Have I mentioned?

I love my husband.  A whole lot.  Sometimes I think people don't know how deeply I adore Brent because so much of our relationship is based on bickering, bantering, sparring and just plain arguing.  Friends are constantly trying to officiate our fights, mostly because I think that they are disconcerted by the tension between us.  But that is the basis of our relationship, and really it is what makes us tick. 

Anyway, regardless of our methods of showing our connection to each other, I am absolutely enchanted by Brent.  And I don't tell him or show him very often.  He has always been an unbelievable partner and husband, but lately he has really came to play.  

As I am sure you are aware by the overall tone of this blog, I haven't exactly been in the best mood lately.  And frankly, I am a bitch even on my best, non pregnant, non swollen, non itchy days.  And Brent has been completely unfazed.  In fact, more than unfazed, he has been unbelievably sympathetic.  This week, as I was in my usual habit of looking for something to criticize, I started in on Brent about how he doesn't seem excited about the babies coming and I wanted to know what he was thinking.  I asked him what he was most looking forward to when the babies are born, fully expecting that he would say "seeing what they look like" or "picking their names."  Instead he said, "seeing the end of how uncomfortable you are.  I just don't want you to be miserable anymore."  How sweet and tender is that?  And this from a guy who has no qualms about using the "C" word to describe a yucky girl. 

Brent has also been so patient.  Every night I unleash a litany of complaints about how tired, uncomfortable, itchy, hot, stuffy or generally miserable I am.  And Brent responds the same way, with the same ardent concern in his eyes.  "Baby, what can I do?  How can I help?"  Every night, he gets me a glass of ice water, walks the dogs, and generally takes care of every silly request I make, without even the slightest bit of irritation.  

And let's add the rest of Brent's stresses to the equation.  Not only are we having twins this fall, but we are also opening our airport location of King David, getting our catering and event business off the ground (as we speak, Brent is working a festival until 2 a.m.),  trying to make the mortgages on two houses (anyone want a house in Shelbourne Greene...we have one for sale!), training a six month old German Shepherd, planning his brother's bachelor party, running three fantasy football leagues, and doing my "honey do" list during every spare minute (which includes such glorious jobs as cleaning out the garage, picking up the doggie do in the yard, helping with my laundry, emptying the dishwasher, going with me to Babies R Us and, well, you get the picture).  Not to mention the fact that Brent is always an amazing son, grandson, and friend to all the people he loves.  Somehow he finds the time to visit his grandmother and great aunt in the nursing home, call any friend who may be sick or troubled, and just stay on top of everything.  I don't know how he does it.  But I love him more than words can say for being such a responsible, caring, hard working man.  

And have I mentioned that beyond him just keeping his shit together, he makes me laugh? I am not sure he knows that I have more fun with him, just sitting at home on the couch, than doing anything else.  I don't think I have told anyone that when Brent's eyes twinkle with joy or mischief, my heart melts.  I realized that we have been married 2 and 1/2 years and I love him more now than I ever thought possible, even on my wedding day, when I was bursting with unbridled adoration.  

I am so lucky.  Now you all know.  I hope he does.  

Large and In Charge

Just wanted to put up a more recent picture of my expanding girth. See? I told you I wasn't exaggerating when I said I was HUGE! Can you believe I have at least 8 more weeks of this? Me neither.

Oh, and writing that last post must have been cathartic or something because I have somehow strung two great nights of sleep together. Hallelujah!

Nightmares

Time to add a new complication to the mix. I cannot sleep. Up to this point in the pregnancy, sleep was not really an issue because I have been so darn exhausted. Well, now I am still exhausted, and I start fantasizing about climbing into bed around 8:30. However, that is what sleep has become, an absolute fantasy.

Here is the routine. I get ready for bed around 9:30. This entails putting on Brent's Reebok Dryfit sleeveless Colts shirt (God, I hope he never wore that in public), filling a waterbottle of ice water, taking my iron supplement, prenatal vitamin and fish oil capsules and then hoisting myself into the bed. This is no small task and sometimes requires Brent's assistance.

Then I begin the battle with my pillows. Currently I have a tempurpedic pillow, a body pillow and a cheapie king size pillow, as well as my schmata (which is my 15 year old stuffed white cougar that I simply cannot live without). Add to the mix a comforter, sheets, and well, Brent and the bed has become very complicated. I usually spend about 10 minutes struggling around with the pillows trying to find a position that increases my odds of falling asleep within two hours or so. This position has to be just right, so that I am not putting pressure on my belly, so that I am not laying on my vena cava, and I have my head and knees supported. Very tricky business.

By this time, I am about 142 degrees, sweating and cursing and no closer to sleep than if I had just downed a Red Bull.

Have I mentioned that my allergies have never been worse? Oh, well let's add that little fun fact to the equation. I can't breathe through my nose because they are both completely clogged. I also can't breathe through my mouth because I am wheezing. Maybe I need to grow some gills. And, Baby B has decided that my ribs and lungs are lovely place to take refuge, so my breathing is compressed from south of the border as well. So, naturally, I start to panic. Every night. And then begins the agonizing about whether I should take something to help. I know that Benadryl is considered safe for pregnancy, but I doubt I should be taking it very frequently. And I know that my Albuterol inhaler is also considered safe, but I also hesitate before using that. So then I toss and turn and worry and I'm sure you can imagine that all that anxiety does wonders for my level of relaxation.

Oh! And my belly itches. Unbearably. Like it has poison ivy all over it. Then I scratch it (with my gloriously long nails, thanks to the prenatal vitamins) and it hurts. This has got to be some cruel joke right?

Miracle of miracles, somehow I fall asleep, usually about 2 hours after I actually hit the sheets. And then, about 2-3 hours later, I wake up. Because I have to pee. And then I have to do the whole routine all over again.

Hurry Up and Wait.

Its an old saying, but it has never had more meaning for me than it does now. I am officially in my 26th week. What that means is that I probably have no more than 10 or so weeks to go, seeing as my doctor has said that she probably won't let me go much past 36 weeks, if I even make it that far.

On one hand, 10 more weeks sounds like a freaking eternity. That is 70 days. And I am starting to feel borderline miserable. First of all, I am so hot. Like on fire. I have the A/C turned down in the 60's at home and Brent has taken to wearing a sweatshirt to bed. Meanwhile, I am sleeping with no covers, sweating. My office is an oven. SOMEONE, TURN OFF THE HEAT! But unfortunately, the heat is those two little parasites living inside of me. Don't get me wrong, I love them to pieces, but they are still parasites. Aside from the ridiculously tropical temperature of my bod, I am just getting large and in charge. My proportions are bordering on the absurd and when I tell people that I am not due for at least 10 more weeks, they look horrified. When I inform them that there are twins in there, they look only slightly relieved. I was told this week that I look "like I should be strapped to a hospital bed." (END QUOTE OF INCREDIBLY INSENSITIVE CO-WORKER.)

On the other hand, as uncomfortable as I am, and as I long as 10 weeks sounds, I am terrified the babies will be born prematurely. I keep having the same damn nightmare over and over that I go to the doctor for a checkup and they make me deliver the babies that day. I beg and beg and beg, but they won't listen. And it is never because the babies are sick or I am sick, it is because the doctor is mean. I wake up feeling totally terrified and determined to keep those kids in there as long as I can. If I keep them in for 50 weeks, does that improve their chances of going to Harvard?

And on the other hand (for you sportsfans keeping track at home, that is the third hand), 10 weeks sounds like not enough time at all. I am beginning to panic about all things large and small. For one, the nursery hasn't even been started yet, and except for a few silly message T's (one says "Lock Up Your Daughters") I haven't bought a blessed thing. These babies are going to make their way into a home full of dog toys, lots of LV purses, copious amounts of sporting memorabilia and nothing for them. I was eyeing a little plastic bone yesterday and wondering if it could double as a teething ring.

Aside from the acquisition of material crap, I am also not feeling ready emotionally. Brent and I had a lovely Labor Day weekend of being lazy, sleeping late and going out to dinner. I enjoyed myself immensely, and the thought in the back of my mind all the whole time was: this is all about to end. To add insult to injury, a lot of my friends are having babies lately, and they are all bemoaning their lack of sleep. And I am downright terrified. I border on evil personified when I am tired, so I advise you to stay away from me, for oh, the next year or so.

So to sum up, I have never been more uncomfortable in my life, so of course I can't wait to get these babies out of me. Except that I am having nightmares about having them early. And that there will be nowhere to put them when they get here. And that I am not sure how the hell I am going to care for two little babies. Don't I sound serene?