Posts Tagged ‘support’

Feeling better emotionally! 31 weeks pregnant with the twins today.

June 23, 2009

So, I’m feeling more sane after Friday’s breakdown. The pain is not as acute, and I am somewhat managing with ice, medication, a new pillow arrangement, and total rest. Not being able to walk is not an easy thing, but I feel happy and relieved to have got to 31 weeks (today!). The crazy part of me is still lurking, whispering that the babies are really 30+6 today, but eh. I choose to feel happy that our babies, so tiny months and months ago, still measured a day older than they were! It’s like I used Miracle Grow – and it feels miraculous they were growing, despite the geysers of vomit…

Cool new thing: hiccups.

Saturday evening TMD went to IKEA, and while she was gone I had this really rhythmic twitching from Mano. It occured to me he was hiccuping! The next day it happened again – the way it seems to work is that both Torre and Mano get hiccups within minutes of each other. Today, for instance, Torre had hiccups for a couple of minutes. As soon as hers stopped, his began. And vice versa.

I do this sort of retarded jiggling of my belly, the sort of comforting slight bouncing I would do to a baby once they were out of the tummy. Don’t know if that makes the hiccups better for them, or if in fact they are then in the hell of having hiccups in an earthquake. I’ll have to ask them sometime.

My bump is still very, very low. One bout of Mano’s hiccups yesterday I felt only in my anus. (‘Anus’ seems dirtier than ‘ass’, doesn’t it?) Torre also not in my ribs anymore. Feels like she has moved back around to the right side and down a bit. She may even be head down, but let’s wait and see.

With both babies being much lower, the pressure on my pelvis is GOOD TIMES. Have had constant pubis pain today, but I can confidently say I would rather have that than scary pain I didn’t understand!!

And in other news, mail cheers me up. It’s like when I was at camp – getting a letter or anything in the post was like someone shipping me gold. Last week an old friend of TMD’s sent along an audio book and S Drawl sent along some pdf books. Yesterday my aunt sent me tiny packets of iced tea, which is a MIRACLE as it does not exist here. This morning – oh, this glorious morning – I got two boxes of donuts from Cookie, as well as a Kipling bag from when she was in high school! I am into Kipling. ANYWAY.

I had a good old time balancing on the crutches this morning, scooping crushed donut pieces into my mouth and eye flirting with the bag.

Also got three sports bras from Mom this morning – more miracles as they fit without feeling like I am in a vice. Thank God for Country A, where the people are so much more unhealthy and they make bras in big sizes!!! Mom also sent a shitload of gorgeous receiving blankets, which are so yummy and delicious I can barely take it.

So all these people have linked me to the outside world in the past week or so, and that is so much appreciated.

Also appreciated is that the massive watery discharge leakage (which happened during my three hour epic phone call with Cookie yesterday) has stopped. Now I change pantyliners out of luxury (is my life so diabolical that changing a tiny pad is ‘luxury’?) rather than the fact that they are unable to cope with the amount of liquid dripping out of my na-na.

More later.

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I need to stop writing before I go into hysterics…not the fun kind, either.

June 19, 2009

Jesus, am I hormonal. Just read the comments left on my last entry and they got me crying. It’s nice to have reassurance that I am not a bad person for loving my babies and perhaps despairing of pregnancy at the moment. Of course there is a paradox – I cannot fucking WAIT for August and this part of the journey to be over, but at the same time more than anything I want their arrival to not happen until August is happily ticking away.

I want them to go to term more than I want my own pain to end.

I am also sort of upset because our wills are taking ages to sort out. We finally got the copies to proof in the post, and there was a letter to TMD informing her that it was ‘legal and right’ to refer to the babies as hers, thanks to a change in law. While the lawyer no doubt felt proud of himself for learning about the new law regarding lesbian couples, it pisses me off because that law only applies to infants conceived in or after April 2009. So, yet again, we need to go back to him to sort things out. The only reason we are getting wills in the first place is so that should something happen to me, the guardianship passes to her. The lawyer didn’t bother putting that in my will because he doesn’t seem to understand that TMD has no legal rights over the children at first.

It’s nice that he sees no distinction between us and any other married couple, but also fucking impractical and uninformed.

Whew. I talked myself out of the comment-tears and into lawyer-anger.

I don’t know. Today is still a rough day. I’ve gotten up a couple of times, and the weight of the babies pressing down on my hips is something quite extraordinary. While I was having a good cry in the shower this morning, TMD pointed out that the weight hurting my SPD is a good thing – because I ‘am doing such a good job, and the babies are growing big and healthy.’ She is right.

I still have a semi-irrational fear about being home alone, but at least the fear is now confined to me – what if I had to piss the couch? What if I fell?  This is more manageable than worrying that I’m suddenly going to shoot multiple babies out of my cootch onto the new carpeting.

I am so overwhelmed by the love and support shown to me/us via this blog, and I really can’t express what it means to have people there to cheer me on….and also tell me it’s okay to cry.

Fuck. Crying again. I just want to meet the babies. I just want to be able to walk without first worrying about how I shift positions on the couch, get up without my hips giving out, moving without the pelvic pain being something bordering intolerable. I think part of this is a disappointment that I am not prancing through a field of marigolds, wearing a floaty dress over my bump (I do love my bump) and smiling into the sun. I so wanted to love pregnancy. I have wanted to be pregnant for about seven years.

I dropped out of my PhD in 2003/2004 because we didn’t want to wait any more for children. For one reason or another, we did, and now they are here and growing. But I feel like I am failing at being pregnant. I know the important thing is staying pregnant, the babies being healthy and growing, etc. But I feel like the other side of pregnancy – the secret smiles and patting of my bump, the joy of feeling myself bloom, the freedom to be outdoors and outside with the babies in the bump – all of that is so rare.

I enjoy a two minute car trip to the fucking post office so much it makes me cry to think I once was able to actually leave the house without it being a big, special treat. I am missing out on all the things other pregnant women – particularly twin mums – complain about. Strangers coming up to touch your tummy without permission. Chatty bitches on trains telling you allllll about their pregnancies, which you really couldn’t care less about. Baby showers.

Argh.

Part of this is also impatience because I just want to meet the babies now, but I am afraid of jinxing things if I say that outloud.

Eight more weeks, eight more weeks.

I remember reading this blog when she only had seven weeks to go, and how quickly it seemed to fly by – at least from my perspective of blog reader! I know eight weeks is nothing, but it sure feels like an impossible amount of time sometimes. I’ve been told by the midwives and doctors that the pain is only going to continue to increase, and sometimes I wonder how that is possible. I suppose the pain is bearable, but it’s the narrowing of my life that is not. Even within the four walls of my own home, everything requires such an immense effort and it’s….tiring?

I also have not pooped since a true ass bomb explosion on Wednesday after returning from the hospital. I have never not pooped for this long in my life. The thing is, even if I felt like I had to, I have to negotiate how to get to the bathroom, try to breathe through the pain of sitting on the toilet and hanging around, etc etc.

Sorry if this is just sounding like a giant pity party. I know some fantastic people are still trying to get pregnant and being so brave and strong, and here I am whining because I am lucky enough to have two babies tucked safely inside me.

I just feel like…I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t feel strong or brave enough to be more positive, I’m sorry I feel like I can’t bear another eight weeks, I’m sorry for feeling so overwhelmed by everything, I’m sorry for the amount of work TMD is doing to take care of me, the babies, the house, our life.  All I do is lie around and cry, or sleep, or moan.

I am constantly asking her for help. Can you please get me the ice pack? Can you hand me that box of tissues? Would you fucking just DIRECT the showerhead into my ass to rinse it – don’t you realise you are hitting my THIGH with the water?

I feel guilty.

Jesus. Now I’m sobbing. Great.

Quickie but goodie.

June 18, 2009

First of all, I want to thank every single one of you who left a comment – I read them all this morning and was very touched. It made me feel slightly more sane to stay connected to ‘the outside world’ via this blog and Twitter, so thanks to TMD and my sister for updating – and for the other people who were happy to update but I couldn’t contact! A reminder that if I haven’t updated my blog in awhile, check Twitter! Thank you to everyone who called, texted, or Twittered in response.

The last three days have been very, very long. Lots has happened, and I will write about it in detail just for memory’s sake. It is a long story, but it is also a short story:

Both babies are okay. I am okay. We are home, and hoping to still get to 38 weeks. That is the bottom line – the babies are still very happy and healthy.

I am so thankful about this. I will write more in detail later, as I said, but I felt like my whole world was cracking in half when I saw blood on Monday. I started shaking the way I did when I was run over, I couldn’t control my body. More on that later, but for now:

thank you thank you thank you, the babies are okay.