Monthly Archives: November 2010

32 weeks

Here ye!  Here ye!  Let it be know that the occupants of my womb have received their official notice of eviction.  You heard it!  You fellas got 30 days to pack your bags, make like a fetus and head out………..or, in your case, butt out.

Listen up, babies, it’s been a real slice of Heaven havin’ you bouncin’ around, drop kicking my pancreas and uppercutting my lungs but, truth be told, you two are getting chubby, rotund and HEAVY and honestly, you’re starting to make everyday tasks a little less than comfortable now.  Everytime my shoe comes untied I have to tromp through the house searching for your dad, hoping he’ll lend a hand instead of trying to strike a bargain.  “I’ll tie your shoes but I will require you to spoon feed me my dinner”.  ALSO,  I’ve recently developed some sort of horrendous, blotchy, itchiness on my belly called PUPPP, which is not nearly as cute as it sounds…now, I don’t know if this has anything to do with you two and I don’t want to point fingers but this rash didn’t show up until you did so let’s just stick all niceties aside and call a spade a spade, shall we folks?  YOU’VE WREAKED THIS HAVOC UPON ME!!

In other news, I have discovered what I believe to be a stretch mark……right by my belly button…….or rather, the stumpy mound of flesh that is passing for my belly button these days.  A week ago I had a dream.  I HAD A DREAM!!  And that dream was that my body and your bodies could live in piece, as one, with no stretch marks but sadly, you seem to have overstepped our silent treaty and ripped a wrinkly crevice across my abdomen and, like cockroaches and homeless people, where there’s one, there’s more.  Did I cry?  Did I weep?  Did I stand nude in front of my full length mirror and sob in vain, my fist shaking at the heavens, my belly jiggling like a Jell-O mold?  Perhaps.  But the moment to mourn has passed and I’ve been able to accept my grief and move on, finding joy in other things, like oragami and decapage.

Earlier in the week your dad and I packed you and I’s hospital bags and wrote out our Birth Plan.  I feel like it’s kind of a waste of time but just in case……I suppose it can’t hurt.  That said, I question how much the nurses level of animosity goes up when you whip out a page of instructions regarding how to take care of a baby.  If cancer taught us one thing it’s that people in the medical profession do not like to be questioned or second guessed by mere mortals.  They’ve gone to school!  They’ve read books!  They’ve watched Grey’s Anatomy!!  What have we done?  We’ve played Operation once or twice and the game always buzzes us…

We also took our maternity tour at the hospital you’ll be delivered in.  The facility is new and very nice but they don’t have internet.  (The internet is a place you spend all of your free time and most of your day at work).  Some boardroom committee seriously dropped the ball on that one.  Noobs.  As a consolation prize, however, we get an aromatherapy moist towelette every morning to wipe ours hands with and mandatory “tea time” everyday between 2-3.  YAY!  Tea time and moist towlettes!!  It’s just like brunch on the ol’ ranch!  Thanks, Kaiser!  You’re the best.  Who needs Facebook and email and the ability to send pictures to friends and family that live across the country?  Who needs to stay busy over the course of 4 days while I lay there, feeding my sucklings like hungry piglets.  Not I!  Not I!!

The tour guide also told us that the rooms were installed with OnDemand TV.  SCORE!!  If we can’t stream our Netflix at least we can watch anything we want…ON DEMAND!!  What’s that Tour Guide?  Oh, it’s not the real OnDemand?  It’s just a bunch of videos that run on loop for 24 hours a day about circumcision and breast feeding?  No thanks.  If I wanted to watch Faces of Death I would’ve just rented it.

Plus side of all this?  Since we’re having twins we get to have the BIG post partum room.  ALRIGHT!!  Now we can sit around in silence and the clock ticking noise will have a tinny echo! HOORAY!!

Finally, we installed your car seats!  I think this might be the single most frightening dose of reality that we have experienced thus far on this journey with you.  We took a trip to the fire station to have them check out our handy work on the install but sadly they no longer offer that courtesy.  Looks like you’re at the mercy of dear ol’ Mom and Dad’s handy work……….may God be with you.

See you in 30 days!

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30/31 weeks

We’re getting so excited to meet you little monsters I can barely stand it!!!!!!!!!

Unfortunately, waiting has never been a particularly strong suit of mine.  For instance, EVERY year around Christmas my brothers and I would scour the house while the parental units were away in search of our hidden presents; bedroom hampers and bathroom cabinets were of particular interest to us.  Once said presents were discovered, we would carefully unwrap them, joyfully play with them and then delicately wrap them again before mom and dad returned…but don’t worry, I won’t try and take you out and play with you until Christmas…..but I don’t know if I can wait much longer than that……

Anyways, a LOT has been going on out here while you’ve been sleeping or plotting your escape or playing solitaire or whatever it is you do in a womb built for two.  First:  your dad sold his first film!  I know, HOW did I forget to mention that little detail.  It was pretty amazing.  In celebration we did an awkward happy dance in our living room and then (in a time honored tradition that you WILL grow to love….or else…) we went to Red Lobster!!  This is the one place we go to celebrate ALL momentous occasions.  I’m sure at many points in your life you will get to experience its incredible joys with us too; your 1st birthday, your 2nd birthday, our anniversary, Victory over Japan Day, etc.

Second:  at your baby shower we held a photography raffle to raise money for Smile Train – an organization that specializes in cleft palate surgeries – and thanks to all of our amazing friends and family that participated we were able to pay for an entire operation for one person!  How awesome is that!?  And it’s all thanks to your existence that someone’s life has been changed FOREVER!  Not even born yet and you’re already making the world a better place.

Our latest ultrasound was the litmus test to see if I needed to start scarfing down the butter sticks and Oreo cookies as the Good Doctor chastised me about last appointment (having not gained “enough weight”).  Good news is that you guys are still fat little calves; recommended weight for a single baby at this stage is 3lbs.  Baby A is at a plump 3lbz 10 oz and Baby B is holding steady at a nice 3lbs 1 oz  so it looks like everyone can rest easy.  We got to see you fighting for world domination in there again too – like two cats in a paper bag punching and kicking for every available inch you can get.  I feel kind of bad because it really does look crammed in there – actually we couldn’t even get any decent photos because everywhere we looked were squirrely appendages.

That said, we did get to see each of your little feet!  Dear Baby A, you have the longest foot EVER.  You could literally perch with those toes or pick up pencils or bananas.  Maybe this means you’ll be tall…………I hope for your sake it does.  Take it from me when I tell you that being short is overrated.  I speak from stunted experience….oh, John just let me know that being short isn’t overrated.  He says that everyone knows it probably sucks.

Our Good Doctor has abandoned us into the care of an associate so she can go romp around in India for the next month.  Boo.  She’s SUPPOSED to be back for your major debut but in the meantime we’ve been left in the care of a new face.  So far, not a big fan and, for lack of a better name, we shall call her Dr. Evil.  In a five minute period I was chastised AGAIN for lack of weight gain, for refusing the flu vaccination, blatantly yelled at for refusing the whooping cough vaccine and then subjected to some sort of “labor checking test” to see if I was in danger of slipping into preterm labor in the next two weeks.

Dr. Evil also told  told me about how I am RH negative and that I need a shot because in the event that either of YOU are RH POSITIVE, there could be some sort of race war happening in my body where death is the only objective.  They stuck another needle in my hip and said that it should take care of it.  All I can say is that if I find out they slipped me the flu vaccine unbeknownst I am going to drop kick somebody.  PS.  I’d love to know where The Good Doctor was during all of this – sort of dropped the ball on the apocalyptic antibody fight happening right under our noses.

Now, you two are due here in about five weeks so just sleep tight and just relax but due mark it on your calendars (get it “due” instead of “do”, because you’re DUE – I write all these myself).  My belly is huge and your dad keeps calling it a Flesh Mound, a Pitcher’s Mound, Mount Vesuvius and other very…….colorful…….nicknames.  At this point I seriously would not be surprised if my skin just ripped open at the seams and the two of you just bungied out of my abdomen, “COWABUNGA!!”

In other very exciting news, we got our amazing maternity photos back.  Love them!  Our good friend Mary gave this session to us/you for a baby gift.  Isn’t she great!

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29 weeks

Sleep?  Why yes, I remember a time when I achieved 8 hours a night.  But it was……so long ago.  It seems like a myth, a legend.  I can faintly recall a time when I would fall asleep at 10:30pm and sleep soundlessly and peacefully until 7:30am.  No longer.  Lately I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night to one of you gently stomping on my bladder while the other one climbs carelessly into my ribcage.  “What are you doing in there?” I ask and only receive two swift kicks to the midsection for my unwelcome curiosity.

During the day I shuffle around, a zombie, massaging my belly and droning on slowly about “Sleeeeeeep.  I want sleeeeeep”.  I’ve rummaged through all of our closets and pulled out any additional pillows we have, throwing them on the bed, tossing them under my abdomen, between my knees, beneath my hips, trying to trick my body into believing it’s comfortable.

Perhaps this is God’s gentle way of preparing us for what’s coming…….or perhaps this is God’s cruel way of punishing me for being a woman.  John has been rubbing my back and lubing my torpedo-esque belly up with both baby oil and olive oil.  I don’t know if the latter actually helps but I read somewhere that it does wonders and, low and behold, no stretch marks on the belly…….yet.

Your dad has been reading you parts of Moby Dick, Ender’s Game and Corduroy.  The first is about a monstrous whale that eats people, the second is about a boy who destroys an entire species of aliens and the third is about a fuzzy little stuffed animal that gets lost in a mall.  Look at you, not even zero and you’re already SO well read.

Two days ago John blew a raspberry on my belly and freaked one of you out….BIG time.  You leapt and lashed out with your foot, kicking him in the face.  It was a serious power house move – something Jean Claude van Dang would have done.  It was so funny I asked him to do it again.  The second time was so funny I asked him to do it again but he became afraid that he was going to give you a complex or blow out your eardrum.  Allow me to explain…..your father is a wonderful person but is a serious neurotic mess.  For example, it makes him exceptionally nervous when remote controls are pointed at him, he won’t stand in the same room with a microwave and he blatantly REFUSES to drive over 30mph when not on the freeway.

Earlier in the week we went to a birth class at Kaiser that explained what to expect when you’re expecting a pregnancy.  During the graphical recreation of a birth a middle aged gentleman passed out in front of like 60 people.  Some doctors and security guards came in and escorted him out, his wife in tow.  I bet they were both really embarrassed.  Weakling.

We started writing out your birth plan and thinking about what to bring in our overnight bag during our hospital visit. Grandma Kathy brought us a suitcase filled with your dad’s old baby clothes last month and you’ll be wearing some of them home for your very first trip.  This whole situation is really blowing our minds.  We are SO excited to see what you look like and sound like and we are so incredibly excited to meet you and introduce you to the world at large.  Do you know what Taco Bell is?  Can you say “Chalupa?”

Seven weeks is right around the corner and it’s probably going to sneak up on us faster than we imagine.  In fact, I’m already having anxiety dreams where I lose you in stores, forget your names and can’t tell you apart and ones where you don’t like me.  Even your dad had a dream a few months ago where one of you was the wrong ethnicity and he forgot to name you and our dogs didn’t like you.

Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a solid night long dream…..

Have you ever heard of a baby shower?  It’s mostly a bunch of chicks getting together and heeing and hawing over doilies and flowery diapers.  Boo.

For YOUR baby shower a bunch of our friends got together to throw us / you a twin themed costume party.  The twin girls from The Shining showed up, The Hammer Bros. made an appearance, Copy / Paste, Batman and Robin and…..The Minnesota TWINS were all there!!  We were even lucky enough to have both grandmas out here for your big event; one dressed as a proctologist (butt specialist) and the other as a 2 pair (I’ll let you guess where John gets his neurotic tendencies.  HINT, it’s not the 2 pair).  It was amazing!  Your dad wanted to either go as Twin Mattresses or the Twin Towers and since I considered the second to be in poor taste we opted to make our costumes from our (my) bare hands.  Below you can behold the photos.

Finally, a call from our tax adviser this evening advised us that you being born before the end of the year would be quite a  BIG benefit to your ol’ folks’ government contribution – so pack your bags.  You’re gonna be Christmas babies.

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28 weeks

We did it!!!!!!!!!!!  We’ve made it to the 3rd trimester!  When we first found out about you guys (or gals), I remember thinking that your arrival was a lifetime away………….and now it seems like I’ve blinked and we’re almost done.  You could be here in as early as eight weeks (and you’re not welcome here sooner, so don’t get any funny ideas about evacuating the premises).

The Doctress said you’re still okey dokey artichokie and have both most likely settled into a permanent breech position.  I’m certain this is some kind of military strategy one of you thought up as the prime exit strategy from your fleshy prison but have no fear my little captives, I’ve been mentally preparing for the eventuality of the dreaded C-section.  Heck, why not?  Nothing has been very traditional about this pregnancy so far, why shouldn’t we end with a bang (or at the very least a swish-plop-plop).  Rebels from birth I guess.  Thinking outside the box (or womb, as it were).

Upon my last visit The Evil Doctress chastised me for my (get ready for THIS one) “LACK of weight gain”.  Did you know it’s recommended that a traditional (there’s that hideous word again) expecting female gain 50lbs during a twin pregnancy?  Can you believe it?  I can’t imagine she was particularly impressed when I started laughing.  Once I was able to gather my senses, I muttered something about stretchmarks and began to dutifully nod my head, all the while thinking “noted……..and deleted”.

You two may be chubby little cherubs but I’m fighting it tooth and nail.

More new news, we’ve recently entered into the “growing” months of this pregnancy (supposedly it’s you that’s doing most of the growing, but I have a feeling I’m going to get the short end of the stick from our symbiosis).  Have the last few months been practice??  Have you just been warming up?  Biding your time until you could flex yourself up like a little puff fish?  Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and wonder just how my Buddha belly could possibly get any bigger without stretch marks and then I remember… probably can’t.

Note to self:  remember to ask Father Dearest to double his strict regime of lotions and oils.  The battle will be fought until the bitter, disgusting, C-sectioning end.

John and I have long ago agreed that we’re not going to do the “twin” thing with you guys – we’re not going to give you rhyming names, dress you the same and refer to you as one singular unit……..but we MAY dress you up in these little Dr. Seuss Thing 1 and Thing 2 outfits because there are some impulses in life that you just cannot ignore no matter how hard you try.  I have heard The Call of the Wild and I have answered.

Thanks so much to the Dickberry family for indulging us in this sinful little literary treat.  Seriously though, how cute are these going to be on you!  You’ll have to remember to thank them yourself when you meet them and learn to talk.  They are incredible people, cancer survivors like your Dad and will no doubt spoil you rotten with things like Fudgie the Whale (when Fudgie calls, you WILL answer).

At sushi the other night (I only eat baked fish with low levels of mercury) we decided to try your names out on a few friends to make sure we weren’t missing something obvious: ie Seymour Buttes or Harry Peritesticles.  It would be terrible if your name were Samuel Oren Brookbank and your initials were S.O.B. or Norman Otis Brookbank because NOB is just a terrible nickname.  All that said, green light is a go.  Everyone really liked our names for you……….or lied convincingly – so I think you have been duelly christened.

8 more weeks left and then you guy’s are getting the BIG eviction notice, so until then, curl up with a good book and try to stop crawling up into my ribcage.

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