Two + Two = Four

By the end of the post your eyes will be bleeding and your math skills will have improved, or rather, you’ll understand my ridiculous clue. Point being, grab a meal and have a seat, this one’s going to take a while. (not that my posts have ever been known for being brief…)

First things first, you know those women who rise from the bed of their lover and just *know* that they’re pregnant? Yeah, I’m not that woman. It would have been nice though. A little nudge from mother nature saying something like “Hey! How ’bout those condoms!?” But alas, she had other plans and it wasn’t until the end of April that I started to get the hint.

My period was due soon so a lot of my symptoms were shrugged off by yours truly thinking that maybe I was just having a really rough PMS patch. I mean, some months are worse than others. One month I want to dance in a field of flowers and the next I just want to watch it burn. This particular month was a moodier one than normal. Everything was pissing me off, making me cry, testing my patience and getting on my nerves. And then someone punched me in the boobs. I walked around most days literally fondling myself trying to make them feel better. I wore sports bras at night because while removing the under wire was bliss, free flopping C-cups does not feel wonderful, especially when walking, sitting down (bounce bounce), going up and/or down stairs, or just plain sitting still while they hung down and tried to touch my belly button. As if that wasn’t enough, showering felt like playing a very odd game of titty twister and dressing was even worse. The day I gagged on a cigarette was the day I knew I was in for a seriously long year. The smell of it was sending me through the roof and the taste was just not satisfying anymore. So one Sunday in late April, before church, I aimed (as best as a girl can) and fired and within 3 blinks of the hourglass… Ryan and I were having a baby.

Before I showed him the test I said, “Are you ready for this?”; he shrugged and said “I think I already know what it says.”

And so it began.

I had smoked my last cigarette and didn’t even know it. Three days later I had my last cup of coffee. And one week later I was running to the bathroom barfing Saltines and cradling my poor swollen boobs. I was beginning to have aversions to the weirdest food, including meat. I could eat (barely) hamburgers, hot dogs, sloppy joes and pizza, but if the meat had a grain and I had to use a knife… hello porcelain. I still have a hard time with it, but thankfully I have discovered some relief thanks to our awesome doctors and a ridiculously hard eating schedule. For a while, I lived on prenatal vitamins and Mrs. Grass’ soup, saltine crackers and hope. (And the occasional cinnamon brown sugar pop tart.) The smell of coffee made my stomach turn over twice. My mom bought me decaf so I could still have a taste of my favorite morning beverage but I couldn’t even think about drinking it without an audible gag. This was a sad day. As were many of the beginning days. I was absolutely 100% exhausted. Naps were non-negotiable. I was going through caffeine withdrawal, nicotine withdrawal, constipation, food withdrawal…. And I was a raging lunatic. I cried all the time. I was scared, worried, frustrated, annoyed, depressed, excited, hopeful, nervous, and nauseated all at the same time. And I had to force myself to throw up. I have a gag reflex and my nausea was unbearable at best, but I was still not able to throw up. I knew if I could it might make me feel better. Even if it was just for a half an hour…I would take it. I remember sitting in the bathroom one day, praying to God to help me barf. I was sobbing, so tired from lack of sleep at night and crappy uncomfortable naps during the day, and finally I decided that I was going to sit there until I threw up. There was no compromise. After an hour and a half…. relief came. It was the best and worst feeling ever! In addition to that, my face broke out like a 6th grader’s, I was so bloated I thought I might pop and my clothes were already starting to not fit. Plus, I could smell EVERYTHING. Smoke, coffee, grass, farts (from 5 miles away), the refrigerator (from the living room), feet, lies, deception, etc. I felt like a dog.

Unfortunately, my symptoms just kept getting worse. I was getting more tired, more moody and more sick by the day. Ryan didn’t understand what the hell was going on and was growing frustrated by my lack of job searching and need for a nap. “Man up!” was a phrase once used. This (obviously) only made things worse for me. I couldn’t control how I was feeling, none of the remedies that people had given me were working and I felt like I was adding on a symptom a day. And my worries were piling up by the minute. Insurance, doctor’s appointments, etc.

Ryan and I made the decision that we were going to get married in the courthouse and have a bigger wedding later. So he proposed on the beach where we met a beautiful sunset back in March and we were married that Friday in a very small, very private ceremony by a magistrate born without a personality. At least we could laugh about that!

The weekend of our “honeymoon” was mostly a nightmare for me. I was the sickest I had been yet and had not napped once. Ryan worked on an arbor for his parents all weekend and while it turned out beautifully, I had hoped for something a little more romantic for our first weekend as a married couple. We mostly fought and I mostly barfed and I was just ready for the weekend to be over so I could take a long needed nap.

Monday morning I laid down for what was going to be the most epic nap in the history of naps. I was warm and cuddled up on the couch with a sleepy old dog. It was dark and rainy outside and there was nothing interesting on tv. Perfect. And so I slept. At around 1:30 in the afternoon I woke up to what will always be one of the most terrifying and horrific and miraculous afternoons of my life.

(This is probably going to be a little graphic and mostly unsettling for some. I will understand if it’s something you can’t read.)

I felt like I was peeing my pants. I grabbed the house phone on the way to the bathroom and what I discovered was every pregnant woman’s nightmare. Blood. And lots of it. I sat on the toilet and passed a large, fist-sized, kidney-shaped ball. I sobbed and screamed and yelled. I was so angry and so sad, I felt like my world had just crashed down upon me. And I was terrified. Here I was, in the middle of nowhere, alone and unable to contact anyone in my family. Ryan was over an hour away and needed a ride to get back and as selfish as it was, a tiny part of me blamed him. I finally got a hold of my grandma, barely able to say the words “I think I just miscarried.” through my hysterical tears. She told me to hang up and call 911. There was no other option. I couldn’t very well drive myself, my family was over 3 hours from getting to me and Ryan didn’t have a car. So I called 911 and 2 pickups and 2 ambulances finally arrived. Like I said, I was in the middle of nowhere and this was probably the most excitement dispatch had had in a long time. So I got them all! My sister finally called and stayed on the phone with me while I talked to 911 and then hung up when they got there.

By then I was in shock. They loaded me into the ambulance and told me to try to stay calm. I wasn’t cramping yet and the bleeding had slowed to almost a stop. I was so confused. Tears leaked involuntarily out of my eyes and as much as I tried to stop them, they came anyway. The EMTs called Ryan and told him what was going on and then they handed the phone to me. I didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing. He told me everything would be okay and that we would get through this. I mentally rolled my eyes and wanted to scream that I felt like nothing was ever going to be okay again. I had just lost a child and I could barely stand to be in my own skin. I arrived at the hospital with my pants still undone and my hair looking like I had just woken up from my nap. I was a mess. They wheeled me into the room and gave me a clean gown to wear and a hospital pad. (In case you haven’t had the pleasure, it’s sort of like sitting on a Barbie mattress. And then you stand up and it looks like you either shit your pants or tucked your junk.) A slurry of nurses were in and out of the room taking blood, my temperature, my blood pressure (which kept dropping), and asking me over and over again why I was there. I remember sitting there at one point wishing I could just write a sign that said, “I miscarried.” so I didn’t have to say it anymore. It made it too real and every time more and more heartbreaking.

Soon after I was informed that I was going to have an ultrasound done and that I would need a full bladder. They brought me a 6 oz. bottle of water and told me to drink up. And I did, not realizing I was so thirty. I called the nurse back in for more water and they brought me water *and* Sprite. At which point I realized I hadn’t eaten since 9 am and it was now almost 4. No wonder I was so loopy. I needed to eat. So I drank the water and the Sprite for energy noting that when I came back to the room I would ask for food. Let’s not have a hypoglycemia attack in the hospital too. Yeah? While I sat there and drank my water, the tears came again knowing I would have to see the empty ultrasound screen. That I would not hear the heartbeat of my child. And when my bladder was full, I cried all the way to the ultrasound room, unable to hold in my emotions anymore. I would have to face this alone, like I had faced everything else that day and I was completely heartbroken as I laid on the table. I looked away from the monitor as she began the process. And then my life changed dramatically, for the second time that day.

I was lying there thinking “Would you please just tell me that the baby is gone so I can go home and cry myself back to sleep and forget this day ever happened?”

What I heard instead was this:

“Well, hm…. Okay… Well, it’s twins.”

She turned the monitor toward me and showed me the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. Two beautiful, healthy little babies all cocooned in their amnions with HEARTBEATS! Tears of joy now accompanied my tears of sorrow as she explained that I had been carrying triplets. TRIPLETS people. (Two + Three = FIVE!?) Baby C just didn’t have enough room to attach itself and had gone to grow with God instead. To be a little angel in heaven for its siblings still growing and heading toward life. It was a surreal moment. I said a little prayer to God to take care of my little one, to make sure that he or she knew that I loved them and that I would never forget them. And then she played the heartbeats of my twins. I will never hear a sound so sweet and calming ever again in my life.

I was wheeled back to my room clutching the pictures of my miracle children, thanking and praising God all the way back to my room. Ryan arrived a short while later and I was discharged from the ER with instructions for bed rest and a follow up appointment with my doctor. But I didn’t have a doctor yet! Panic set in and all I wanted was for everything to be okay. I was still spotting and TERRIFIED to go to the bathroom. I didn’t poop for four days. I refused to push. Monday I went to the ER, Thursday was my appointment. How in the world was I going to make it until then? Somehow I did, only to be told there would be no ultrasound that day but that they would schedule my first appointment with the doctor as soon as possible. Which happened to be the following Tuesday. (Which was this week…)

Bed rest, when said allowed, sounds like a lot of fun. And then you are ordered to it and believe me, bed rest is quite literally a pain in the ass. You can pee, you can get a snack and you can sit or lie down. That’s. It. I sat down in the shower because I was so light headed. I felt useless. I wasn’t allowed to do laundry, make the bed, do dishes, nothing! I was allowed to sit down and nap. And I did. Anytime I would get too active, the spotting would get worse. Ryan was not happy about the bed rest situation. I felt lazy. I felt like I was going to have to suffer through this entire pregnancy and that was not a great feeling to have only 9 weeks in.

So we had our appointment on Tuesday and we have good news! (and still some unsettling news as well) There was some bleeding around the placenta the Monday before which was why they put me on bed rest, in addition to the early miscarriage of Baby C. Our ultrasound on Tuesday showed more bleeding but the doctor is not concerned that it will get worse and believes that my body will reabsorb it. The twins are doing fabulously! Their heartbeats are stronger than before and faster. They have doubled in size and are now one inch long each! Twin A is 3 days younger than Twin B and they are both wiggling all over the place. It was so cute to watch them twitching around moving their little arm buds and legs and of course seeing the heartbeats will never ever get old.

I am officially due on Christmas Day 2010. Of course! But because they’re twins, the doctor said to plan more for Thanksgiving, which figures, because I’m sure I’ll be JUST about to take a wonderful bite of food and the babies will knock.

I still don’t want meat and coffee makes me gag, which is SUCH a bummer. I really do miss my caramel latte, but then I think about it and I immediately have to think about chocolate shakes. Not surprisingly… chocolate shakes are the craving of the moment. Along with “Ghetto Nachos” which in Kallayland are nothing more than Nacho Cheese Doritos with melted cheese in the microwave. I also really love grapefruit and raspberries. Any kind of citrus really. Oranges, Grapefruit, Limeade. (yes it counts.) Vanilla Ice Cream. And sandwiches! Oh My God. I eat sandwiches like they are going out of style. Peanut Butter and Jelly. Bologna and Cheese. Grilled Cheese. Cream Cheese, Mustard and Iceberg Lettuce. BLT. Subway Club. Jimmy John’s Beach Club. I just *love* sandwiches. Since the miscarriage I’ve been a lot less nauseated. I’ve also been eating a piece of bread and butter in bed in the morning before I even think about sitting up. That seems to help. I also take a nap in the afternoon and when I get up I drink a B vitamin soda from my mom’s chiropractor. It’s amazing what these do for my energy levels and nausea. It’s nice to have a bit of relief. I’m still waiting for that “honeymoon” phase to kick in where I have lot of energy and don’t want to barf all the time. I have to eat constantly to keep the barfies at bay which really is harder than it should be. I have good days and bad days, but the good are outweighing the bad now and the bad are not the worst that I’ve had. My body is no longer fighting off an “infection” and trying to keep two other babies safe at the same time. We’re starting to work together at this pregnancy thing and that’s a relief.

My prayer right now is that this spotting will subside and that when we go back in a few weeks for our next ultrasound, the bleeding will be gone and we’ll see two big fat healthy babies growing strong! I’m looking forward to meeting my two little miracles. Finding out the sexes and deciding on names. Getting more hours and making more money. Decorating the babies’ room. Becoming someone’s mom and all that entails. A family! I’m excited and nervous all at the same time but I know I will be a good mother. What a blessing I have been given. It just boggles my mind. I’ll post some belly pictures soon. My boobs have already grown and I have already purchased new bras. I’m sure they will continue to get even bigger as the months march on. But wait until you see my belly. I could not figure out why in the world I was showing so soon unless my baby was gong to try and make a new record for fasted growing fetus. It’s all making sense now. It doesn’t help that I’m bloated, but I have to say… It’s still kind of cute. I have a belly! And some of it is BABIES! I have more ultrasound pictures too. And of course we’ve already discussed names and such. SO much to talk and write about in the coming months.

Other than baby talk, there’s a lot going on. Ryan and I are figuring out where we’re going to plant ourselves. I’m looking for another job and also working on something to sell in case Bed Rest knocks again. (Just in case… I don’t want to be broke with twins.) I’m still working out another option for school. We’ll see if it happens! I’m also brainstorming articles for my website and for the local newspapers. Plus, I started a novel series to keep my brain from turning to mush. (Reading one, not writing one… yet.)

I’m so glad that I am finally able to share this news and that I can write about what all of this means to me. It’s such a mental relief to get it all out. I hope you all have a safe and celebratory Memorial Day Weekend! Enjoy the weather and see you in June!