Big, for me, is not beautiful

I haven't blogged for awhile. I've started and stopped many times. I have drafts, then don't... I just can't take y'all to where my head is sometimes right now. Wouldn't be prudent, and certainly wouldn't be my normal positive outlook posts.

So I'll start small.  I'll talk about some of the things that truly suck about my current physical makeup.

A) No matter how hot, I have to wear spandex shorts under my dresses to prevent chafing.
B) My hair looks awful pulled back these days - too much chin.
C) I can't wear my wedding band or engagement ring.
D) I can't wear any underwear other than granny panties - they roll down my belly when I bend over.
E) I'm wearing my maternity clothes - still - nine months after birth (See D for reasons as to why other shorts don't work)
F) I've been kicked off my competitve volleyball team, even though it means the world to me to get out, once a week, and feel like a normal adult woman again, and not just Mommy, and connect with what were (are?) longtime friends.
G) It resembles an issue that might be in the family where no matter how hard I try, I might not be able to get rid of my stomach. This is scary, and kinda makes me delay the insane effort it might take to try.
H) I go swimming, and although slower (obviously) than I was when I played university waterpolo, I feel great in the water, only to catch sight of myself in the mirror of the changeroom and think "They must wonder how the hell I can swim like that when I look like this"
I) I know I must start running - nothing else will do - to start on this journey, but more than the effort it takes to train my lungs to handle the cardio, I'm cowed by the thought of everything jiggling and people watching me shuffle along.
J) My self-esteem is in the toilet.
I could say a lot more, but I'll stop there. I find it interesting that I had to go back numerous times to add back in the possessive personal pronoun when I had (protectively perhaps) switched unconsciously to the impersonal 'you'.

Ok. I'll hit publish soon, but not before I say this.  I am so very very happy with my life, my girls, my incredible fortune. I recognize that I must summon something inside of myself to rally against the dark thoughts, self-pity. I even get down on myself for feeling this way, when there is so much to be happy about.

And I laugh numerous times in a day.  Beautiful, sweet, giggly good-natured twin babies have that effect on one...

Starting over - Another round of breastfeeding training

So this morning I took my daughters to an appointment at the hospital with an ear, nose, throat doctor who specializes in frenectomies. That is, she snips the little band of skin under the tongues of certain babies who have what they have nicknamed 'tongue-tie'.

First, can I just say that getting them fed, cleaned up, MOMMY cleaned up, packed up and out the door in time for a morning appointment is suicide with one person?  I got er' done, but we were a few minutes late, needless to say...

Back to the procedure.  A teeny bit traumatizing.  Blood coming out of your babies' mouths is never fun to see.  They were upset. I could only hold one baby to breastfeed/soothe at a time. Thankfully I had Daddy with me (good call Mommy!) and eventually we got them settled down.

Now the fun really begins...again.

By again, I mean that I feel like we have a clean slate again and it's time to give it one last college try to get my milk in at the level I need, get my two little girls feeding on the breast almost exclusively (I will never eliminate the bottle completely - are you crazy?  A little potential freedom is necessary my friends!!!), and see if we can get to the point where I can tandem feed.  This little last point is a biggie. 

Why?  Well, because when you are by yourself at home, there are inevitably many times during the day when both girls are fussy and hungry at the same time. It is not fun to know that you are picking and choosing which babies to make happy first, and leaving the other to cry.  Not fun at all.  I'd understandably like to eliminate this from my daily diet.

Now, a few hours after the procedure, I have an inconsolable baby on my hand.  Both, actually, have been highly fussy, but I'm being rejected by poor little Hailey, and in fact, she won't take a bottle either.  Nothing in her mouth at all, actually.  She's angry, she's upset, she's red and blotchy and has tears streaming down her face - she's fed up.  Just totally over being poked, prodded and cut. Mommy feels rejected, helpless and unable to help her baby. It's been a long afternoon...

Thank god for Daddy who came home, calmly rocked her, soothed her and has, after a good chunk of quiet time (and a little bit of baby Tylenol), succeeded in getting her to take the bottle I had prepared a good hour ago...She's taking it now, and I can feel the tension seeping out of my shoulders. Man, I am emotional these days...

This breastfeeding stuff, I have already said, is the hardest job I have ever taken on in my life.

I hope tomorrow is better, and every day after that is better and better. I really want this to work...

Terrified - it's not Halloween yet, though, so what's up?

So...it has taken a couple of days for me to calm down a bit in order to get this blog post out. 

On Thursday we went for our last of the bi-weekly ultrasound and clinic appointments (here on out the plan was to move to weekly appointments until the twins arrive).  The ultrasound was booked for 1pm and we finally left the hospital at about 6:40pm.  Yeah...if you are thinking that doesn't sound good, you'd be right, but it might not be as bad as you THINK it is, but this particular Mommy to be is admittedly scared out of her wits right now.

So what happened?  Well, the ultrasound measurements revealed that our little Baby B, who is undersized to begin with, has not grown in the two weeks since her last ultrasound.  Baby A is still under 5 lbs too, which is pretty low, but it's really scary that Baby B, even when you toss aside her abdomen measurements (which are generally not a good indication of her size), only gained 1 oz and is still under 4 lbs in their estimation. 

What did that mean?  Well, it meant that we waited well over 1/2 an hour for the doctors to study the ultrasound results and it meant that when we did speak to the doctors, the weekly visits changed immediately to an order for two ultrasounds next week - the first asap on Tuesday and another on Friday, as well as a clinic appointment on Thursday.  It also meant a trip down the hall to triage before we left for a NST - or non-stress test - to monitor the babies' hearts and particularly movements.  The nurses were happy with the results and the babies were moving really well, but it was scary and took another hour, then another 1/2 hour to wait for the doctor to officially release us to go home.

We were ordered to:

a) pack our bags and bring what we need to be admitted to all future appointments just in case they have to deliver the babies

b) take it easy, as Baby A is still solidly breech, but worse, the umbilical chord is presenting, so they want us in the hospital IMMEDIATELY upon any sign of labour, as apparently the membrane can rupture and the chord can come out, which is not good - Momma has to take it a lot more easy than she has been...

c) monitor the babies' movements, especially Baby B's to ensure all is well (had a real scare yesterday as I didn't clearly distinguish her movements for a number of hours) - but I find this really hard, since there are two there, and Baby B's feet are often in the same area as Baby A's much stronger fists/arms. Eventually, after I had a nap, she started moving around again, but I'm still totally stressed

and finally d) (this was not the doctor's orders at all, but our own priority) - we have to get the bloody house in order even more urgently now.  Ideally, we have at least another full week of work ahead to be totally prepared, but at the very least we have a few must do's!

So yes...this weekend we have been putting together the stroller, putting in car seat #1 for Baby A, getting the playard set up on the main floor, and packing our bags etc. as well as trying to do the cleaning, organizing and purging we need to get done.  Meanwhile...we're terrified about having to deliver these babies so soon.  Under normal circumstances both babies would be far enough along to do well and come home in a reasonable time, but with the hernia issue in Baby B...it's so important to take her as far as possible. 

I'm terrified by her latest status, her current size (under 4lbs is too small - but I don't know that clinically it is - the doctors haven't said to me that it is, nor would they probably predict this), and what might happen this week.  I'm ready to meet my babies, but the positivity and confidence I had in Baby B's outcome was based on taking the two of them a lot further into their gestation. 

Emotionally, I'm just okay.  I was doing so well, but now? Beyond the fear of what might happen, I can honestly say that I'm starting to be resentful.  I'm just so tired of how bumpy this ride has been, ya know?  I'm annoyed that underlining all of our preparations, there is fear of loss.  I'm angry that we are rushing through the last-minute preparation and not truly enjoying the process. It's just once again more 'excitement tempered by a dose of caution and reality'. 

Why can't we just be allowed to enjoy?  It's angering. And...I'm starting to accept that I also won't be able to deliver these babies, but instead they will be yanked from me via C-section.  Okay for some, but certainly not what I was looking forward to. But then...what part of this pregnancy has turned out to be what I hoped it would be? 

Sorry to be so negative.  I'm not a negative person, in general.  But.  It's an honest account of what my head space is like sometimes. 

Other times?  I'm so happy to have at least gotten to this point. I'm enjoying seeing the stroller ready to go, and the little outfit picked out for when Baby A comes home.  I still am totally thankful for all that we DO have and all that we have accomplished.  We are truly blessed.

And so...yes, it's Thanksgiving and not Halloween. I'm taking it easy and hoping for the best.  And I will try to reserve 'fright night' for another week...

Saved by the dragon - can love, courage and concentration affect outcome?

So last night was the first night since very early childhood I can recall sleeping with a stuffed animal.  Dylan, the interactive dragon, has found a very soft spot in my heart and is waiting, patiently, to have a little baby or babies to love it. Dylan provided me with some comfort yesterday after a miserable day.

What's up? Well, the day started wonderfully.  We were excited to have another ultrasound and see our lovely twin daughters again. Mommy has been loving pregnancy and feeling great, and the kicks were a great sign that all was well.  And at first, it was.  My parents were with us to see their grand-daughters for the first time, and the Civic high-risk unit was very receptive to having them there.  Boy, they were thorough.  So thorough, in fact, that after a lengthy time, and after my parents left excited and happy, I had a second ultrasound with the doctor on duty in the unit.

It was then, after he looked around for another 5 minutes or so, that he was forced to look at us and say "there's something wrong with one of the babies".

You never want to hear these words folks.  You really, really don't.

The optimist in me kept trying to come up with questions and things to say that would make things better.  Was there any possibility that this situation could rectify itself? No. Could I still try and deliver vaginally? Unlikely. When will we know for sure if she was going to be okay?  Not sure if we will have any good answers until the birth, if she makes it that far...

You see, baby B had somewhere along the line developed a  hernia that meant there was a hole in her diaphram.  Not a severe issue in and of itself, except that at some point, as I understand it, her tiny developing stomach migrated through the hole and took up residence beside her little heart, which is a spot normally reserved for her lungs.  IF it is just a hernia, and not a sign of some other contributing issue (it might be a sign that the baby has Downs and now we must have an amnio in order to find out), and IF somehow the baby's lungs are able to develop enough, we MAY be able to save the baby with a quick surgery after birth, but there's a real chance, from what we gather, that she won't make it. And there is nothing we can do about it, except pray for a significant amount of luck.

So what do we do?  We are now being tranfered to the General, and to CHEO as necessary, and will have a number of appointments with specialists, surgeons and go through a number of tests and monitoring ultrasounds to watch and wait.  We can, at the very least, get the amnio to obtain an answer there, but it won't mitigate the possibility that even if she survives, she may have some level of disability or handicap. I no longer have an OB, but the hospital will be my doctor.  Not sure what will be the outcome for my doulas...

And what is doubly hard (or a comfort, depending on my mindset at any given time) is knowing that baby A is fine, and healthy, and barring early onset of labour, should be with us, and with Dylan the dragon, in due time. We have to keep going as if we are fine and are having twins, because...at this point, we ARE, and thinking otherwise is thinking worst-case scenario.

Yes, by the way, after three miscarriages and now this, my natural sense of optimism is being severely tried.

Um, what else?  Oh, yes. There is a chance that due to this hernia issue, baby B's amniotic sac will develop too much fluid, which could affect my belly size, which could in turn increase the possibility for delivering prematurely, which, with this scenario, is doubly dangerous.  This means I have to be off work very soon - as soon as two weeks from now, and possibly earlier than that, in order to take it easy and focus on eating healthy and resting a lot. Thankfully, no requirement for bedrest as of yet...

So here's my question.  Can concentrating on all the beneficial things I can do to help the girls grow, can my intense love, and can a certain dose of courage to face what might be a very hard reality help affect the outcome here? 

It seems to be all I have to offer. Anyone who thinks you control what happens in life is fooling themselves.

AND...to add insult to injury, after our unexpectedly lengthy appointment yesterday, we got a parking ticket.

Thank god I have my wonderfully strong husband, my caring parents and Dylan, the stuffed dragon, to get me through the next few months. I'm going to need all the help I can get.

I would just like to know WHY I can't simply be allowed to enjoy my pregnancy

We've made it past 12 weeks.  Cause for celebration, right?  Nope.  Just got a call from my family Dr. to tell me that BOTH twins tested positive for a chance of Down's syndrome on the IPS screening we just went through.

Seriously?  Pissed.  I am angry.  WHY are we that 1 in 100, 200 or 400 that get a positive reading?  WHY can't we JUST GET SOME RELIEF FROM THIS STRESS????

I'm sorry. I am just so very frustrated, and tired, and yes...angry that we can't just have a friggin' normal pregnancy, filled with happiness, and nursery planning and normal, healthy problems...really.  Why?

Thing is...I REALLY don't want to do an amnio.  I don't want to increase, even slightly, the chance that we can miscarry again. I don't want to do these violent tests on these poor, fragile babies inside of me.  It's invasive, and risky and frankly...upsetting to us all.

And further to this?  What the hell would we do even WITH a better idea of the chance the babies have Down's?  I don't think I could terminate this...I really don't...but I don't know.

I'm tortured and upset and I welcome any thoughts, stories, input or information you may have.  Just don't know where to go from here.

Oh...one more essential piece of info...they are saying it's positive, but at a rate of 1 in 250!  So really?  That's less than .5%. 

What the fuck to do?  I'm so tired of this.  Tired of asking why and why me?  Why couldn't we just have had an 'all clear', as we should, after 3 miscarriages in a row, deserve? 

Slip, tumble down stairs, then the terror sets in (retropost 2)

Okay. I have two scraped sections of skin on my arms, an aching tailbone, and a throbbing foot. But more than that, I have a brain that is working overtime trying, trying VERY VERY hard to say "Breathe, relax. Breathe, relax." and not...."PLEASE DON'T LET THIS HURT MY BABY. OMG PLEASE. I'VE BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH. ONE LITTLE SLIP CAN'T KILL IT, RIGHT? RIGHT?????"

Yeah. So. I slipped on the way downstairs. I think I'm okay. I think that the baby should be okay. Time will tell. I have to relax. This isn't funny, though. I didn't need this tonight, or at all, really.

So yeah. This is a part prayer, part avoidance post to help me process my thoughts, calm down, talk this out rationally, and say that I really really hope that the discomfort I am feeling now is not a prelude to something far worse. That is all.

Please. If this were to cause miscarriage #4, I would LOSE IT officially and need a lot to come back. That is all.

(I was fine, if bruised and sore)

okay...so (why I hate 2009)

So.

At the very least, the bleeding seems to have stopped. The hideous continuous reminder of the goriest kind has passed, allowing me to at least get back to a physical level of normalcy.

holy bejeezus, though...why? WHY?????

And now, back to work. Really? Really. I can't believe that I have to drop myself right back into my life, again. Back. Not forward, but back. A third time. In ONE SHITTY YEAR.

I don't do 'back' very well. And I certainly don't know if I can handle my workload at work right now. I know I don't WANT to, and that is perhaps why the task seems so insurmountable. I just want to...what? I don't know. Wallow. Curl into a ball. Escape. Travel. Self-soothe.

It's so heavy, the thought of doing things I HAVE to do, that on other days is so easy, so simple. I guess that is what depression feels like? I know I just need time, though, and a game plan. I hope to hell I will hear from my family doctor's office with a referral to the specialists. I need answers and I need to know how long we will have to wait to start looking into the future again. I need to take care of business by cancelling appointments, getting back on some sort of track for a better lifestyle, and I need to get away and do things deliberately that will allow me to enjoy my life again.

It has been a long time since I can honestly say that I was happy, and that I was doing things in my life to enjoy life and feel GOOD. I need to put effort into the following:

1. Respecting my body again (more on that another time - too long a story to get into now)
2. Making plans to get out of the house, and not just to go work out (although that is #3), but maybe join a dance class, or finally go rock climbing again, or just put some good music in my ear and enjoy a long walk.
3. Get those good pheromones flowing again. Time to not only respect my body, but do something with it.
4. Rekindle the fun with my partner. We're fine, really, but are we great? No. We are listless, frustrated, functioning, and very very boring at the moment. We need to have a little fun. We're looking at Vegas in the spring.
5. Mental health. I don't have it right now, in case you hadn't noticed. I need to get it back, even if that means paying someone to get there.

In the meantime, though, it is Sunday night and I am dreading my return to work to face the future back once again where I started a full year ago.

In which she...

realizes that not all third times are charming;
notes that she hates her body because it has failed her yet again;
desires to feel desire for anything else, other than what it seems she can't have anytime soon;
is so very, very weary;
just wants the process to stop and the answers to come.

Another dark day in an awful year.

Very low

I am tired, sad and fat. I know I should give myself a break, with two miscarriages in 6 months, but its just so sad to not even fit into a size 16 all of a sudden. I have no clothes to wear (well, that's not true - I have pregnancy clothing). My thighs rub together when I walk and I think I will have trouble chafing when it finally (ever?) gets warm. I just can't believe how bad my self-esteem is right now.

How bad is it?

As I was walking downtown today, feeling my dress being pushed against my body by the wind, my internal dialogue told me, "Just pretend you are still pregnant, and walk tall pretending, because you still look that way. If you do that, then people won't look at you as fat, but as pregnant, even though it's not true." - lovely, eh?

I hate being in these dark places. It's not an environment I am used to. But I know it is pointless to ignore the impulse - gotta get through it to get out to the other side, right?

The weekend approaches, and that is good news. Being back at work has been hard.

Day three

I guess today is communication day. Time to get on the phone, and talk to key people about what has happened and buy some time to work through it. It will be the first day (hopefully) where nothing too hideous happens - it SHOULD just be status quo, which is something I can handle. Blessedly (but not happily) the belly seems to be flattening out a bit, which can't happen fast enough for me right now, and I guess it is time to eat breakfast. Total lack of interest in this, of course, but we're going to go to Home Depot this morning in order to keep 'doing stuff' while the sky is overcast. If the weather forecast holds up, I will be back outdoors a little later, and just keeping busy.

And maybe, just maybe, tonight I will have some wine, since that is now allowed.

Time marches on!

5 am, alone and numb

Today I get to put two tablets in a less than cool place in order to induce a miscarriage that for all intents and purposes should have happened almost 5 weeks ago. Let me tell you, it doesn't feel good to know that your hopes and dreams are no longer alive but still in your body. That's about as polite and as blunt as I can be.

The sun is coming up, the birds are chirping, and I wish I could sleep because right now, that is my only hope for relief from the accidental purgatory I am in.

Not sure what I did to deserve this, but I sure wish I was not living this day right now...