The babies are doing great. Their heartrates are in the 150's. Both were active during the OB appointment today. I gained 2lbs in 2 weeks (which is amazing given what the babies weigh). My blood pressure was a little high today but I think that's probably because the dr. was running late, therefore I was running late and I was going to be late to pick up Will from his friend's house. (Also maybe the extremely stressfull drive across country with my mom and two sons that ended mercifully on Sunday night at 8:23pm drove my BP up a bit). The dr. didn't seem all that concerned since the pee test was fine.
So. I failed my gestational diabetes (gd) test. I spent three hours at the doctor, both arms are bruised from the needles (I look like a junkie), and after the blood test was over I got a call that didn't sound so bad at the time. The nurse told me that I had done great for the first two hours (hooray) but that I failed the last hour (boo). Only by a little bit she said. But it turns out you can fail by a little bit or a lot and you still have to get a finger pricker glucose moniter and special diet involving tofu, chicken breasts and all the waffles I can eat... right?
On the positive side, the babies measured 4.6lbs (boy) and 3.10lbs (girl). Go team. HUGE babies. That's 8 lbs of baby and I'm only 30 weeks pregnant. Is that crazy or what? I know that GD can contribute to big babies but these two have been growing so well since the beginning that I'd like to think they're big on their own merit and not from the four doughnuts I ate the other day.
Now I get why the doctor wants me on bed rest. Oh yeah, bed rest. Mr. Cubby was born 2 weeks early, once he was 7.15lbs so I've got more baby in me now than ever before. She tells me that the increasing pressure on my cervix and the additional stretching of my uterus can trigger labor by itself. Walking around, climbing stairs, doing laundry, cooking, even sitting can add to the risk of premature labor.
So here I sit in the recliner in the family room. I get up to use the bathroom, get water (if I'm home alone), go to doctor's appointments (which are multiplying at an alarming rate), and go upstairs to go to bed. I'm allowed to go up and down the stairs twice a day. There is some dispute about this in the home. My mom thinks the doctor said I could only make one trip up and down. But she also thought I ordered French dressing (gross) for my salad today. I ordered ranch.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
29 Weeks
My c-section is scheduled for May 22, the Feast of St. Rita at precisely 11:30 am. It's weird to have a date for the birth and not ideal since I was hoping to forgo all surgical intervention this time around but c-sections to have an upside - which I'll get to in another blog, at another time because I've got bigger, sweeter fish to fry right now.
Last Wednesday, the OB gave me a pop blood sugar quiz. It was totally unfair and I felt completely ambushed because aren't you supposed to have some kind of warning about not eating Pop Tarts and huge bowls of oatmeal before hand? I think so. Anyway - of course I failed. I don't fail tests, especially not gestational diabetes tests. And I know it was because I ate loads of Gummy Sweet Tarts (TM) the night before and the above mentioned items for breakfast.
They didn't tell me what my level was so I wasn't sure how serious the situation is. I tend to get paranoid about health things anyway so I jumped to the worst possible conclusion - that I have to subsist on grilled chicken, water, and tofu for the next 8 1/2 weeks. How totally gross would that be? I know, right.
Thankfully my dad is diabetic. Not that I'm thankful that he's suffering. I'm thankful that he has all the finger pricking stuff and the testing strips and a neat little blood sugar reading computer.
Total aside, I'm visiting my parents for the week and I have the kids with me because it's Will's Easter break this week. Since my bed rest status has been upgraded (downgraded) I've been ordered to stay in bed as much as possible and if I'm caught out of bed doing such forbidden tasks as shopping, laundry, picking up children over 5 lbs, or arguing with my first grade son "The Lawyer" I'll be made to feel incredibly guilty and perhaps even brow-beaten by husband and doctor. (It's a total conspiracy).
Back to the blood sugar. So I'm visiting my parents. I pepper my dad with questions about diabetes for hours after we arrive at my parent's house. Understandably, he gets tired of this after a while and offers to put an end to my worry by giving me a blood test in the morning. My dad is the coolest because not only is he a deacon who can Baptize my babies but he can also test blood. The next morning I get up and he's waiting with his finger pricker. I almost didn't let him do it, chicken that I am. But then I remembered all the shots and blood tests I've had over the last year and figured that if this is something he does several times a day, it can't be that bad.
And it wasn't.
I hardly felt it.
My blood sugar that morning was 98. It's not great. But it's also not crazy high. I guess the range of normal is between 70-110... or something like that. So it's normal. We'll see how the 3 hour test goes next week.
Another total aside, my mom totally suckered me into coming to visit with promises of lots of help and time in bed but so far I'm up and about nearly as much as I am at home. The biggest difference being that the kids are into more things and complaining of boredom. Well, only Will is bored. But he has a perpetually bad attitude and complains about nearly everything so this is to be expected. Mr. Cubby is in heaven playing with his baby cousin.
Last Wednesday, the OB gave me a pop blood sugar quiz. It was totally unfair and I felt completely ambushed because aren't you supposed to have some kind of warning about not eating Pop Tarts and huge bowls of oatmeal before hand? I think so. Anyway - of course I failed. I don't fail tests, especially not gestational diabetes tests. And I know it was because I ate loads of Gummy Sweet Tarts (TM) the night before and the above mentioned items for breakfast.
They didn't tell me what my level was so I wasn't sure how serious the situation is. I tend to get paranoid about health things anyway so I jumped to the worst possible conclusion - that I have to subsist on grilled chicken, water, and tofu for the next 8 1/2 weeks. How totally gross would that be? I know, right.
Thankfully my dad is diabetic. Not that I'm thankful that he's suffering. I'm thankful that he has all the finger pricking stuff and the testing strips and a neat little blood sugar reading computer.
Total aside, I'm visiting my parents for the week and I have the kids with me because it's Will's Easter break this week. Since my bed rest status has been upgraded (downgraded) I've been ordered to stay in bed as much as possible and if I'm caught out of bed doing such forbidden tasks as shopping, laundry, picking up children over 5 lbs, or arguing with my first grade son "The Lawyer" I'll be made to feel incredibly guilty and perhaps even brow-beaten by husband and doctor. (It's a total conspiracy).
Back to the blood sugar. So I'm visiting my parents. I pepper my dad with questions about diabetes for hours after we arrive at my parent's house. Understandably, he gets tired of this after a while and offers to put an end to my worry by giving me a blood test in the morning. My dad is the coolest because not only is he a deacon who can Baptize my babies but he can also test blood. The next morning I get up and he's waiting with his finger pricker. I almost didn't let him do it, chicken that I am. But then I remembered all the shots and blood tests I've had over the last year and figured that if this is something he does several times a day, it can't be that bad.
And it wasn't.
I hardly felt it.
My blood sugar that morning was 98. It's not great. But it's also not crazy high. I guess the range of normal is between 70-110... or something like that. So it's normal. We'll see how the 3 hour test goes next week.
Another total aside, my mom totally suckered me into coming to visit with promises of lots of help and time in bed but so far I'm up and about nearly as much as I am at home. The biggest difference being that the kids are into more things and complaining of boredom. Well, only Will is bored. But he has a perpetually bad attitude and complains about nearly everything so this is to be expected. Mr. Cubby is in heaven playing with his baby cousin.
Monday, March 17, 2008
28 Weeks
I'm eating Easter candy. (It's not Easter yet, shhhhh). They're gummy Sweet Tarts -quite excellent. I give them a sweet tart thumbs up. I love gummy sweet tarts. Just can't get enough.
So getting right to the important stuff. The babies were getting along fine at my last two dr. appts. The last check was three or so weeks ago. The boy is two weeks ahead of the girl again, weighing in at 2lbs 10oz. The girl is 2lbs 3oz.
I go in for my next twin scan/ measurements during the first week of April.
I have not been blogging as much as of late for several reasons. 1. Too busy. 2. Fingers and wrists swollen in carpel tunnel-like manner. 3. Babies enjoy pushing into my ribs and it's incredibly uncomfortable while sitting in an office chair. 4. Lack of energy is astounding and naps take precedence over all else.
My belly size has officially surpassed (as of 27 weeks) my first pregnancy belly size at 38 weeks (right before I went into labor w/ Mr. Cubby). As have my thighs. My contractions are back as of my last dr. appointment. I'm pretty sure she put some kind of magic voodoo spell on me because I had almost no contractions and boundless energy for three weeks before I went in to see her and then BAM - the day I go in to see her, (and John rats me out for doing too much) I starting having contractions again.
And let me just say, they're not very nice contractions. They're uncomfortable and kinda hurt. Whatever - I'm totally not complaining - just commenting - and speak of the devil, I'm having one right now. I always feel the contraction pressure a lot harder on my right side. That's the side where the boy is. I should wrap this up... since my fingers are also swelling to the size of pickles.
In other news, our vicious dog has Lyme disease. If I had taken him to the vet today, I would have had him put down. Fortunately for the dog my compassionate husband took him. John called me today from the vet to give me the news and I said, "I don't give a crap that the dog has Lyme disease" just at the vet was walking into the room - and oops, he didn't tell me I was on speaker phone. I'm so not a "dog is a part of the family" person. In my defense, at the time I didn't realize that Lyme disease can cause kidney failure in dogs - so now I'm all about treating it - if for no other reason than to keep my rugs smelling like dog fur rather than dog pee.
Our oldest/ eldest son, also not so lucky - strep - AGAIN. Both dog and boy are on antibiotics. I feel like supermom with this strep diagnosis because it totally came out of the blue. Will came to dinner looking a bit tired and his face was flushed. That's all it was. But supermom instinct kicked in and I felt his head with the therMOMeter hand. It felt feverish, yes it did.
Our first attempt to check his temperature with an actual thermometer ended with a reading of 107.2 - say what! The battery was dying. I found the second thermometer and got a more reasonable reading of 100.9. Then using my power of super observation I detected that his voice was more Kermit-like than usual, indicating swelling. I asked if his throat was sore and at first he said no - but then after swallowing a few times a realization came over his face and he said, yes indeed his throat was sore. Faster than you can say "Jesus is not a mongoose" John was on the phone with our favorite doctor, got an appointment for "right now" and ta-da, treatment was started last night thus insuring that Will would be back in school in 24 hours missing only one day rather than two.
This final story also involves Will. Seems he's started sleep walking. The first incident was timed in the most unfortunate way. I was watching The Ghost Whisperer. I thought it would be stupid but it turned out to be scary and I can't stop myself from watching it. So I'm watching what was probably the most frightening episode - there's a crazy preacher with red eyes - and right when the music was getting creepy I hear the gate at the top of the stairs rattling. I'm home alone, mind you. John is out walking the dog. The kids have been in bed for at least an hour. I jump off the couch and make my way toward the noise - creepy music still building in the background. It's dark in the foyer. I call out. There's no answer. Oh my gosh. I'm totally sure it's a ghost coming to kill me. Then I flip on the light in the foyer and look upstairs. And there, at the top, trying to open the gate is Will. He looks a little spacey.
I call to him and he slowly raises his head and looks at me. No joke. It was so scary. I start up the stairs and ask him questions, Are you OK? (Yes) Did you have a bad dream? (No) Do you need some water? (No) Do you have to go to the bathroom? (No) etc. He's only giving me yes/ no answers and he's got this odd, far-off look in his eyes. Think of any possessed/ ghost child from any horror movie. Finally I say, "It sounds like it's time for you to go back to bed." He tilts his head to the left and says, "Yes," and goes back to bed. He was asleep as soon as he got in bed.
When John got home I told him what had happened. About six days later it happened again. This time John intercepted him, questioned him and found out that Will was up "Looking for someone to play with." This whole sleepwalking thing is really freaky.
So getting right to the important stuff. The babies were getting along fine at my last two dr. appts. The last check was three or so weeks ago. The boy is two weeks ahead of the girl again, weighing in at 2lbs 10oz. The girl is 2lbs 3oz.
I go in for my next twin scan/ measurements during the first week of April.
I have not been blogging as much as of late for several reasons. 1. Too busy. 2. Fingers and wrists swollen in carpel tunnel-like manner. 3. Babies enjoy pushing into my ribs and it's incredibly uncomfortable while sitting in an office chair. 4. Lack of energy is astounding and naps take precedence over all else.
My belly size has officially surpassed (as of 27 weeks) my first pregnancy belly size at 38 weeks (right before I went into labor w/ Mr. Cubby). As have my thighs. My contractions are back as of my last dr. appointment. I'm pretty sure she put some kind of magic voodoo spell on me because I had almost no contractions and boundless energy for three weeks before I went in to see her and then BAM - the day I go in to see her, (and John rats me out for doing too much) I starting having contractions again.
And let me just say, they're not very nice contractions. They're uncomfortable and kinda hurt. Whatever - I'm totally not complaining - just commenting - and speak of the devil, I'm having one right now. I always feel the contraction pressure a lot harder on my right side. That's the side where the boy is. I should wrap this up... since my fingers are also swelling to the size of pickles.
In other news, our vicious dog has Lyme disease. If I had taken him to the vet today, I would have had him put down. Fortunately for the dog my compassionate husband took him. John called me today from the vet to give me the news and I said, "I don't give a crap that the dog has Lyme disease" just at the vet was walking into the room - and oops, he didn't tell me I was on speaker phone. I'm so not a "dog is a part of the family" person. In my defense, at the time I didn't realize that Lyme disease can cause kidney failure in dogs - so now I'm all about treating it - if for no other reason than to keep my rugs smelling like dog fur rather than dog pee.
Our oldest/ eldest son, also not so lucky - strep - AGAIN. Both dog and boy are on antibiotics. I feel like supermom with this strep diagnosis because it totally came out of the blue. Will came to dinner looking a bit tired and his face was flushed. That's all it was. But supermom instinct kicked in and I felt his head with the therMOMeter hand. It felt feverish, yes it did.
Our first attempt to check his temperature with an actual thermometer ended with a reading of 107.2 - say what! The battery was dying. I found the second thermometer and got a more reasonable reading of 100.9. Then using my power of super observation I detected that his voice was more Kermit-like than usual, indicating swelling. I asked if his throat was sore and at first he said no - but then after swallowing a few times a realization came over his face and he said, yes indeed his throat was sore. Faster than you can say "Jesus is not a mongoose" John was on the phone with our favorite doctor, got an appointment for "right now" and ta-da, treatment was started last night thus insuring that Will would be back in school in 24 hours missing only one day rather than two.
This final story also involves Will. Seems he's started sleep walking. The first incident was timed in the most unfortunate way. I was watching The Ghost Whisperer. I thought it would be stupid but it turned out to be scary and I can't stop myself from watching it. So I'm watching what was probably the most frightening episode - there's a crazy preacher with red eyes - and right when the music was getting creepy I hear the gate at the top of the stairs rattling. I'm home alone, mind you. John is out walking the dog. The kids have been in bed for at least an hour. I jump off the couch and make my way toward the noise - creepy music still building in the background. It's dark in the foyer. I call out. There's no answer. Oh my gosh. I'm totally sure it's a ghost coming to kill me. Then I flip on the light in the foyer and look upstairs. And there, at the top, trying to open the gate is Will. He looks a little spacey.
I call to him and he slowly raises his head and looks at me. No joke. It was so scary. I start up the stairs and ask him questions, Are you OK? (Yes) Did you have a bad dream? (No) Do you need some water? (No) Do you have to go to the bathroom? (No) etc. He's only giving me yes/ no answers and he's got this odd, far-off look in his eyes. Think of any possessed/ ghost child from any horror movie. Finally I say, "It sounds like it's time for you to go back to bed." He tilts his head to the left and says, "Yes," and goes back to bed. He was asleep as soon as he got in bed.
When John got home I told him what had happened. About six days later it happened again. This time John intercepted him, questioned him and found out that Will was up "Looking for someone to play with." This whole sleepwalking thing is really freaky.
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