Yesterday absolutely kicked our butts. All four of our butts, ranging from petite toddler size to hugely-pregnant-with-twins size.
First, it was the one-year anniversary of losing my Aunt too soon. Naturally that cast a crappy cloud on us, especially my Mom. It really just couldn't have been a good day.
Then Bean was up before 6 am. My Mom tried in vain to get him back down, and she ended up rocking him for over an hour. That makes for a tired Bean and a tired Grandma. They did manage to run a couple of errands, but Bean reached his limit before they could hit all the stops. At home, Bean kept asking for food but not eating it, meaning my Mom was busy making meals and then throwing them away. He wanted to be held constantly (this is not new) and also complained that his ears hurt. He was a grumpy little munchkin so she put him down for a nap early. Of course he didn't sleep long, so it was Tired Bean and Tired Grandma: Part Deux all afternoon. And as you know, the sequel is never as good.
Meanwhile I was super uncomfortable just laying bed. Not surprising; I think all moms of twins are ready to post an eviction notice on their uterus by this point, but it makes the days sooo much longer. Every time I stood up, I would immediately get lots of Braxton Hicks contractions. Not painful ones, but still rather fast and furious. Fortunately when I laid back down, they would subside. Nevertheless, I was constantly thinking labor could kick in any minute. I would feel sharp pain now and then, but when I would check my belly, instead of feeling a contraction I would get a swift kick from one of the boys. I'm glad to know they are active, but dang... ouch.
DH came home from work with take-out (and a flower for my Mom, the big sweetie) and that's when the evening got really crazy. A woman came by to look at the china cabinet we posted on craigslist. Fortunately she did want it, and she and her son spent a while going in and out of the house loading it into their truck while my dog yipped annoyingly at them from behind a baby gate. Bean sporadically complained about various body parts hurting... from his knee to his stomach to his ears. But in between complaints, he was laughing and playing. We wondered if we should continue with our plan to move him into his new "big boy" room that night -- we'd already put it off four weekends for various reasons, but we wanted to make sure any protests he made were not due to an underlying illness.
Then after dinner I logged into my email and found that I had been hacked. Some jackass sent out spam to every. single. person. in my contact list, including people I haven't spoken to in years. Because nothing says "Hi, howya doin', it's been too long!" like a link to a Viagra advertisement. So then I started panicking, trying to secure my account. I was also worried about Bean's random physical complaints, I couldn't get up and hug him and check him out. Bean's temp was normal, and my Mom and DH suspected it may be growing pains. We decided to see what happened overnight and take him to see the pediatrician in the morning if we were still concerned. Partly due to the stress of the evening, I started contracting like crazy. I was drinking lots of water to stop the contractions, which in turn made me have to pee, which in turn made me contract because I was constantly having to get out of bed.
DH was trying to put out tons of fires at once -- helping me send out emails to everyone in my contact list telling them not to open the link, running virus and malware scans on both computers, writing down the time of all my contractions, checking that our hospital bag was entirely packed, and then heading out to get gas in his car because the tank was empty and we wanted to leave the minivan for my Mom. As much as I'd prefer for the giant mess to take place in DH's car than mine, I was less than enthused about the prospect of giving birth in a stalled out Mazda 3 on the side of the highway.
My Mom, who was ready to collapse by then, had to give Bean a bath because my DH was occupied. When DH got back from the gas station, he was able to take over the Bean bedtime routine. We held our collective breath when DH left Bean in his new bedroom. But this part is worth saying in huge letters because it's incredibly awesome:
Bean cried for no more than 30 seconds when DH closed the door, and then he slept the entire night in his big boy bed without so much as a peep. He didn't wake up until just after 7 am. !!!!!
I was actually worried about him, because that's a mom's job. Worry when they cry out at night, and worry when they don't. DH remarked that Bean is a total rockstar, but I'm withholding judgement on this whole operation until we get some consistency. The way I figure it, either he will regress and start crying at night because he misses his old room and crib, or this will be balanced out in the future by at least one of the twins being a complete nightmare when it comes to transitions like this.
Optimistic, huh? But there's no way I could be lucky enough to have three easy kids. And something about this pregnancy hints to me that twins are challenging.
DH was up late changing the passwords on all of our important web site accounts while I watched a recorded episode of The Marriage Ref, trying to decide if it was cute or just dumb. When he climbed in bed, we both agreed that I would probably go into labor in about an hour, when both of us were in the middle of some much needed REM. But miraculously, we all made it through the night in our own rooms, and so far the morning has been calm. Bean has not complained about any more "hurts," my Mom and DH seem to have recovered from yesterday, and our twins are still happily practicing karate on their mama's insides.
The frequency of contractions and general pressure that I've been feeling for the past couple of days makes me feel like I won't be pregnant much longer. But then again, I said that last weekend, and here I still am. If I make it to tomorrow, I will be 35 weeks along. The average NICU stay for this gestation on my twins forum is 5 days. FIVE! I know I can't count on being that lucky, but the number gives me hope -- compared to the 110 day average at 25 weeks gestation when I first went on bedrest. And I have two IRL friends who delivered singletons at 35 weeks who needed no NICU time and are now a fabulous toddler and preschooler.
It's bizarre to think that at most I have 8 more days on bedrest. I'm already kicking myself for not accomplishing in the past 10 weeks one of the main tasks on my to-do list: read the manual for my new camera and figure out how to use it. Because call me crazy, but I have the sneaking suspicion I won't have the time or focus to do this once the twins are born.
Here's to an uneventful weekend...
Breaking Good by Madeline Ash
3 hours ago