Finding Bigfoot

I'm now 26 weeks. I'm measuring at least 33 weeks based on a singleton pregnancy. 

In the moments when I'm first still after moving, I feel like I've just finished running a marathon.

Trust me. I've run nowhere. Not even after the ice cream truck. But a pushpop sure sounds tasty right about now!

My doctor has ix-nayed exercise in effort to preserve my cervix and keep the youngins' on the inside as long as possible. I told myself I'd at least do the preggo yoga DVD that the hubs bought me - surely it could help with my flexibility and strength without overexerting me, right? But I haven't. In truth, I haven't done a thing. Nada. Zilch.

Climbing into bed takes me a couple minutes to hike my leg, strategically place it and pull my body weight onto the mattress. Lying down and getting the sheet and comforter to actually cover my growing surface area is an act that has to resemble that of hamsters digging frantically in the corner of their cage to find safety and comfort beneath the bedding. Rolling out of bed literally requires a barrel roll and prayer that I land on my feet on the floor and not on one of my snoozing dogs. Sitting up from a reclined position is completely out of the question - my core muscles are stretched and feel completely destroyed already. Sitting down on the toilet to pee 10+ times each night occupies a good hour of my time that I would prefer to be sleeping. Then I spend at least twice that amount of time trying to recover my breath and resting heart rate in order to fall back asleep. Getting up from the toilet is a serious chore in which I stretch my arms out in front of me to brace my fall should my new front hump's center of gravity finally force me over the edge. Public restrooms are a personal challenge as I race to cover the toilet in paper so that I can sit - dangling and relying on balance and strength in my quads is risky business.

Just had a thought! Think I could actually sleep on the toilet??? That would cut out a lot of travel time, and possibly eliminate the cramps I get in my hips from sleeping on my side. Apparently no other position is acceptable to the two hooligans in my belly - stomach is not an option and back seems to incite an internal soccer game against my ribcage.

I was able to sleep on the toilet as a toddler during potty training. Why not now?

I'm exhausted after walking from my car to my office - it might be 100 yards total. I'm out of breath when I get my clothes on. And I'm sweating after I get my shoes on my feet. Which reminds me......with all of these changes coming on so rapidly, it goes without saying that my routines and figure are not what they once were.

What is perhaps most disturbing at this moment is the fact that I have discovered Bigfoot.

And it's a chick. A pregnant one.

She lives in Salem, Alabama.

She's not (quite) as furry as the Sasquatch drawings we've seen over the years, but give it a few weeks. The fur is still developing.

She's not haunting the woods despite what most believe - that would be too much exertion for her. She dwells in a modest 4BR/2BA brick home.

It's true that Bigfoot is a scavenger...eating any and everything she can get her hands on. But she shows a preference to fruit - not so much sticks and leaves. Never say never though.

If you haven't guessed already, I am Bigfoot.

My feet stay swollen and they are huge! It is incredibly uncomfortable for a gal like me who can't even stand feeling the toe seam in my socks. Wiggling my toes is impossible because they stay squished in my shoes most of the day - they look like vienna sausages shoved in the little tin can. They are fat and squished no matter what time of day it is, but especially in the evening - regardless of the amount of time I spend standing or sitting or walking. Getting socks and shoes off is the equivalent of peeling a wet bathing suit off skin, and often requires the hubs' assistance. I no longer have ankles - in their place are the bottoms of my calves (or cankles), complete with bright blue veins and a few new purple busted blood vessels. Oh joy.

My sisters have all warned me that a change in shoe size is to be expected along with a change in my pant size. And boy if they're not right!

So far I'm all belly and all feet. I've not seen enlarging in other areas yet. Hopefully I didn't jinx myself by saying that aloud.

As uncomfortable as the big feet are, I'm thankful they're not furry, too. No offense meant to Hobbits.

Seems the fur is sticking to my abdomen and chin for now.

If I can't get a circus side show act for resembling Bigfoot, perhaps they'll consider me for the part of the bearded lady!?

Itty bitty titty baby committee

I nicknamed Baby A "titty baby" weeks ago when I noticed a pattern in her kicks each time I drank milk or ate anything with dairy. I assume this means she likes milk, but I guess it could easily mean the opposite, as well.

After last week's ultrasound it seems she deserves a revised nickname though.

A little over 4 weeks ago, ultrasound results showed a difference in the twins' sizes for the first time. Baby A weighed 1 lb., while Baby B weighed 2 oz. more. Seems like such an insignificant amount to me, but I guess when you're that small, every little bit counts.

At our last scan 2 weeks ago, titty baby had only gained 2 oz, while sugar baby gained 4 since their previous measures.

So, until further weight gain (which will prayerfully arrive soon), titty baby will be known as "itty bitty titty baby".

And her doctor, ultrasound tech, dad and I are now officially part of the itty bitty titty baby committee - not that sugar baby doesn't need a committee of troops, too. It's just that she seems to be taking care of herself just fine. In fact, it seems she has always been the stubborn one of the two. She's consistently been more difficult to get steady heart strips and pictures of from day 1. Sugar baby has been known to turn her head, roll over, kick or do anything to prevent multiple techs on multiple occasions from being able to certainly identify her gender - even going so far as to shove her hands between her legs during the last attempt to check out her netherparts. She has also been the one who is consistently in a breech position and the one who wakes me up in the middle of the night, with sensations of hunger immediately following. I can only imagine that our more compliant titty baby has been all too willing to share with her more stubborn sister.

However, now it seems she's sharing too much. Because they share a placenta there is the risk that their share of nutrients is not going to be equal. They are what is called monochorionic diamniotic twins - they present with one placenta, but are swimming in two separate amniotic sacs. Based on the little bit of research I've done their share of nutrients is determined largely by where their cords "plug into" the placenta, which is a location completely selected at random. The risk arises when one's share of the chorion is larger than the other and more nutrients and blood flow are shuffled to one. There is also the risk of Twin-to-Twin Transfusion Syndrome (TTTS) - when vessels between the cords create a highway between the two fetuses that allows for the transfusion of blood from one to another. Here's some a link to more info:

http://fetus.ucsfmedicalcenter.org/twin/

For now, our plan of action is to monitor both babies and compare their measurements on a weekly basis, complete biophysical profiles - they've done one already and both got an A+. Should itty bitty titty baby not make the gains that are expected in the next 2 weeks, the doc will consider a referral to a perinatologist.

I have no idea exactly what that means, but am choosing not to find out unless/until I have to. No need to worry about something else unless absolutely necessary.

I'm worried enough about whether or not my own weight loss has contributed to this dilemma in some way. After being ill with flu and/or strep throat combined with high temps for a week, I noticed that I'd lost more than 5 lbs.

Amazing how quickly your worries change! I was previously worried about gaining too much throughout my pregnancy and within moments my fears changed to worry of losing too much weight. Yeesh.

Until we know more, I'm drinking more water, being more diligent about my vitamins, trying to completely eliminate caffeine (they say 2 cups a day is fine, but any more than that is linked to lower birth weight according to some research), trying to make time in the work day to eat snacks more regularly, and praying itty bitty titty baby will start packing on the pounds.

As much as I don't want to look like a heifer, I want nothing more than to have 2 healthy little girls come out with some chubby cheeks and fat thighs.

Bring on the twinkies!

Food waits for no man

Each day, my expiration time inched closer and closer to daylight hours (or maybe spring was just getting closer). And each evening, my feeding hours inched closer and closer together. Though I've always been an early dinner eater, preferring to eat "supper" (as the southern folk say) no later than 6:00 pm in my less fertile days, my dinner time was pushing the boundaries of knocking on the door of a restaurant before it opened to host early bird specials.

Because my husband's work schedule is sporadic and involves day and night shifts, our dinner routine was no routine at all. This didn't help my feeding pattern whatsoever.

Compound this with the fact that each day after coming home from work, my fatigue level was increasing and my pajama hour decreasing, and we had a recipe for crappy, thrown together meals like tacos + evening news + bedtime prayers then snooze. Not so delicious, and probably not nutritious. It certainly wasn't adventurous.

I actually was once known to plan meals with themes ahead of time - spaghetti and meatballs with red vino and Sinatra playing in the background. The only thing missing was the fat dude smoking a cigar being handn fed in a corner booth. But dessert always included an episode or two of The Sopranos. We've done mexican nights with fresh salsa made from our garden vegetables. The hubs and I have always enjoyed cooking together, especially when a new recipe was involved. But those days seemed like a memory.

After several evenings of cramping my husband's dinner time style by forcing early hours on him and/or less-than-gourmet fare, I felt like a negligent wife. My guilt was increasing as quickly as my waistline.

So one day after work, I mustered the energy and waddled my way through the Winn-Dixie aisles to purchase the ingredients for a special meal to cook for my patient love. I went home with full grocery bags and big dreams of having a meal prepared and on the table the moment he walked through the door after work....kind of like the golden days just a few short months ago when I wasn't a mothership.

I went home and I cooked a meal that took more than 30 minutes to prepare. I marinaded and chopped and stirred. It smelled divine.

And then I waited.

And waited some more.

With food ready and the dinner table set, I continued to wait (and salivate) as the minutes groaned on the stove's clock and my stomach made noises that shouldn't come from a human.

But I trudged on and waited some more.

Surely, he'd be home soon.

Any minute now, right?!

But soon and any minute turned out to be too long for this big lady.

The smells, the fatigue, the gaping hole in my stomach, plus the four feet pounding my ribs won over my plans of being a good wife. I took just one bite to tie me over, but that one bite turned into an avalanche of swallowing (who has time to chew?) and an empty plate.

I might as well have been asleep from a food coma with my face in my plate, when the hubs arrived home....a whole 45 minutes late. Seems the hospital had gone crazy when he would ordinarily be walking out the door, so on duty he remained.

While he worked and I chowed down, I learned that food waits for no man - no matter how much you love him. At least not when you're 6 months pregnant and WAYYY past your feeding time.

Kangaroo care

I've talked about some of the perks I can foresee to having twins (despite so many scary possibilities...especially the plans the hubs has to teach them how to trick people into thinking they are the opposite twin), but this is perhaps one of the most exciting:

http://www.cnn.com/video/?hpt=hp_c2#/video/us/2013/02/22/ra-pkg-sylvester-power-of-touch.hln

How low can you go?

I have not yet fulfilled all of the stereotypes of pregnant women. I haven't sent the hubs out on midnight runs for food...or any other time of day for that matter. I've not blown a gasket and cursed anyone out. I've not burst into tears at random and been unable to talk off of the ledge.

But I have reached some serious lows.

I've broken some rules of etiquette that are not really spoken aloud, but instead understood. Some basic social mores have been disregarded.

For instance, I've recently begun reducing the amount of dishes/utensils I use to eat. I'm not eating with my fingers (yet), but I've eliminated the need for a bowl in a couple of scenarios.

Canned fruit......Insert fork. Enjoy.

Or cereal.....who needs a bowl and spoon? When you're at the tail end of a box of cereal, remove the bag, pour 1/2 a mouthful of cereal into your gullet straight from the bag, chase with a small bit of milk, chew, swallow and voila! Breakfast of champions (and lazy bachelors I hear)!

Want a good bit of something, but feel greedy saying the exact amount out loud? Just waddle to the cashier/waitress, rub your belly a little and watch as your vague and seemingly benign request for "several of/a handful of/extra" turns into a delivery of excess. Check out what McDonald's did to my decaf coffee when I asked for extra cream and sugar!

That was an exciting morning, to say the least :)

Also inspired by McDonald's, I've discovered that pouring your fries straight into the bag makes it so much easier to eat without spilling as you drive down the road.

Lately, my dignity has taken a serious nose dive. Where I previously wouldn't be so willing to burp out loud, it seems difficult to contain at times...even slipping out while I speak. It was embarassing at first, but I've grown accustomed to it, and it seems the hubs and my coworkers have, as well. They don't even react when I burp midsentence and continue on with my thought without skipping a beat.

In the past, I would have taken a moment's pause to consider my audience and surroundings before scratching, but now, not so much. If it itches, I scratch it.

My threshold for embarassment has certainly changed, too. In a past life, I wouldn't be caught dead blowing my nose in public. But that happens all the time now - because my nose runs all the dadgum time! I've also taken to sticking tampons up my nose to stop nosebleeds....even sporting them (without the strings, of course) at work or while driving down the road.  

Nice walrus look, huh?

It looks crazy, I know. But they work! They're super absorbent!

Though I've claimed to not have any bizarre cravings, it can't be said that I've not tried some gross/weird things that I wouldn't have considered otherwise. In my defense, these aren't things that I dreamed of or craved ahead of time...I merely stumbled upon them and seized the opportunity, so to speak.

I can now recommend fritos with whipped cream. During Christmas dinner my corn chips got doused with whipped cream when my dessert toppled over onto them. Rather than looking at them in disgust, I figured "Meh.....why not?"

Turns out, they're pretty tasty!

I can also confirm that the floating clumps of yellow in the top of the chicken noodle can are quite delicious. While I was sick, I opted for a home remedy in addition to gargling warm salt water - chicken soup. As I opened the can of Campbell's, I noticed the little bits of liquid gold and surprisingly wasn't repulsed by them as I would have been in the past. Instead, I was intrigued. 

Turns out, those fatty floaters are pretty tasty, too.

I have not resorted to sucking the jelly off the top of vienna sausages yet.

But come to think of it, that sounds pretty appealing, too.

Two heads are better than one

The shock of knowing that we are expecting twins is still very present for me, but I have to say, it's much less paralytic nowadays. The hubs and I have even begun looking at reasons why "two heads are better than one". Here are a few:

-Because we live in the country they'll have a playmate.

-No need to invite friends on vacations to entertain our kids...they'll entertain each other!

-They're both girls, so we can have 1 birthday party with 1 theme and 1 cake.

-When they're of driving age, we won't have the means to purchase a vehicle for them, so they'll need to do it themselves. But they can each save for 1/2 the cost of the car!

-They can share clothes and accessories!

-They can hold each other accountable (& keep each other's secrets, no doubt).

-Chores and cleaning up their room will take half the time!

-Maybe they'll have that "twintuition" that so many multiples experience and be able to sense trouble and help out in emergencies like Lassie did.

-They can help each other with homework.

-They can paint each other's non-dominant hand during manicures. Who doesn't need someone to do that?!

Though they'll be a pair, the hubs and I have no intentions of treating them as a package deal on all accounts. We don't intend to select rhyming names, or even names with the same initials. No plan to put them in the same outfits every day. We hope very much to foster their individualness as best we can.

With all this said, the coolest perk that I can foresee to there being TWO of them is this: They'll always have each other.

How cool is it to know that you enter the world with an extra person, aside from your mom and dad, who has your back? Even if she's occasionally kicking you in the head in utero?!

Here we grow

Here's a catalogue of weekly photos of my ever-expanding waistline and a quick log of things going on at the time:

As a base of comparison, here's a pic before I was knocked up...actually the weekend I got knocked up. The hubs and I are on the far right.

Very surprisingly, the bump emerged pretty early...starting around 11 weeks. At this time, I was constantly sick. No real cravings to speak of other than sleep. I was living on Boost vanilla shakes, Sprite and saltine crackers. Zofran was fairly effective during my last pregnancy, but didn't touch the nausea this go round. Phenergan helped keep me from actually vomiting this time, but didn't relieve the nausea itself. Because it made me so drowsy, I was only able to take 1/2 a tablet at a time...except at night, when I would take a 25 mg and pray for a few hours of continuous sleep. I did my best to refrain from taking anything at all, but some days I needed all the help I could get to put my feet into my underwear and make it to work. Around this time, I was prepping for my matron of honor duties in my best friend's wedding to be held on Dec. 15th.

On Dec. 15th at approx. 13 weeks, I managed to make it zipped into my dress, which was ordered long before I was pregnant, and through an entire day of wedding festivities in heels and without throwing up...that is, until I left the wedding and then barfed all over the bottom of my dress in the parking lot. It was fun up until then, though!

Also at 13 weeks, I felt movement for the first time!

On Christmas day, I managed to go an entire 24 hour period without vomiting! It didn't last beyond that day, but the frequency of yakking decreased somewhat - much to my relief.

At 15 weeks, I was ballooned enough in the midsection to have to rubberband my pants with each wear. Throwing up was less frequent, but not completely gone. You could count on me throwing up at least once each day and often more. But it sure beat the constant vomiting that I experienced earlier. And I craved FRUIT around the clock. My progesterone shots began at this point. Ouch.

It was also at this time, that I tried on my first pair of maternity pants. I didn't buy any that day, hoping to put off any purchases until absolutely necessary. But I got my first taste of the "kangaroo pouch".

At 18 weeks, we learned that we are expecting twin girls who are more than likely identical, though this is something we won't know with certainty until after they're born and DNA testing is completed. Truthfully, we probably won't incur the extra expense of testing. What's the point? They're twins. They're girls. What more does the world need to know?

At 19 weeks, cravings weren't something huge, but movement was. I could feel them both move regularly. In fact, they seemed to show dietary preferences already! One loved all things milk, while the other loved all things sugar...hence their silly nicknames of "titty baby" and "sugar baby". Even without strong cravings, I still accepted any donations of fruit. A surprise to me has been my distaste for meat and vegetables - two things which previously dominated my diet.

At 20 weeks, I began to eat much more regularly - waking up in the middle of the night to raid the fridge for huge glasses of milk and strawberries. The girls were both weighing 11 oz. each at that point, and I was measuring 30 weeks! The u/s techs were able to tell us with fair certainty that spina bifida and Downs syndrome could be ruled out. Ultrasound pics showed that the girls had changed positions once again and were lying horizontally in my innards with their feet toward each other's heads. We were even able to see what appeared to be one kicking the other in the head.

Also at 20 weeks, I began playing music for the girls pretty regularly. Their ears have reached their final position and they're able to hear muffled sounds. I read to my students at work, so it's safe to assume they hear me while I'm doing that. But at night, I hook up the head phones and take requests from the hubs - Bob Marley, AC/DC, Ray Lamontagne, & James Taylor have been constants so far. And sugar baby moves to the music more than titty baby does. I really should stop calling her titty baby. Suggestions for another nickname that shows her love of milk?

At 21 weeks, my shots continue on. My cravings are not specific. I just like to eat! Fruit is still a favorite. I'm about 12 lbs. heavier than my average weight. I'm under strict instructions to not do anything other than go to work. I'm doing my best to avoid threats of bed rest by not lifting or pushing anything heavy. Admittedly, sometimes my patience gets the best of me and I do something myself rather than wait for help. Inevitably I'm met with reproach from the hubs. I can notice an obvious difference in my posture and my flexibility. Reaching for items on the ground requires some serious yoga poses. Putting my underwear on is quite the circus act!  But the chicas are moving constantly and the hubs can finally see it for himself when I put something on my belly and they make it bounce.

At 22 weeks the musical training continues....I'm trying to expose them to a variety of music. So far, their preference remains hip hop, or so I assume from their kicking. But, trust me, they're getting exposed to lots more than just Ludacris and Outkast. Jim Croce, The Eagles, The Band, Alice 'n Chains, Metallica, Eric Church, Taylor Swift (I'm somewhat ashamed to admit this one), Pink, Florence & The Machine, Adele....you name it. I'm trying to cover the spectrum.

I'm up 15 lbs from the start. Not terribly thrilled about this, but considering I'm still measuring a 30 week preggo, I'd say it's not too bad. The twins are weighing 1 lb and 1 lb 2 oz respectively. They're back to positioning themselves head to head again...at least there won't be any kicking each other in the face for a little while. Cravings aren't specific or bizarre. No midnight requests for pickles and ice cream, Taco Bell or sauerkraut. I still love fruit. I still love chocolate. I'd say the biggest change is that I just think about food more often than I have in the past.

Sleeping without a snack break doesn't happen. I'm up at least once each hour of the night....most frequently for pee breaks that are totally unproductive, a few times for muscle cramps in the craziest of locations (Ever had a cramp in your ankle??? I don't recommend it), and at least once for a glass of milk. Milk has been my favorite beverage by far. But I'm drinking my fair share of coffee each day, too....decaf of course. However, I haven't completely given up caffeine. I'll have the occasional coke. Admittedly, I don't drink enough water. Some, but not enough. Must improve.

The body hair rages on....my stomach officially looks like a kiwi though much less tan. I'm still counting 2 chins, but fear a third is on its' way. My progesterone shots continue on. They're no less painful and no less itchy. I still feel the need to scratch like crazy on the cheeks where I get my shots. Aside from the growing front hump, the most obvious physical difference I've noted is the development of my "side impact air bags" as I like to call them. They're two mounds of fluff I've developed on my sides toward my backside, just behind my hip bones - about where I get my shots. Exactly where I itch like crazy. These two fatty deposits did not exist before my pregnancy and they did not exist before my shots. But they're here now. I hope they disappear after the kids arrive, but if they linger, at least they'll serve as leg rests for the two babies I'll be carrying on my hips.

 Perhaps the most notable change is my attitude. I've been fearful (as has the hubs) that the grizzly bear in me would emerge. So far she's still in hibernation mode. I have had moments of moodiness, but they all centered around being sick - I was treated with a 3 day z-pack for some sort of infection a couple of weeks ago. I felt horrible...headache, sore throat, cough, congestion, you name it. No amount of saline neti pot treatments or acetominophen provided any relief. And after several days of feeling badly, I was ill as a hornet. Thankfully, I recognized it well enough in advance and warned the hubs that a grizzly with a mean front hump was on the loose in our house and he might want to consider having another beer with the boys before returning home during my consciousness.

But my attitude has changed in other ways - it seems for the better. I'm getting slightly more enthusiastic about getting to know these 2 little ladies. I'm still cautious and waiting for the rug to be pulled from beneath my feet sometimes. And I'm no less fearful of what the future holds for me and my family. My concerns about premature labor, infants with complications, time lost from work without pay, medical bills, zero knowledge of breast feeding or infant care, etc. loom on. I still worry about those things. But quickly trailing each thought of distress is a replay of my husband's words: "You'll be a great mom, La", "Don't worry, I've got your back. I can change diapers blindfolded", "We will figure it out, babe", "It's just money....they're printing it every day", "We will not be homeless and we will not be hungry, love....the rest is just stuff".

And right behind that replay is a prayer of thanks - thanks that I get to do this with him and not someone else who could so easily cave from the pressure (even though I want to dig a hole somedays and push him in it), thanks that I have an amazing set of parents and family and friends who are thrilled with the new additions and reassure me that this is a blessing and not a burden, thanks that I have maintained my health to date and so have these babies as best we can tell, thanks that somehow, someway we've managed to get by. It hasn't been easy. But somehow we've managed.

In fact, we've been able to purchase (or have donated) the basic baby needs thus far for no more than $200 out of pocket. Heaven forbid I go into labor any time soon. But if I did, it's comforting knowing that we've got car seats and bases, a crib, a dresser, a chest, and a glider so far. We've got enough newborn diapers to get us through a couple weeks. We've got some onesies on standby. We've got enough to get us through the first few days at home before we'd have to run out to the store and get other stuff. The majority of this has been donated by friends and family. The rest, we've purchased at consignment and thrift stores.

And speaking of.....this new baby bargain binge has become quite the adventurous challenge for the hubs and myself. We are determined to see how much we can do to prep for these 2 with the least amount of money. He's in the process now of refinishing the nursery furniture and he's a meticulous man on a mission. It's pretty exciting to watch, I have to admit. Here he is working on the dresser after sanding all of the old paint away.

I guess what I'm learning through all of this is that "everything is going to be okay". It's not going to be easy - it definitely hasn't been so far. And it won't be the same. But it will be okay. With prayer, with the awesome support we've received from family and friends, plus our insane stubbornness as a team, I trust that the hubs and I will figure out how to handle all this...even if it means just controlling the chaos somedays. But some way, somehow, everything will be okay.