My husband and partner in crime, Jay, turned 30 today. Last night we were watching TV and he muted it during the commercials and said with some shock/resignation, "I'm turning 30 tomorrow." It was funny...to me at least. He has been incredible so far with his crazy preggo wife. He orders me to "Go sit down" when I'm beating myself up over being so tired after working all day and resisting the desire to crash on the couch. He gets me more to drink every time my cup gets low. He's been doing the dishes. And most importantly of all he has been performing the critical function of telling me everything will be alright.
That has been the biggest challenge. Believing that all will be well. I had this dream of sailing through a lovely pregnancy, getting big and round, but feeling good and happy and like a super mom already. But twin pregnancies come with their own challenges. The first happened the night we found out they were they and not just he or she. I had been calling around to get an OB appointment and at the last place we called, when I mentioned some light spotting to the nurse, she immediately asked me my blood type. "Ummm...O negative," I replied with some confusion at her urgent tone. She immediately told us to go straight to Carbondale Memorial ER and get a shot of Rhogam. Apparently, since my Rh factor is negative, if the babies (either of them as we found out) have a positive Rh factor, my body could develop an immune response to them and that's very not good. Like two trains, a cab, and a long walk from good. So a shot of Rhogam and the very nice ultrasound tech's happy news that the baby was two babies, and we were home.
I tried to grasp the excitement of having twins. "Insta-family" I called it. Jay, as an only child, has never been part of a family of four and that's what we're diving into. It is super wonderful, right? I did have some bouts with the evil that is Google. I usually love Google. Consider myself something of a Google master. But having all those scary "what horrible things can happen" resources at my fingertips is bad news. I was trying to rally though. Even with the continuation of the light spotting, I was staying positive because I wasn't having any other problems and having lots of preggo symptoms.
My first official OB appointment was yesterday. It went well. Dr. Meyer is great. He knows his stuff and seems really smart without being condescending at all. He was personable and explained things well and kept things light and moving. Then the bombshell. Oh, by the way, I'd like you to see a high-risk OB doctor because we have to find out if your twins are sharing too much of the same space and if that's true you'll be super high risk. My heart dropped. Just keeping them growing and their little hearts growing may not be enough. Twins have so many other complications and to be honest I am a smidgen terrified. The thought that I'm "high risk" (dun dun dun, ominous music cue here) makes me feel helpless and afraid and vaguely like I've done something wrong.
Wow, this is way long and getting dimmer as we go. So we are going to see a high-risk doc in Cape Girardeau next week and hopefully we will get wonderful news that the babies have their own lovely space to grow and thrive. And if not, well, we were going to need all the Grace we could get anyway. So say a prayer for us sometime. Lord knows (and He does) that's all I seem to do these days. Especially in the bathroom and as I'm falling asleep.
My mom used to tell me when I'd get worried and afraid and upset to "Give it to God." I don't think I understood what she was telling me till now. Until I've found myself praying that God lets them bury me and not the other way around. Praying for strength to do and decide and accept what happens. I am trying to hand these fears to Him and just believe. Believe that all will be well, even if it's not my definition of well.
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