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