Too posh to push

(Warning: This is kind of a boring medical-based post, but I have pictures of Chad playing in our inch of snow interspersed to keep things interesting. Feel free to skip the text and just admire his cuteness.)

So.  Here we are at 38 weeks. Huger than ever. I don't have a 38 weeks picture of us, because I was still in bed when Andy left for work this morning, but here's a picture from 36 weeks.

So just imagine two more weeks of baby growth. It isn't pretty. And those shoes? Totally for the photo op only. I found something more sensible to leave the house in.

If this were one baby, 38 weeks would be no big deal. For two, we are considered D-O-N-E. After all those months of worrying about premature babies, and celebrating mini-goals, we've actually hit the point where everyone wants them out, with no one more ready for that than the chick who has 31 pounds of belly to carry in front of her.

To be fair, 31 pounds is still way under what the doctor who dropped the "it's twins!" bomb on us recommended. (She wanted us to shoot for 45 pounds!) But before you say that 31 pounds is no biggie, go to the grocery store and tape a 5 pound bag of sugar to your front. And then another. And then another. And another and another and another. And then throw a can of peas on top of all that for good measure. Let's see how long you last before you crack.

Even Mariah feels bad for me.

She has never been this clingy. If I nap, she wants to be on the floor in my bedroom. If I shower, she meows outside the door. If I try to use the computer, she's sitting on the desk.

At 36-ish weeks we went to the doctor and I turned on the tears and said, "Give me an end date!" and we got an induction scheduled for 2/1, with the reassurance that the babes would probably come on their own before that.

But that afternoon we went in for our 36 week ultrasound and saw this:

Not good news, huh?

Oh, you can't tell what that is? Geez, haven't I taught you anything about reading ultrasounds over the past few months???

OK. Well, the blob on the right is #'s head/face. You can kind of see his little nose. The blob on the left, above him is Epic's stomach. Now what is her stomach doing near his head? It seems Miss Thang grew bored with the whole head-down-like-a-good-fetus lifestyle, and has worked her way into a transverse/breech position. Not conducive to birth.

This week, we braved an NC-style Snowmageddon to make it to our last doctor's appointment. The whole city was shut down, and even the doctor's office had a delayed opening, but we have tough Northern blood in our veins, plus an AWD Subaru with heated seats, and we were not about to let 1 inch of snow interfere with our plans.

His favorite snow activity? Shoveling. Are you even surprised?

We arrived at an office staffed with 3 receptionists, at least 3 nurses, 2 doctors and 1 physician's assistant, and a nurse told us we were the only ones to make it in. I think they were all pretty excited to have a patient to see, even if it was the crazy one who cried last week.

Then the doctor gave it to us straight. Epic is stubborn and probably too big to get herself in the right position at this point. (And based on his spurts of movements and hiccups, I think # has probably slipped into a transverse position too, but I didn't bring that up.) So even if # get his head in gear engaged, and comes out via the preferred route, Epic could just drop down staying transverse, and that would mean a c-section for her. Delivering two babies on the same day via two different exit strategies is probably #1 on the list of baby-birthing-related things I don't ever want to have to do. 

There are some (painful) tricks they could do as # is being delivered to encourage Epic to flip, but she could still choose to flip breech, and that would also mean c-section.

Or we could do everything right, get her to flip head down, but in the process her cord might prolapse, and that would be a third opportunity for a c-section. 

He's also had a patient whose contractions just stopped after twin #1 came out, but she was anti-c-section for the second baby, and instead chose to start the Pitocin experience all over, and it took another 12 hours of Pitocin before Baby B agreed to come out. That would also be something on my list of things I never want to experience.

And did you know that there's a condition where the uterus gets stretched sooooo big that it can't coordinate productive contractions, so we could have another 48 hour labor experience only to culminate in a c-section anyway? I can't remember what he told us the term for this is. It ended in "-ia". Physiology was my absolute least favorite class in college, so when people start talking about anything muscle related I usually just tune them out. But anyway, I could actually be TOO BIG to go into labor now. How awesome is that??? (Answer: Not awesome at all.)

Thus, given my determination to birth these babies through only ONE orifice, and the realization that we had no guarantee that would work via the conventional route, it was time to cut our losses and sign up for a c-section.

And THEN we learned that 2/1 was a very popular date for scheduled c-sections, and we were getting bumped to 2/2.

Don't try making any Groundhog Day related jokes about this. I've heard several. They aren't funny. 

All this to say..... two more nights to go before the munchkins get here. I downloaded a countdown app for my phone that will tell me how much longer I have to wait. It can display the remainder in days, hours, minutes, seconds or milliseconds. "Days" depresses me, so I'm mostly using the hours and minutes options.

A c-section wasn't our top choice, but to stay on the bright side, here are 7 positives that I'm focusing on:
1. Labor isn't exactly fun, and contractions don't tickle, so I'm not missing out on anything there.
2. The whole thing, from pre-op blood work to being wheeled out of recovery, will take just a few hours. We'll be back in my room, eating broth and jell-o by lunchtime.
3. The babies won't be cone heads.
4. (Mom, don't read this one) Twins give you an increased risk of hemorrhage, and ~10% of twin moms will need a blood transfusion. I feel like I've been doing my civic duty of giving blood long enough that I deserve to get some back. So get that B+ stuff ready, blood bank!
5. I get to see Andy gowned up. And he gets to see my insides. (Word on the street is that they won't let him take pictures though.)
6. At least when Chad was born, a c-section meant an extra night in the hospital. Our co-pay is the same, no matter how much they do to me, and how long I stay, so we may as well get our money's worth.
7. Better drugs!!