I know, I know, I had a very short lived comeback. I fear I may have lost all four of my readers, but I’m going to take a chance that at least two of you will read this with some interest.
Here is what’s been happening in my world.
I’ve decided to become a stay at home mom (a/k/a housewife) for the near future. The thought of going back to work and taking care of two babies is too daunting. I was out of work for so long, it would only be reasonable that the firm would want me back soon, and at 150%. Who could blame them? Um, well, my babies probably could when they never saw their mom. And, speaking of babies. . .
We are the proud owners of two brand new baby boys. The NotGuilty twins were born on August 1, 2007 at 1:45 and 1:46 pm via C section (they suck, by the way, don’t be fooled by the glamour of the easy birth, the recovery is terrible). We had hoped for a regular birth (you know, through the vajayjay) and it seemed possible since both Baby A NG and Baby B NG were head down. . . until the Monday before their birth. Baby B NG decided to lie sideways across the top of my belly. He (well, i didn’t know he was a he at the time) was also not growing the way he was supposed to so at 37 weeks and 5 days, after 16 weeks of bedrest, they came into the world screaming up a storm.
A NG weighed 6lb7oz and clearly was getting the lion’s share of the Steven Colbert’s Americone Dream Ice Cream. Baby B NG weighed in at 4lb13.5oz. He was obviously just getting the ensure and the occasional salad. They are both so teeny weeny (but 19 and 18 inches long, respectively) that I can’t believe they actually let us take them home. I mean, what were they thinking? This afternoon, husband was moving Baby A’s lips ventriloquist style and singing “What’s new pussycat”. I mean, it was hilarious but are we supposed to be doing that?
We are delighted yet clueless about all of this stuff. Not only do these guys not come with manuals, but they are also pretty fragile looking and you don’t want to do stuff that might break them. Especially our lightweight. He is like a little chick with scrawny arms and legs that we are trying very hard to fatten up. They are clearly not identical; A NG is dark haired and brown skinned (yeah, now we know what color they are!) and B NG is a little pink think with a body covered in light brown fur. They also already have different personalities that you can already see. A NG is Mr. Sleepy and B NG is Mr. Hungry. They are both miracles and so precious, that there is no doubt that every minute of anxiety, depression, and muscle atrophy was worth it and if I had to, I would do it again in a heart beat.
Oh, and that whole breastfeeding thing is not as easy as it looks, especially not with two. It makes bedrest and taking the bar look like child’s play. It’s not like you just take off your top and stick your boob in the kid’s mouth. Oh no, you need consultants to make sure you are doing it right, or to let you know why and how you are doing it wrong. You need special equipment and you need to pump and prime your body. Yeah, natural it might be, like riding a bike.
I am going to try to be better about blogging, but needless to say it won’t have much of a legal slant for a while. Or, maybe I’ll be able to post about things I truly care about that are law related. We’ll see what direction this new life of mine takes me in, I hope the four of you stick around for the ride.Share on Facebook
The fact is, I have been on the internet quite frequently since I’ve been placed on bedrest. I’ve found that Dr. Google is an excellent source of information – most of it leading to distress and trauma, but still, information nonetheless. In case you all are interested in information a woman, currently pregnant with twins via IVF looks up on the world wide computer, here is a taste:
Oh yeah, the list can go on and on, but I’ll let it go at that. So, for those who think my posting is due to a lack of love, fret not. I do love you. I’m just too busy being mental.Share on Facebook
There is a show on Discovery Health or TLC or some channel that I watch way too frequently these days called “Jon and Kate plus 8.” Now, I’ve never seen that show in its entirety, but the premise is that there is a couple – Jon and Kate – and they have 8 kids. Six year old twins and two year old sextuplets. Jon is Asian and Kate is your typical whitey. Anyway, the kids look nothing like Kate. In fact, at first I thought, oh, look, Kate has adopted 8 Asian children. But no, they are, in fact, the fruit of her loins.
Then last night I was watching Discovery Health “Special Delivery” (there should be a warning on that show “not suitable for viewing by hysterical women with complicated pregnancies”) and there was a woman named Ebony, who was African American, and she was married to a white guy and they had a baby and named her Ivory. Ivory is white. Not as white as Michael Jackson’s kids. But, her name suited her well.
So, this led me to think about our babies and what color they will be. I am sort of brown. Darker than an Italian, but lighter than Indian. You know, like regular Afghan coloring. Husband is white. So, what color will our kids be? Will they be white? Will they be brown? Will I have kids with white skin and blue eyes and if I do, will I recognize them as coming from me? And, what would be even more bizarre is if one of them was white with blue eyes and one of them had dark skin with brown eyes. Would husband love the one who looked like him more than the other one? And, would I feel the same? Or, would we not even notice, like parents of ugly children who think their kids are the cutest in the world.
Does Kate wish her babies looked more like her, and does Ebony wished the name Ivory actually had some irony to it? They don’t ask them those questions on TLC or Discovery Health. They should. That’s the stuff that this hysterical woman with a complicated pregnancy wants to know.Share on Facebook
It’s so exciting to see the changes that have been made to blogger since I’ve been away. The little blurb on the bottom now informs me that “Now blogger saves your drafts automatically!” Wow! In six months, technology has increased by leaps and bounds so that when I write a fifteen paragraph long post it won’t get lost in bloggerland? I feel like Rip Van Winkle!
I’m sure there is a lot going on in the world that I don’t know about. You’d think with all this time on my hands I’d be reading newspapers, gathering information, writing a book. Nope, none of the above. I even think knitting is too thought provoking for me right now. I mean, man, that is HARD. It has its own language and everything. Hats off to you hipster knitting chicks. I mean, its almost like rocket science. Almost.
I am now 28w3d pregnant. Since these are IVF babies, I know the exact date of conception, 11/25/2006. I even have a picture of the embryos. There were three of them. We’ve decided, as a little joke, we’d share that picture with the twins at some point and ask them “okay, now which one of you ate your brother” I mean, life is all about trauma inflicted upon you as a child, right? How many folks can say their parents accused them of in utero cannibalism?
I neglected to tell you all about the single childbirth class that husband and I went to. First of all, I am scared to death of getting these babies out. I mean, I know that they have to come out, but labor scares the crap out of me. C sections are also scary because I watch a lot of Discovery Health and I don’t know how I feel about being awake and alert while having major abdominal surgery. Anyway, someone who has a primal fear of childbirth should not take a childbirth class when they are barely 20 weeks pregnant, even if they are pregnant with twins and are soon to be bedbound. It is scary. They show you things you shouldn’t see. I mean, scary things. I won’t go into details. But, suffice it to say, we never went back.
So, there we are watching the video on different positions for labor — oh, you know that yoga/exercise ball you use? Yeah, now its called a ‘birthing ball’. Or you can walk around or get on all fours. Uh huh. You are supposed to make moaning sounds too like “ohhhhhh” “ahhhhhh” (however, they do not encourage you to yell “make it stop!!! Oh dear LORD!!!! What the Fuck!!!! MAKE IT STOP!! Like the woman in the birthing suite next to mine on one particular hospital trip. But that’s a story for another day.) Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, apparently one of the suggested methods of labor is called ‘slow dancing’ whereby you hold on to your labor partner and sway side to side a la the junior high dance. Apparently, the music of choice in laboring this way is Michael Bolton. Yes, you heard correctly, Michael Bolton. I am supposed to birth my babies, these precious beings we worked so long and hard to conceive, that I protected with all of my being, that I stayed in bed for for three months – I am supposed to propel them into the world and the first sounds they are to hear are. . .Michael. . . Bolton???
So, yeah, we never went back.Share on Facebook