Posts Tagged ‘pregnant’

Last week had the potential to be a really shitty week. A really shitty Christmas week.

Julie’s 24hr urine test showed a “higher than the doctor expected” amount of protein (526mg) in her urine and after a few more higher than normal blood pressure readings at our respective doctor’s offices our High Risk OB group was a ginger’s pubic hair away from admitting Julie into the hospital with preeclampsia. She would stay in the hospital until our family increases from 3 to 5.

We’ve gone through tears and crying about the thought of her actually missing Christmas morning with our son.

We’ve run over the logistics of having a wife in the hospital 50 minutes away where our son isn’t welcome because of the bullshit swine flu. Also factoring in that he’s doing really really well in his new bed.

We’ve realized that there is nothing more painful than not being able to see your kid.

We understand the need for hospitalization,  but we also understand that 32 weeks isn’t our perfect scenario to meet our children for the first time.

We wanted to avoid it until it was absolutely necessary.

So we took some precautions with Dr. Losure’s help at High Risk OB at Delnor Hospital.

Julie has been taking her blood pressure readings at home with a recommended wrist cuff (we got it at walgreens for about 40 bucks). She has been given the list of symptoms of preeclampsia to watch out for and has taken it down from about a 5 on scale of 1-10, to about a 2.

Meaning I allow her to wipe her own ass and feed herself.

On Christmas Eve we met with our other doctor group and our doctor there was happy with the bp readings Julie has been having, as well as the lack of any significant protein in her urine using the chincy little dipsticks they use.

He understood the strain a Christmas in the hospital would put on Julie if it wasn’t completely needed, so he scheduled another 24hr urine collection/blood test, and tomorrow we will find out the results of those tests.

We’re hoping we can add a few more weeks to our little baby farm up in Julie’s magic vag of enlightenment.

We will find out tomorrow. Until then…

We had our 27 week OB appointment yesterday and while Julie’s growth is steady and looking good, her activity level is about to be drastically altered. I keep telling her that she’s having twins. She keeps ignoring me.

During our visit with Focus On Women (*which won’t be Focus On Women next time we see them in two weeks), the doctor went over the usual questions like:
*Do you know the sexes of your twins? Yes doctor, you ask us that every time.
*Any swelling of the hands or feet? No. Just this huge ass belly yo.
*Any hard time breathing? Of course. Especially when my husband’s pullin’ 2 footer’s with the local hooligans.
*Any grouping of contractions of 4 or more per hour? Well, yeah.
*Any pain? Yes, everywhere. Not to much here, or here, but right here *she makes circular motions around the bell*
*Are you going to the mall later? No, keep spelling mister.

The trend I’ve noticed as the semen donor, housekeeper and wife flipper (when she gets sweaty I flip her over and powder the moist side) is that when she has a stressful day at work, she is a contraction machine until the following morning. A rough day at work doesn’t mean she’ll have a relaxing time at home because it takes her nearly 12 hours to get back to Juliostasis (Julie’s homeostasis). So in actuality, a bad day makes for a bad week because right after she’s calm again she has to go right back into the stress festival at work.

So I let the doctor know my concerns about these contractions potentially leading into a pre-term labor situation and the fact that her blood pressure shouldn’t be poked and prodded by an up and down work environment. I wanted her off her feet and I said so.

The doctor was already planning on bed rest for Julie at week 28, we just didn’t hear him actually SAY it so I wanted to at least say my piece.

My’s pieces weres saids.

Julie will not be returning to work after the Thanksgiving holiday to SIT AND INCUBATE.

Regardless of her boredom and the potential stress from not being able to wipe her own ass, home is the where she’ll sit and I’m extremely relieved the doctor was already heading in that direction.

If he wasn’t on board, I might have had to throw a tantrum like my soon-to-be two year old is now perfecting the art of.

Thank the vas deferens my Julie will have time to RELAX before we never, ever, ever get the chance to again.

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So Tuesday’s appointments were aight. Freal. They be straight up gangsta like the rest of em. Nothing out of the ordinary or particulary shocking. No prodding by doctors without asking my permission. Nobody offered me any taffy.

WAIT. YES THEY DID.

Rita at Safekeeping: High Risk OB at the lovely and spacious Delnor Community Hospital offered me a piece of taffy which was orange in color, yet tasted like black licorice. Had I known her longer or had she been looking at MY vagina all those times maybe I could’ve told her, but I HATE BLACK LICORICE. Rita is now on my “scowl upon seeing” list that now has 4 members. All three of those members are either on the Chicago Cubs or are part of the management of the Chicago Cubs. So Rita holds some pretty shady company.

BUT, yes, we had the 25 week growth scan and saw the twinsies rockin’ and rollin’ all ’round the ute. Everything is right where it should be and the kids are growing nicely.
Leah is an amazing 1lb 13oz.
Mason is a svelte 1lb 110z.

Mason can already be heard saying things like:

• “You sure you wanna’ eat that Leah? That might add on another ounce or three. Imjussayin.”
• “Don’t worry about it, it’s probably just water weight, or my liquid feces.”
• “You want me to eat half of that? No? Figures.”
• “Damn, I am getting RIPPED doin’ these spine pull ups! What are yo- Oh, eating?”
• “Leah I don’t think you’re fat. What? No, no one said anything, I just want you to know that I do not think that you are a fatty. Fatty.”
• “Hey, you go first out the chute over there so there’s plenty of room for me to drop out. K?”
• “Can a fetus get some frickin’ room? Huh? JEEZE MA NEEZE!”

As you can read, my son is already the picture of sarcasm, humor and what I refer to as “shit wit” – meaning, you give people shitty witty banter in exchange for rude looks, kidney jabs and the occasional back of the head slap.

While peekin’ around inside the womb hotel we got a few pictures. And when I say pictures I mean actual frickin’ “this is what my daughter looks like” pictures.

We learned that if there is a great profile shot and at least a few centimeters of fluid between the profile and the sac wall, you can hit this magic button on the machine and you get a frickin 3D image. I mean, we got one with our son when he was around this age, but holy CRAP this is unreal.

I never thought I’d say this, but: “Son? Your sister is cuter than you are. In the womb.”

CUTE!

And well, Mason wasn’t having all the bright lights and paparazzi, so he remained face down towards Julie’s spine, which is quite the spine I must say. We couldn’t get an accurate face shot, but I can assure you the following image will someday make the Yorkville chief of police furious as it will be driving by at 30 miles an hour out the window of a passing Ford Fusion.

MOOOON!

Yes, my unborn son just mooned the crap out of you. TAKE IT! TAKE IT! TAKE IT!

As you can see, the censorship board got ahold of the image.

My kids are adorable, even if I can only judge one of their looks by the shape of their chunky little old man ass cheeks.

Hey sports fans & all you creeps interested in my wife’s cervical length!
Yes, I called you creeps! Are you offended? Offended enough to send me 5 dollars cash to apologize? I DIDN’T THINK SO!

Back to our Cervix Length Update ladies & gentlemen!

Yesterday, November 3rd, 2009, Julie was measured at a whopping 5.0cm!

What does that mean? Well, it means that all of the communication that I have had with her nether regions are actually paying off! The time and energy I have devoted to speaking directly into the birth canal have made the impossible happen!

YES! The cervix seems to be GROWING! Yes, the doctors all say that is indeed impossible, but fuck them! They have no idea of the power of positive thinking and one on one discussions with a vagina!

These “Conversations With A Crotch” will soon be a part of a nationwide movement for all husbands of ‘preggo with multiples’ broads to get down at eye level with the baby-spewing-hole of their loved one and repeat the following poem in a Danish accent:

There once was a cervix named Flo, it’s loved ones urged her to grow.

When she was given the powers that be, she took over rank of the va-jay-jay and was soon in charge of the power to pee!

Shine on you crazy cervix, for you hold the everlasting power of birth, remain in your strength and length to keep my kids up in there, not yet on this earth.

Until the doctor says those magic words, dear cervix named Flo, I will give you the attention you deserve.

Yes, I know. I have serious problems, but what would you do when the only thing holding your kids in their mom-cubator is a tiny few centimeters?

Me?

I take my role as a supportive father very seriously and will do anything to ensure a safe arrival to their destination.

And yes, that includes reciting ridiculous poems to my wife’s crotch hole.

fin.

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Yesterday, we drove up north again to visit with high risk OB at Delnor to check the cervical length again. With Julie’s bout of food poisoning, constant contractions and work related stress on top of just “having twins” they are quite adamant about getting consistent measurements to get some trending data to rely on. Last week it went from a 5.2 cm to around a 4.3cm, and yesterday Jules was at a 4.7cm.

We learned that the cervix isn’t actually growing, but possibly relaxing, as its size is dynamic and constantly changing. But from the comments of the nurse and doctors at high risk, Julie has herself a beautiful looking cervix.

Thank frank!

So with just under four months to go in Julie’s twin pregnancy, we are trying to keep her relaxed around the house and lessening her stress level with her constant work worries. A few of the people we’ve met on Twitter have told us that they were put on bed rest at week 20 and had their twins at week 30, and knowing that their babies survived and are thriving is inspiring. But that doesn’t mean we’re loosening on our expectations for Julie’s cervix, NO SIR.

I’ve made up a schedule for her cervix to follow every day to make sure it keeps intact and performing up to par for the remainder of the pregnancy. This includes a lot of positive ego boosting and one on one conversations with the cervix.

People might find it odd, but I’ve spent the last few days speaking directly to the cervix in an encouraging voice:

“Who’s my favorite cervix? YOU ARE!”

“We’re counting on you Vix. You are our Obi Wan in this particular juncture.”

“Only you can prevent forest fires.”

“Don’t play like the Chicago Bears, be a winner!”

“You inspire me to be a better cervix, even though I’m a human male with no chance of ever being or owning my own cervix.”

Hey, I didn’t say I wasn’t completely drunk on lack of sleep and continuous worry, this is therapeutic! For me AND the cervix. It’s just a bit uncomfortable for our guests to see me speaking at my wife’s crotch all the time.

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