E. coli in my snatch

So, apparently I’m harboring a huge colony of e.coli in my snatch (or at least someplace in my urinary tract). They ran the urine culture three different times to be sure it wasn’t just contamination (because apparently if you don’t, um, clean yourself properly before peeing all over your hands in a cup, then the results can be flawed). But the nurse who gave me the most recent results chuckled at the notion that it was contamination, so even though my doctor is out of town, I’m being placed on good old fashioned antibiotics. They’ve reassured me that this is totally safe for the babies, so off I go to fill the prescription. In theory this will make me feel better, though since I had no symptoms I knew of, I don’t know if I’ll really feel the difference. I mean, sure, I had the whole frequent urination thing, but I kind of attributed that to, you know, the pregnancy.

In other news, we’ve been venturing out into the world of normal people, just a bit. We took our first trip to the baby superstore, where J actually had the energy and the focus to look at cribs and strollers and pack-n-plays and swings and the whole nine yards. I’ve been collecting ideas of what I might want for the abstract case of actually getting that far for a couple of years now, so it was nice to look at stuff with some semblance of actual purchasing possibility. Except that I was insanely jealous of all the normal people who had a much bigger selection of, well, everything, because they don’t need to fit two cribs into one room, or two kids into one stroller, or two carseats into one car. (I know some of that isn’t actually true, since there were a fair number of people clearly working on baby #2, perfectly spaced about 2 years behind the first.)

I also went to my first prenatal yoga class, which was full of the cutest pregnant women ever. We went around the room at the beginning with name, how far along, and one thing we’re looking forward to after the baby, and all of these 24-32 weeks and looking smaller than me women were a little nauseating. I know part of it is that I wasn’t remotely skinny to begin with, plus I’m short so I just look round all over, especially when I’m sitting crosslegged on the floor, but c’mon. It was still a nice class, though. Short, but both a little bit of a stretch and at the same time relaxing.

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I’m working on a longer and more thoughtful post about telling and who gets to know what and who thinks to ask. Basically, the number of people who just think this is super cool and peachy keen and are totally not clued in either to the possibility that it was a long road to get here or that it might be a long road from this point forward. It’s just really weird. But more on that later.

Show(ing) and Tell(ing)

For once in my life, I appear to be somewhat normal. At least in comparison to those worth comparing myself to.

Ambivalence about pregnancy? Check. Ambivalence over telling people? Check. Trying to figure out who to tell what? Check. Guilt over the twins? Check. Fear of how we’re going to do this? Double check.

I’ve also started showing. I’ve been, um, snug in the waist for several weeks now, and bought my first pair of stretchy-waist jeans a while ago, but with the right shirt, I didn’t look all that different from my former non-skinny self. Maybe even less-skinny than usual, but not definitively pregnant. But in the past week, I think I’ve ‘popped’ (or whatever people call it - though not into a cute little ‘bump’). I’m still not huge or anything (though the phlebotomoist who drew my blood the other day* said “13 weeks? You’re just 13 weeks? Are you sure?” and when I told her it was twins, she said “Oh, that explains why you’re so big.” Hmmm.

Here’s the thing: I’m glad to be showing. It makes it a bit more real -- believable -- tangible. It also makes it significantly more public. I told my boss a couple of weeks ago, because I thought that was necessary. I’ve let the news trickle out bit by bit at school and work. (Apparently not slowly enough, since when J met my work colleagues at an event last week, every one said something to the effect of “Nice to meet you - and congratulations!” which I think he found a bit disconcerting.) And my mom was a bit hurt since I had made her promise not to tell anyone, and just released her a few days ago. (My dad took the release much more as I’d hoped - he’s glad not to have to keep it a secret, but he’s not going out of his way to tell people. When it comes up, or seems like the right moment, I’m sure he’ll tell my sibs and my uncle and whomever else. And that’s fine. Plus, we had a rather bizarre conversation about how far along I am, and why they count based on LMP instead of conception, and so how far am I really. It was kinda cute.)

Point being, the secret is slowly trickling out into the world. Or, if I’m in a cab with my MIL (we’re in Vegas with the in-laws this weekend - which is its own kind of fun), it’s streaming out to strangers right and left. But whatever.

In other news, on Thursday night my right boob started leaking clear fluid. I know it’s normal, but damn was it weird.

* One of my perinatologists - I have two because we’re deciding between two clinics still - ordered the full panel of bloodwork for clotting disorders. His reasoning is that I’ve been on baby aspirin and things have been fine, and it would be better to find out if that’s because it’s helping something clotting-related BEFORE I go off it. It’s a good rationale, and in theory the tests will be covered now in a way they would not have been had the RE ordered them before. So I guess that’s good. I have a long post pending on how to pick a doctor and a clinic (a strange revisitation of my debate about fertility clinics, in some ways) but that will have to wait for another day, as I have a room service breakfast to order to use the last of the hotel credit I earned by pouting about how long it was taking the front desk to fix a basic problem. I hate to whine, but, well, I guess not when it gets me free room service, right?

Friends in need

My dear friend Mudbug, Mr. Mudbug and the darling Baby Bug need our support, prayers and good wishes right now. After an extended stay on bedrest and a somewhat complicated delivery, things finally seemed to be looking up for the Mudbug family, but today Baby Bug was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect for which he will be undergoing surgery tomorrow (Friday). The good news is that he is under the care of a skilled surgeon at an excellent, well regarded hospital. Plus, we all know he inherited his mom’s strength and tenacity, which can only help him pull through this.

Prayers, healing wishes, finger crossing, chicken bone shaking - whatever you do at a time like this is needed right now.