Belly Watch '08

Week 34 1/2 . . . I SWEAR the belly is larger than it appears through the lens
from the back . . . I'm all belly


My son in baby drag-- he wanted to try on this dress

So, week 34 1/2 and NO action. I'm going to be pregnant FOREVER. Granted, twin gestation is to week 38 (full term for a multiple), but after starting this process over a week ago, I was excited to move on to the next chapter! Knowing my luck and knack for finding the most difficult route possible in life, I think I will be in labor for the next two weeks.

They are 5 lbs, 13 oz., and 5 lbs, 8 oz as of 11 days ago. I can safely assume that they are either 6 lbs each or more at this point. Twelve pounds of baby and it keeps going . . . my friend back in CA with twins delivered at over 7 pounds each. EACH. That's huge. I am understanding why the doctor has me on bed rest. It physically hurts to lug this belly around.

Remember "Groundhog Day?" Bill Murray wakes up each snowy morning in Puxatawny, PA to Cher on the radio, and repeats the same day over and over again. Barring Cher from my morning routine, I'm starting to feel like I am living the same day over and over again. I wake up in the morning slightly disappointed that I was moderately comfortable through the night, which meant that I had no physically jarring contractions. Disappointed by my slightly rested state, I begin the "getting up" deliberation. It takes major mental and physical effort to get out of bed, out of a chair, change, shower, etc. So I lie in bed, silently cursing myself if I woke up with my back to the edge of the bed. That means a 180 degree roll first, then hauling myself to a sitting position before allowing my feet to slip to the floor. Then, with all this weight, my feet are once again introduced to a sensation that I can only liken to putting them through a pasta maker. Each bone, ligament, muscle and ounce of cartilage is flattened by supporting my girth. Then the pain radiates upward, lingering long enough in my knees to make my hips compete for the "most painful part of my body" award. After the mental anguish of getting out of bed, it's time to take a step. "Which foot goes first?" That's the question that is posed in my brain every morning. I wish I was joking. After my feet decide which one is moving (and it's more like a Chip 'n' Dale bit; "After you!" "No, After YOU!" "Really, after you!"), my body remembers why it doesn't like movement right now.

And all that happens in roughly 2 1/2 minutes.

I WISH I had more exiting news right now. I've found a few ways to beat the "bird in a gilded cage" feeling, one of which was to plan menus for the baby blessing (Mormon version of a christening, so to speak) weekend (if these babies ever come). Alex's blessing menu flew out the door through a series of mishaps, and I want to do this one right. Yes, the party is not the most important part of the weekend, but when you can count the thread in your duvet cover for two hours without tiring, it's time to do something else. So, instead of staring out the window without a valid thought in house, I can now seriously deliberate, "Beef or turkey? Bacon wrapped asparagus or stuffed mushroom?" It's been a nice diversion.

I'll hopefully be able to "blurgh" (Alex's term for blog) more exciting news SOON. Such as "My waters have broken!" or, "It hurts so bad I can't talk, but I CAN blurgh!"

Here's hoping . . .

If not, I think I'll start planning Alex's birthday party next.