Tuesday, December 7, 2010
You Should Have Heard The Hours of Deliberation Putting Together the Target and Babies R US Registries
Update: Less than a month after we thought we got an amazing deal by buying this used, the manufacturers costs went down and a brand new one could be purchased for literally $100 more than what I paid for this one. And, we learned that a major component of this stroller was broken and the whole thing could fall apart. Thus, after spending $100 fixing that we paid the same price as a brand new one. Why didn't I see that coming? I should know by now.
The car is certainly not the only place I have had to re-invent space. Maybe you missed it but we live in NYC. By New York standards our apartment is considered very decently sized. In the rest of the world, it's tiny. We also pay more than you do for your house. We have 2 bedrooms however, the 2nd bedroom is extremely small and has no closet. Welcome to the big apple bitches. So there is a lovely little Youtube Video of how our apartment used to look:
Eric is being very patient but honestly for every bag or box I undo I have to go through a whole room. For instance, there is a bag of bottles and bottle sanitizers and stuff that needs to go in the kitchen. Well, that's easy enough. No, actually, it's not easy enough. I have to re-arrange the entire kitchen in order to make space for the baby stuff. Every bag is a different room so it is certainly slow going. Someday, the desk will be out of the office, the bed and dressers from the 2nd bedroom will be in the office/living room, 3 cribs and a dresser will be set up in the 2nd bedroom. Yeah, eventually. So, if anyone is just dying to do some serious re-arranging and organizing come on over!! Also, all that furniture that has to be moved and put together and whatnot, yeah, Eric and Bradford are going to have fun with all that over Christmas. And they thought this was going to be a vacation. As if.
This is why it took me so long to update this silly little blog. My doctors have decided to use me as not only a patient, but also an experiment in psychology, messing with my mental state every time I go in. Several check-ups ago they saw something in the cord flow on the ultrasound. The doc who was on ultrasound duty at the time basically told me that he felt it was completely insignificant at this gestational age. Phew. He then proceeded to tell me all the disasterous things that it could mean if it continues, of course, ending in certain death for everyone involved (as these doctors always end with). He then assured me I shouldn’t worry about all the things he just discussed because it was probably nothing. Being the cool-head that I am, of course, I immediately started to worry. Panic really. Then he says we will do weekly ultrasounds from now on to watch it. That actually made me happy. In the front office he tells the schedule guy (who we will most certainly get to later…oh will we ever) to schedule me in a week or 10 days. Whoa cowboy, didn’t you say a week? So then he looks at the schedule and puts me in for 13 days later. Seriously? You put me in a state of complete panic, re-assure me by telling me I’m coming back next week and then don’t schedule me for nigh-on 2 weeks? I am pretty sure this whole operation is merely a continuance of the medical “research” started by Nazis all those years ago. I call my doc just to make sure this is fine and apparently it is (yeah, they are ALL in on it). I return to work just in time to dress up like a pig and join in the Halloween party (because clearly this was what I was in the mood to do).
Two weeks later I go back and low and behold, everything is completely fine. The tech is really talkative and funny. This was the first appointment where my cervix was checked. Part of that process involves pushing “like you’re having a bowel movement.” I did that and farted. While the lady has the vaginal ultrasound thing in there I totally farted. Maybe this is why I have a dog instead of friends. Anyway, moving on, I am scheduled to see good old Devine at this appointment, who seems appalled that her partner even brought up the cord flow. She tells me that what they saw is completely normal for such an early gestational age. This is about the time I want to a. sing hallelujah that everything is fine, and at the same time b. scream that Cee-Lo Green song at the top of my lungs.
She did put me on weekly ultrasounds however. I got to spend a significant amount of time watching Lovey (works the front desk, is way funner than Hot Stuff) try to re-arrange schedules with every department in and out of the practice trying to fit me into various appointments for the next several weeks. Finally, she had everything booked for the next month and I went home with a list of appointment times and places (there are several locations and buildings within the hospital grounds that I end up at). Remember that this took a really, really long time and was extremely frustrating for her and everyone on the other end of the phone ‘cause that is going to be funny later.
So, I go in the next week for my appointment and once again everything looks hunky dory (sp?). So good in fact, that the doctor decides to change the appointment schedule to every week and a half! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Remember all those appointments that Lovey set up, and cursed under her breath? Yeah, she now has to cancel all of them and re-set up appointments every week and a half. It was pretty amazing and hilarious. I just watched, listened, laughed and let her know that I would try my hardest to need it changed again next time. While I was sitting there, one of the nurses came out and asked another, “Whose urine is that in there?” Ah, yes, the age old question.
I had a whole glorious week with no appointments. It was great. Then, I went in on Tuesday for an ultrasound. Well, my cervix appeared to have shortened. The doctor came in and, being as she was a part of the psychological experimentation, told me not to worry. She then told me all the wretched and devastating things that could happen if it continues to shorten. Ending in, YOU GUESSED IT, certain death for everyone involved. Great. Lucky for Lovey I already had a fetal echocardiogram scheduled for the following Tuesday and an ultrasound on Thursday of that same week. I set off for a week of worry. On this same day a certain sister-in-law had a ridiculously adorable new baby so I drove out to their house in the ‘burbs of Jersey. It is kindof a long ride. About 15 minutes after I get there, Ultrasound Scheduling Guy (let’s call him Ug) calls.
“Hi this is”
“I know, the ultrasound guy, I recognize your voice. That’s how few friends I have.”
“Uh, yeah, are you still at the hospital?” (He doesn’t get my humor, probably because it's not funny)
“No….” (At this point I am mostly confused.)
“Well, can you come back?”
“Uh…” (Now it’s unadulterated panic.)
“ Nothing is wrong, we”
“Good grief, you really should have led with that”
“Yeah, we just forgot to do the dopplers”
“Oy, well, I am out of town right now. Is Thursday ok?”
“Great, when do you want me there?”
“How early can you come”
“I can’t work anymore so honestly I am WIDE open”
“Ha Ha, okay well, how about 8:30?”
“Great. See you then.”
So, on that Thursday I go in for a second ultrasound of the week. Of course I am in the waiting room til after 9. I should know by now just to show up half an hour late for every appointment. Of course, everything is fine and dandy. The cervix is longer and baby A is kicking the crap out of it. Thank heaven I can’t feel that yet. So, I get to be relieved for a while. At least until I go in on Tuesday for my fetal echo.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
a. Hyper-Religious, or
b. One of those girls whose life dream has been to be a mom, who majored in Family Studies because she knew that her one goal was to raise the perfect family.
There are several factors that influenced my thinking including; every show on TLC, the fact that the really religious people I know always seem to know several sets of multiples and are generally less surprised by the news, and, did I mention every show on TLC?
Well, clearly, I don't fit my own stereotype. People were beyond shocked that I ever got married, let alone that we are now having like 60 babies. Also, before all this happened I asked Eric, what I thought was a completely reasonable question, "What if they come out and are black?" I was a little serious but, in his reply, so was he. "Well, that'd be okay. I prefer black kids anyway." I was shocked, cause honestly, I do too. I never expected us to agree on such an important issue.
The good part is that everyone thinks you are suddenly interesting- like any of you would be reading this if I was writing about my adventures with Fenway everyday. That interest only lasts about 3 minutes though so don't worry, after that I still let my socially awkward, nothing to say, self shine through.
Here is a sample of reactions from people:
The Woman On The Train
Scene: Me on the subway reading, When You Are Expecting Twins, Triplets or Quads. Woman looks at my book.
Woman: Oh, are you expecting twins, triplets or quads?
Me: Yeah, triplets.
Woman: Oh, wow. That is wonderful. I always wanted to have a lot of babies at once, as many as I could.
Me (out loud): Well, that's a pretty bad idea.
Me (inside my head): I am pretty sure that's a personality disorder. I think Octomom has it. You should probably seek help.
Scene: On the phone. My mother had of course already told him.
Me: So, what do you think of the news?
HIm: Wow. That is a lot of babies, like a lot of babies. People with twins are tearing their hair out. Three babies is going to be a LOT to handle.
Me: Uh, thanks for the encouragement.
Him: Yeah, that's a lot of babies.
I don't just get their reactions about the triplets. I get strangers reactions to my current lifestyle- being super fat, annoyed and having to pee every six minutes.
First, the barista at Starbucks judges me every time I order a steamer with whole milk. Of course, first they don't even know what it is even though it's on their menu so I get to handle all that confusion. Maybe they are disgusted that I am paying $3.29 for flavored milk, maybe its the whole milk choice but either way I get that "look" from them, that judging look. Stop judging me baristas. You work at Starbucks. (Disclaimer: I highly respect baristas and have often fantasized about working at Starbucks).
My friend Grace and I went to see a play, a one man show to be more precise, so it wasn't exactly a broadway production. We had excellent seats, front and center. Being the incredibly thoughtful people we are, after noticing that NO ONE was sitting in the side sections we moved to a side section in case I had to get out and pee. Maybe you missed it but there was NO ONE else sitting there so we sat in the 2nd and 3rd seats, leaving one seat by the row empty. Well, of course, this woman chooses that seat of all the empty seats in the house. I politely warn her that I may have to get out in the middle. After she rather rudely asks me why I tell her that I am pregnant and have to pee frequently. At this point I am using my cutesie, sweetheart voice, trying to be genteel and nice. Her response? "Well, you should drink less." To which I respond, "Well, either way, I might bother you if you sit there" in not such a cutesie voice. Here is what I said in my head, "Listen Beast, there are 3 babies, 3 amniotic sacs, 2 placentas (one of them rather large) and heaven knows what else all sitting extremely low and squishing my bladder so unless you want me to pee on you, LAY OFF!"
After that, I pretty much told everyone. At work, the first thing people kept asking was, "What are you going to name them?" Hold on people. I have known they are girls for exactly a day. I have never felt them so much backflip. How am I supposed to know what their names are? I don't believe in naming kids in utero (yeah, it's my religious belief, back off). I see it like this, how can I know what they are supposed to be called for the rest of their lives when I don't even know if I like them, let alone what they are like?
However, you guessed it, Eric is a decision maker, a man of action if you will. So, we compromised. We came up with three names that we plan on using and WILL NOT assign them to anybody in utero. Also, in case they pull one out and we look at it and go, "Nope, it's none of those names", we also made an emergency list.
I'm going to tell you them, however, this is not a promise. Also, if you don't like them don't give me any guff. The last thing I need right now is your lip. I teach 2nd grade all day, I get enough snotty comments about how fat I am.
The middle names will be family names. Campbell, Garner and Aideh (the initals of all Eric's grandparents). Many of you who know us can clearly see old Silverstein's sentimental influence here but it's probably good. At least they will have something nice to say in school when they have to report on where their names came from. The collaboration worked out. Left to my own devices, they probably would have just had to say their names came from mommy's head. Also, if we left Eric to HIS own devices they would have been named Red Sox, Hate Yankees and Dave Matthews- all of which would be fine on boys but rather uncouth given that they are girls.
Completely Off-Topic Sidenote
The other day I saw a man and the back of his shirt said, "Where Yankee Fans get their Yankees." I spent like 3 solid minutes coming up with what the front must say. The only thing that made sense to me would be, "The Dominican Republic." I never found out what the real front said.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Here's the deal. There were 2 special blastocysts (fertilized eggs) hanging around my uterus. One of them got stupid. I don't know if it was drunk or high but it split in two. Riiiiipppp.
Here's what we found when we got that first ultrasound (these pics are actually from the 8 week ultrasound):
See that. That's two up there and one down here. Altogether that makes 3. Three babies. Like, actual babies.