Crazy stupid breathlessness has pushed me over the edge. My doctor measures me at nine months pregnant, meaning that even though I am not quite seven months pregnant with twins, my belly is the size of a woman who is nine months pregnant with a single baby. Which got Caleb all like:
I’m convinced my little girl has wedged herself in my rib cage and does nothing but kick and twirl and also calmly squeeze my lungs like they were her own personal squishy toys. Poor son stays plastered to the bottom of my tummy–I occasionally feel him kick waaaaaay down low, but for the most part this girl calls all the shots in their shared environment.
Today I took my 3-hour glucose test (which means, yes, I failed my last one). So many little bitty pregnant girls named Brittany up in that lab–all of them teensy, all of them rollin’ through the door sucking Starbucks, shocked that their tests are going to keep them in the waiting room for an hour. “But,” one particularly hungry Brittany protested today, “I have a box of Hurts donuts in the car!” I almost lost my mind. I ’bout fell straight out when she brought the donuts in and proceeded to snack on them with her boyfriend, who, when not shoving sugar in his face, spent the majority of the hour literally baby-talking to Hungry Brittany and rubbing her pregnant belly–and actually, it was very sweet and I was just kinda happy to see someone enjoying pregnancy so much.
I was Hungry Brittany once, and it was glorious cause I sho ’nuff did pound donuts 30 seconds before any given glucose test and pass with flying colors.
To be young again.
Anyhoo, after a grueling 3 hours of waiting-room-chair agony plus an entire 12 hours of starvation, I hit up the first food-selling place I came to, which was McDonald’s, which I instantly regretted because 1) NOBODY and I mean NOBODY loves you like the people at Chic-Fil-A loves you, and 2) dem fries are sitting like a rock in my stomach and I’m rethinking life choices over here, because of the pain.
Here’s what’s been accomplished in this past week:
The twins have a carpet and two cradles and a double-stroller frame, all set up and ready to rock, thanks to my visiting sister-in-law Sam, who could not be more awesome. She also put together the crib in Lucy’s new sleeping space upstairs, and that’s a huge weight off our shoulders–one step closer to getting everything in position for two new babies.
Side note: Sam is THE strongest person I know and she’s gonna crush what life is throwing at her, I have no doubt. Whenever I want to be tough for something, I wear a bracelet that says “What Would Sam Do?” She inspires me. She makes me brave.
Also the nursery is 97% ready now because of her. My kids had a loyal fan at all their ballgames this week. Arbor had a spunky partner in crime and Lucy was freely handing out the cuddles by the time Sam had to leave. I can’t thank her enough for how she helped me this past week.
We got good family.
Mia’s just about done with softball. Merrick’s cross-country is wrapping up soon and he’s just starting basketball. Those big kids stay so busy but it works for now and I want them to have as much fun and freedom before December comes and the sports stop and it’s freezing and we’re all cooped up indoors listening to not one but two babies cry.
These early fall days are the best. The weather is perfect. I know it’s “the calm before the storm” but I’m just enjoying it while trying to get a good deep breath.