on not making eye contact with anyone and feeling terribly uncomfortable. A nurse went out to get her and she came back, grabbed her purse (also without making eye contact), and went through the door to the exam rooms, the nurse grabbing a box of tissues on the way. Sigh.
It was just weird. I know, everyone writes about feeling like they don't fit in anywhere (fertile world or infertile world), about wanting to be able to celebrate their pregnancies and children without feeling guilty, and so on. I felt all of that. I know I'm so, so, so lucky, even when I don't feel like it when I have one or two screaming babies in the middle of the night. I understand how that woman felt. And I understand how fertile women feel, when they offer to give their kids away, because although infertility sucks and isn't easy, quite honestly motherhood isn't easy either (but it doesn't suck like infertility does).
But I did choose motherhood for myself, and I would never hurt someone purposely. And so for yesterday, for those who are still going to the RE and who would have been horrified to see me show up with my double stroller and apparently nonchalant attitude, I'm very, very sorry.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Are you breastfeeding? Well, sort of ...
I am so tired taking care of two babies, there has been no time to post! This is a rare event where they're both sleeping and I just would rather write than catch up on stuff around the house (but who knows how long that will last?).
One of the first things I want to say is that pretty much since Day 1 (or rather Day -2 when the induction started?) I have become a MUCH less judgmental person. I didn't even realize how judgmental I was. I was going to have the perfect birth, I wasn't going to have an epidural or a c-section or possibly not even painkillers at all. And then I was going to breastfeed for at least a year, and use cloth diapers. Because I apparently am perfect. Hahahahaha.
Pretty much ALL of that has gone completely out the window. I'm exhausted. I never really knew what sleep deprivation was, and now I understand why it's such a great torture device. So forget all that and let's start from scratch.
If there is one thing I am starting to hate about parenthood, it's constantly being asked by everyone and their brother whether I am breastfeeding. And I don't actually even have a straight yes-or-no answer to that. No, I am not technically breastfeeding. However, I'm not really formula feeding either. (huh? what the hell are you talking about? <--- what most people probably think). I am pumping and managing to get 75-100% of the babies' calories that way (depending on the day), and supplementing with formula when necessary. And I'm getting really sick of explaining that to people. I am about to start saying "yes, I am breastfeeding!" although it might be a bit confusing when I then pull out a bottle.
Let's try to keep this short and sweet (ok, that's not happening). Breastfeeding in the hospital didn't go that well. To revert to using nicknames (Tadpole is the girl, Turtle is the boy), Turtle was great at latching on (as far as I could tell without much help from the nurses, who were more about fixing things later than getting them started right), but he didn't seem to get enough to satisfy him and would feed for hours and hours and still be hungry and losing weight, while I didn't get any sleep. Tadpole couldn't seem to latch on at all. Her hands were always in the way, and then she couldn't do it right and I'd have to get her off and start over and she'd get more and more frustrated and in the process she was destroying my nipples. I was in pain, and then I'd get tense, which isn't good for the letdown reflex, and a vicious cycle would start. Pretty soon, it made it tough to breastfeed even Turtle, who had a good latch most of the time. Things weren't going well.
At a certain point, one of the babies (I'm assuming Tadpole, but I'm not sure) had lost more than 10% of their birth weight, and the nurses were concerned. I'm not going to go into every single thing we tried, or how some of them were such militant lactation consultants that they would not even consider formula or a breast pump. Let's just say that my poor husband woke up to all three of us crying one night. And we HAD to start supplementing, because the babies couldn't lose any more weight.
So anyway, when we got home we rented a pump (the hospital never even let me try to pump), and I really liked giving my nipples a chance to heal and not having the pain anymore. Yes, I missed the closeness of nursing my babies, but I couldn't relax, and they couldn't get enough milk. Pumping is working great - I have more time to spend with the babies, I have more time to take care of our house and our lives, my babies get most of the benefits of being breastfed, I get most of the benefits of breastfeeding, my husband gets to bond with the babies by bottle-feeding them, and we can have someone watch them at night once in a while, while we sleep (yes, I have to get up to pump, but it's 15 minutes and then back to sleep).
So. It works for us. It probably won't work forever, because the logistics will be difficult once we need to spend a very long day away from home, or travel to Italy. But it will work for at least a few months, and maybe a few more after that and then we'll see. I am trying to stop beating myself up about it, and I'm in the process of deciding that it's no one else's damn business. I have never felt so judged in my life, and I'm putting my foot down.
And by the way - all of the women who are judging me have never tried to breastfeed twins! I know it's possible, and it's probably wonderful, but it's also really freaking hard. Spending hours breastfeeding only to have your baby cry in hunger right afterward and immediately take a bottle of forumla, or have him or her refuse the breast in the first place - well, it's tough. As our pediatrician says, we need to worry about the babies, but also about ourselves and our own sanity, or else we can't take care of them. And it's true.
So. That is probably all that I will say about breastfeeding, I doubt I'll bring it up again. I went through a really tough time and cried quite a bit and felt like shit and let people make me feel like shit and I feel like I've come out of it with a plan and some success and I am happy. And that's what matters.
One of the first things I want to say is that pretty much since Day 1 (or rather Day -2 when the induction started?) I have become a MUCH less judgmental person. I didn't even realize how judgmental I was. I was going to have the perfect birth, I wasn't going to have an epidural or a c-section or possibly not even painkillers at all. And then I was going to breastfeed for at least a year, and use cloth diapers. Because I apparently am perfect. Hahahahaha.
Pretty much ALL of that has gone completely out the window. I'm exhausted. I never really knew what sleep deprivation was, and now I understand why it's such a great torture device. So forget all that and let's start from scratch.
If there is one thing I am starting to hate about parenthood, it's constantly being asked by everyone and their brother whether I am breastfeeding. And I don't actually even have a straight yes-or-no answer to that. No, I am not technically breastfeeding. However, I'm not really formula feeding either. (huh? what the hell are you talking about? <--- what most people probably think). I am pumping and managing to get 75-100% of the babies' calories that way (depending on the day), and supplementing with formula when necessary. And I'm getting really sick of explaining that to people. I am about to start saying "yes, I am breastfeeding!" although it might be a bit confusing when I then pull out a bottle.
Let's try to keep this short and sweet (ok, that's not happening). Breastfeeding in the hospital didn't go that well. To revert to using nicknames (Tadpole is the girl, Turtle is the boy), Turtle was great at latching on (as far as I could tell without much help from the nurses, who were more about fixing things later than getting them started right), but he didn't seem to get enough to satisfy him and would feed for hours and hours and still be hungry and losing weight, while I didn't get any sleep. Tadpole couldn't seem to latch on at all. Her hands were always in the way, and then she couldn't do it right and I'd have to get her off and start over and she'd get more and more frustrated and in the process she was destroying my nipples. I was in pain, and then I'd get tense, which isn't good for the letdown reflex, and a vicious cycle would start. Pretty soon, it made it tough to breastfeed even Turtle, who had a good latch most of the time. Things weren't going well.
At a certain point, one of the babies (I'm assuming Tadpole, but I'm not sure) had lost more than 10% of their birth weight, and the nurses were concerned. I'm not going to go into every single thing we tried, or how some of them were such militant lactation consultants that they would not even consider formula or a breast pump. Let's just say that my poor husband woke up to all three of us crying one night. And we HAD to start supplementing, because the babies couldn't lose any more weight.
So anyway, when we got home we rented a pump (the hospital never even let me try to pump), and I really liked giving my nipples a chance to heal and not having the pain anymore. Yes, I missed the closeness of nursing my babies, but I couldn't relax, and they couldn't get enough milk. Pumping is working great - I have more time to spend with the babies, I have more time to take care of our house and our lives, my babies get most of the benefits of being breastfed, I get most of the benefits of breastfeeding, my husband gets to bond with the babies by bottle-feeding them, and we can have someone watch them at night once in a while, while we sleep (yes, I have to get up to pump, but it's 15 minutes and then back to sleep).
So. It works for us. It probably won't work forever, because the logistics will be difficult once we need to spend a very long day away from home, or travel to Italy. But it will work for at least a few months, and maybe a few more after that and then we'll see. I am trying to stop beating myself up about it, and I'm in the process of deciding that it's no one else's damn business. I have never felt so judged in my life, and I'm putting my foot down.
And by the way - all of the women who are judging me have never tried to breastfeed twins! I know it's possible, and it's probably wonderful, but it's also really freaking hard. Spending hours breastfeeding only to have your baby cry in hunger right afterward and immediately take a bottle of forumla, or have him or her refuse the breast in the first place - well, it's tough. As our pediatrician says, we need to worry about the babies, but also about ourselves and our own sanity, or else we can't take care of them. And it's true.
So. That is probably all that I will say about breastfeeding, I doubt I'll bring it up again. I went through a really tough time and cried quite a bit and felt like shit and let people make me feel like shit and I feel like I've come out of it with a plan and some success and I am happy. And that's what matters.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Birth story
I'm not sure where to start, but I definitely want to get this down before I start forgetting details.
I went to the birthing center for a non-stress test on Saturday, July 3, and the OB on call finally noticed my climbing blood pressure. Everything else looked good, but she ran a urine test and saw protein in my urine, so asked me to take home a jug and do a 24-hour urine test. If it was positive, there was a good chance we wouldn't be going home before the babies were born, so we frantically (and finally) finished packing our hospital bags and putting carseats in the car. I don't think we really believed that anything would happen, though.
We returned on July 4 at 11 and waited an hour with the babies on monitors. The OB came in and said my protein level was 5 times higher than normal, that I would be admitted, and that she recommended induction. We agreed (I had been starting to be pretty horrified by my blood pressure, because it's always been low). Some of the nurses were finally horrified by my swollen feet and legs, too, and they were doing relatively well that day!
They set us up in a labor and delivery room and started the pitocin, and by mid-afternoon I was finally feeling contractions. Nothing too bad, though, and I was disappointed to not really be dilating. I was hooked up to the baby monitor with a strap for each baby and a contraction monitor, and was having continuous blood pressure monitoring as well - a cuff that was set to automatically inflate every 10 minutes. We watched a few fireworks from our hospital room window, and we opted to try a foley bulb for the night to help with dilation.
Unfortunately, it only helped a bit, and the next day, Monday July 5, I was still not even 4 cm dilated. They started upping the pitocin, but it seemed that my body was getting used to it, because it took them half the day and large doses to get contractions going again. Finally, the doctor proposed breaking the amniotic sac, since I was dilated just enough. At that point, the contractions became strong and painful, but I could handle them pretty well while sitting up. Again unfortunately, when I sat up, my blood pressure would spike, and I was forced to stay lying in bed, where the contractions were unbearable. And still not dilating very quickly at all. After hours of this, and knowing there would still be hours left to go (despite nurses expecting July 5 babies), I finally opted for an epidural. I still feel that I could have tolerated the pain if I could use the pain techniques I had learned in class, but alas, I was stuck in bed flat on my back.
The epidural came at 7pm and was awesome, a huge breath of relief. Ironically, just sitting up to have the anesthesiologist put it in lessened the pain so much that I almost changed my mind, but I knew I'd have to lie back down again. I didn't feel any more contractions after that, it was strange to see them going on the monitor while my husband and I watched the Lord of the Rings. But still no progress in dilation until they really upped the pitocin. At least I was able to get some sleep.
My OB was on call that night and kept us company throughout the night. Finally, finally, at 4am on July 6, she pronounced that I was ready to start pushing. At some point they had switched Baby A to internal monitoring (they found it impossible to keep her heart rate on the monitors otherwise), and internal contraction monitoring, plus they put in a foley catheter, plus I now had the epidural tubes and pitocin IV, and the blood pressure cuff - I was attached to everything in sight, it was a mess. But I was so ready to see my babies!
The OB explained that I would start pushing and see how things went, and she expected that in 15-20 minutes we'd start moving to the OR, as is the standard procedure for delivering twins at my hospital. After an hour of pushing, and I mean REALLY pushing (which let me tell you is rather difficult when you can't feel the lower half of your body), I was started to get suspicious of why we were still in the labor and delivery room. The OB admitted that I wasn't making any progress, even though I was doing a great job. I was determined to get these babies out, after all those hours of labor and getting to that point. I pushed harder.
Another hour went by, and I asked again - any progress? Still ... nothing. Everyone could see Baby A's head appear when I pushed, but it would disappear again when I'd stop. And the contractions were still few and far between, which didn't help the pushing, either. After 2.5 hours, the doctor was concerned, and said it was time to make a decision. She recommended doing a C-section, but would let me keep pushing while the staff was called and the OR prepared, in case a miracle happened. I was still hoping for the miracle, and pushed some more. My husband told me he could see the veins standing out in my face. At 7am, I admitted defeat, which was in a way a bit of a relief. I had been through just about every intervention possible since being admitted to the hospital, I knew I had no control over this labor, and I was starting to believe there weren't really any babies in there and everyone had been lying to me the whole time. I just wanted to see my babies.
I was moved into the OR, the sweetest anesthesiologist in the world found some music I liked to play during the delivery, and everything was prepared. Finally, my husband was brought in and everything got crazy and busy!
Jose.p.hine was born at 8:20 am, weighing 6 pounds 3 ounces:
Her brother, Vin.ce.nzo, was born at 8:21 am, weighing 6 pounds 13 ounces:
It was so incredibly emotional. I cried. I couldn't believe that those two beautiful babies were really ours. Even though the last week has been incredibly hard, I am still so grateful for how blessed we have been.
I went to the birthing center for a non-stress test on Saturday, July 3, and the OB on call finally noticed my climbing blood pressure. Everything else looked good, but she ran a urine test and saw protein in my urine, so asked me to take home a jug and do a 24-hour urine test. If it was positive, there was a good chance we wouldn't be going home before the babies were born, so we frantically (and finally) finished packing our hospital bags and putting carseats in the car. I don't think we really believed that anything would happen, though.
We returned on July 4 at 11 and waited an hour with the babies on monitors. The OB came in and said my protein level was 5 times higher than normal, that I would be admitted, and that she recommended induction. We agreed (I had been starting to be pretty horrified by my blood pressure, because it's always been low). Some of the nurses were finally horrified by my swollen feet and legs, too, and they were doing relatively well that day!
They set us up in a labor and delivery room and started the pitocin, and by mid-afternoon I was finally feeling contractions. Nothing too bad, though, and I was disappointed to not really be dilating. I was hooked up to the baby monitor with a strap for each baby and a contraction monitor, and was having continuous blood pressure monitoring as well - a cuff that was set to automatically inflate every 10 minutes. We watched a few fireworks from our hospital room window, and we opted to try a foley bulb for the night to help with dilation.
Unfortunately, it only helped a bit, and the next day, Monday July 5, I was still not even 4 cm dilated. They started upping the pitocin, but it seemed that my body was getting used to it, because it took them half the day and large doses to get contractions going again. Finally, the doctor proposed breaking the amniotic sac, since I was dilated just enough. At that point, the contractions became strong and painful, but I could handle them pretty well while sitting up. Again unfortunately, when I sat up, my blood pressure would spike, and I was forced to stay lying in bed, where the contractions were unbearable. And still not dilating very quickly at all. After hours of this, and knowing there would still be hours left to go (despite nurses expecting July 5 babies), I finally opted for an epidural. I still feel that I could have tolerated the pain if I could use the pain techniques I had learned in class, but alas, I was stuck in bed flat on my back.
The epidural came at 7pm and was awesome, a huge breath of relief. Ironically, just sitting up to have the anesthesiologist put it in lessened the pain so much that I almost changed my mind, but I knew I'd have to lie back down again. I didn't feel any more contractions after that, it was strange to see them going on the monitor while my husband and I watched the Lord of the Rings. But still no progress in dilation until they really upped the pitocin. At least I was able to get some sleep.
My OB was on call that night and kept us company throughout the night. Finally, finally, at 4am on July 6, she pronounced that I was ready to start pushing. At some point they had switched Baby A to internal monitoring (they found it impossible to keep her heart rate on the monitors otherwise), and internal contraction monitoring, plus they put in a foley catheter, plus I now had the epidural tubes and pitocin IV, and the blood pressure cuff - I was attached to everything in sight, it was a mess. But I was so ready to see my babies!
The OB explained that I would start pushing and see how things went, and she expected that in 15-20 minutes we'd start moving to the OR, as is the standard procedure for delivering twins at my hospital. After an hour of pushing, and I mean REALLY pushing (which let me tell you is rather difficult when you can't feel the lower half of your body), I was started to get suspicious of why we were still in the labor and delivery room. The OB admitted that I wasn't making any progress, even though I was doing a great job. I was determined to get these babies out, after all those hours of labor and getting to that point. I pushed harder.
Another hour went by, and I asked again - any progress? Still ... nothing. Everyone could see Baby A's head appear when I pushed, but it would disappear again when I'd stop. And the contractions were still few and far between, which didn't help the pushing, either. After 2.5 hours, the doctor was concerned, and said it was time to make a decision. She recommended doing a C-section, but would let me keep pushing while the staff was called and the OR prepared, in case a miracle happened. I was still hoping for the miracle, and pushed some more. My husband told me he could see the veins standing out in my face. At 7am, I admitted defeat, which was in a way a bit of a relief. I had been through just about every intervention possible since being admitted to the hospital, I knew I had no control over this labor, and I was starting to believe there weren't really any babies in there and everyone had been lying to me the whole time. I just wanted to see my babies.
I was moved into the OR, the sweetest anesthesiologist in the world found some music I liked to play during the delivery, and everything was prepared. Finally, my husband was brought in and everything got crazy and busy!
Jose.p.hine was born at 8:20 am, weighing 6 pounds 3 ounces:
Her brother, Vin.ce.nzo, was born at 8:21 am, weighing 6 pounds 13 ounces:
It was so incredibly emotional. I cried. I couldn't believe that those two beautiful babies were really ours. Even though the last week has been incredibly hard, I am still so grateful for how blessed we have been.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Quick note to catch up ... big news!
Babies are here!!!! Actually, tomorrow they will be one week old. Birth story and photos to come as soon as I can catch my breath. Sorry for the silence - life is hectic! Now off to bed to try to get some sleep so tomorrow I can catch up.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
News!
I was going to write about my OB appointment on Thursday, and how frustrating it was. The doctor is not the one I regularly see - he's the only man in the practice, and while I like certain things about him (he LOVES doing breech extractions for Baby B rather than C-sections, when it's necessary), he's also been very laid back. He wanted to just keep waiting to 39 or even 40 weeks and see what happens. He also wanted to measure the babies and do a cervical check, but figured we might as well wait until next week. I was a little demoralized at the thought of having to go three more weeks, unable to turn in bed, unable to fit into shoes, barely able to get up off a chair or get out of the car.
But then ... today I went into the birthing center for my morning NST, which went well. I had a high school friend's wedding this afternoon, about a 45-minute drive away. After the NST, the doctor came in, which has never happened before (usually I only see nurses), and started talking to us about my blood pressure and pre-eclampsia, which I was already suspecting a week or two ago, but no one seemed to notice before. She noticed my BP had gradually been getting higher, and she wanted to check it again while I was sitting up instead of relaxing in the bed. Bad news - it got much higher.
So they did a urine and blood test and had the machine automatically check my BP every 5 minutes for about an hour, and it just kept getting worse, and the urine came back with protein. They sent me home with jugs for a 24-hour urine collection test and an appointment to go back tomorrow for a follow-up NST and to check my urine. If it's not good, I'll be admitted and induced. If it's ok, I will get probably a 2-3 day reprieve, but I'll likely be induced by the end of the week.
So! Finally something is happening. I obviously don't want pre-eclampsia, and given the choice, I wish my body would just go into labor instead of having to be induced, but I have to say I'm relieved. Waiting indefinitely while things have gotten so much harder, and in fact starting to feel like I wasn't going to make it, that was getting tough.
So now I have less than 24 hours to get my hospital bag finished off and try to relax and take it easy on modified bed rest. Tomorrow just might be the big day! And if it's not, I still only have a few days to go. I'm about to work on the memory books a bit more, read a novel, and watch my kitty sleep in peace, while my husband installs the carseats and works a bit.
Good thing, too, since it really feels like the babies are trying to break out my either popping a few ribs or breaking through my skin. I can't wait! Will update either way whenever I can.
Cheers!
But then ... today I went into the birthing center for my morning NST, which went well. I had a high school friend's wedding this afternoon, about a 45-minute drive away. After the NST, the doctor came in, which has never happened before (usually I only see nurses), and started talking to us about my blood pressure and pre-eclampsia, which I was already suspecting a week or two ago, but no one seemed to notice before. She noticed my BP had gradually been getting higher, and she wanted to check it again while I was sitting up instead of relaxing in the bed. Bad news - it got much higher.
So they did a urine and blood test and had the machine automatically check my BP every 5 minutes for about an hour, and it just kept getting worse, and the urine came back with protein. They sent me home with jugs for a 24-hour urine collection test and an appointment to go back tomorrow for a follow-up NST and to check my urine. If it's not good, I'll be admitted and induced. If it's ok, I will get probably a 2-3 day reprieve, but I'll likely be induced by the end of the week.
So! Finally something is happening. I obviously don't want pre-eclampsia, and given the choice, I wish my body would just go into labor instead of having to be induced, but I have to say I'm relieved. Waiting indefinitely while things have gotten so much harder, and in fact starting to feel like I wasn't going to make it, that was getting tough.
So now I have less than 24 hours to get my hospital bag finished off and try to relax and take it easy on modified bed rest. Tomorrow just might be the big day! And if it's not, I still only have a few days to go. I'm about to work on the memory books a bit more, read a novel, and watch my kitty sleep in peace, while my husband installs the carseats and works a bit.
Good thing, too, since it really feels like the babies are trying to break out my either popping a few ribs or breaking through my skin. I can't wait! Will update either way whenever I can.
Cheers!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
37 long weeks
Here I am, 37 weeks. Technically full term, but you wouldn't know it by hanging out with me. Babies are still active, and doing great at their NSTs, but no signs whatsoever of impending labor. Yet my feet are still giant marshmallows, and now my ankles and calves are included. I dread seeing the scale at the OB tomorrow.
Life in general is good, though. While it has been TWO MONTHS and the damn contractors STILL haven't finished the bathroom, at least they've made enough progress so that I can tell that it's looking good. They still have to put on the cabinet doors and hardware, finish tiling around the edges (the "baseboard"), grout, install the shower and sink faucets and the toilet, put up the glass shower doors, install the mirror, install the light fixtures, and I guess install towel bars, which no one has talked to me about, so I don't know what's going on with that. That's a lot of stuff, considering that first they were supposed to be done last Wednesday, then by the end of this week (and all along they've assured us it would be done by the end of June). I am starting to wonder if we'll have a kitchen in time for Christmas, and I've completely given up on the idea of having Thanksgiving here.
My mother's helper has been coming almost full-time (which is actually part-time, since we hired her for 20 hours per week). It was great for helping with unpacking and cleaning and getting our old apartment straightened out and such, but I've started running out of things for her to do. These days I'm having her mow the lawn and plant ground-cover, and might have her clean the garage. I feel bad, but I know she needs the work and the money, and until the babies come I am just a stay-at-home wife who doesn't have that much to do. I'm also not all that comfortable having someone around just to help me, although I admit it has been a blessing for anything involving hard labor or heavy lifting.
And now here I am, waiting and twiddling my thumbs and swimming and not sleeping and trying to fit into some of my regular clothes because I'm SO SICK of my maternity clothes and I'm not going to buy anything new at 37 weeks. The nurse today told me that hospital protocol is much better for 38-weekers than for 37-weekers, so my current goal is to get to July 7 (or 9, since the 8th is my mom's birthday) and at least that way I have a date to aim for. And then I want my body back. Got it, babies? They are incredibly stubborn, just like their father. And still strong, too - their kicks and movements are unbelievable and sometimes painful. Well, only a week to go! Please!
Life in general is good, though. While it has been TWO MONTHS and the damn contractors STILL haven't finished the bathroom, at least they've made enough progress so that I can tell that it's looking good. They still have to put on the cabinet doors and hardware, finish tiling around the edges (the "baseboard"), grout, install the shower and sink faucets and the toilet, put up the glass shower doors, install the mirror, install the light fixtures, and I guess install towel bars, which no one has talked to me about, so I don't know what's going on with that. That's a lot of stuff, considering that first they were supposed to be done last Wednesday, then by the end of this week (and all along they've assured us it would be done by the end of June). I am starting to wonder if we'll have a kitchen in time for Christmas, and I've completely given up on the idea of having Thanksgiving here.
My mother's helper has been coming almost full-time (which is actually part-time, since we hired her for 20 hours per week). It was great for helping with unpacking and cleaning and getting our old apartment straightened out and such, but I've started running out of things for her to do. These days I'm having her mow the lawn and plant ground-cover, and might have her clean the garage. I feel bad, but I know she needs the work and the money, and until the babies come I am just a stay-at-home wife who doesn't have that much to do. I'm also not all that comfortable having someone around just to help me, although I admit it has been a blessing for anything involving hard labor or heavy lifting.
And now here I am, waiting and twiddling my thumbs and swimming and not sleeping and trying to fit into some of my regular clothes because I'm SO SICK of my maternity clothes and I'm not going to buy anything new at 37 weeks. The nurse today told me that hospital protocol is much better for 38-weekers than for 37-weekers, so my current goal is to get to July 7 (or 9, since the 8th is my mom's birthday) and at least that way I have a date to aim for. And then I want my body back. Got it, babies? They are incredibly stubborn, just like their father. And still strong, too - their kicks and movements are unbelievable and sometimes painful. Well, only a week to go! Please!
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Belated 36 weeks!
No theme this week - all the usual ones continue, especially the insomnia and the swelling.
We moved into our house last Sunday! And I didn't really sleep for the first two nights, and there are contractors here all day drilling and sawing so it's impossible to nap. So then I started taking Ben.adryl, and I don't know if it was the reason, but I've been sleeping all night and only getting up once or twice to pee. It's glorious. Except for waking up at 5:30 this morning, my first chance to sleep in for about two weeks.
I'm so swollen. I had two NSTs this week and an OB visit with u/s. The first NST was a pain - baby B would not sit still, and they kept coming in every 10-15 minutes to adjust the monitor and start over again. I ended up taking a 45-minute nap (heavenly!) when they finally got him to stay put. Then yesterday the doctor decided to order a urine test for protein at the OB appointment, and they had trouble with both babies at the NST. My blood pressure was also high during the NST, so I am going back tomorrow for another NST and blood pressure check. I'm wondering if they're suspecting preeclampsia.
In the meantime, I'm swimming laps. It seems to help a tiny bit for my swollen feet, as long a I swim over 500 yards (any less doesn't do much). I've worked my way back up to 800 yards and hoping to keep going. Especially since I'm really hoping the babies are born around 37 weeks, which is only a few more days away. Since we'll start talking induction as we near 38 weeks, I'd much prefer to get labor started on its own this coming week. Also, my mother will be out of town, and that's one less stressor around for me when the babies are born. She can come back and see them when things have settled down and the babies are a few days old.
The house is coming along. The contractors are behind schedule in finishing our bathroom, and I'm doubting they'll even meet their new and improved deadline for this week. Also, they haven't done things the way we agreed, and I don't know if it's worth asking them to make changes since it will create even more delays. Remodeling is the most frustrating thing.
I'm feeling a bit stressed and unsettled, and have a bit of the blues. My entire life has been turned upside down in the last few weeks, and waiting for the babies makes me realize that whatever normalcy is still here will shortly be gone. In the space of a few weeks, I've left the job that I've been at for three years (and therefore all the friends that I saw on a day-to-day basis), left the apartment where my husband and I first moved in together and have lived for over five years, and am now dealing with contractors who are much older and more experienced than me and yet seem to need constant supervision and correction, which I am a little uncomfortable with.
Our mother's helper also started working for me, and that is going well, but it's weird to have someone around all the time when sometimes I just want some alone time. I'm constantly having to find things for her to do (not that there's any lack of things that need doing, but at this point, I need to be involved very closely since she just started) and it's exhausting. I've just spent a week unpacking and organizing and cleaning and I'm tired. I even found time to squeeze in a few "fun" projects, like pulling out some major overgrown bushes and planting flowers and herbs instead. But even still I have that unsettled feeling of being in a new place and being all alone (or rather surrounded by strangers) and I'm looking forward to life feeling more normal again. Ha! At least I have two days to spend with my husband and no contractors or mother's helpers around.
The best thing right now is knowing that soon, I will get to see and hold my babies. I'm so curious to know what they will look like, these little creatures that have been beating me up from inside for so long now. And along with that, I'll get my ankles and feet back, and I'll be able to start exercising again (eventually) and I just know that things will get better and I'll have a beautiful family that I've been wanting for so long. And in another ten years when the contractors finish, I might have a house worth living in, too. I have so much to look forward to, I just have to shake this malaise that's settling for the moment.
I think I'll start with going back to bed.
We moved into our house last Sunday! And I didn't really sleep for the first two nights, and there are contractors here all day drilling and sawing so it's impossible to nap. So then I started taking Ben.adryl, and I don't know if it was the reason, but I've been sleeping all night and only getting up once or twice to pee. It's glorious. Except for waking up at 5:30 this morning, my first chance to sleep in for about two weeks.
I'm so swollen. I had two NSTs this week and an OB visit with u/s. The first NST was a pain - baby B would not sit still, and they kept coming in every 10-15 minutes to adjust the monitor and start over again. I ended up taking a 45-minute nap (heavenly!) when they finally got him to stay put. Then yesterday the doctor decided to order a urine test for protein at the OB appointment, and they had trouble with both babies at the NST. My blood pressure was also high during the NST, so I am going back tomorrow for another NST and blood pressure check. I'm wondering if they're suspecting preeclampsia.
In the meantime, I'm swimming laps. It seems to help a tiny bit for my swollen feet, as long a I swim over 500 yards (any less doesn't do much). I've worked my way back up to 800 yards and hoping to keep going. Especially since I'm really hoping the babies are born around 37 weeks, which is only a few more days away. Since we'll start talking induction as we near 38 weeks, I'd much prefer to get labor started on its own this coming week. Also, my mother will be out of town, and that's one less stressor around for me when the babies are born. She can come back and see them when things have settled down and the babies are a few days old.
The house is coming along. The contractors are behind schedule in finishing our bathroom, and I'm doubting they'll even meet their new and improved deadline for this week. Also, they haven't done things the way we agreed, and I don't know if it's worth asking them to make changes since it will create even more delays. Remodeling is the most frustrating thing.
I'm feeling a bit stressed and unsettled, and have a bit of the blues. My entire life has been turned upside down in the last few weeks, and waiting for the babies makes me realize that whatever normalcy is still here will shortly be gone. In the space of a few weeks, I've left the job that I've been at for three years (and therefore all the friends that I saw on a day-to-day basis), left the apartment where my husband and I first moved in together and have lived for over five years, and am now dealing with contractors who are much older and more experienced than me and yet seem to need constant supervision and correction, which I am a little uncomfortable with.
Our mother's helper also started working for me, and that is going well, but it's weird to have someone around all the time when sometimes I just want some alone time. I'm constantly having to find things for her to do (not that there's any lack of things that need doing, but at this point, I need to be involved very closely since she just started) and it's exhausting. I've just spent a week unpacking and organizing and cleaning and I'm tired. I even found time to squeeze in a few "fun" projects, like pulling out some major overgrown bushes and planting flowers and herbs instead. But even still I have that unsettled feeling of being in a new place and being all alone (or rather surrounded by strangers) and I'm looking forward to life feeling more normal again. Ha! At least I have two days to spend with my husband and no contractors or mother's helpers around.
The best thing right now is knowing that soon, I will get to see and hold my babies. I'm so curious to know what they will look like, these little creatures that have been beating me up from inside for so long now. And along with that, I'll get my ankles and feet back, and I'll be able to start exercising again (eventually) and I just know that things will get better and I'll have a beautiful family that I've been wanting for so long. And in another ten years when the contractors finish, I might have a house worth living in, too. I have so much to look forward to, I just have to shake this malaise that's settling for the moment.
I think I'll start with going back to bed.
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