...at the ultrasound clinic at Mt. Sinai.
But before we get to that stage, there is the stage where I find out that I am with child. As SMckay rightly accuses me, I always think I'm preggos. I take pregnancy tests like they cost nothing (they don't). You know what's super-profesh? Taking a pregnancy test at work!
I was semi-convinced (not for the first time, for literally the 10th time) that I was with child and went with Dr. Rei at lunch and bought a not-cheap test and then took it at work because I'm a first-rate spoiler and have to know everything, all the time. It seemed to show that I was preggos. So I brought it home with me and grabbed the mail, and was trying to be all funny, and said to the Dotytron (who was dancing with the Big Yam to Eric Dolphy in his studio), as I was rifling through the mail, "We got this weird delivery notice..." AND THEN WHA-BLAM, super-profesh pregnancy test in yo' hand!
But the line was super faint so we were happy and then immediately, WTF WHY DID WE EVEN WANT THIS - THIS IS THE WORST and were second guessing the results. So I took two more dollar store ones which showed progressively fainter results but all in the "you're with child" direction. We put the tests on our dresser and decided to never speak of it again.
A week after, I got hand foot and mouth, so I called the Roomie and had to prematurely spill the beans because I wanted to know what I could take for an analgesic and what I couldn't. And of course I called the midwife clinic because I wanted to make sure I got in...but then we didn't tell anyone for a bit because we were semi-convincing ourselves that if we didn't talk about, then s**t wouldn't get real.
Up until three weeks ago, I've just been doing my thing. A little more tired than normal at night, but otherwise, asymptomatic (which is what happened last time). Then I convinced myself that I was having a molar pregnancy (which is when it's not a little twerp in there, but an abnormal mass of cells), so when I saw my midwife for my first visit, I was telling her my hypochondriac fears and she was like, "well, are you feeling sick?" (well, technically, first she was like, "where did you even hear about such things?") and I said no, and she said, "Usually, when people are reporting that they're feeling really sick, we either think twins, or we think molar, so I can reasonably assure you that you're having a healthy, single, baby."
LIES! ALL LIES!
Anyway, cut to me, lying on the ultrasound table, as our stern, unfriendly, taciturn ultrasound tech was looking at the screen. She was super-straight-faced the whole time, which wasn't reassuring. Then she asked me if this was my first ultrasound. Yes. Then if there was a history of multiples in my family. Uhh...no. What? Then, "How would you feel if I told you there were twins?" Dotytron: "Are you serious?" Me: *burst into tears* Ultrasound tech: *pause* "Congratulations"
I basically lay on the table and cried, interspersed with hysterical laughter and me saying, "Oh my god. I can't even. I can't EVEN..." on repeat. The ultrasound tech went back to her taciturn, not reassuring ways. I was like, are they even okay in there? According to the Dotytron, the two twerps were bouncing around like two Mexican jumping beans on an 80s water bed and seemed to be fine.
Thoughts running through my head:
- OH MY GOD. WE NEED A MINIVAN. LIKE NOW. WE HAVE NO MONEY.
- OH MY GOD. WE ARE GOING TO HAVE TO PAY FOR TWO KIDS IN DAYCARE AT THE SAME TIME. WE HAVE NO MONEY.
- OH MY GOD. REMEMBER THAT STEPHEN KING BOOK (this one) WHERE THE GUY WAS COMMITTING MURDERS WHILE HE WAS BLACKED OUT AND IT TURNED OUT IT WAS HIS PSYCHOTIC TWIN WHO HE HAD ABSORBED IN UTERO CONTROLLING HIM WITHOUT HIM KNOWING? WHAT IF THAT HAPPENS TO ME? SUB-CONCERN: WE HAVE NO MONEY.
LOL! Then we called the Roomie, after much back and forth, because the thought of multiples generally makes her want to barf, for a few reasons: 1) the Roomie is generally scared of child-rearing and considers one child a daunting task. 2) the Roomie is freaked out by premature babies and multiples tend to be preemies. She used to get this neo-natal intensive care for medical health practitioners newsletter delivered to the house that we called "jellybean quarterly" because every cover had like one of those naked mole rat preemies on the cover and we were all thoroughly grossed out by it.
I was also crying because I was sad for the Big Yam and I was sad because I knew this meant a hospital birth and that I might not be able to have midwifery care any more.
As my ladies, Mhui and G at work have reassured me, that second-child sadness for your first kid is normal and would happen even if there weren't two little twerps in there. But one of them said something wise - your first kid is the only one of your children who will have had the benefit of both parents' undivided attention and that's pretty special.
Anyway, now that we've processed things we're in full on PROJECT MODE and are trying to mobilize and get things in order so that we can decommission the Dotytron's studio and move it into the basement and then move the Big Yam into that room and get another crib for the nursery. We're also trying to beg and borrow whatever we can in terms of peripheral stuff and I've started keeping an eye on Kijiji for dual strollers and whatnot.
The good thing is, the things that we did invest in for the Big Yam hold their value well and are very sellable. Like our Uppa Baby is going for $400 on Kijiji. I'm also a psycho who likes to be extra prepared for everything so we've had back-ups of a bunch of stuff (bottles, cloth diapers, swaddles, receiving blankets, etc.) that will easily cover us for two. I was contemplating selling our crib and then getting 2 mini-cribs for a smaller overall room footprint, but then when we thought about it and realized that the next step up would be a bunk bed, and that babies outgrow mini-cribs faster (especially when you tend to have giant babies), we realized a regular sized crib would hold us over until we felt comfortable putting a toddler/kid in the top bunk.
Basically, the only immediate concern now is affording a minivan, somehow, somewhere.
Down the line it's going to be child care, somehow, somewhere.
According to the radiologist, we've got monochorionic diamniotic twins which means they share a placenta but each have their own amniotic sac (which is good, because if they were all in one sac they could get tangled up). This means they are most likely identical twins. This kind have nothing to do with heredity or family history of multiples...it's a fluke of nature. The risks are greater with multiples and because they share a placenta, there's a risk of them developing Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome (TTTS) where one twin hogs all the blood from the donor twin and the donor twin is small and sickly and doesn't develop normally and the recipient twin has stress on its heart because of the all the extra stuff it's grabbing (it's like the movie Twins).
I'm kind of freaked out by that and the prospect of going early. I'm also freaked out because I'm supposed to be eating an extra 600 calories a day and I'm not anywhere close to that (I'm using my Fitness Pal to track my consumption) and I'm not like, super-sized hungry or anything...I'm just kind of normal hungry, even if I am craving fettuccine alfredo like mad.
The good news is: my midwife said she wasn't going to send me away. I had a big spiel all ready to go with her to convince her to keep me (chief amongst my points was that, as she knows, I'm really really really good at giving birth and being pregnant - if my experience with the Big Yam is anything to go by) but she said that she would consult with an OB and send me to this multiples clinic at Sunnybrook but that she would still be the main person coordinating my care and will probably be the one delivering the babies if everything is a-okay down there and I don't need a c-section (with the OB in the room, of course). Yay! I love my midwife. She rules. I'm under the care of the multiples clinic from 20-32 weeks because they're a level III (or something) hospital and they're equipped to handle jellybean quarterlies. After that, I revert back to my OB and midwife combo at the hospital closest to us.
As you all know, I find reading about pregnancy and most parenting-related things monumentally boring, but because I'm being swayed by the "multiples are a special case!" malarkey and so I read some books but they're the most fear-mongery things in all of Mordor and so I'm going to stay away from that for the time being. It's just stressing me out that I'm supposed to be gaining a lb a week and that by 20 weeks I should have gained 25 lbs and that my uterus is the same size as a woman, having a single baby, but if that woman is EIGHT WEEKS AHEAD. I also don't want to have jellybean quarterly so I don't know what to think. I'm just doggedly eating small meals and doing my thing and hoping for the best.
So yeah, THAT HAPPENED.
We spent the weekend with my sis and her family. The Big Yam's face when he's surrounded by his cousins is beyond cute. He just beams with a big, open-mouthed smile. He knows he's surrounded by his own peeps. I'll throw up some photos tomorrow.
Tonight for dinner we had this baked orzo eggplant casserole-type thing with caesar salad on the side, by way of the Ottolenghi cookbook.