I have been shocked and surprised by the comments people (many of them close friends and family) since I found out I was having twins, early in Tri1. One of my close friends said to me in the same conversation I told her the news "oh but yes there's that vanishing twin syndrome isn't there?" I of course knew that and had just been filled with dread and doubt at the hospital so just did not need to hear it from anyone else.
Then from early on I was told I was at risk of losing Twin2 and a friend said to me, trying to comfort me, a mental health worker "well I guess humans just aren't designed to have twins." I was also told by several people to "focus on the strong one." I restrained myself... but really you would never say that to someone with two children if one was ill so why is it OK to say it in utero. From the moment I laid eyes on them my heart and focus has been entirely fixed on willing that both will be born in good health. I don't have the option of picking and choosing which one I care about most.
I also have lots of people who love to tell me (often in the same conversation that I am announcing they are twins) that I must never dress them the same (actually I might do sometimes, I will teach them how to celebrate their unique sameness as much as their difference), that they must be in different classes at school (because of course there is lots of evidence that unecessarily separating them from their most natural support system is beneficial - NOT), that they are likely to have underdeveloped speech (this last one is a misnomer and the only reason why twins are more likely to have slower speech development is because they are at higher risk of preemie birth and the developmental milestones preemie babies should be but often aren't measured from their gestational due date rather than DOB).
I also get lots of people who ask if I used IVF. I didn't, but really, is my fertility any of your business?!
People are strange. I think in pregnancy social boundaries shift in a peculiar way anyway - so like suddenly it's OK to make comments about your weight or your skin. With twins then that shift seems to occur ten fold.
I feel utterly blessed to be having two babies so please stop pissing on my fireworks.
Wednesday, 8 June 2011
Saturday, 9 April 2011
The Itch
Saturday April 9th
Ok so I am feeling beyond patient with my sobriety. I think if I actually had two babies to run after, squawking and demanding my attention it wouldn't be so bad. Instead I have had a lazy quiet weekend which would have usually resulted in me and your Dad finding ourselves in a patch of sun where the drinks were flowing. My Facebook page is filled with multiple status updates about afternoons in beer gardens, back yard BBQs, beach bars all fuelled by my favourite dancing juice.
Perhaps worse than that I generally have an itch about where I am and what I am doing. It's not the time really for a a big wake up and shake up call and yet I know when I have this kind of an itch it doesn't usually settle until I resettle. I love this city and yet my heart is craving for a different life style, somewhere by the sea, somewhere where the sun isn't a novelty, somewhere where balmy days in April don't make headline news.
This dissatisfaction is all a good distraction from the real concern of the week and that is the impending OSCAR test this coming Tuesday. I am dreading it. I am dreading the day, from the procedure down to those last moments where I am sitting waiting on the results. I so desperately want my babies to be OK.
Ok so I am feeling beyond patient with my sobriety. I think if I actually had two babies to run after, squawking and demanding my attention it wouldn't be so bad. Instead I have had a lazy quiet weekend which would have usually resulted in me and your Dad finding ourselves in a patch of sun where the drinks were flowing. My Facebook page is filled with multiple status updates about afternoons in beer gardens, back yard BBQs, beach bars all fuelled by my favourite dancing juice.
Perhaps worse than that I generally have an itch about where I am and what I am doing. It's not the time really for a a big wake up and shake up call and yet I know when I have this kind of an itch it doesn't usually settle until I resettle. I love this city and yet my heart is craving for a different life style, somewhere by the sea, somewhere where the sun isn't a novelty, somewhere where balmy days in April don't make headline news.
This dissatisfaction is all a good distraction from the real concern of the week and that is the impending OSCAR test this coming Tuesday. I am dreading it. I am dreading the day, from the procedure down to those last moments where I am sitting waiting on the results. I so desperately want my babies to be OK.
Thursday, 7 April 2011
Bellini Babies
Thursday April 7th
Hooray, we reached the 13 week mark and the fruit chart on the internet says you are both the size of peaches now. Mmmm Bellinis. Funnily enough it's not the cocktails and the wine that I so coveted that I miss most. I have this odd craving that comes and goes for a really malty, hopsy ale. I don't drink ale usually and yet glugging a tumbler full really appeals. Not that I am drinking at all.
I don't have anything against women who do drink in very moderate amounts during pregnancy it just wasn't for me. Mainly because I have never been a particularly moderate drinker. I have never been the kind of person who would sedately enjoy half a glass of wine with dinner. More like half a bottle or more. I have always enjoyed getting well a bit tiddly and so have taken an all or nothing approach to drinking most of my adult life. I can quite happily go without it but if I drink I like, well to drink. Hence my abstaining totally.
Hooray, we reached the 13 week mark and the fruit chart on the internet says you are both the size of peaches now. Mmmm Bellinis. Funnily enough it's not the cocktails and the wine that I so coveted that I miss most. I have this odd craving that comes and goes for a really malty, hopsy ale. I don't drink ale usually and yet glugging a tumbler full really appeals. Not that I am drinking at all.
I don't have anything against women who do drink in very moderate amounts during pregnancy it just wasn't for me. Mainly because I have never been a particularly moderate drinker. I have never been the kind of person who would sedately enjoy half a glass of wine with dinner. More like half a bottle or more. I have always enjoyed getting well a bit tiddly and so have taken an all or nothing approach to drinking most of my adult life. I can quite happily go without it but if I drink I like, well to drink. Hence my abstaining totally.
Sunday, 3 April 2011
Maternity Clothes
Sunday April 3rd
This is about the third time I have gone shopping for maternity clothes. Each time I have returned home empty handed and feeling ever so slightly grouchy. My bugbear with maternity ranges is that a) most shops don't have them, they may in their catalogues or websites but rarely in store and b) where they do they are so dowdy I would really, well rather not. So like I say I haven't, until now, relented.
The problem is I am fast running out of things to wear. I went through my clothes rack the other day taking out and folding up and packing away clothes that won't be of any use for another year. I still only have a pot belly sized bump, like you might have after over indulging at Christmas. But there's been a general thickening round the waist band and round my boobs which means that most of my clothes now make me look like a freshly stuffed home made sausage.
After huffing and puffing at pairs of jeans with thick elasticated waist bands I compromise and buy two dresses a size larger than I normally would, with adequate space for the bump for I hope at least another month or two.
I finish off the expedition with a hot choc with cream and chocolate flakes, just to help the bump on it's way.
This is about the third time I have gone shopping for maternity clothes. Each time I have returned home empty handed and feeling ever so slightly grouchy. My bugbear with maternity ranges is that a) most shops don't have them, they may in their catalogues or websites but rarely in store and b) where they do they are so dowdy I would really, well rather not. So like I say I haven't, until now, relented.
The problem is I am fast running out of things to wear. I went through my clothes rack the other day taking out and folding up and packing away clothes that won't be of any use for another year. I still only have a pot belly sized bump, like you might have after over indulging at Christmas. But there's been a general thickening round the waist band and round my boobs which means that most of my clothes now make me look like a freshly stuffed home made sausage.
After huffing and puffing at pairs of jeans with thick elasticated waist bands I compromise and buy two dresses a size larger than I normally would, with adequate space for the bump for I hope at least another month or two.
I finish off the expedition with a hot choc with cream and chocolate flakes, just to help the bump on it's way.
Saturday, 2 April 2011
The Twin Specialist
Friday 25th March
Your Dad's in Berlin so it's my first trip to the hospital by myself to see the twin specialist. I find my way through a rabbit warren of corridors to the Fetal Meds Unit. I felt fine until now, sitting here waiting with women with partners or their Mums all around me.
Eventually I am called through by a suave middle aged man in scrubs, my consultant. He skims through the history of the last few weeks before asking me to climb onto his bed without (hoorah) having to take my trousers off. He splurges the gooey jelly stuff all over my belly and prods me. He moves quickly through the examination checking off bits of you babies to the nurse like a dentist checks off teeth to a dental nurse. "A leg, another leg, two legs, a hand, two hands". He's moving so fast I see only fleeting glimpses of you from different angles.
There's a big plasma screen up on the wall so I lay back and watch these flicking images of you both. Both of you have flipped over, both facing upwards now. You, my little shy bean are not so shy any more, wiggling and jiggling about and your arm is going up and down to your face like you are toning up your drinking arm. I want to take the prod thing off him and just spend some moments looking at you.
You, my little Laurel are still causing some concern at a good 20% smaller than your sibling. He starts by saying that siblings can be different sizes and that this could just be a difference. He tells me I need to hold onto that information the most. Next he tells me that it is possible for eggs to be released and fertilised up to a week apart. This contradicts the consultant on Tuesday but he assures me he knows what he is talking about. Finally, and I know he is just about to start with the information I want to hear least but will most likely hold most he tells me the difference could be down to a congenital abnormality.
The next visit will be for OSCAR testing, (one stop clinical assessment of risk) which is a thorough test for downs syndrome, which will include looking at the nuchal fold. He starts talking to me about my options from there on in if the risk is high. I hold myself together and thank him for his time.
I sit in the waiting room and feel strangely sad and guilty for wanting so much for you not be high risk, for wanting you to be normal. I work in the field of disability and spend so much time reassuring parents that their child is just different, just as valuable. And yet here I am wishing with all my might for you to be normal.
Your Dad's in Berlin so it's my first trip to the hospital by myself to see the twin specialist. I find my way through a rabbit warren of corridors to the Fetal Meds Unit. I felt fine until now, sitting here waiting with women with partners or their Mums all around me.
Eventually I am called through by a suave middle aged man in scrubs, my consultant. He skims through the history of the last few weeks before asking me to climb onto his bed without (hoorah) having to take my trousers off. He splurges the gooey jelly stuff all over my belly and prods me. He moves quickly through the examination checking off bits of you babies to the nurse like a dentist checks off teeth to a dental nurse. "A leg, another leg, two legs, a hand, two hands". He's moving so fast I see only fleeting glimpses of you from different angles.
There's a big plasma screen up on the wall so I lay back and watch these flicking images of you both. Both of you have flipped over, both facing upwards now. You, my little shy bean are not so shy any more, wiggling and jiggling about and your arm is going up and down to your face like you are toning up your drinking arm. I want to take the prod thing off him and just spend some moments looking at you.
You, my little Laurel are still causing some concern at a good 20% smaller than your sibling. He starts by saying that siblings can be different sizes and that this could just be a difference. He tells me I need to hold onto that information the most. Next he tells me that it is possible for eggs to be released and fertilised up to a week apart. This contradicts the consultant on Tuesday but he assures me he knows what he is talking about. Finally, and I know he is just about to start with the information I want to hear least but will most likely hold most he tells me the difference could be down to a congenital abnormality.
The next visit will be for OSCAR testing, (one stop clinical assessment of risk) which is a thorough test for downs syndrome, which will include looking at the nuchal fold. He starts talking to me about my options from there on in if the risk is high. I hold myself together and thank him for his time.
I sit in the waiting room and feel strangely sad and guilty for wanting so much for you not be high risk, for wanting you to be normal. I work in the field of disability and spend so much time reassuring parents that their child is just different, just as valuable. And yet here I am wishing with all my might for you to be normal.
Friday, 25 March 2011
First Baby Pictures
Tuesday 22nd March
I turn up at the EPC and the waiting room is empty. Two nurses sit around gossiping barely and dunking biscuits in their tea.
A brisk middle aged consultant calls me in to the room and I slip onto the bed. Despite drinking twice the recommended amount of water my bladder appears empty and so we resort to the vaginal scan. Just minutes in and she happily announces both are in there wiggling about. Your Dad has tears in his eyes. She turns the screen towards me and one at a time she shows me you both. Both of you are wiggling and both your hearts are beating proudly.
She tells me the idea that you could have been conceived at different times isn't possible but that it may just be that you are structurally different. "Like Laurel and Hardy" she says. One of you is showing up at 10 weeks and 5 days and the other at 9 weeks and 2 days. That seems pretty consistent growth to me.
She starts going into all the "ifs" and "buts" and talks about chromosomal abnormalities being like having an incomplete encyclopaedia. I have tuned out.
I leave light as a feather clinging on to my first baby pictures of you and you are most definitely both shaped like babies now with heads and little feet and hands. Happy in my heart.
I turn up at the EPC and the waiting room is empty. Two nurses sit around gossiping barely and dunking biscuits in their tea.
A brisk middle aged consultant calls me in to the room and I slip onto the bed. Despite drinking twice the recommended amount of water my bladder appears empty and so we resort to the vaginal scan. Just minutes in and she happily announces both are in there wiggling about. Your Dad has tears in his eyes. She turns the screen towards me and one at a time she shows me you both. Both of you are wiggling and both your hearts are beating proudly.
She tells me the idea that you could have been conceived at different times isn't possible but that it may just be that you are structurally different. "Like Laurel and Hardy" she says. One of you is showing up at 10 weeks and 5 days and the other at 9 weeks and 2 days. That seems pretty consistent growth to me.
She starts going into all the "ifs" and "buts" and talks about chromosomal abnormalities being like having an incomplete encyclopaedia. I have tuned out.
I leave light as a feather clinging on to my first baby pictures of you and you are most definitely both shaped like babies now with heads and little feet and hands. Happy in my heart.
Sunday, 20 March 2011
The Spirit of Spring
Sunday 20th March
Spring has most definitely sprung. The sky is blue today and the air clear and warm and full of the smell of new life. The cherry trees are filling with their delicate temporal blossom. People are uncurling from their long hibernation.
And my body seems to be in keeping with the spirit of spring. Of course I knew I was but now I really feel like I am. I mean, my waist has been thickening for some time and my boobs have been, well blooming but now they have entered this new stage of sensitivity and I look like I have had enhancement surgery. Most significantly though I have this bump and it's like suddenly, before I am ready to tell, my body is announcing to the world that I am pregnant! All of a sudden I look like a pregnant lady and it's like a full on outward realisation that I am pregnant.
This must be a good thing though right? In my heart there's a glimmering beam of hope for both of you. Your Dad's eyes fill with pride and adoration at my changing shape.
Spring has most definitely sprung. The sky is blue today and the air clear and warm and full of the smell of new life. The cherry trees are filling with their delicate temporal blossom. People are uncurling from their long hibernation.
And my body seems to be in keeping with the spirit of spring. Of course I knew I was but now I really feel like I am. I mean, my waist has been thickening for some time and my boobs have been, well blooming but now they have entered this new stage of sensitivity and I look like I have had enhancement surgery. Most significantly though I have this bump and it's like suddenly, before I am ready to tell, my body is announcing to the world that I am pregnant! All of a sudden I look like a pregnant lady and it's like a full on outward realisation that I am pregnant.
This must be a good thing though right? In my heart there's a glimmering beam of hope for both of you. Your Dad's eyes fill with pride and adoration at my changing shape.
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