I thought getting pregnant was going to be the hard part.
Turns out that bright idea merely prompted the universe to remind me that children are life’s way of reminding us that we have no control. Bitch.
What were supposed to be the blissfully ignorant glowing months before motherhood were instead counted down by my own milestone markings. Continue reading
The Pixi Stix are here! (I’ve mentioned the muppets’ future prom dates before.)
And tonight I went to visit them, cooing, “Let me meet my future daughters-in-law” to the consternation of their doting father.
They are tiny and perfect and I love them. Continue reading
A friend’s blog so aptly states Sometimes It’s Hard to Get Pregnant. “It’s hard to get pregnant. It’s hard to stay pregnant. And it’s hard to continue the journey.”
In college I was polka dotted. I visited approximately 732 dermatologists to figure out what was wrong with me. Finally, a doctor shared it wasn’t just an epidemiological stylistic body modification choice (although I do still bear the scars). It was an endocrine, autoimmune disorder. My body was attacking itself.
Goody. Continue reading
Today’s Motherhood Uncovered post celebrates November as Prematurity Awareness Month by taking a closer look at the signs and symptoms that may lead to tiny babies. Continue reading
(This post is the latest in the recent series, “Down the rabbit hole: What the hell happened this past year.”)
Last year, on April 13, I posted the following on my fledging StreamDoubleTrouble blog.
I am normal! After what seemed like eons since our last visual visit with our little ones, Jon and I returned to the doctor’s today to see how the twins are faring…Our high-risk perinatologist, Dr. Crites, smiled at the four of us and proclaimed, “Congratulations. You are having a perfectly normal twin pregnancy. You are now RELEASED!”
I’m normal! I’m still paranoid, but we are no longer classified as high-risk. My next appointment is with my regular doctor – who serves the general population of pregnant people. (Although appointments every two weeks mean I’m still being monitored very closely. I bet it’s “normal monitoring.”)
Go ahead. I’ll wait. When you’re done laughing uproariously at the absurdity of my bravado in announcing such a silly thing, and shaking your head at the now well-chronicled reality of the situation, the rest of this post awaits you.