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…..it 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.