Kids, Fainting and Epidurals - the Hospital Tour

The holidays rushed through like a rabid pack of wolves, and now all I have to show for it is a bigger belly and probably an extra 20 lbs.

Seriously, how much weight am I going to gain with these babies?

Since my last post I worked a lot, had 406 family obligations, had a doctor appointment which was uneventful (except for the gross glucose test) and a tour of the labor and delivery unit at the hospital.

First with glucose. It’s gross. Orange drink is gross, it’s too sweet, and it made the babies hop all over the freaking place for like three hours. Baby A even kicked the doctor when he was trying to get a heartbeat. Apparently she’s doing just fine.  B is good too, and had the good sense not to kick people trying to help you.

Then to the hospital visit.

Husband and I had to preregister for the tour, which I did a few weeks ago. The sheet I had from the

Notice how they hide the stirrups. 

doctor’s office said in really large print at the bottom “ADULTS ONLY.” So naturally I got there and someone brought their kid.

Not awkward at all considering they said “vagina” in pretty much every other sentence.

We got to see the NICU (which I’m praying to avoid), the nursery (which is apparently where babies go when Mom needs sleep) and then the labor room. There we saw the monitors, had a discussion about who is there, why they’re there, and listed to a lady argue with the nurses about why she can’t have more than two support people in the room with her while she’s delivering, including her daughter (the one on the tour).

Seriously? How many family members do you want hanging around looking up your hospital gown as you push your kid into the world? I don’t know how close she is with her family, but my husband and maybe my mother will be there, and Husband has strict instructions to stay above the knees and not look at whatever massacre may be happening down there. Mom is a nurse, so she gets to do whatever she wants.

After settling the argument with the lady who wants to have a revolving door put on her delivery room, the anesthesiologist came in to tell us all about the wonders of the epidural and how it works. He gave a detailed explanation of how it would be inserted, threaded, how long it takes and what other options there are. He also mentioned that when they are giving the epidural, no one other than hospital staff and the woman in labor are allowed in the room.

Of course this brought on another argument from someone else on the tour.  While the anesthesiologist and this lady are going back and forth over why her husband can’t watch her be made into something from the Matrix with wires coming out of her back, the guy in front of Husband stumbled a little. And then just went backwards like a tree being cut down.

Husband caught him, laid him down on the ground, and all the medical personnel in the room rushed over, while one explained to the argumentative lady (again) that men passing out is exactly why they cannot be in the room when the epidural is being administered.  If this guy is passing out from the description, then he’s going to have a rough time on delivery day.

We moved the tour along, now with one patient and two ladies all argued out, I then found that because of the twins, the chances of me delivering in one of the nice, shiny delivery rooms we had been in is slim. Instead I will most likely deliver in the OR, which we couldn’t see because it was being cleaned. The reasons are the high chance of c-section, and the fact that I need twice the staff on hand because I have twice the babies. 

Immediately a woman came over to me and started telling me all about her husband’s cousin who had twins and the fertility treatments, and asking about my problem and what kind of treatments I had…. Ummm, none. I’m apparently just really lucky and managed to get pregnant with twins like 10 minutes after I went off birth control.

She awkwardly got huffy and walked away. Apparently my answer wasn’t good enough for her.

Brushing it off, we went and saw the recovery rooms, talked about hospital food, visitors, and how Dad can sleep in the chair next to the bed. My husband leaned over and says, “You know I’m going to have to go home and take the dog out.”

And so concluded the hospital tour. Two arguments, one person fainted, a rude and unnecessary question about my fertility, and planning around the dog. I have the feeling everything in my life from here on out is going to be all kinds of crazy like that.

Registry Nightmares

My husband and I finally finished registering for the shower. Or at least in-store finished. I’m sure there’s still some online tweaking that needs to be done, but for the most part we can cross that nightmare off our to-do list of baby crap.

Seriously, I’m not going to be able to sleep for like a month after spending 2 hours in Babies R Us.

There’s nothing wrong with the store. The store itself is great, their staff was super nice and helpful,

I won't have this Pinterest worthy nursery.

and they gave me this little goody bag of stuff I still haven’t had a chance to look at. They also stock everything under the sun, which totally overwhelmed Husband and me to the point where he was instantly irritated and I wanted to cry.

Who knew there were 3,825 different variations of nipple, or that everything in the world only comes in pink, blue and white. White being the only gender neutral color (which we needed since we have an uncooperative twin), and also the worst color in the world for babies.

All baby stuff should instead come in varying colors of poop brown and spit-up beige.

Then there’s the millions of things to make you feel like you’re a bad parent if you don’t get it. Super cute bedding (which they will poop on), Deluxe changing tables with Serta changing pads (seriously, they don’t nap on it, and it will get poop on it), cribs that are hundreds and hundreds of dollars (which they will chew on), and expensive lush rockers that are of no use to me because none of them were wide enough to accommodate me and two babies in a football hold at the same time.

And that’s the other problem. Nothing is for twins. And it’s all a million dollars and ugly. Which means I need to spend two million dollars and look at two of them. Because let’s face it, Baby doesn’t care what it’s looking at. Stars, animals, bunnies…hell, they can’t even focus for the first few weeks, and by the time they’re old enough to identify the shapes on their mobile, they’ve long outgrown mobiles and are instead focused on princesses or trucks or something. Good thing we get to spend $60 on mobiles. Twice.

I may be entirely too practical and cynical to have babies. Plus I don’t think anything is cute and I committed a major nursery fail, but more on that in a different post.

For now I just have to make do, put up with crazy looking baby shit with animals all over it, and apparently pay a premium for the privilege.  Maybe when this is all over I should start designing baby stuff that doesn’t suck.

Growing Boobs

There's so many things about pregnancy that no one tells you, or even better, that they tell you but you don't believe. Like your boobs getting bigger. Sure, they'll get bigger I thought. But seriously, how big can they get?

Porn stars have paid thousands for the breasts I currently have because of these babies. And now people are telling me they're just going to keep going.

I was never small chested. I started the pregnancy as a 34 DDD in Victoria's Secret U.S. sizing, so bras were already a challenge. Well, add some baby hormones and suddenly I'm almost off the charts and look like a pregnant Jessica Rabbit (assuming she was 5'4" and wore leggings a lot).

Miranda Kerr post baby. Kill me. 

Now try to find nursing bras to fit large melons. Good freaking luck. Apparently all the women in the world who have ever had babies or planned on breastfeeding started out as perky B cups and swelled to a C cup that somehow defies gravity and doesn't require an underwire.

All you people are assholes.

And why doesn't Victoria's Secret make nursing bras. Isn't it now a requirement for the Angels to pop
out a baby three weeks before the runway show and then walk in next to nothing on live television, pointing out to the whole world how they have superhuman genetics?

Luckily, a friend tipped me off to Cake Lingerie, who not only has nursing bras that have support and under wires, but they come in amazingly large sizes like E, F and G. And by amazingly large I mean sizes that fit me.

Recently Zulily had a sale on Cake Lingerie, and I jumped at the chance to buy one of their bras on sale to give it a try. I got a 36 E. I mean seriously, how far up the alphabet are we going to go?

The bra arrived the other day, and I'm pretty sure it can double as a parachute for a child in emergency situations. I tried it on and the fit is great. The band fits well and the cups are soft and fold down easily. It also has an underwire for a little added support.

My Cake nursing bra. Cute and functional. 

The best part? It doesn't look like a nursing bra. Nothing about it says "I'm a milk machine and these are my udders." Husband was even impressed when I modeled it for him, commenting on how well it fit and how not ugly it was.

Well shit, there was a problem I didn't forsee. It fit. Now. And I'm 23 weeks. If everyone is right then my breasts still have some more growing to do. That means I should have gotten an F or a G.Thank god someone makes that or I'd just have to tape them up and leave openings at the nipples.

Target missed the target

Things get harder when you're pregnant. Like everything. Specifically walking long distances. It sucks. 

Yesterday I met my dad and younger sister at the Christkindle Market in Chicago, which was awesome, and got me home a little early. After doing some work, I suggested to Husband that we knock out registering at Target since we have a little extra time in our evening. Plus the shower is the end of January and December is kind of a shit show with the holidays, so I figured sooner was better than later. 

After stopping at Walgreens and waiting an abnormally long time for a prescription, we went to Target and I began the aggravating process of starting a registry. 

At this point my legs and feet were already hurting from the day and I was wondering why I hadn't worn flats. After completing the registry I stood in line waiting for the scanner and was asked "what I want" by the delightful woman behind the counter. After asking for a registry scanner she informed me they hadn't charged their scanners and the best I could get was 42% charged.

I took it, hunted down husband and found the baby section, which is basically on the other side of the store from customer service, scanned three items and then the scanner died. 

Cussing, I left Husband to look at electronics and began the mile long trek across what had become the biggest store in the world, and got back to the customer service desk. 

"My scanner died."

"Yeah, I told you that was going to happen. The other one isn't charged, so you have to come back." 

"Should I make an appointment?"

"No. You don't need an appointment. Just come back."

"And take the chance I'm going to have a total waste of time again?"

"Yeah."

Really? What a bitch. 

So I left the scanner on the counter and began the long trek back past the infant stuff to find Husband in electronics, muttering and cussing the whole time. When I finally found him I had to explain how our whole trip was a waste of time and we have to come back and register for our little girl and uncooperative BabyB another time. 

Invitations to the shower go out sometime this month and I still agent registered anywhere.

By the time we walked back out to the car I was so pissed and ready to go home, that Target will be lucky if I ever come back. Maybe registering there isn't worth it. Especially if I can only register for three things in a visit. 

Hello and Welcome

My mother thinks I'm funny and told me I should write a book. While most mom's probably think their kids are smart and/or funny, mine apparently underestimates how easy it is to get a book deal.

So what's so damn fascinating about my life? Probably nothing. I'm mid-thirties, married, house job, and pregnant for the first time with twins. Yeah. Twins, there was a hell of a surprise.

Someone asked me after I announced it if it was planned. Because people plan for twins. No. It was just a thing that happened. My husband and I decided that we'd "see what happened" and what happened was that a couple minutes after I went off birth control I was pregnant with twins.

The sisters and a 21 week belly at Thanksgiving.

Mom always said I was an overachiever.

So here I am, 22 weeks and a day pregnant, and getting larger by the day. Husband says my belly button resembles an eye, and he teases me about my need to eat every 2-3 hours like a Hobbit.

In addition to twins, we recently found out that Baby A is a girl. Honestly as long as they're healthy I don't care, but it's really exciting to know what one is.

Baby B, who has been the trouble maker the whole time (moving around and such) was way less compliant during the ultrasound and remains a mystery.

So, true to Mom's wishes  decided to start keeping a journal, and I'm sharing it with the world. So join me here to follow along. Join me in snacking, alcohol withdrawal, that pain in the ass walk from the train to the office, freakish weight gain and rapidly expanding size.

I don't offer any advice because I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but that will at least make things a little more interesting.