1-2-3-4

special day.

love birds.

























babies on the way.




































incredible years.

D-Day

The c-section has been scheduled for September 3rd.

That's in two weeks.

What was it I learned from my Hitchhiker's Guide?

Oh yeah. DON'T PANIC!



P.S. My camera wasn't working, but friends have pictures of the baby shower here and here. It was awesome.

Quick Update

So I don't have to actually stick myself twice a day. Whew!

I'm receiving medicine from a pump that's hooked into my thigh. The medicine is supposed to lessen contractions. Grabbing a handful of fat and ramming that needle into my thigh was one of the scariest things I've ever done. I was totally crying. But guess what? It didn't hurt. Just like they said. I only have to do that every five days. And the nurse was really nice and said something like, "I've been a nurse for 20 years and I would still be hesitant to give myself an injection." So that made me feel a little less wussy.

I'm also supposed to monitor myself on this home uterine monitor-thing. Twice a day I strap this belt to my belly and have to lie still for an hour while it counts my contractions. And let me tell you, towards the end of the hour I want to rip the belt off and run screaming out the door. Actually, running screaming out the door is something I fantasize about often.

Aunt Kim has gone home and my Mom is on her way. I think these next few weeks are going to take all the mental and emotional toughness I have.

The Beginning of the End

Yo mamma's so fat, she doesn't fit her maternity clothes!

Well, we were lucky to get this far, but my days of skipping through the streets of Brooklyn are over for now.

At my appointment yesterday, the ultrasound showed that my cervix had shortened. And when the doc checked me, I was 1.5 cm dilated.

"So this means you're on bed rest," he said without hesitation. I think that's when my eyes started to glaze over.

Just a few minutes before, I had told him that my Braxton Hicks (or "fake") contractions were getting pretty intense. This had prompted him to decide that I was going off Procardia (a heart medicine that is supposed to put off labor) and going onto a new medicine that will be delivered via pump and needle.

"It's the size of a thumbtack. You just put it on your thigh and whack!" He slapped my thigh.

That was when I gave him my crazy stare—where you lower your brows but open your eyes really wide.

"It won't hurt," he assured me.

"Yeah right!" I shot back.

Somehow, this pump thing is accompanied by a monitor that I will have to use twice a day to check for contractions. The Fed Ex package arrived this morning. It's been shoved out of sight into a corner. I'll let the nurse who's coming to show me how to use it open it.

So after the announcement that I will have to start daily torture treatments, and that I would now be confined to my bed/couch for the rest of eternity (or until the babies come,) I was feeling a little . . . freaked OUT. "Hey! Somebody make this lady smile!" the doctor joked to the nurses. Har. Freakin. Har.

Thankfully, Kim is still here and staying until Saturday night. She's already stepped up her game, cooking dinner all by herself and making sure I'm watered and fed. Then, my mom comes Monday afternoon and she'll be with us for about four weeks. So these babies will have a four-week window to make their appearance, graduate out of the NICU, come home, get on a schedule, and start sleeping through the night. That's not too much to ask, right?

I'm cautiously optimistic about their development. So far, they're all three growing at about the same rate. The ultrasound showed them at 4 lbs and change, but of course it's a very rough estimate. Still, we're praying they'll make it to as close as 5 lbs as possible. We shall see.

So if any of you have been meaning to call and catch up, I'm TOTALLY AVAILABLE and most likely dying of boredom. How's that for subtle?