I asked Josh for pictures of Lola. Well, it was more like a demand than request. He's obliged, and I don't think he knows how much her face does for me.
My recent favorite is attached here.
Lola discovered the art of hair product by means of peanut butter. Her aunt Louanne would be so proud.


Lunch is done. Knitting is done. The health care summit go's on long past schedule.
At around 12p.m. a couple was moved into the bed next to us. We never saw them from behind our dividing curtain, but could pick up on some of the conversation. She believes she's having a boy. Her husband's name is also Jesse...
Now that it's going on 2p.m., they've moved out for a cesarean.
I miss them.

Another doctor drops by to ask us how we're doing. He tells me that I look pretty stable. He says that as soon as they can do an ultrasound they'll be ready to move us up to a more long term room. I guess the new concern is that one of the babies is a bit smaller than the other, even though both are well within healthy weight range for their age. I'm neither concerned about this, nor am I surprised that they've found something new to cause delay. I'm in a hospital. Hospitals are for sick people, and so they are bound to find a way to qualify my being here.

Nancy Pelosi looks exceptionally human-like today.

24 1/2 weeks

I guess this is day 3, though it's still dark outside. I managed about two hours sleep before waking to the monitor beeping. It does that when the paper runs out.

I feel a bit like static. There's no use in getting upset, but happiness isn't quite the emotion either. Being admitted to the hospital has turned the natural progression of pregnancy into something more like a long business trip. One in which I'll count the days and look forward to meeting my quota. This is hardly something to complain about given the circumstance, but here I am. Unable to sleep. And that really wouldn't bother me if not for the worry I feel that this lack of sleep means to some extent that the babies aren't getting what they need either.
My doctor stopped by around 8p.m. last night to tell Jesse and I everything we'd heard previously through our nurses. He ended the conversation by saying that many women on bedrest experience problems with sleeping and that if I'd like he could prescribe Ambien.
I hadn't mentioned that I was having a hard time sleeping.
We thanked him for the offer but said we'd see how things went in the next few days. In the same manner that one might politely turn down an invitation to the bathroom for a line of coke.
When the doctor left the room I immediately asked Jesse to search "Ambien during pregnancy" on the internet. He said, "There's no way you should take that!" I said, "Of course I know that. I want to see just how Hollywood our doctor is."
The results were about what we expected. Ambien's effects have not been studied in pregnant women. Ambien has been found in umbilical cords, which means that it crosses into the placenta. Babies born with Ambien in their system can experience withdraw symptoms.
But it wouldn't take these warnings for most people to understand it's a bad idea. Just having witnessed people who stay up a little too long after popping an Ambien, is reason enough to surmise that you don't want it anywhere near a developing fetus.
And it's kind of appalling that someone might suggest it to a person who is at high risk of delivering highly vulnerable, premature babies. Point being, we're not huge fans of our doctor, but we keep educated, and so we feel pretty in control.
Jesse sleeps in the bed six feet next to me. Last night he tried cuddling with me in my own bed. It was great therapy, but I guess it was irritating my uterus. Within a few minutes the nurse was in to nicely tell us that Jesse needed to vacate. He got out and we watched my belly on the monitor. Sure enough, the line went from hilly to practically smooth. We gave each other puppy eyes as we acknowledged that Jesse was in fact braking the peace in my uterus. Jesse shuffled along to his bed and passed out shortly after.
He's said that he's sleeping remarkably well here. I feel so lucky that we get to be here at St. Jude. The staff is warm and welcoming with the both of us, and dads are encouraged to be as involved as possible. They purposely chose a room that would have a spare bed for him. The building we're in is only a year old. I'm most impressed with the flat screen t.v.s and the nourishment room outside, where Jesse can charm sodas and snacks from the staff.
We'll most likely move up to the antepartum ward tomorrow afternoon. I believe there will be fewer nurse visits and monitoring. Most importantly we can get to moving in. Some people go as far as hanging posters. I'm opting for a few choice pictures of my niece Lola, my baby icon.

A few entertaining thoughts I had today:

1. I gave up sitting and walking for lent.
2. Between me and my cervix, Jesse has become the Jane of our Brady Bunch. My cervix being Marsha, and I guess that makes me the cute one.
3. Always keep the lady with the speculum happy.

Information for the day:

1. We're all incredibly healthy.
2. We're mostly bored; not scared.
3. Tests say that these babies have a 98% chance of not delivering in the next two weeks. That doesn't surprise me. I think we'll go much longer than that. Not only because I feel that way, but because I've done a lot of my own research on women in my same position.
4. Hospital food isn't all that bad when you have incredibly simple tastes, and I swing both ways in that respect.

My lovely lady bump.

In the morning I give myself as much time as I need to find the right outfit. Sometimes that means a pair of yoga pants and a tank top that no longer covers my belly button. Other days, like this one, it means a short and shiny gold dress over leggings.
My inspiration: Courtney Kardashian of the reality show Keeping Up With the Kardashians.
Her style says, Armenian pregnant club girl. I guess that's what I found appropriate when preparing for my sister and mom's visit today. Granted, I'll be laying on the couch with a blanket up to my waist, but a gold dress should never stay in the closet for more than a couple weeks.
More importantly, my body is outgrowing my wardrobe options exponentially. In just a few more weeks I may be forced to wander the house in a pea coat.

Today marks day 13 of my bed rest. It's given me a lot of time to Google absolutely whatever comes to mind, such as:

24 weeks pregnant
bed rest 24 weeks
24 weeks twins
bed rest fitness
bed rest survival

Admittedly, "whatever comes to mind" is pretty much the same thought re-worded.

And of course, there are the belly pictures.
I can't get enough of them.

I'm at least daily looking for new pictures of women pregnant with twins. I recently realized that when I pass a mirror, I'm checking out my belly instead of my face. As obsessed as I am, I have a hard time taking pictures of my own. Maybe my internet searches are at fault for my modesty.
I've seen too many supposedly sweet pictures of pregnant women posed in the nude, in sexy Santa Claus costumes, or laying on their side in black lacy underwear. Apparently, Demi Moore's classic Vanity Fair cover made every woman in America believe it was acceptable to pose with their belly as though it were a prop.
A sexy prop.
And while I believe pregnant women are more than entitled to be sexual, I think it's insulting to say that you're documenting your pregnancy when you take that glamor shot, naked with airbrushed angel wings.

Hmm. I'm hungry again.

Valentines Couch

Today is Valentine's Day and I love Jesse.
When I woke up this morning he wasn't in bed.
This would normally leave me feeling bereft of my cuddle time.
But not today.
I understood something important was happening.
I could smell bacon in the air.
Out of bed, I passed my pile of stretchy pants and went for the closet.
A place I haven't visited in some time.
Trailing my fingers along the sleeves, I stopped at pink.
A pink dress for Valentine's Day.
Putting it on wasn't as easy as it used to be. I'm pretty sure another week and it wouldn't have been possible.
Around my neck I clasped a heart pendant necklace, and a fuchsia scarf.
From the top of the stairs I said, "Hey Jesse, watcha doin' down there?"
And he replied, "Happy Valentine's Day! I've made you breakfast in bed. Do you want it in bed or down here on the couch."
I opted for the couch. It turns out, breakfast in bed loses a little of its charm when you're also regularly eating lunch and dinner there too.
Downstairs I went straight for the couch and knitted patiently while he finished.
After a few minutes he entered with a grand assortment.
Pancakes smothered in syrup.
Toast topped with egg, avocado, cilantro, and tomato.
Hash browns and black berries and blue berries.
And for some reason I was most impressed that it came with both a short glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee.

This all rested on my new hospital tray, which perhaps, was the best part of it all.
Last night I was eating dinner and remarked that I needed a hospital tray. Jesse jumped up and said, "You do?"
In five seconds he was back from the garage with my early Valentines gift.
I cried.
There's nothing more romantic than someone thinking of your needs before you do.

Today's breakfast was the sweetest Valentine's gift I've ever had, and I also appreciate that feeding me was the best Valentine's gift he could give our baby boys as well.

A few hours later we settle into our routine.
I write this as big band music plays and Jesse cleans up in the kitchen.
My pink dress wrinkling beneath me, but I am determined to wear it through the sunny portion of the day.
I've never given a lot of attention to this holiday, but I think I especially have use for it this year because there's a whole lot of love going around.
Love for this man in my life, for these babies we're growing, for all the new wonderful people that have come into my life through Jesse, and for all my friends and family who are incredibly sweet and supportive with me.

The hormones don't hurt either.

xoxoxo
Happy Valentines Day.

What I've learned whilst trapped on the couch.

1. My brother also cried while watching the Olympics commercial narrated by Morgan Freeman.

2. Out of sight, out of mind. Such as the kitchen, laundry, and my car which is still sitting in the Long Beach airport's remote parking.

3. When watching HOUSE, you may rely on the fact that
a. It's cushings.
b. It's also edema.
c. It's environmental.
d. The cure will only be found when the patient reveals they've been having
an affair.

4. If you lay on one side long enough, you will get a head ache on that side of your head. For some reason this doesn't apply to sleeping. Maybe I have cushings.

5. Always have a banana within arm's reach.


I'm sure there's more to come. I'll keep you posted.

xo- The girl on the couch.

Today I begin my first day of "bed rest". Jesse and I were told the news yesterday when we went in for a routine ultrasound. I'm healthy and babies are healthy, but gravity is working a little too quickly. They want me off my feet.
I thought bed rest might be in my future the moment I found out I was having twins, but I didn't expect it to be this soon, and with so little warning.
I expected that by the time I got put on bed rest, I'd feel like laying down. I imagined saran wrap around my belly and a hand rail to help me sit up.

When we got home I reclined on the couch while Jesse made me grilled cheese.
I felt like a fake.
Like a kid trying to get out of school.
Lounging, feeling totally fine, while asking Jesse to get me a refill on my water.
Until hour two came around.
At which point I actually did start to feel achey and painey.
My back started getting wonky and every time I sat up I'd let out a little groan. I suppose I'd been told I was fragile, and my brain was responding accordingly.
By hour four, the novelty was over.
I'd crane my head around just to look at Jesse, like a muzzled puppy. Not really saying "help", just saying "hrumph".
When bed time came around I went up, and turned off the light without ceremony; completely without use for my customary unwinding ritual of reading or television.

Today it drizzles. I kick back on the couch enveloped in my pregnant things. My prenatal vitamins, and calenders, and lists of questions to ask my benefits coordinator.
I wonder if this inactivity will turn me in to Jaba the Hut by the time it's over. I wonder if it would really hurt to do the dishes for ten minutes or take a walk. Most of all, I wonder if I'd even want to do those things had I not been mandated to abstain from them.

On the bright side, I think I'll have Jesse's scarf finished for Valentine's Day, and I can start back up with my Rosetta Stone Italian program.
On the even brighter side, I thought I heard a baby call to me from upstairs while I was on the couch last night.
In three to four months that will be real.
And I wont be bothered with finding meaningless distractions for a long, long time.