Dancing Brave

Where Is My Mind?

Every time I have a non-pregnancy-related idea for an entry, I think to myself, "Write it down!" And then I don't, and I forget it, and no amount of brain-racking can produce it again without threatening to damage the pea up there beyond repair.

I'm still mostly feeling fine, although I appear to have pulled a muscle in my upper left thigh, despite not having done anything at all that possibly could've resulted in this -- except perhaps my nightly cow-tipping ritual, which is how I refer to the process of trying to turn over from one side onto the other. So when I heave myself out of chairs, it now involves an inordinate amount of extra leaning and some limping that leads to a gentle waddle. Which is annoying, because I am not that incapacitated by pregnancy YET, and I don't want to be doing the sad shuffle before it's absolutely physically unavoidable.

The beans are still floating around in there with varying degrees of feistyness. For the past three days I've had a kicking spree continuous enough that I can lift up my shirt and watch my skin ripple -- not just from the kick impact, but from the baby moving either its body or just its limb. Sounds awfully alien, I know, but it actually makes the whole thing so exciting. For so long, when you're pregnant, you just feel like a giant container with some foreign mystery in there. This is the part where you're getting daily reminders that, yes, it's real, and yes, your bean(s) have a personality, and yes, they're interactive, and yes, they're people. Whenever they go nuts like that, I always rub my belly affectionately afterward because I just can't help it. It's kind of amazing, it really is. I am my boys' first bedroom. There is something undeniably cool about it.

I mean, check it: Baby A is yawning. See his little mouth?

Doesn't get any cooler than that. The photo, incidentally, is from the 4D ultrasound session. Turns out I didn't get any good 4D/3D images because neither baby cooperated. Baby B just refused to face us at all, as if he had no interest in such attention whoring, so it was all about Baby A the entire time -- except Baby A kept throwing his arm over his face. So what we did get looked shadowy and weird and incomplete, and a bit like he is a melting claymation doll with a giant tumor on his forehead. Hopefully he will not come out looking like that, for HIS sake, although I will love him anyway. But much of the time was spent demonstrating how awesome their 2D ultrasound software upgrade is, and now in addition to being able to list for you the exact advantages of this new Siemens machine, I also got a bunch of short video clips just from that part. This still that I took from one of them is my favorite. I think that little bubble up there is actually you looking straight at his fingers, which are pointing at you, because he knows you're looking and he sees you and he will not deign to acknowledge you any further because he's got shit to do and naps to take.

We completed an Infant Care class the other night, which was interesting in some respects and not as helpful as it could've been in others. Granted, I'm not sure how I expected them to help me, in a practical sense, figure out how to cut my infant's nails, but I wish there had been a bit more of that. She did offer some tips on feedings and various safe ways to hold them that might seem weird to us at first, she explained a lot of the tests they do on the infants right after they're born, she talked a lot about their early developing reflexes that we should watch for, and she talked about the benefits of co-sleeping and swaddling as well as delineating a lot of what we know and don't know about SIDS. I defy any parent not to flip their lid about the SIDS risk of everything. We have re-thought using bumpers in the cribs about 20 times (pros: they are cute; cons: they are apparently silent killers; pro: we don't know anyone whose bumper has silent-killed anything; con: we would still be paranoid about it) and eventually decided against it because the risks didn't seem worth the reward. I mean, nobody wants to be saying, "Our beautiful children smothered themselves on their bumpers, but hey, at least the cribs looked really adorable."

And lest any of us think we'd get out of there without a bracing reminder of how gross human waste can be, we got a graphic video on diaper-changing, which the instructor picked because it did not shy away from showing the messy realities. This means we got a full-on look at what a baby's first bowel movement looks like -- something so icky it has its own name: meconium. And if this video is to be believed, it looks like someone upended three or four full cups of Jello Chocolate Pudding into the diaper.

"That will probably take about eight wipes to get rid of," the instructor said.

These are the future days of my life. Let's not tell Kevin that women who have C-sections -- which I'm very likely to have, since one baby is breech right now -- are advised to leave the diaper-changing to their partners and helpers for the first week or so because simply managing the feedings will be taxing. Which means he might well get BOTH meconium diapers and a whole host of early joys besides. Shhh. Help me keep that secret.

Oh, Bird.

Baby showers are such a tricky thing, because everyone except the pregnant lady herself seems to dread them with a white-hot fire. Including me; there was always that fear you'd be asked to play a really embarrassing game, or be stuck on the outside of a conversation about lactating. So it touched me to see so many friendly faces at my shower on Mother's Day weekend, because I've been there, and I know they can be hard to look forward to no matter how much you like the gestating lady. Truly, I felt very loved.

My mandates to my friends who organized the event: no games, but plenty of booze. My wise pals saw the merits in that, so it ended up being a really relaxed affair full of people just catching up and chatting. The ladies set up tables outside with umbrellas, so we could enjoy the gorgeous weather without getting sunburned and sweaty. They set up a huge spread of food, including cupcakes and homemade cake-pops -- literally, blue-tinted-chocolate-coated bits of cake on lollipop sticks -- and sandwiches and more. They made sure I was fed and watered all day. It was almost like a little garden party, except with presents, and it was perfect.

Everybody astounded me with their generosity. I had been excited for the shower as an excuse to put on a dress and see a bunch of my favorite people all in one place at the same time, but thanks to my peeps, my babies will be a stylish pair of boys sleeping on comfy sheets and playing with some painfully cute toys while they wear their tiny shoes. I'm sure it got annoying for everyone the way I took so long to open things, but I like to dot myself with the ribbons and bows that come on packages, and I didn't want to rip through things so fast as to seem like I didn't really care what any of it was. People put time, effort, and money into their gifts and I wanted them to have the satisfaction of seeing me flip my lid over how cute/tiny/gorgeous/funny they were. That night, Mom and I had a great time trotting everything out for Kevin, then unpacking and washing and folding and stashing everything in the nursery. Which is slowly coming together, but now feels so much more like a home now that we've got onesies and blankets and even some newborn diapers in there ready and waiting for someone to pee all over them. Preferably the babies.

Sadly, neither sister could make it out -- luckily I got a visit from Julie and her husband a few days prior; the timing for the actual shower just didn't work out right for them, and Alison offered to come after they're born when we're going insane and desperately need her expertise -- but my Mom came. She wrapped up for me all the old silver from my baby days -- a rattle, some utensils, an engraved cup -- and my childhood blanket, creatively named Blankey.

She also Dryel-ed and brought with her the old Big Bird toy that was my best friend in the world for several years. Big Bird is a puppet -- you can use the hole in the back of his head to make his mouth move, and seriously, I took about three or four stabs at that descriptive sentence before stumbling on a version that didn't use the words "hole," "insert," and "finger" all in one breath.

I carried this thing with me everywhere I went, and he's one of the only stuffed animals I owned that survived our move to England. Some of our shipment got water-damanged, including my entire menagerie of plush toys -- Babar and Celeste went kaput, as did my Belle (female Snoopy) and all her outfits. But I must've had Big Bird with me on the plane, such was the esteem in which I held him, because he survived that fatal accident and is with me again today.

But his fur is matted and his neck is snapped to where his head hangs listlessly against his chest. I literally loved him to death. For a while, sitting there on my lap with his beak against his belly while I opened other gifts, the hole in his head made it look like he'd been shot and as if I were cuddling a corpse. Poor Bird. I don't know what the beans are ever going to do with him -- probably, if I'm being honest, nothing -- but he certainly treated me right and I'd like to let him hang out with us somewhere for as long as he can.

Now I'm just waiting on my thank-you cards. I ordered them from JustMultiples.com, and they sent me a Priority Mail envelope with a receipt in it... and nothing else. My e-mail asking about the order has gone unreturned. So while I wait until it's been determined what the hell happened, and when I might expect to get them, I'm just going to look like an ungrateful little wench. A fact I MIGHT have mentioned with no small degree of irritation in my last e-mail to the company... I mean, don't mail me a slip of paper encouraging me to give you feedback about your products and then just NOT send me the product. Uungrateful little wenches like me are unafraid to unleash some serious Internet rage, y'all.

Is That Uranus Under Your Dress, Or...

Despite making it through my baby shower in heels -- a feat of which I am deeply, perhaps ridiculously, proud -- I am getting to the portion of my pregnancy where carring this bump around is not always supremely comfortable.

Don't get me wrong, I love being pregnant. Love it. Even the way my stomach shifts into a landscape of freakish bumps and valleys at random times. I love rubbing The Belly in circles and telling myself it's soothing the beans even though they probably can't feel it. And the kicking is fantastic, like I am getting a front-row seat to them learning what their little limbs can do before they're even aware that they're learning (and thus, before they decide that learning is for geeks and they'd much rather give some Milhouse lookalike a wedgie).

But man, at times -- and especially at night -- I'm struggling to wrangle this thing. It's gotten to the point where I have to cuddle it a bit when I want to roll from one side to the other, sloooooowly rotating and depositing it very gently on the mattress once my body is more or less in place. And, even then, I get shooting paints in my groin for my trouble (fortunately, they dissipate quickly, but it's still aggravating enough that sometimes I gasp aloud before I can catch myself). Yes, there are two babies in there, but I'm only at 25 weeks -- it feels like I shouldn't be groaning this much until I'm a tad further along, no?

Although, my girth IS measuring at about 38.5 inches, assuming I did that correctly (lower back to fattest point of belly -- near the navel -- and back around), and you should SEE my veins. They're like gigantic blue lightning strikes on either side. Maybe the belly pains are the thunder. And in dresses, like this one I wore from my shower, it literally does look like I am smuggling a basketball stuffed with cocaine (because why else would I be sneaking it around town?) under my clothes.

We didn't get as many satisfying ultrasound pictures on Friday, although we did get to see Baby B yawn twice before rolling over away from our prying eyes. (For his part, Baby A just lay there with an arm thrown over his face as if to say, "Don't LOOK AT ME, I'm HIDEOUS TODAY," but we got to see his entire hand, so that made up for it.) My mom came with us, though, and I thought she would ask if we could stay there and watch for hours. She was FASCINATED. We also saw an awesome shot of their ribcages that looked like the glow that a setting sun can cast through a set of Venetian blinds -- strangely beautiful and sort of out-of-place in an examination of my womb. Sadly we didn't get snapshots of that.

But pretty soon I might have something cool -- or creepy, depending on who you are -- to share: 3D images. Apparently, a friend of ours who is also having a boy soon got a line on a company that makes 4D ultrasound equipment and wants to demonstrate it to buyers, so the woman running it needs models. Her word, not mine. But they pay us to do it, and since it's not testing technology that's never been used before -- and since my friend's wife, who is also doing it, is a nurse herself -- we're totally signed up to be there on Thursday to get our free 4D ultrasound. I can't tell the difference between 3D and 4D, and frankly, I don't think there is one. They say the fourth D is time, meaning they can get moving live images, but ultrasounds always give you moving live images, so I'm guessing it's just a way of saying they can use the sound-wave technology to create fancy 3D images without needing to do freeze-frames first.

Naturally, I have spent some time Googling whether this is safe, but a lot of folks on my fertility message boards have gotten them done and I DID have one -- I think -- around week 8 when I was still seeing my fertility doctor. Plus, the Interwebs haven't told me a reason NOT to do it. So on Thursday I'll head over to this thing and let some people see 4D images of my beans, bringing home a DVD and a check for my trouble. They're not even BORN yet, and the beans are earners. Bless.

If I could have ripped off my hips, I would have. For real.

Whoops, I was gone a bit longer than I meant to be -- we've been busy with visitors, cleaning the house, and trying to figure out how to help me sleep at night without whimpering every time I have to roll onto one of my screamingly unhappy hips.

It's actually been a rough go of it; though my legs were already aching in bed and I haven't slept through the night in at least two months, my hips only just became a real problem. When you're pregnant you're supposed to sleep on your side -- in fact, they tell you that after a certain point you can't sleep on your back, for fear of cutting off blood flow to the babies and to some parts of yourself. (Or something. I don't question; I just do.) I was already a side-sleeper, but now that I HAVE to be and I've got all this weight in my tummy and my ass, it's really putting an uncomfortable amount of pressure on my hips. I wake up to roll over and whichever one I am relieving of duty will berate me soundly for a long while before I can drift off to sleep again. I tried sticking pillows of various sizes and thicknesses under and between my knees and my ankles, under my belly, and behind my back. I got a Snoogle body pillow, which is supposedly designed for pregnant women. None of it worked. Though the Snoogle did ease some pressure on my back because I can lean on it while still technically lying on my side, my hips still cried out in pain. It got to the point where I started sleeping on the couch, because with three separate cushions, it could mold to me a little better than my mattress.

This past week, though, I FINALLY thought of getting a cushy mattress pad. I hate those egg-crate things and my mattress is normally perfectly comfortable, so I don't want to shell out for a pillow-top that I generally don't like that much anyway. Bed Bath & Beyond had a selection of memory-foam mattress pads that I could find for cheaper online, but I'd have to sleep on the couch another week before it arrived and that wasn't an option I wanted to pursue. I missed Kevin. I missed my room. So I picked up a 3-inch memory-foam pad and we slapped that sucker on the bed, and FINALLY my hips are cheering up a bit. They still ache, but the throbbing isn't nearly as intense, and doesn't start until a few hours later than it did before. I could have hugged the stupid thing. Now if only I could strap a back massager to my left side so that I could sit up straight in restaurants, I'd be a comfortable pregnant lady indeed.

But as I constantly remind myself, it's all worth it. If this is the worst thing to happen to me during my pregnancy, then I'm doing just fine. There's a woman on one of my message boards who is already on bedrest at 22 weeks, and another who -- and this kills me -- lost her twins at 23 weeks due to pre-term labor. It was so hard to read that. I don't even know her and I was starting to cry. It's awful and it's unfair, and it hits home doubly hard because we've all on that board tried SO hard for this and come SO far, and just when you start to feel optimistic and prepared and you can start to imagine those tiny babies in your arms, to have that happen... it's a nightmare at any stage of pregnancy, but how awful after you've felt them move, started to see a personality, lived with them for months. I'm offering up a prayer of thanks that my boys are okay. Tomorrow we have another ultrasound and I'll be able to breathe easier, but I know I'm blessed to have made it this far.

Right now my belly is a fast-shifting landscape. One minute, it's a round bump; the next, the the left side pokes straight out and then tapers off in a gentle bunny-slope around to the right, where there is a lump. Then sometimes it's the reverse, with the right side out and the left lump stashed to the side. Right this second, Baby A is poking out just above and to my right of my belly button. Hi, little bean. I see you.

(Okay, I can't SEE anything other than a lump, but whatever. It's him. Probably his little bum, since last we checked he was head down and they're running out of opportunities to turn themselves in different directions. And, he just swam away.)

There may be a good reason for all these lumps and bumps and shifts: When I had my 20-week ultrasound, four weeks ago, the babies measured at 22 weeks. So they're growing well, and growing big -- always ideal when you're facing the probability of a premature birth -- and are clearly thrashing around in there trying to get comfortable, which is both unsettling and very easy for when Kevin decides he needs to have a word with them. At least this way we always know approximately where they are.

All this might also contribute to the fact that at my 24-week checkup yesterday, my bump is measuring as big as if I were 28 weeks pregnant with a singleton.

But we're still keeping busy. The cribs are assembled, the nursery is painted, and the mattresses are in place. The Diaper Champ is still in its box until later, but it's in the room, as is the Pack N Play. And we've gotten some really cute toys as gifts from people, and some swaddling wraps made of really soft fleece that I just want to cuddle. In a few months I guess I will be.

And my sister and her husband just left after a few days out here with us. Julie is moving to Germany in June sometime, and this was her only chance to come out and see me before they go. It was so amazing having her here; the two of them are a lot of fun, very relaxed company, and she's the first family member to see me pregnant. It made the whole thing a little more exciting, getting to share a piece of it with her. Next up is my mother, who flies in tonight and stays until next Tuesday, which encompasses my baby shower. I decided to have it early so that I could take stock of what we're missing and figure out when to pick up the bits and pieces we will still need, all before any threat of bedrest might loom.

At any rate, all remains well. And hopefully tomorrow I'll get some more photographs.