It is very easy to remain positive in the face of good news. I've spent the last week as well balanced as a late 30-something year old pregnant woman with twins can be. Well, we can't be having that, can we?
After last week's visit to the High Risk clinic, my OB and I left it at "come see me in two weeks", "take your blood pressure next week", "have another ultrasound in two weeks" and "come in if there is a problem". You can imagine my surprise when her secretary called me on Friday to book an appointment for Tuesday. Not only did she call me when I was napping, but when she couldn't get a hold of me the first time, called my husband at work (who told her that I was probably having a nap). She then called me and booked me for what I thought was an office appointment at 1:15. With so few weeks left, I just chalked it up to it being the time for the weekly appointments.
Once again, I took my son off his school bus and brought him home long enough to visit the loo and pack him a lunch for our adventure. It was a good run in... the ice was melting, the glacier was retreating in spots and we were EARLY for a change. We walked into her office and found it clean and devoid of human life other than a very surprised secretary. It took a few mintues of explanation on both sides to figure out why I was there and not at the clinic; long story short I told her to call ahead and tell the clinic we would be late as we now had to take the bus the other way across town. Grrr!
Aside from being long, that trip was uneventful as well, other than I started to really wheeze and hurt as I walked. Normally I walk at about 3-4.5 mph as a rule, but I'm now down to a slow rolly-waddle with occasional breaks to catch my breath. I followed the instructions given to me by the receptionist and we toddled straight up to the third floor... only to be sent down to the ultrasound clinic to register again. My OB, the doll that she is, baby-sat my son while I took care of that bit of business (including the awkward explanation of why I didn't have my ultrasound req. with me.) I got back to the third floor to find Quinn and my OB consulting over some of his drawings while a nurse stood by nodding in approval. What can I say, he's a ladies man. She went to quickly consult on a patient, I got a cheese sandwich into the boy and then it was my turn.
Quinn was drawing Mommy a card with roses on it, so I was chatting back and forth to him for the first while. My sonographer explained to me that we wouldn't be doing all the complex measuring today, rather we were checking to see how healthy and happy the babies were. There was a small bit of back and forth between us, but I really wasn't paying much attention until I heard "yeah, there's a couple of infarcts there". [record scratch]
I'm sorry, WHAT?!
Seems that Zoe's placenta has a "some" infarcts or areas of dead/scar tissue. I'm not sure how large they are or how much of the placenta is affected. This sometimes happens in normal pregnancies and I know that it happens a lot in Pregnancy Induced Hypertension (PIH) and Interuterine Growth Retardation (IUGR). It also happens near the end of pregnancy as the placenta starts to wind down. With my magic number still at three weeks, I wasn't happy to hear that. I was less happy to hear that Wyatt has dropped well into the pelvis (hence my trouble walking for the last few days) and that his placenta shows signs of starting to begin to break down. Damn... and blast.
I'm lucky that my sense of humour kicked in and I waved it all off as par for the course (either that or I've finally snapped, take your pick). At this point, seriously, what the heck else can I do? As it stands now, we (even more so than before) are going day by day. I monitor the babies daily, doing kick checks and whatnot, I spend even more time resting. I am on weekly trips to the High Risk clinic with weekly ultrasounds. We are still sticking with March 10th as our latest "go" date, but the reality is, I may get the tap next week. I may or may not get 24 hours to get my shit together before (depending on whether it is "planned" or "emergent" in nature). I wouldn't be worried if it wasn't for their little lungs and weight. 37 weeks with twins is good; 35 weeks (or less) is not as good and may mean some time on Bi-pap in the NICU while Mommy goes home.
My blood pressure, thankfully, is a few points down. I laughed and high fived my OB; after the above news and a few other things this week, it should have been sky-high. I guess that is something in itself.
Today, my day includes remaining calm and dealing with the plumber. Yeah, we have a leak somewhere in the kitchen that is lifting the floor in front of the dishwasher. I guess that too is par for the course...