So…It’s safe to say that the past two months have been a wild ride.  With almost 7 weeks and counting of being on bed rest, you would think I would have had the time to update the blog.   However, oddly, you’d be surprised at how much you can find to do (or your clients can find for you to do) while you're bouncing back and forth between your bed, the sofa and the hospital.   This, I am actually typing from my hospital bed on day two of visit 3 in less than a month’s time; I probably won’t get to finish it from here, however, because they just informed us (thankfully) that we will get to go home shortly.

Almost 2 months ago, now, I was put on what they called moderate bed rest.  15 minutes up (shower in the morning, lunch, bathroom, etc…) followed by 4 hours in bed.  Anyone who knows me well, knows this is not going so well…  Being still isn’t really my way of living.  Helpless, house bound, inactive, and basically unable to function normally---no.  Not going to happen without a fight…

However, when the Dr. tells you at 24 weeks that your cervix is shortening and it can cause pre-term labor—you listen.  Two weeks later, at 26 weeks, it had shortened drastically and was funneling internally.  The doctor sent me straight to Northside for monitoring, two steroid shots in the bum and one night without sleep later, I was sent home on what they then called “limited bedrest,” meaning-shower and bathroom privileges only for the most part.  At 27 weeks, they gave us a bit of false optimism.  My cervix had actually increased back to an acceptable length.  I was moved back to moderate bed rest.  The next visit, a week later, back to the hospital we go.  Again, over night, a few tests, and we were sent back home on bed rest. 

A week later we followed up with a perinatologist (a specialist that focuses on high risk pregnancies, multiples, etc.).  My cervix had actually lengthened this time, and he took us off of bed rest, briefly (through a weekend).  Then, Tuesday night, I started having contractions.  Back to the hospital.  Now, at almost 30 weeks (and 2 nights later in the hospital), we are waiting on some test results to come back to see if we are stuck here or get to go home.  They were finally able to get the contractions stopped.  After the first night of having one every 6-8 minutes (one which lasted 10 minutes by itself), two shots, and 6 IV fluid bags later, they don’t think there is any immediate risk of labor.

Oddly, I’ve been in bed for almost a month and half, but am completely exhausted.  The nausea has set back in as of a couple of weeks ago—which they have put me on zofran to try to prevent, but it isn’t touching it.   I haven’t showered since Tuesday (considering the IV in my arm, and the constant barrage of nurses), needless to say—gross.  And…my children are beating the ever-living shit out of me.  The girl is breech and consistently kicking my pubic bone-literally, and the boy (who has been referred to as a ‘wild child’ by the doctors), is transverse, spread from the left side of my rib cage to the right, and pushes with this arms and legs fully extended.  I am pretty sure that he has fractured one of my ribs.   I’m also pretty confident that my kids hate me.

What I can say is that my husband has been absolutely amazing through all of this.  He is constantly, and I mean constantly, there.  He is at every doctor visit, he cleans, he cooks, he grocery shops, he runs errands---he even returns all of my spontaneous online purchases that don't work out once they get here (since a large part of my days have consisted of online shopping lately).  While he can never really understand what I am going through or what it feels like, he is more a part of "our" pregnancy than I ever could have asked for, and more so than anyone else I have ever even heard about.  He's pretty awesome (and also very patient for dealing with my spontaneous outbursts that I have no idea are coming, how to stop them or even why they occur-when I find myself suddenly yelling or crying for no apparent reason at all--very--not me).  So, to him...thank you.  I love you.

So…I know this isn’t a fun or even mildly entertaining post, but this is the update I have been promising some far away friends and family for a while now.  It’s only taken me about 7 weeks to finish it and we’re now almost at 31 weeks.  We go back to the OB tomorrow (Wednesday) and the perinatologist on Friday—then we go twice a week for the duration of my pregnancy.  Woohoo!!   When most women have 2-4 ultrasounds during their pregnancy, I have had about 16 to date.

I have been prodded, poked, and violated in more ways that I can count.  Stretched, pulled, pinched, and stabbed.  I have been exposed and, what might as well be, publicly viewed by more people than I thought would ever see me nude in my life, and that list is still mounting.  I think of all the things I have experienced, what I have enjoyed least about pregnancy is the vulnerability, complete lack of control and the feeling of utter helplessness.  You have to totally surrender any sense of humility, privacy, personal space, and pride.  Then, in conjunction with that tremendous blow to your self-esteem, and more importantly, you have absolutely no way to control the overall outcome or health of your children.  Sure, you can take vitamins, eat well, don’t smoke, don’t drink, don’t eat soft cheeses or caffeine or artificial sweeteners, etc., etc., etc., but at the end of the day---you can’t do anything to ensure that they are perfect.  You can’t make them grow ten fingers and toes and have healthy functioning organs, but yet---they are growing inside of you, so you feel completely responsible none-the-less.  Compile that feeling of helplessness, with constant worry and concern, the vulnerability that you have to give-in-to with your own body, and just the constant discomfort and inability to sleep----and you feel like someone other than yourself.   But then again---you never really are yourself again after you have a child (or two).  You’re someone else entirely different—you’re their mom.  And, as exciting as that it---sometimes, it’s pretty hard to wrap my head around.

So, after weeks of hustling to get back in the house and boxes still all over the place (not to mention my closet looking something like tornado struck trailer-between the already chaos of the maternity clothes that there is no place for, bags still in the floor from living at my brother’s for a month, and the trip to Savannah), we were excited for the doctor’s appointment this week since it has been almost a month since our last visit.

After chugging the equivalent of 4oz of orange Triaminic for the glucose test for gestational diabetes, we got to go in for the ultrasound.  The babies looked great.  1.7lbs (the girl-a.k.a. “twin A”) and 1.6lbs (the boy-a.k.a. “twin B).  Heartbeats are strong, and they were constantly moving-making it difficult for Ken to get his pictures to update his growing wallet portfolio.  Then they checked my cervix… 

We had no reason to think they would find any issue because on every other visit they had talked about how good everything looked, how long my cervix was, etc.  This time…not the case.  It measured 3.4cm to begin with-which was good…  however, with pressure it shrunk to 2.7cm with internal funneling…which is bad.

I was sent home on bed rest and we went back for a follow up appointment yesterday where they did a fetal fibro-nectin test and another ultrasound.  The results from the test – as usual – required waiting until this morning.  The ultrasound showed that my cervix was down to 3.0cm and went to 2.6cm with pressure and more funneling with a .6cm internal dilation. 

Now, I don’t really know what all that means, but the translation is bed rest until further notice.  The results of the FFN test came back negative this morning, meaning we didn’t have to go to the hospital and there isn’t an immediate risk of pre-term labor in the next 7 days—but still, bed rest.  We are now on schedule for weekly visits and monitoring, and praying that it doesn’t get worse.  I did, however, "pass" the glucose test - so no gestational diabetes! but my iron levels were really low.  So, more steak?

We are optimistically hoping that when we go next Thursday there will be improvement and my restrictions will be lifted, but after reading about this last night we learned that this is actually called “an incompetent cervix.” There is nothing you can do about it, or to have caused it really--it's (in this case) from the increased pressure of twins.  It rarely improves, you can just hope it stabilizes and does not rapidly get worse, causing you to go into labor.

Nice start to motherhood…  “incompetence!”

On a brighter note…I have spent about three hours this morning watch my stomach move.  It looks like an alien is trying to come out of my belly button.  

Courtesy of my fantastic soon-to-be sister-in-law, here is the video she made for our rehearsal dinner, that I thought I would share.   A few good memories of our own childhoods before we have our own children.  Enjoy :)
-B

Kam and Bridgette. from Lindsay Hamilton on Vimeo.

To Whom It May Concern:

Dear Pregnant Women of the World who say you love being pregnant,

I hate you.

Sincerely,

B

Seriously, I don’t know how anyone can say at the end of a full term pregnancy that they enjoyed it.  I get the whole surreal feeling that you are actually growing a living person (or people) inside you.  I’ll give you that…that’s pretty cool.  I mean, growing people is definitely something that makes you feel pretty special—especially when your husband would give anything to have that same connection.  Other than that, it’s just not. 

I actually had one of my work colleagues say this week, “Man…you are getting bigger and bigger everyday—how much have you gained now?”  When I responded about 8lbs…he says “Geeze—it looks like a lot more than that!”  Sweet…  That makes you feel good. 

A few weeks ago I read and saw a clip about a woman who went full term, went into labor and delivered a healthy baby boy without ever even knowing she was pregnant.  I call...bull shit.  There are just some things you can't ignore or miss--i.e. the stretching skin across your abdomen, growing boobs suddenly, missing your period for almost 10 months, not sleeping, eating all the time...gas...and lot of other grotesqueness.  I mean, come on, if you really didn't pick up on any of this for almost a year, the thought of you having a child is absolutely terrifying.  Someone, please call child services now.

The past couple of weeks have brought the point where it is now forbidden to sleep on your back, impossible to sleep on your stomach, and highly advised to sleep on your left side.  Really?  Your left side?  Does it have to be that specific?  Coming from someone who sleeps very little anyway, and prays to God for a just a couple of hours of sleep on regular basis---it’s safe to say that a full night’s sleep on my left side, while fire is still raging in my chest from the endless heart burn, is not going to happen.  They might as well say sleep propping yourself up with your thumb and your big toe while keeping your entire body and head lifted from the bed.  So, we’ve tried experimenting with the various preggers pillows.  The first one looked something like a snake and was supposed to curl from around the back of my neck to under my stomach and between my legs…please explain.  I don’t understand.  I don’t understand how this is supposed to be comfortable or even what I am really supposed to do with it.  Pillow attempt number two looks something like a kidney bean.  Harvey’s a fan.  He definitely likes it.  However, yet again---I’m not sure what to do with it.

Another lesson learned this month involved long car rides and unborn children—they don’t like them, especially the mountains in West Virginia and the tiny, curvy, bumpy roads in Pittsburgh.    13 hours in the car each way was just entirely too much.  It took a couple of days to recover from that one.  However, shear determination on my mom’s part got us there and back in three days time, and home in time to have Labor Day to recover.  She hunched over the steering wheel, squinted her eyes and went for it!  And the babies flailed the arms and legs like a roller coaster ride the whole way there and back.

The next weekend was Savannah, for Meagan’s bachelorette party.  That was only five hours each way and had a little more time in between the drives—what we learned from that trip…I’m apparently having “intellectual twins” and they like club music at 2am.

We are finally back in the house!  Thank you, Josh, for letting us, our big oaf, and the little terror stay with you for almost a month!  Much appreciated, and we miss you and the girls (possibly Dolly a little more than Patty though)—and the big oaf says she is sorry for the hole in your hard wood floors, it will be fixed very soon.

With guys working around me, literally, as I type this, the house is within days of being completely put back together.  The kitchen is finished, the doors are all set, the trim work is finished, the hardwoods are all ready—the iron stair railing goes in tomorrow and the painters will touchup next week.  Operation—make the house ready for babies—check.

Ok---this is for my husband, because I haven’t written in 1 month, and he apparently checks it and asks me EVERY single day.

This month has actually gone by really fast!  Sorry for the lack of updates, but the nausea finally passed and with a surge of energy and major deadlines to meet for work, I haven’t stopped moving in quite a few weeks now. 

We had a check up yesterday, and I was given “an A+ for growing people.”  Both babies look great and are measuring 11oz each, and are still literally doing flips.  The little girl went from breach position to head down just in the time that they were doing the ultra-sound.  The little boy has his butt poked in the air and firmly planted right between my ribs.  Pretty comfy, I have to say.

So, the past few weeks have brought about some—we’ll say—interesting changes.  First—a positive exciting one—the twins have started moving like small acrobats and have become a force to be reckoned with between my ribs and hips.  The first day I felt them, it felt something like being on a small diesel engine fishing boat that was spinning in circles all day.  Then they stopped the sloshing so much and started a slightly more aggressive---what feels like---punching and kicking.  Yes, my children are beating the living daylights out of me.  I feel a little like I haven’t even had the opportunity to ruin their lives yet and they already hate me.  The Dr. said yesterday that with as active as they are, the insomnia will probably kick in shortly and I may be in for a ‘literally’ bumpy ride.

My stomach is growing exponentially.  My ever so PC client actually asked if I was having rabbits instead of babies because they seemed to be multiplying so quickly.  This is no exaggeration--it’s seriously bigger, daily.  It also feels like my guts are about to bust out.  It is something kind of like over eating to an extreme, but far worse.  Maybe being placed in a Chinese torture room with a stretching machine that is pulling me in every direction—yea…that describes it better.  Or the stressed look that a latex balloon gets when you blow it up too big, just before it POPS.

Needless to say, for anyone who has been pregnant, along with the precious baby movement has arrived the fires of hell in my chest (which probably has something to do with the aforementioned butt between my ribs).   The heart burn is absolutely horrendous, which is not something I have really ever experienced before—so I would like someone to please run a fire hose down my throat and put it out, because Tums-though I eat them like candy-do nothing.

Also, I seem to have lost my belly button.  I’m not sure where it went… a few days ago it looked like it was smiling at me it was pulled to taught and now it’s hardly there at all—that is, unless I try to sit up from a laying position, then it quickly reappears in the form of an outy. 

A few stretch marks are starting to appear---which are, ughh…nauseating.  The thought of putting my body back together after delivering the babies already has me dreading the gym and hellacious trainer I’m going to have to get to motivate me.  It occurred to me that the nursery rhyme, Humpty Dumpty, was more than likely actually written by a mother in distress over her new-found physique.

The past few weeks I have had more energy during the day than I have known what to do with…it’s been great!  There were a couple of days that I was self-proclaimed Wonder Woman at the end, but then I sat back to assess my accomplishments and realized that really they only amounted to shopping a lot, buying a lot of stuff for the house and the nursery (fabric, furniture, accessories, more fabric, more furniture, a few baby clothes, a good many maternity clothes), which we obviously needed every bit of and spending a lot of money.  So, maybe I wasn’t so Wonder Womanish, but it felt good to check some things off the list finally, after weeks of being all but bed ridden. 

The house is finally coming back together.  I will post pictures soon, but I honestly haven’t seen it myself in over a week.  We are temporarily living with my brother (thank you Josh, love you!), while the house is painted and the floors are finished—since poisoning your unborn children with paint fumes is not generally advised.

All in all, it’s been a good month!  I’ll head to Pittsburgh this weekend for a cousin’s wedding, so look for some interesting stories next week!

            

Never did I think I would expose myself in a semi-public forum with some of the very personal "delights" that pregnancy brings along with it, however, for those of my friends who are on the fence about whether or not they are ready to have children---I feel like these are things they need to know.  I certainly did not--and was not prepared for the last couple of weeks of "surprises."


Most of this began during the Red Baron Summer Extravaganza Auction Weekend---also known for 36 hours in 3 days, on my feet on a concrete floor, talking, smiling, being helpful, appeasing very wealthy people, and well, in this case, coming down with bronchitis after one of my colleagues had been sick.  


This is what I learned---when I sneeze, I pee myself a little bit.  When I cough, I pee.  When I laugh, I pee.  When I throw up (which is still happening daily, despite the nausea subsiding)-I pee. When I bend the wrong way--I pee.  Seriously, I should be in a Depends.  It's ridiculous.  One of the twins has got to be, literally, on my bladder (and this is at only 15 weeks).  So needless to say, bronchitis (as the doc-in-the-box diagnosed it), or a chest cold or whatever it was---made the last week of non-stop coughing, sneezing, nose blowing, and vomiting a real treat, and even while being sympathetic I think Ken was thoroughly disgusted.  


As if I needed another lesson is humility or hit to my self-esteem this week, that part of my body that I always wished was bigger, and was secretly jealous of other girls who were more "blessed" in that department has given me a whole other set of insecurities.  Yes--my boobs.  They have gone from less than a 34A to a 34D (and again, I'm only at 15 weeks), they are lopsided (one has to be a full cup size bigger than the other), and they are leaking some sort of fluid called colostrum.  Literally, I mean leaking.  Then there is, as Ken calls it, "the growing targets."  Not to mention, they feel like someone is ripping the flesh from my chest.  While that is more graphic than most anyone wants to hear about---I won't go into more details, but let me just say, I will never again in my life wish for anything in that area other than just having mine back.  Just the way they were, small, even, and un-offensive.


On the less traumatic side of an ever evolving body---my feet just barely fit in my size 6's.  I have to resort to flip-flops after abut 2:00pm, as my toes begin to transform into little stuffed sausages, and my ankles blend into my calves.  Then there is my skin---while I have always struggled with acne, it's at least been manageable and could be covered with makeup.  Without makeup, right now---I look like someone took a firecracker to my face.   With-it--ahhh....minor improvement.  


After the fact you always hear of how women "enjoyed" being pregnant.  You hear about the weight gain.  You hear about the morning sickness--granted, never the full horrific-ness of it.  You hear about the hours upon hours in labor, and some of the complications later on in.  You mentally prepare yourself for those things---but then you get the "but it was all worth it!" boost to help you reinforce your confidence.  


You hear about the trials of motherhood itself and the lessons you learn.  


Never--never, have I heard the stories of how outright mortifying pregnancy itself can be and the changes your body goes through that you have absolutely no control over.  I am humbled every time I step out of the shower now.  Every time I get dressed, every time I put on my make-up, every time I have to make an emergency exit to the bathroom (or change clothes).  


I had no idea that pregnancy would be such an ongoing lesson in humility and a complete upheaval of any sort of vanity or pride.  I'm accepting it, rolling with it and I am sure I will be able to look back and say "it was all worth it."  


But in the mean time---before I put on my rose colored glasses and forget to mention all of the "side-effects," I need to warn friends, cousins, my sister, and anyone else who is contemplating even the thought of getting pregnant, to make sure you know what you are asking for.  


Forget sex-ed talks on "birth control" and "safe-sex" and "abstaining" in the schools---if they showed teenage girls the realities of pregnancy alone and what it would do to their body---it would scare them into a long enduring virginity.

I honestly had the misperception that even with twins, I could maybe--possibly--be one of those skinny girls that just gets a belly and only gains baby weight.  Who was I kidding?  I'm 5'4" and have short girl legs...that was never going to happen.  So then, I was hoping to just stay in normal clothes through the summer with cotton dresses and loose shirts.  

Let's just say that yesterday, by 2:00pm, I resorted to unbuttoning my shorts while driving down the road.  While the guy in the truck next to me was intrigued, his hopes were quickly dashed with the release of my newly potty belly.  With no time to run home and change (and having the audience of carpenters in my house) I sported around the rest of the day-until about 10:00 last night, with my shorts unbuttoned.  

Today, I figured I would nip that issue in the bud before the day started and go with a long cotton dress.  The only issue being, with an auction this weekend, I'm working in a 100∞ warehouse with 300 year old dusty antiques, so a dress just isn't cutting it.  I kneel down; I step on it.  I lean forward, and my newly found boobs come out of it.  Then, it ends the day with a fresh coat of furniture polish.

So, desperate for the ability to breathe freely through the weekend and be able to function with 12-14 hour days standing on a concrete floor in front of me on Saturday and Sunday, I stopped by the mall on the way home from the office this afternoon.  (That, and Anthrolpologie was talking to me and calling me to come visit today--as it does, well, fairly often).  After going in Gap, JCrew, BR, Anthro and some others---I realized that elastic waist shorts, while they rightfully should be, are uncool, and therefore no where to be found.

I was just about to give up as I was walking out of the mall and passed by Pea In The Pod Maternity.  I caved.  I went in.  I went in with the intention of buying a pair of shorts for the weekend, then I tried them on.  While totally unflattering with the waist line exposed--they felt like wearing my PJ's to work-AWEEESSOME!  I could breathe.  I could relax.  I didn't have to make an ineffective effort to suck-in.  So, I did the natural thing.  I got 4 pairs, and a pair of jeans.  Never has comfort been such a priority, but even better---these weren't ungodly looking as long as I completely hid the stomach portion up...

With the shorts on the counter I was looking through some t-shirts, when I heard a "Oooooh gross, maternity clothes..." and looked up just in time to see a group of perky teenage girls walking by.  That made me laugh---and a little sad.  I thought the same thing when I was their age (and weight), but now--15 years later....I have come to the realization that this afternoon my brother so sweetly worded, "my cool points have taken a serious nose dive" as of today, complete with the embracing of elastic, drawstrings, and belly bands.  

So, here's to embracing being pregnant, bulging bellies, and trying not to whence when I have to grab the M instead of the XS.

So this will be a short one, but first--Happy Birthday to my loving, wonderful, ever so sensitive and caring husband, Ken, who had quite possibly the best day of his life this morning.  


The doctor's visit today went amazingly.  Granted--1.5 hours, turned into 3, which made me late to my hair appointment with my sister (Sorry, Nicole!), but it was well worth it.  Everything looked normal and healthy.  The babies' heartbeats were strong--both 153, and they were moving like crazy.  Ken has taken to calling them Rock'em Sock'em Robots, like there is a red one and blue one duking it out from the corners of my belly.  


What we did find out today though---quite early to our surprise--is that it is actually a blue one and pink one putting up such a fight!  We were told with 95% confidence that twin B is a boy and 90% confidence that twin A is a girl.  Perfect!  Ken is now fully prepared to be clipped shortly after the second one arrives and we'll call that a day.

I do believe though that part of what I have been experiencing is as much motion sickness and morning sickness.  The boy, in particular, is literally turning flips and punching me.  


This news called for a birthday celebration with a dance down the elevator and a peach milkshake from Chick fil A---for my husband, not the pregnant lady. 


This evening was equally exciting as the MC Hammer marble floors (you can see in the previous post) and the pee stained (thanks to the ever so territorial Mr. Harvey) carpet, are entirely gone, with more work to be done through tomorrow and Sunday.  Granted, we have no furniture or floors at all at this point, and the house is a death trap for a child.  But it's a work in progress.  In Lebron James' words-"Rome wasn't built in one day."


Thank you again to my Dad, Josh, Fielding and Randy for your help! Here are some shots of the progress...


Have a great weekend!
B

Ok---I actually wrote this yesterday, but I'm a day late posting it...so two today!

For years I have wondered and been amused when you hear a woman quote how far along she is in a pregnancy---“I’m 26 weeks” or “Oh, I’m 28 weeks and 3 days.”  How is the heck do they keep up with it?  I can barely track down the day and date of the week on most days, much less the days and minutes that have passed since conception.  Now—at 12 weeks and 4 days, I get it.  I understand.

This past weekend we drove down to Jacksonville, FL to visit a good friend who recently moved.  I found myself not only having an active awareness of how far along I was in the pregnancy, but also of how may hour we had been in the car, how much longer we had in the car (the seat belt was driving me bat-shit crazy), how long it had been since I last peed and the minutes until we would stop so I could go again, not to mention counting every second until lunch, and the time between lunch and dinner.

Suddenly, every second, literally counts.  I can tell you now, that not only am I 12 wks, 4 days, I have 27 weeks, 3 days remaining---and January 15^th is 192 days away and counting down.

The nausea has thankfully eased greatly the past week.  Yesterday was pretty tough, but otherwise—it has been better!  The vomiting is still there, but the OMG! I am doing to die; I’m so nauseous feeling, has thankfully subsided greatly. 

What no one tells you is that pregnancy consists of a constant and ongoing feeling and complete and total discomfort—maybe it’s just a twin thing, but I don’t think so.  I feel constantly full—like I’ve eaten 70 hotdogs in 10 minutes and didn’t even have the satisfactions of winning a contest.  You can’t get comfortable sleeping—I’m too afraid of sleeping on my stomach to get a restful night sleep, and sleeping on my back or side just isn’t working. 

All of this to say—The thought of having TWINS is finally setting in.  It seems more real than surreal.  With my stomach expanding daily, and the loss of my ability to “suck it in” in the past couple of days, I am (we are) starting to get really excited.  We are also nervous, scared, and a little freaked out, but most importantly really happy and excited.

The house renovation has been kicked into high gear.  Friday (tomorrow), is Ken’s 29^th birthday and we will spend it at the doctor’s office, then in literally gutting our kitchen.  The guys are coming with hack-saws, chain saws and sledge hammers, and as I cross myself in thanks while saying this—the MC Hammer marble floors will be gone by the weekend.  I have to thank my dad for lending us Randy, Fielding and my (devoted, loyal and owes us the favor after we slaved away weekends in his house ;) ) brother, to knock out the demolition.  Hopefully we will get most of it knocked out tomorrow-in time to enjoy, at least, a decent dinner for his birthday.  Granted he got his present on Monday.  1. I am awful at surprises.  2.  After phone calls from the PGA Store to tell me he had just bought himself his birthday present—I figured it in both of our best interest to tell him he was getting the TV he wanted, so stop spending money and buying himself gifts. 

It kind of makes me laugh—now everything we buy we look at it in comparison to say—the price of a crib (or 2 cribs), or a double stroller.  Suddenly, between that mentality and the house remodel, we suddenly need nothing for ourselves. 

I guess that is step 1 in becoming a parent—putting your wants, not second, but last. 

We should get some pretty good pictures from the utlra-sound tomorrow, I will post them then.

For now---here are some before pictures of the renovation--most of these are from when Ken first bought the house--but you'll get the idea.

Until next time…

B

On a Monday morning flight for work from ATL to LAX, after 5+ hours in the airplane, a migraine and an embarrassing in flight incident involving a broken bathroom lock, I stood with my head just barely grazing the center luggage compartment in the middle seat of a very crowded plane.
After a few moments, I heard someone speak behind me.  I was just barely alert and trying to calculate my next move through a city I had never visited and to what I was told was the worst part of town-Compton.  I looked up for just a moment, glanced over my shoulder and heard the guy immediately behind (in the same predicament, only a foot taller than me), say "How 'bout that middle seat?"
I smiled and shrugged it off, not really in the mood to talk and we both exited the plane at a snails pace with the crowd in front of us.
The next thing I knew, he had rambled off-"Don't I know you from somewhere?"  "I don't think so."  "Where did you go to school?"
After twenty questions and small talk through the airport, we realized we had gone to UGA at the same time, but that was about the only connection possible.    We said good bye and parted ways at the baggage claim, he raced out to catch a taxi, and I waited--what seemed like years--on my luggage, while trying to call the rental car service.  The next thing I knew, there he was...running...back into the airport with a crumpled business card extended.  He said, "Give me call if you wrap up with your meeting in time.  I'll be around all week."
I politely took the card, thinking I would never use it---I was in L.A. for Christ's sake.  I wasn't going to go out with a total stranger!
After an hour to get out of the airport, 2 hours in traffic to Compton, only to hear from the client that there had been a mistake and I was no longer needed onsite--I had not only an evening, but 2 days to kill, and needed a drink.  He went to UGA--he had to be alright, right? :)
I sent the stranger a text message, saying my meetings had finished up early and I was headed back into the city--a couple of hours later I was picking him up on street corner outside of his office.  The rest is history...
A year later we got engaged--He proposed with "Will you marry me?" on the back of the same crumpled business card he had given me in the airport a year before.
April 23, 2011, we were married at Piedmont Park in Atlanta.  Now---here we are at the end of June, and we were are 11 weeks pregnant with TWINS!
Who would have ever imagined it possible to go from just me (and of course Mr. Harvey), to a husband, two kids and two dogs in so little time.

Life is good---more so, it's constantly full of surprises and everyday teaching me that it is impossible to have a solid plan for the next (even as the control freak that I am).  So, now--with a massive house renovation under way to prepare for the twins, a husband to feed, clients to manage, and morning sickness to conquer--I am learning (the hard way) to take it day by day and enjoy the fleeting moments.