I am 26 weeks which means I have about 10 weeks left.
We found out at my last ultrasound that we have 2 girls!
(Atticus was disappointed. He told me that he asked God for at least one boy. I told him that I asked God for only one baby per pregnancy. God tests us all.)
We have named baby A Louisa which means Fights with Honour. So our new daughters’ names are Beatrix and Louisa.
I am so excited to meet them! (Especially since I found this baby carrier by MiniMonkey that is coming out in November. Just in time!)
But I am also so apprehensive. (And now its on to the complaining – feel free to skip the next few paragraphs if you have a plethora of complaining in your life. I’m looking at you, mom of littles!)
This has been my toughest pregnancy yet. I don’t know if it’s the fact that its twins, or that I have a 2 year old and a 3 year old or that I am in my thirties.
Regardless, I am so tired.
Like so tired that I think 6:30pm is a perfectly reasonable bed time.
Like so tired that after breakfast and morning routines, I think 9 am would be a perfectly good nap time. (My littles disagree.)
Like so tired that my every day tasks seem just oh-so-daunting.
It’s been tough. I like being productive and having projects on the go. But I am not productive. And my projects take forever. I don’t even have energy to crochet, which is ridiculous.
It didn’t help that a twin mama friend of mine told me on Sunday, “Oh you think you are tired now, wait until they are here!” Oh, goody!
My last OB appointment was not encouraging. Things like immediate skin-on-skin are really important to me. Not so much to my OB. She was not encouraging at all with the likelihood of me holding my babies while my surgery is finishing. Both Atticus and Vivien were placed on me and held there by my midwives. I don’t think I realized at the time how much of a blessing it is to have midwives in the surgical room. My OB said that it was unlikely I could have immediate skin-on-skin.
I am the one who carried these souls next to my heart for 9 months. I am who is getting cut open like an offering to deliver them. I am the one who will be feeding them from my own body for the first part of their lives. I think I am the one who should snuggle them. They should be on me.
I cried the whole way home. I am already very nervous about being able to bond with two babies at the same time. It seems rather overwhelming. There is only so much time in a day: how do I make sure they get enough snuggles and hugs and kisses from their momma? What if I snuggle one more than the other without realizing it ?
Then there is breastfeeding. Eiieee. I read that to exclusively breast feed a baby requires 35 hours a week. And I am having 2. That is 70 hours a week of breastfeeding. I hope that I can feed tandem!
Logically, I know these fears are baseless and short-term problems. I will adapt. The surgery will only be 45 minutes and then I will have my babies. My babies will be loved, and kissed, and snuggled. If breastfeeding doesn’t work, I live in a wonderful time in history where I can go 2 minutes down the road and buy healthful food for them.
But psychologically…..I am a bit of a mess.
At church on Sunday, a friend saw me waddle up and said, “gah, I was trying to think of a pregnancy joke and I came up with nothing.” My response was “good, because chances are I would have cried.”
That’s my life now. Random tears. They do not indicate grief, or sadness, or happiness. They indicate myriad of hormones coursing through my body. My littles think I am all the way to crazy. (Will probably does too, but he is smart enough not to say anything.)
I have some cravings, fake cheese being the top of the list. You know, cheese slices, cheese Whiz, that kind of healthy stuff.
Also smoking. That one is a bit weird I tell you, since I have never been a smoker.
Don’t worry, while I imbibe on fake cheese once in a while, I haven’t with the smoking.