Asher’s Thanksgiving weekend

So here I sit, in bed, with my lap top, listening to my youngest babble away in his crib where he is supposed to be napping.  He has been in there for about an hour now, happily chatting away to himself.  Because it is 3:15 and I was late putting him down at all, if he falls asleep now, I’ll probably have to wake him up for dinner and then put him BACK to sleep shortly after for bed time.

I honestly do NOT understand these kids.  If someone gave ME nap time, I’d jump on it.

That’s OK though.  I’m glad to hear him happy because this weekend could’ve gone a lot differently.  On Wednesday night/Thursday morning, Asher got me up around 6.  He was running a slight fever.  I got him some meds and got him back to sleep but that morning when he got up he still felt warm and was really crabby.  Because I’m talking about a 2 year old, I’d like to stress that really crabby goes beyond your average “NOOOOOO, I want the BLUE plate.  WAAAAAaaaaaaaaa” as he locks himself into his room and screams because he saw you pulling the pink plate out of the cupboard as you got his SISTER’S dinner ready.  That, sadly, is normal.  No, really crabby meant that we’d say “Let’s take off your mittens and put them in the basket.” and he’d scream “Noooooooo, mittens stay ON! WAAAAaaaaaaaa…” and sit under that table screaming for the next 3 hours for really no reason at all.  THAT is when you wish you had TWO two year olds at once.  Oh, wait, no, sorry, I don’t wish that.

Well, we drugged Asher up really well and headed over to my Mother In Law’s house for Thanksgiving.  It was a low fever and other than being a tad easy to set off, he seemed fine.  I’d like to brag that while at my MIL’s house, we brought Ash’s crib pillow, crib blanket, and ‘blankie’, and he actually napped over there like a champ.  We just set his stuff up on the floor in my MIL’s room and I told him it was nap time and to go to sleep and he actually did.  I, for one, was floored.

We got home and got the kids to bed and Asher woke up around 2 with a raging fever.  I’ll admit I’ve stopped taking ‘official’ temp readings with the kids because I don’t think it is any more accurate than my estimates from what they feel like.  I’d guess him at a good 103-104, and it was high enough to actually freak me out a little.  I got him some meds and a cool wet washcloth and unzipped his jammies and wiped him down.  He seemed to really enjoy the washcloth on his head but not so much anywhere else.  I got the fever down and he went back to sleep but was up again not much later just whimpering.  This was even more disturbing to me as he didn’t have a fever, he was already medicated so I couldn’t give him anything more, and there wasn’t anything I could do.  I just held him in my lap and he fell asleep again while I held him.  Poor boy. 

That morning I convinced the husband to bring him into urgent care just to check on him.  I figured it was highly likely they’d say it was viral and there was nothing to be done, which was fine with me, but I really wanted that check because that night was so unusual for him.  Turns out… he has pneumonia.  I nearly dropped the phone when the hubby told me that.  No coughing, not even really a runny nose.  I’m so glad to have checked.  I’m not so thrilled with forcing him to take the meds he hates enough to gag and throw up all over me for, but that is better than him suffering through pneumonia for a few more days while we waited for him to just get better on his own.  For the record, I’m still big on leaving the kids alone when they are sick and not running off to the doctor office for every runny nose or fever.  I think you just have to trust your instincts for when there really is something wrong.


But, she seemed like such a sweet girl…

A little story from my gym this morning:

Two young, cute girls are at the lockers getting ready to head out for the day.  One has a “Lifetime Fitness” bag on the bench.

“Wow, how’d you get that bag?  I love it, can you buy those from here?”

“I don’t know.  I was just walking past this office and the guy asked me if I wanted the bag.  I said ‘For Free?’ and he said ‘You are just the kind of person that represents what Lifetime Fitness is all about.  I’d be honored if you would carry our bag.'”

(A few rows over there is me puking.)

OK, seriously, for real???  He knows all about her and that she is what Lifetime Fitness is all about just because she walked past his office?  I can see though, why a young nubile thing would qualify over some 30-something mother of 3 with a fulltime job that not only makes the effort to work out every day and to stay in shape when it is difficult, but has used the gym over the past year and a half while going from obese to fit and continues to do so in a twin pregnancy.  I can see how someone who works out to stay healthy even when it doesn’t give you so much a ‘sexy’ body but a stretch marked, saggy, healthy body that allows you to live life to the fullest, I can see how that wouldn’t be “what Lifetime is all about”.  Yes, I know, I sound bitter and YES, I know, I’m the LAST person on the planet that Lifetime employees would EVER consider handing their PR over to even if it was just to be seen walking around with a bag with their name on it.  Also, I’d have said no way to the guy had he asked so, ya know, whatever.  Lastly, I know he was just flirting with her and that it didn’t get him much because she apparently doesn’t even know his name so that part is kinda funny to me.

Speaking of the gym, you should be proud of me.  I’ve been at 186 for the last two days and I haven’t freaked out about it at all.  I’m certain the the leap has a lot to do with the delivery of the chocolate covered carmel corn from Gavin’s fundraiser at our house in addition to the fact that I did not hit the gym on Sunday or Monday.  I’m living with it though.   Last year on Thanksgiving Day for the first time in my weight loss journey, I hit my goal of 170 pounds.  I’m hoping next year by the time Thanksgiving rolls around, I’ll be under that but obviously this year, it is hard to compare. 

So the other day, after freezing for yet another full day, I gave up and went to purchase some warmer maternity shirts.  I didn’t want to spend much money, I just wanted something to keep me warm.  I cannot believe how cold I still am but short sleeved shirts aren’t going to cut it this winter.  I walked into the Motherhood store that is near my house and the girl that was running the store was on me like, well, a bored sales girl in an empty store. 

“Welcome to Motherhood, can I help you, are you looking for anything in particular, how far along are you, have you seen our super fancy belly pants?”  I’m not certain this girl breathes like a normal person.  I’m not a mean person… at least… I don’t THINK I’m a mean person.  I’m not a SHY person, that I know.  But there is something about gabby strangers that makes me want to hide.  I’m always so impressed with P because no matter where we go, he is always so kind and inclusive to all the people around us.  Me, not so much.

So I’m saying in my head “Tell her ‘just looking’.  Tell her ‘just looking’.” but out loud my MOUTH says “I’m looking for some warmer shirts to wear.”  OH!  I invite it onto myself, people.  Of course, she asks how far along I am and I say I’m 18 weeks and her eyes get big and I say it is twins and her eyes get bigger and I say it is a surrogacy and she melts.  She states that she wishes she could’ve known someone like me when she was having kids (BTW – she looked to be about 17 years old).  She said she had two kids and couldn’t have anymore and she was so sad about not being able to have more.  I did feel for her, really, but in lieu of my belly making me a walking therapist I really DID want to just buy some shirts and I was pressed for time as I was trying to sneak the whole trip into the time between leaving work and picking the kids up from daycare.  So I try to start finding shirts.

That is when she took me on a tour of the store to point out for me each and every long sleeved shirt in the store and to tell me the (obvious) features of each and every one.  IE – “Here we have a long sleeved shirt with a V-neck and that bunched look on the side in a green.”  OK, first, what clothing retail person high enough up on the chain to run the whole store by herself doesn’t know the term “rouching”?  I tried to help her out by offering the term to her but she kinda gave me a ‘deer in headlights’ look and said ya, whatever, that bunchy look is.   Next, I was so irritated at the time wasted as she pointed out every last color difference and neckline difference and ‘bunchy look’ difference she could find when I could CLEARLY just browse the store myself to see these features, that I was having a hard time being polite.  Thankfully, someone else came into the store so she left me to wallow in my own eyesight for shirts while she talked to this other person. 

In my ‘alone’ time, I picked up a bunch of XL shirts hoping that they would cover the expanse of belly that the internet showed me would happen.  I tried these on and some of them worked OK, others were just clearly too big above the belly and I could not use the XL.  The sales girl asked how I was doing and while I had LOOKED for the large of one of the shirts I wanted and didn’t see it, I risked a question by asking if there was any chance they might have a size of something in the back if it wasn’t on the rack.  She said no, but repeated to me 5 times about a sale they were going to have and that the size would probably be there.  She also looked at me funny and said “You are going to get a lot bigger though, aren’t you?  You sure you want a size L?”  I tried to explain that I couldn’t JUST get the shirts sized to the potential belly, that it needed to fit my chest as well, and she asked if my milk had come in yet.  Um, hmm.  I have to admit.  I REALLY wanted this person to go away.

While I was finishing up in the dressing room with the shirts I wanted, the person that had come in was talking to the sales girl.  She was talking about how she was looking for some pants that could fit her post-partum because she wasn’t back to her original size yet.  Then she said, and I kid you not: “I really have to hurry because my baby is out in the car.”  Um, it was FREEZING out and she is so soon after giving birth that she needs maternity pants and she LEFT HER NEWBORN IN THE CAR???  The sales girl said “You could’ve brought her in!” (Yay sales girl.) and she replies “It’s the first time I’ve ever brought her out so I didn’t want her exposed in the stores.”  Mind you, this woman has been in the store for a good 15 mintues already and is currently standing in a dressing room without any pants on so, ya know, she’s not planning on leaving any time soon.  Are people really this dumb?

So, I gather up my 4 new shirts and head to the register while ‘baby-in-car’ woman ponders her pants options.  After totally confusing the sales girl because I told her I didn’t want the shirts in a bag and she wondered how I’d manage to carry 4 shirts out to my car without a bag, I left the frightening store.  BTW – to her incredulous “WHY?” I answered that I don’t like to use the plastic and she gave me a funny look but to her credit she moved on to talk about how her and her daughter made bags out of old tee shirts from a Martha Stuart show even though she really really doesn’t like Martha Stuart.   ‘Baby-in-car’ woman was still in the dressing room when I left so I’m hoping she did, in fact, leave the store shortly after that.

Well, don’t I sound like a bitch today?   I’m sticking with the standard, it’s my blog so deal with it response to that.  For what it is worth, I smiled, nodded, made appreciative non-committal comments to everything the sales girl said to me and thanked her and waved goodbye on my way out so I’m pretty sure she had no idea I was pre-writing my blog in my head the whole time I was there.  Also for what it is worth, had I BEEN that sales girl, I’d have refused to allow ‘baby-in-car’ women into the dressing room again until after she went out to the car to bring the baby in.

For the love of babies

Wow, just a few days since my last post but it seems like so much has happened.  I’ve been having some pretty crazy dreams lately.  You think preggo dreams are weird, try surro dreams!

So, the other night, I dreamt that I was pregnant.  I know, big deal.  But you see, I was about 5-6 months along with a singleton and it was MINE.  The twins had been born and living with P and J (and I had come up with a killer nickname for baby B which I cannot remember for the life of me but in the dream I said to myself that I’d HAVE to remember that when I woke up.)  I was totally thrilled with having this other baby. 

Then it hit me.  Another baby.  As in, Ash was getting older and we were almost out of that uber dependent timeframe and we were STARTING ALL OVER.  I started to panic and got so upset that I woke myself up.  Yikes.

Now, obviously as I was thrilled to be having another before recognising all the WORK involved in having another baby, I would actually enjoy adding more kids to our family.  The thing is, I’ve always said that I don’t want more than we can afford.  Afford is an interesting word.  Usually it means money but in this case, not exclusively.  Because I work full time outside of the house, my time with the kids is limited.  I already see my middle child having had to grow up a lot faster than her brothers who both had more ‘baby time’ allotted to them.  She’s never actually come to me and said “Mom, you totally suck because you expected me to be mature about life at only 2 years old when Asher was born when both of the boys got to run about as babies well beyond that.”  She could.  Probably something I can look forward to in therapy bills from her.  Hey, maybe she even gained something from it as her independence and ability to amuse herself will no doubt come in handy for her. 

As for Gavin, I’m pretty sure he jumped from 5 to 9 overnight and I miss the little boy.  I grab him and give him hugs like I used to and I think he enjoys the connection but if I’m not careful,  I feel like I could miss a whole stage and one day realize I don’t even know who he is.  I don’t want to pay that price for having another baby in our family.

Speaking of growing up… Asher was freshly dressed for bed last night and we had read the last story when he got this ‘look’ on his face and ran off behind the rocking chair I was sitting in.  Yep, the boy was about to soil the freshly applied diaper.  I asked if he was pooping and he said from behind the chair “No Mommy, Asher not pooping.”  I asked if he’d like to poop in the potty chair and she came running out and said yes.  See, I keep the potty chair up in his closet.  He is obsessed with sitting on it and getting up and walking around and taking the seat apart and not putting it back together correctly and then sitting on it minus the inside part that prevents the product of his efforts from hitting the carpet.  This only bothers me because it is a pain as he has NEVER, not even once actually managed to produce anything in the toilet that is supposed to be there.  I’ve found plenty of things in the toilets that were NOT supposed to be there, but I’m pretty sure those things never made it through anyone’s digestive track.

Well, it is a big treat for him, because of that, if I pull down the potty seat and let him sit in it.  If you recall, I’m planning on torturing myself in Decemeber and fullout attempting potty training this precocious little 2 year old so I figured it wasn’t too far out of belief that he might actually do this.  The potty chair went down and I stripped off the foottie jammies and diaper and he sat on his chair happily.  Then got up.  Then sat down.  Then got up.  I told him to sit and go poopies and the Kris and I were talking about something so believe it or not, I stopped really watching him.  Well, he got our attention by announcing that he had done it!  YAY!  My little guy has mastered for the first time ever, producing something in that potty chair.  I’m a little shocked that his first success was this and not the more liquid alternative that I thought most kids started with but I’ll take it.  Maybe this December will go over better than I thought.  That isn’t hard, really, since what I expect to happen is really really quite low.

*sigh*  There will always be that part of me that is so in love with babies.  The amazing, loving, all out cuteness of the little things.  Really though, I’m so ready to move on with our family and have the time and the brain bandwidth to go beyond cute.

Ménage à trois of thoughts


Over the past week, these babies movements have become much more noticeable.  I’m loving that I can lean back and tell pretty quick that they are awake or asleep in there.  They totally fall asleep while I’m at the gym walking so, P and J, you may have to find a way to fit a treadmill into their room for putting them to sleep. 🙂  They are also pretty quiet at night which I find odd but certainly not a bad sign for the parents-to-be!


I’m also finding that I could probably use an investment into some more warmer maternity shirts.  Most of what I got was not intended to keep me very warm because my memory of pregnancy was that I was hot all the time.  Partly due to being thinner this time around and partly due to being much larger much earlier in the winter than I’m used to, this isn’t so much the case.  I’ve been able to pull out tops that I wore from before I lost the weight but honestly those make me look like a giant potato and not like a pregnant person.  That is when I get the comments “Some days you look really pregnant and some days you don’t.”  What they are not saying out loud is “Some days you look really pregnant and some days you look really fat.”  I do find it disgustingly amusing that the clothing that fit me before I lost that weight is now still tenting around this belly with plenty of room.  I’m tempted to go put on those jeans that I wore just to see where they are with the babies belly but I keep forgetting whenever I’m at home and have time.


Along with that, there are other comments from people that I’ve been hearing.  There are still people here and there at work that ask me if I’m pregnant.  Since I’ve had someone tell me that I look like I’m about to give birth as well, I guess being 17 (now 18) weeks along with twins is a twilight zone time when you’ve gone overnight from not really looking pregnant to being suddenly 40 weeks along.  Not that I look 40 weeks along, but everyone has a different perspective, I guess.  The last two times someone asked if I was pregnant and I started the dance routine with them where I say Yes, they smile and say wow, congrats, I say there are two, they put their hands to their mouths and squeal, I say they aren’t mine, and they put their hands down and say ‘huh?’  It’s not as funny as it used to be.  There is just no easy ‘passing someone in the hallway’ way to say you are doing surrogacy. 

When I told the one girl about it, she seemed really concerned and was trying to talk about how she couldn’t do surrogacy and I am afraid I really just didn’t want to stand in the hallway and talk about it with her.  I’m tired of the “I couldn’t give the babies away.” statement but beyond that, I actually had things to do and I’m really not concerned if she could do it or not.  The other woman that I had told was actually heart breaking because she looked so wistful and said that she wished there were people around to do that for her when she was looking to have children but – she shrugs her shoulders – I guess I just had to live without.  I honestly wanted to cry for her. 

Then there is the frequent “Are they close friends of yours?” question.  Honestly, if I had never gone through this I’d have never thought to ask that question.  I would assume that anyone doing surrogacy was close to the person they were doing it for.  The question makes me uncomfortable because somehow I think an agency matched surrogacy is less noble than just doing it for your friend so I always just say “Yes, they are close friends.”  This is true, in fact, P and J ARE close friends… by now anyway.  I know that’s not what they are asking though.  Then I get mad at myself for judging myself on something I couldn’t control anyway.  I’d have DONE surrogacy for a close friend or family member if any had needed it.  That’s how I got into it in the first place.  So I needed help finding someone that needed it.  That’s the number one question that I get asked though, for whatever reason.

That would be my three.  Sorry for the lack of sexual inuendo and all that.  I know this isn’t terribly exciting but then again, neither is my current love life so I guess it is better to write about that which you know.

Signing off now.  Happy week 18, P and J!

You can’t believe everything you read

I’m feeling a tad misunderstood so I want to make something clear.  First, when I obsess over the scale, it is the scale alone and not, as it turns out, what I’m eating.  Odd as that sounds, it was that way with losing the weight as well so to me it makes sense.  I set in my mind what my lifestyle should be like, work to live to that as best I can, and I expect the scale to follow suit.  I’m mad at the scale because it is not, in fact, following suit and the incongruity of it is throwing me.  This does not mean that I’m living on cottage cheese and pineapple slices on top of an iceberg lettuce leaf (Because, you know, that is the essence of a good dietary plan – and anyone who is reading this and takes that seriously better not sue me when it doesn’t work out for you).  It means that I’m eating as I need to, keeping me and these babies very well nourished, and venting off the steam because the mix between my damn genetic code and my previously obese equilibrium setting seems to be making my body pack on the weight like a walrus heading into winter.

Next, the only reason you mostly hear about me gaining too much weight is because according to the guidelines I’ve thus far read, I seem to be ahead of the curve by about 4 weeks.  (Since the babies are ahead of the curve by about 1 week, I’ll give myself the benefit of saying 3 weeks but that is still ahead.)  If for any reason I went for a 2 week stretch and didn’t gain ENOUGH weight, trust me, you’d hear me whine in the other direction.  I’m obsessed with gaining the RIGHT amount of weight, not just not too much, so please don’t worry about me producing skinny babies.

Actually, my big push right now to calm down is because of the whacked out blood pressure I had at the appointment of something like 124/56.  Since I’ve never really had blood pressure issues in pregnancy I’m assuming this was due to my weigh-in anxiety.  That I really don’t care to have following me around.

Anyway, this book I’m reading… http://www.drbarbaraluke.comI could easily decide in my head that even though, indeed, BECAUSE of the fact that she flies in the face of ALL the other twin pregnancy medical experts that I’ve found online, she must know MORE than all of them and be the one that is right.  I could decide that because HER weight ranges put my actual gain pattern right where I would expect it to be based on my diet and activity level.  No one else has managed that.  The trouble is, I think she’s a bit of a quack, and even a bit MORE of an internet ‘subscriber’ whore, who is using fear and our desires to have healthy babies to get us to give her our credit card numbers online.  Even so, I’m going to mix the fact that there MIGHT just be something to the idea that most OBs don’t tell women pregnant with twins or more to eat enough AND that there are so many tiny multiples born along with the fact that my knowledge of healthy eating is leading me to live the way I am and I’m naturally following along in the path she suggests.  Together those two concepts tell me that her guidelines will work well enough for me.  Plus, that means I don’t have to go nuts over thinking my body is an uncontrollable ogre.  Gotta love that bonus.  I just wish she’d be a bit more against the fast food concept.

SO, according to HER, by week 18 (tomorrow) I should gain somewhere between 18 and 27 pounds.  I was 184 this morning which puts me at 19 pounds gained.  She ALSO suggests that I should take the number of calories suggested for a singleton pregnancy and increase that by 50%.  I was eating 1400 cals before getting pregnant and stood stable at ~160-165 for 9 months.  For a single pregnancy, they say to add 300 calories.  That’s 1700, but I’m also burning 400 LESS calories in workouts so really that’s 1300 calories.  Multiple that by 1.5 to add the 50% and you get 1950 calories per day.  Now, I’m only iffy on subtracting the workout calories but I know it makes a big difference so I’m willing to go with 2000 calories per day.  (Her book actually states 3500 calories per day for a twin pregnancy but that is going off a daily dietary need of 2200 to maintain a non-pregnant weight and that is NOT my resting metabolism rate at ALL.  If I were to eat 3500 calories per day, I’d look like Barney in a week.  A very ill Barney.  That needed to spend more time on the treadmill.) 

As I have not generally been eating 2000 calories per day, that would sit perfect with my current weight gain being at 19 pounds from the 18-27 pound range.  See, like I said, it makes sense with my body.  Also, because I generally have been eating closer to the 2000 (if not over) and ALSO not working out at all on the weekends, it explains why my weight gain generally happens on the weekends and not during the weeks, although, that part wasn’t so much of a mystery to me.

So, I’m just going to follow her guidelines… because it makes me feel good about myself… and that’s pretty much all I’m saying about it.

My deepest apologies!

Ever so sorry for leaving you hanging.  I did not have access to update my blog after the appointment until ~9PM and I was too tired then.

The US went great!!  Two babies, two membranes, two placentas, two cords well formed and coming and going from and to where they should.  They are still measuring a week ahead just as they have been all along.  They were moving up a STORM for the US.  I could feel them moving just like crazy even before the US started and as I’ve said, I don’t even feel them every day so this was a pretty good indication that they were as excited as we were. 🙂 

As it turns out, we have two big healthy baby boys in there.  Jessie was not accurate, it seems, although when I told her at home that there were two boys she was very excited to conclude that they will have FOUR boys living at the house when the babies come.  I do have  a picture to scan in that managed to get both boys in the same shot, but I’m hoping that I’ll get a scan of this really cute “James Bond” pose from one of the boys to share as well.

One thing to note from the US.  The tech was very experienced.  She said she’s had 17 years of experience doing this and she was quick at finding what she was looking for.  (Which was great because it was a LONG session with the two kids and because they were moving so much, you pretty much had to be fast to get anything.)  She said something that annoyed me though.  The boys are dichorionic and diamniotic which is really really good.  I happened to say to P and J though that it didn’t mean they weren’t identical.  granted, the odds were REALLY REALLY low, still, it didn’t mean for sure.  The US tech shot that one down and said no way.  If they were identical, they’d have to at least share a placenta.  Now, I know I’ve read many many times over that this isn’t true.  In fact, even my OB doc has said that isn’t true.  She wasn’t having anything to do with it though.  I’d just like to quote for a moment from this book that P and J loaned me:

“When the split happens within three days of conception, while the original zygote is still traveling down the fallopian tube, these identical twins will have two seperate placentas, two chorions, and two amnions.  This is a diamniatic, dichorionic twin pregnancy.”  – Dr. Barbara Luke, When You’re Expecting Twins, Triplets, or Quads, page 8,

Now, extrapolating from my OWN research on IVF and twinning, when the cell collapses as it is dividing, as it often can, sometimes it will re-grow with TWO inner cell masses instead of the normal one.  When that happens, new research is finding, those two inner cell masses will BOTH hatch from the outer cell wall and if they both implant, will do so separately and develop their own placentas, chorions, and amnions.  Thus, in IVF, you could end up with identical diamniotic dichorionic twins.  This collapsing, it seems, is more likely in 5 day transfers due to the environment of the petry dish not being as ideal as a fallopian tube.  Thus, it is slightly higher odds of having identical twinning from a 5 day transfer, according to new research.  Anyway, as with all thing nature related, there are no hard and set rules and my very long point is that the US tech was, in fact, wrong and I was right.  So there.  Incidentally, I’ve also heard that HALF identical twinning is possible if the ovum splits in the fallopian tube before even being fertilized and thus two sperm fertilize two genetically identical ovum and you have half identical twins.  I don’t know if this is true or not but I have no reason to think it couldn’t be.

Speaking of said book, I was reading it because it was quoted by some people to me to be a book that suggests gaining MORE weight than any other medical resource I’ve ever seen.  I’m all over that.  I’ve just browsed through it and as of this morning started reading it for real so I don’t have much to say about it yet.  I will share this: She says not to shun fast food establishments as they can offer decent nutrition for the woman pregnant with multiples.  This makes my brain hurt.  Saturated and trans fat aside, fast food has far too much sodium, preservatives, and harmful chemicals in it to be healthy for anyone on a regular basis, in my no-medical-school opinion.  I will admit to the occasional visit but I do NOT think it is appropriate in any health advise book to say anything other than “Do NOT look to fast food establishments for any sort of health or nutrition.”  Well, as much as I want to worship Barbara Luke and her advice, she has not brought about my blind devotion just yet.  We will wait and see what she says about chocolate and peanut butter.

After the US we had the clinic appointment.  I had my weigh in which was OK – 186 – but still a full and exact 10 pounds OVER my previous weigh in at 11 weeks and 4 days.  6 weeks, 10 pounds, yep, I rock people.  Or, I AM a rock.  A big one.  You are totally right, Cyn, I obsess WAY too much about this.  P and J were totally wonderful the whole entire time and kept saying that I didn’t look like I’ve gained anything but the baby bump, well, babies bump, so that was good.  I think in reality I’m afraid to stop obsessing over it because if I do, it would be so easy for me to tumble ever so quickly in the other direction with no control at all.  Finding that balance is so difficult for me and requires so much constant analysis of my eating motivations.  All I can offer is my honest word that I will TRY to let up on myself some.

As easy as that is to say, so far, it was easy to DO today because my morning weight check came back at 183 which puts me BACK to my 18 pound gain only two days away from actually BEING 18 weeks.  My ‘would-be heroine’ Dr. Barbara Luke says you need a minimum of 25 pounds in 20 weeks so I’m feeling good about that.  I’m also feeling good about the fact that my OB doc completely missed my question about lower back pain, especially after working out, and my concern about it being contraction/preterm labor oriented and thought that I was just whining about the pain.  Honestly, he should know me better than that because I’m in all SORTS of pain that I did NOT bring up because I’m not worried about it meaning anything bad but to his credit I’m certain most women DO whine about the aches of pregnancy to him expecting him to make the discomfort go away.  I have no such expectations.  I only want to know if there is something I need to know about my reaction to the pain.  Anyway, due to him being so not concerned about the medical aspects of my lower back pain I’m reassured that it is normal and does not indicate that my morning walking is overdoing anything.

In fact, I was so well pleased with the morning weigh in, that I talked myself into a small decaf mint mocha from Caribou this morning.  🙂  Part of why I’m so happy about it is because P and J and I had a ‘night out’ where they brought me to a downtown hangout that they like and I had a very rich meal.  There was deep fried asparagus, salmon, cheesy fries, a cheese plate with bread, a poached pear salad, and a pumpkin custard and chocolate cake dessert.  I know, yum!  It was a great time and I’d have probably eaten more if the baby belly hadn’t started aching a bit with the big meal so, I guess, I was done.  I had talked myself into being OK with a 186 result and happy with a 185 result so I nearly fell off the scale at the 183.  Good times, yes, but not much of a test of my resolve to calm down about hitting the ‘right’ weight gains.  I’m sure that test will come soon enough.

I had better get this posted though because I know I’ve got 1 or 2 readers waiting anxiously to find out our US results.  Two little healthy (1 week ahead even) boys for my boys!  Now I’ve got to think of a new name for the little guys.  Oddly enough, they shot down ‘Ren and Stimpy’ so… back to the drawing board!

Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow…

Well, ‘Love’ might be a bit extreme… but who can resist the chance to use a sappy Orphan Annie song quote?

Tomorrow is a big day!  Tomorrow we have THE ultrasound.  The level II ultrasound that shows us hopefully two healthy, happy, growing little babies.  Pending the important part of two healthy babies, we could also get a bonus of knowing if those babies are girls or boys.  It is all terribly exciting, but it is tomorrow, not today.  Today I have to sit around and wait. 

Shortly after the ultrasound, we have to head over to the clinic for our 17 week appointment.  This is at 1PM.  Due to the fact that I will need to stand on the scale and watch as the nurse plays with the archaic manual weight bar (WHY can’t they have digital?) for 10 minutes to declare how much I weigh, I will be postponing lunch to after the appointment.  By last Thursday I had gained 18 pounds, up to 19 on Sat, down to 18 on Sunday, and back to 19 today.  I made it to the gym both Sat and Sunday so I’m rather irritated, but whatever.  On Sunday my only slip was in making sugar cookies with the kids in these holiday shapes.  I ate 2 cookies with them so, I know, I was evil.  BTW – sugar cookies look extremely weird when you make them with whole wheat flour and raw evaporated cane juice crystals (which are HUGE and brown compared to processed sugar) but they still taste awesome even if they are a lot thicker and seem more like cake bites than cookies. 

I have to admit, this weight thing is really throwing me.  Yes, those first 12 weeks when I wasn’t working out I knew I’d gain more than I should.  I fully expected though, that once I was back to living the lifestyle that got me to lose weight in the first place, I’d not only have an easy time not gaining the weight, but I’d MAKE UP for the difference.  No, no, it seems reality is nothing at all like that.  Granted, I’m now eating about 1600 cals per day instead of the 1400 I ate before pregnant.  Also, I’m only working out to the tune of about 100 calories with my lower heart rate requirements instead of my 500 calories I used to do.  Totalled, that makes me at the ‘ideal’ 600 calorie increase they suggest for a twin pregnancy.  Now, 1600 calories is pretty low in general and that is, sadly, my reality of keeping to a reasonably healthy weight.  1200 is the lowest they suggest any women ever go for extreme dieting.  That is, I believe, just the scars of obesity on my metabolism and something I have to live with.  Still, I never EVER would have thought that me DOING that and being ON TASK with all this would still result in me seriously over gaining at this point.  SO… if I sound frustrated, it is because I feel powerless and more than a little angry that I am denying myself things that I’d like to have while still failing to meet my goals.

Somehow, I have to stop caring about it so much.  When I lost the weight originally, I had simply bought into that “10 minutes/day” ad and just decided to put in the effort to MOVE a little more.  I was going to put healthier activities in my lifestyle and whatever my weight and my body did with that was NOT my focus.  Just the lifestyle was.  Now, once I put in the 10 minutes, I put in a little more and a little more and I modified my eating a bit here and there as well.  Not all at once.  I enjoyed the weight results.  Still, I have to get back to living the lifestyle and not obsessing about the numbers.  The hard part is that the daily weight checks were what kept me in line with the lifestyle.  That is what kept me eating only 2 cookies on Sunday instead of, well, a LOT more.  If I disregard the weight totally, my habits could suffer as well and then I won’t be meeting the ‘healthy living’ goal.  Honestly, I just wish someone would come up with a twin pregnancy weight chart that put what I’m achieving in the ‘normal’ range and then I could settle down and not be so on edge about it all.  How totally childish is that?  For the record, my rings not only still fit but they are still quite loose and I am right this very moment wearing my pre-pregnancy pants with the too-big waist that are fitting me wonderfully.

Changing subjects I’d like to say… these babies?  They don’t move enough.  I’m 17 weeks now and while I know that I didn’t even really feel Asher moving until 20 weeks along I’m quite a bit thinner now and from what I understand, that makes a big difference.  Ideally, they would move whenever I tell them to.  Thus, if I’m out and about and just curious about them enough to stop and pay attention to my belly, I should be rewarded with a little movement from them both.  If I roll over in bed and lay quiet and still, they should both kick up a little “We’re here!” dance for me.  They do not though – and I only feel them when they are in the mood and it seems that is only every few days or so.  Bugger on that.  I cannot wait until I can feel them all the time and get that constant reassurance that they are there.  Of course, I’m hoping all this reassurance doesn’t involve sticking anything up into my ribcage because, babies, that is really quite uncomfortable.  To their credit, while I’ve been typing this, they’ve decided to do some little baby wiggles so that is nice.