cassieverde

Do you remember back when the white light on the tail-light of a car just meant backing up? Red light are lights on, brighter is the brake, blinking light is turn, white light is backing up, right? So why is it that lots of newer cars it seems the white light turns on when someone unlocks the car or whatever.

The reason I mention it is because the preschool parking lot where I take the boys each day is constantly packed as parents pick up and drop of kids. It's a real hassle getting in and getting out safely. You have to watch to make sure you're not running over someone 2 feet tall, and there is always a line of cars backed up almost to the street trying to get in or get out, so you kind of want to keep it moving but be safe. And it's a real pain to see a car with it's white back lights on like it might be backing out and then you wait and finally realize that someone is still loading or unloading or listening to their radio or whatever. Sometimes I don't know if someone has shifted into reverse and is waiting or sometimes they haven't even gotten to the car but unlocked it remotely from 60 feet away.

Whose idea was to make this change? Ideally I won't soon find out that sometimes a green traffic light also means that someone is downloading something to their iPhone, because that kind of mixed signal is kind of bad.

I feel embarrassed going shopping with four kids in tow. I couldn't find time to make it to the market during the day today so I went after I picked up the boys from school. We didn't have anything to eat at home, not even a crappy meal of odds and ends to scrape together. so I hauled everyone into the grocery store. It's hard wheeling around a double stroller and trying to keep two young boys from rampaging thru the aisles.

I felt like all eyes were on me. With the purple semi-circles under my eyes and giant rack, twin infants mewling and pre-schoolers careening around as I tried to grab a few things to cook up.

People always ask "Twins?" and I try to bite back the snarky reply because I'm so used to the same question about the boys, who are almost the same size but a year and a half apart. Now the question fits. So it's dumb in a different way than when people asked the same about the boys. Then it was: can't you see one is so much more advanced than the other? and now it's: can't you see they look almost identical, and at 3.5 months how could they not be twins, really?

I'm tired. Everyone is asleep and I'm waiting for a load of laundry to finish so I can hang it. And then I can go to bed and hope no-one wakes up before 4AM.

yesterday when I picked B up from pre-school he went over to a chart they had on the wall and moved his name from the "present" side to the "absent" side. I asked him if he knew why some of the names were green and some pink, but instead of answering he simply pointed at each name and told me whose it was "Zoe, Allegra, Daniel..." etc. He listed off all 9 or 10 names after pointing to the corresponding word. I was very impressed.

He is only almost 3 and a half.
He's not quite reading because if I read a sentence with him and ask him to point out a word like "hat" sometimes he will point at "Henry" instead, so I think he's keying off the first letter. But a couple of his friends had names starting with the same letter. It seems like he's got some sort of pattern recognition going on and that's a kind of reading.

I've herad taht as lnog as teh frsit and lsat lttres of wdros are rgiht we can sitll read sntecenes.

So recognizing patterns is an early part of reading and its so cool to see him developing it. His teacher is impressed too. He also can look at a calendar and see what day it is.

but life leaves me no room for writing. babies and boys and no sleep.

I gave birth to Fiona Elisabeth (5 lbs. 7 oz.) and Yvette Morgan (5 lbs. 9 oz.) a little after 3:15 this morning. We're all happy and healthy and pooped. I'll try to put up some pictures in a day or two and be social again.

We made it!!

I've been in the hospital most of the last 2 weeks so I haven't found time/spirits to get online, although I know it's possible to do that. The hospitalization is just the latest in trying to keep these babies in here. my cervix is shorter, softer and I am dilating - so here I am. Things I've learned: if someone offers you magnesium sulfate for anything but preventing labor, just say no. Maybe the worst feeling I can recall.

I'm holding up. I'm off meds now that I'm past 34 weeks so maybe the next time I post I'll have some babies to speak of. Hope everyone is doing okay. I am doing it. One. Moment. At. A. Time. :) xoxo

Basically ever since I first went on bedrest I've been packed and ready to go. The threat of going into labor with no endpoint but delivery or the possibility that the next day may entail getting put on hospital bedrest with no chance to go home until the babies are delivered has a way of focusing your attention.

My last appointment on Tuesday went smoothly enough but I have a feeling they're looking for any excuse to admit me for the rest of the way. The ultrasound tech estimated that the girls were both around 4 pounds last week, so I'm carrying a full load already with weeks to go before lungs are fully developed and all that. It's all starting to make me really nervous. I know lots of people do it but things seem impossible at this point.

How must they feel? Packed tight for sure. some of the really big kicking has toned down, I'm guessing there's just plain no room to wind up to deliver a big meaty blow. But plenty of pressure and body parts making themselves known in ways that run the gamut from strange to really painful. Four hands, four feet, 2 rock hard craniums, 2 butts, 2 spines, a lot of hard surfaces making themselves known to me.

I feel like over the course of this last week there was a big growth spurt and I already felt full term. The pressure on my pelvic floor is pretty intense, I've definitely been having more contractions this last week despite my meds. and cumulatively the overwhelming physical aspects of it all has me pretty convinced that when I go in on Monday they're going to say I need to stay there 'til the end.

I'm dreading that but in a way I kind of hope for it too. For one thing it would be a change of scenery, for another I guess I'd feel secure knowing I was as close as possible to help, intervention, and all of that.

As far as preparation for the girls arrival here at home goes we're way behind. My MIL has been taking care of the boys, D is still working a lot but thankfully no longer on the road all the time, but really this house isn't going to have enough space for everybody. By today's standards. But really we'll be fine. No-one will be sleeping in a sock drawer. My MIL is staying in the room the girls will eventually occupy but really they're going to be here with D and I for a while in a bassinet and the top of a pack n play if not actually co-sleeping when it gets down to that.

The boys already share a room, each is in their own bed so they aren't going to feel disrupted or displaced by the twins in that sense at least. As far as clothing and all that we are going to get by with a combo of recycling some of the boys infant wear and stuff friends and family with girls have donated us. We aren't lacking in any serious way, but it is a definite hodge-podge and let's face it, infants don't care so neither do I. Besides, zero I could do about it. I just am not into going on internet shopping sprees for matching everything. Changing the guest room into a nursery is taking a backseat to my MIL having a place of her own while she helps us out. I don't know how we'd have survived w/out her coming to stay. She's not a saint but neither am I.

Every day I just do my best to accept the limitations of the situation and not let it get to me too much.

I think I am learning some more about humility. I am also going to have to come to terms with vanity and my relationship to my body. Having the boys made for some changes that took getting used to that mostly I refused to get used to. In some ways that vanity was a good thing because it gave me a kick in the ass when I needed to pull myself back together and get back into shape last year. Really that ended up being more important health-wise, but it was nice to look better too. I don't know what to expect from my body a year from now, but it's hard to believe that the wringer I've been thru will somehow magically revert to my expectations for my "normal" shape.

I'm hoping that after the normal course of breast-feeding I will be able to have a reduction because they're just insane.

I'm rambling.

Really, honestly. I'm pretty scared. What woman isn't at this point? I am amazed to have come this far and I can't believe it, looking back. I've got at least 2 weeks more before there's anything to feel slightly comfortable about as far as development, and really 2-3 weeks more beyond that would be closer to ideal. And besides looking like that is a million miles away, part of me is just saying "bullshit, there's just no way." I don't know if I should chalk that up to my mental state and try to deal with it the way I've dealt with all the other hurdles so far - or to believe it is some form of intuition, my body telling me it can't take this much further.

Regardless, it is plain scary. When I first found out I was pregnant again I was upset and unsure, and then when I found out it was twins that intensified my doubts and sense of upheaval - but really I am unbelievably invested right now. I never thought I wouldn't be, but I couldn't relate to it. But it is still surprising to look back and feel the immensity of the inner change in feeling, from shock bordering on disappointment to intense investment.

I don't know when it happened, I don't know if the number of hours in bed and the sheer endurance of this ordeal somehow heightened everything. Or if it is just hormones or what. But I feel this crazy, disproportionate primal kind of desire to protect these babies. Stronger I guess than what I feel for the boys. Maybe it's long hours of fear of going into labor or I don't know. But I am overcome sometimes in the oddest times with almost panic, but it isn't panic because I think a part of me knows there is no room for panic. It's just a fierce kind of determination to see things thru. All of that fails to describe it even slightly.

I think if I read someone say that in a novel or a magazine I'd be "yeah, yeah, people feel protective of their babies, okay. I get it." But this is profound. And I don't think the fact that it is so patently NOT profound intellectually has anything to do with it. It seems to me more than a primate's instinct-driven biological imperative. But I'm inside it so who knows? Maybe that is all it is. But it feels huger than me, for sure. And I'm kind of awed to be inside it.

It's weird because it's also been tinged with moments of despair and frustration and boredom. So I have this extreme soup of emotions. Not all the time, and sometimes it flips like a switch, but a lot of the time it is a melange of all sorts of things. It's freaky.

Bottom line. Just trying to maintain.

so don't worry. my husband got me a couple of Wii games that I can sit in bed, lying down, and play. Generally, I detest video games, but this is saving my ass. Twist the wrist and I'm driving a mario brother around a track. I feel like a zombie after 3 hours of it but I don't feel quite as depressed, lonely, shitty. It's a worthless way to spend time, but since I can't find a way to be useful it at least makes time go away. I am bigger than I would have believed possible. I house 2 people. Freaky, right?

This might well qualify as the worst few months of my life. So I'm just trying to stay upbeat about that. Sorry if that is a bummer to read. Zero drama in writing it, or I don't feel dramatic. It's just a plateau, a vast unchanging plain of blah, punctuated by moments or hours of stress and discomfort. The reason I write this at all is not to elicit sympathy but just to leave a stamp upon the world, however ephemeral, that the existence I am living is in fact possible. Huge, sedantary, waiting.

Expectant. What an all-encompassing term. I wait.

I feel like I've bottomed out. I've refrained from posting the last few days because I am tired of negativity. I decided that if I have nothing good to say - then say nothing. And then I discovered that I couldn't make myself write anything positive. I can think of positive things, but when I try to write about them somehow things slide into darkness.

I'm reading a lot. Trying to escape from my head. My husband bought me a bunch of books on green building. New homes and remodeling. Great gift. I've been devouring that stuff, and my science maganzines and my news magazines, but when I try to write about what I've learned it comes out apocalyptic. I think if my husband brought me a Calvin and Hobbes book I'd write about death and if he brought me an art book on Hans Hoffman I'd write about loneliness. Lying in bed all day everyday has me in a vicious mental gyre. It colors everything.

Here I am



D is hammered tonight. His mom took care of putting the kids to bed while he nursed a bottle of rum and I lay on my side in bed. The boys were so needy tonight. Yelling and yelling they wanted me to do x and y, but of course I just lie here. Aidan fell asleep next to me and then got moved into his bed once he was fully asleep. Then D crawled into bed and groped me for half an hour. Okay. There is only so much I can do for you these days. Sorry.

As of today I am 30 weeks. 39 days on home bedrest so far. The goal is to make it to 36 weeks. It looks impossibly far away. I am lower than low. Can't even bring myself to type.

We're having a birthday party for B tomorrow. my mil set everything up. can't believe my lil boy is turning 3 in a few days. embarrassed to have the party here, i'll be the troll hiding in the dungeon all day chained to the bed. D is trying to convince me to just come down and sit on the sofa but i don't feel like i have 4 hours of smiles in me. when he brings it up i just cry. i want to put on a brave face for my boy's party so we'll see.

today we filled up the bathtub with warm water got out the forklift and dunked me. I cried "Eureka!" as not only some of the water in the tub was displaced but some of the pain in my back dispersed. If we could get a big enough tank and a wetsuit then I'd just lie in water all day. Less gravity, less pressure, it's got to be better than bedrest, let's call it wetrest.

Had an appointment on Monday and I'm measuring 39 weeks. The ultrasound tech says based on measurements the girls are about 3 and half pounds apiece so I guess 7 pounds of babies equals the full-term look. Which explains the general hip, pelvis, lower back agony I'm dealing with. One of the girls feels lodged in my pelvis most of the time and the other is kicking my ribs regularly. The octopus is doing me a fair amount of damage which has me in a somewhat sour mood.

It feels impossible that I could get any bigger or that my body can take much more of this but the bed rest and medication seem to be doing their part as far as maintaining the status quo on slowing cervical change, lowering the number of contractions and all that.

I've gained 47 pounds so far, I suppose I can reassure myself that seven of that is babies but it has us a little concerned about my health otherwise. Since I failed the 1 hour glucose, we did the 3 hour glucose which was a bit of an ordeal. After fasting and then drinking the syrup I was feeling pretty sick for a lot of the time.

No one has called me so I guess after 2 days I must have passed the blood test. If I had gestational diabetes I think I'd probably just bang my head on the wall.

What can I say that I haven't? Finding it hard to give a shit about anything. Today was a pitch black day emotionally. Tone deaf to joy. A puddle of warm puke in the bed would perhaps describe my self-regard. I smell, I'm hot and sweaty, there's not enough air flow in this house and it's 85 and humid here. I'm inert. Listless and huge like a inner tube filled with concrete.

I got a glimpse of my ass after a shower this morning - which I took to lift my spirits. My ass is not supposed to be a central concern at this point, but I can't help be dismayed by it's gross dimensions. The vision of it took me from feeling down to putrid. Feel like a ninny for letting something so useless be an anchor, but despite a brain - I couldn't help but feel the image mapped on my retina drag me to the silty bottom of cold and barren ocean floor of bleak darkness and resignation.

What's to be done but to wait it out? Giant boobs, ass and belly. A fertility symbol gone wrong.

Read a cool science article recently that talked about will power. It seems we all have a bank of will power and we can overdraw the resource and have less when we need. One of the things the article talked about is how you can actually increase will power thru practice. Apparently something as simple as brushing your teeth with your left hand can build will power "muscles." I guess that doing even a minor task that is mildly inconvenient and forcing yourself to stick to it is like exercising a muscle.

But doesn't practicing a task that takes up a small amount of will power also use up some of the resource? It's probably just like exercise. If you lift weights then an hour later you may be weaker but in general you get stronger.

I'm using my will power resources up these days by mostly sticking to my strict bed rest regimen. Also acting or pretending to be in a better mood than I am for my MIL over the little things she does that tick me off. For example, I'm pretty sure she is doing some minor re-arranging of the kitchen. I guess since I'm not running the kitchen for at least (knock on head) 2 months and she is - it makes sense for her to get comfortable. Still, isn't that some cardinal rule: Fuck ye not with another woman's kitchen.

Reading the article helped me realize that maybe that's why I'm having such a hard time laying off snacks. I'm using up will power reserves doing the things that I deem most important (keeping babies in muh bellah) and letting slide the ones that have lesser value like running the risk of hitting 200 pounds (from putting too much stuff in muh bellah).

It seems to me like this journal is more negative and self-absorbed than I actually am in life. The article doesn't talk about stuff like this so I am just extrapolating. But if being outwardly happy, patient with toddlers and husbands and in-laws takes some reserves then maybe venting acts as a countervailing valve? We all talk about blowing off steam and in the post Freud world we are used to talking about the value of talking it out and venting (funny how the terms apply to pressure and steam era tech) so this isn't a new idea. But what if venting, being a little dramatic, in essence letting go a little bit or even being a little extreme (more angry or sad or silly) acts as a kind of recharger on things like will power? Permission granted here so we can say "No!" to ourselves over there.

If so it seems like we are all pretty adept at using parts of our resources to act like gyroscopes to be relatively "level" lots of the time. We use our behavior and even how we feel like little "attitude jets" (that's pun-ny - attitude jets keep a space ship in position, my attitude jets keep my attitude in check - the derivations of the word must be from he same idea - our mood/attitude is a position or orientation of our selves to the world) so I might let myself get grumpy with the cat so I don't do the same to my husband, or I mope here so I don't mope in front of the boys. I think I've just mixed about 10 metaphors so far. Refusing to make myself spell and check my grammar or the tightness of my "prose" is possibly another way of relaxing here so I can bear down somewhere else.

That's probably a lot of thought and rational and typing to justify to myself that I just ate all the ice cream. My uterus says thank you for staying in bed. My ass says thank you for helping me grow. The stitches on my pants are yelling for help.

D had to get up at 4 this morning to go to the airport. He's going to be gone for 10 days so it's just me, the boys and my mother in law. She drove him to the airport so we could hold onto both cars and save on parking fees.

Of course B woke up screaming before she got back and I just laid here in bed calling out to him to come to my room so I could console him. "No mommy. You get Out Of BED. RIGHT. NOW!" The screaming went on for maybe 10 minutes. Full-on screaming like only a 3 year old can. I had to pee so I got up to do that and swung by his room to calm him down.

The trip up the stairs to the boys room was long and took my breath away. After 21 days in bed I think I feel noticeably weaker.

When my MIL got home she found me asleep in bed with him. While the boys were having breakfast she came to visit and had the nerve to tsk me about getting out of bed. The nerve, really. I didn't say anything back in my defense I just nodded and bit my tongue.

It's not just her, everyone gets to be the guardian of my bed rest and make sure I'm doing it well enough. I'm sorry, I literally lie on one side or the other for 22 hours a day. I spend maybe an hour sitting very slightly up and then I have the necessary trip to the bathroom to go pee. How much more strict do you want me to be?

I've cut down to a single shower a week. I get up each morning whether I've been up for hours anyhow from insomnia or whatever and get out of one set of pjs and into my day clothes, which are often just another set of pjs really. I make sure to change every night too, less for sense of fresh clothing and more for the sense that I'm not just going to let each day drift by as some sort of uninterrupted single day in bed. I brush my teeth 3 times a day (spit blood), squeezing that in to pee breaks. I comb my hair every day even if I'm not going to see anyone. Is that too much activity?

D tried to set out "options" for fresh clothing for me at a stand next to my bed so I'd feel like I had to move less. But I cut that off. I already have a mini-city barricade of things piled high around my bed (which I really appreciate) of piles of books, magazines, a mini fridge, fruit bowl, snacks, photos, correspondence, scrapbooks, etc. We even moved the bed off the wall so there was room on both sides for tables to stack more stuff. And there is a similar outpost (but with less, so the boys won't get into it) by the couch in the den. In short, lots has been done to help me feel okay to stay in bed and it's great. But having all that, don't try to take away my trip to the dresser or the closet to put on some clothes, okay?

I similarly vetoed the idea of putting a second mini-fridge by the sofa. I'm eating way too much as it is. I have big container of water, if I find myself desperately needing something that is refrigerated and I'm not in bed I can A) wait for someone to go get it for me B) get it myself. Please just leave me that. The small excursions, the permission I sometimes (rarely) give myself to break the rules (ooh shiver, dramatic music sting) waddle to the kitchen for a popsicle on the way back from the toilet (I always make it a detour not a special trip - see? how responsible of me).

I feel like the Chief in the novel version of "One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest," there are rails I am supposed to be on that take me from bathroom to bed or bathroom to couch. I'm not allowed off the rails. Actually the comparison is apt in another way, I'm on drugs too, but for me it's anti-labor meds.

some known side effects: Constipation; dizziness; flushing; giddiness; headache; heat sensation; heartburn; lightheadedness; nausea; weakness. Um, yeah. mostly insomnia, dizziness and heat for me (i'm really sweaty)but little bits of the other stuff around the edges.

So I'm of the Chief on the rails hopped up drugs and confined to this asylum. And if someone catches me out of bed and off the rails I get the look that says "C'mon, little girl, are we supposed to be doing that?"

I find myself rebelling in little ways. I try not to be petulant about it. Just because others: my husband, my MIL, a friend who visits, are trying to be thoughtful and vigilant and sometimes that rubs me the wrong way doesn't mean that I get to sneak off and jump on a trampoline when they're not looking as "payback." Lose-lose scenario there.

Today was my day to go get monitored. Normally I get dropped at the front entrance. When I was by myself (with the kids in tow) and having contractions, I dropped myself at the door and somehow someone miraculously moved my car to the parking lot later. Today I had an early appointment and I let my MIL know that I'd be heading out before she got back from taking the kids to daycare. But I lied a little teeny bit. I can go to L&D any time I want to get monitored but my appointment was half an hour later than I implied. So I drove myself the 2 miles to the hospital, parked in the lot! Walked to the elevator! And walked to the front entrance! Very rebellious of me. Then they strapped me down and monitored me and I lay in bed there for a half an hour longer than I normally would waiting for my scheduled stuff.

The girls are doing well. I know there's still plenty of time to change but I was happy to see they are both head down. Twin A flipped sometime this week, I'm pretty sure it was Saturday night based on the level of discomfort I felt. I'm hoping they start to run out of room for their flipping shenanigans. I guess I do glucose text next week. There's always something to look forward to.

I've had a lot of time to think lying around all day every day. Been thinking a lot about my sister these last few weeks. When I was 18 I got in a car accident by turning left across traffic when I should have waited. There were three people in the car: me, my sister and a friend. The friend was in the back seat and came away with bruises. I broke my collar bone, a wrist, and have some scarring from glass that I bear to this day, my sister was on the passenger side and got killed. Not right away. She was pretty broken up and a couple of days of surgeries in the hospital weren't enough and she died from the damage.

I'd normally say it took me a year to recover, but of course I never have. Done a fair amount of therapy to deal with it. It's not my only issue. Before that I was bulimic and had issues with self-inflicted injury. I also have social anxiety disorder. Crowds make me panic, I'm not very comfortable in public (although I'm a lot better now than I was when I was younger) and I make friends very slowly.

Normally these are subjects that I never discuss except with my husband or a therapist. But I'm starting to feel dishonest here by not laying it out on the table. I'm not sure why I feel that way. In normal, everyday life there's no reason to bring any of it up to the people I'm friendly with. What I present as my public self doesn't need explanation or justification. Lots of years of dealing with my issues has brought me to the point where I do my best to avoid panic and feelings of humiliation by refusing to let myself act as though how I feel internally has to play out in how I deal with others. And so I've defined the feelings as not necessary to share, generally. Except to inner circle intimates.

Part of the comfort of the internet is just enough distance so I feel less judged. The spotlight that I feel focused on me in small daily interactions (sometimes as innocuous as with a cashier at a store- where I can feel myself flush and begin to sweat when someone says "Saving a Plastic Tree?" when I turn down a bag - and I feel like they're expecting a clever response) is less here.

My therapist recently wondered if somehow I wanted to get pregnant again to avoid going back out into the world as something other than a stay at home mom. I didn't admit it then, but the idea terrified me. Was it possible? And how sick is that? I got pregnant by getting drunk and "forgetting" that I was at the wrong point in my cycle for sex. I put the forgetting into quotes because now that the subject has been broached I don't know or trust anynore what was going on then. Could it be that I wanted to get pregnant again? I was just on the cusp of getting back to work.

I don't expect answers. I just need my journal to be open to asking myself things with some small measure of honesty. And I'm hoping that you don't judge me too harshly for the character flaws I reveal here.

I'm pretty scared right now, to be honest. I was contracting more than usual last night to the point that I seriously considered heading into the hospital. I am sort of pissed because D is drunk tonight. on the heels of a rough night, he is so hammered that he'd be useless if things went wrong now.

I don't know. Perhaps I've said too much. This is me.

My husband and I agreed, if I deliver by c-section then I get my tubes tied. If I deliver the old fashioned way we gets the V.

I've had a tough night so far. Around midnight I started having slightly more regular contractions. I'm on anti-labor meds, but I have contractions here and there thru the day. Between midnight and 1;15a I think I had three contractions. I called L&D.
Was I sure I'd had 3 contractions in 75 minutes?
No.
They told me to drink some water.
Did I take note of the last contraction and the time?
Yes. 6 minutes ago.
When was the last time I took my brethine?
A little over 5 hours ago.
Drink water, take another dose, call back or just come in if I have another contraction before 1;45.

And then the waiting game. I live less than 2 miles from the hospital. I wrote this post while waiting it out. I'm not sure that now that it is 1:46a that it is all that conclusive, so more waiting and trying not to do anything that might set me off.

Boredom punctuated by anxiety is less than amusing.

For the first time in something like 3 weeks I got to spend some time outside, unless you want to count waddling to the car - going to an appointment and coming home.

Unbelievably gorgeous day here in Washington. D set up a spot for me outside on an old couch so I would not be cooped up all weekend again. Just when I think he's tuned me out completely he comes thru with a perfect little surprise.

He even got a little umbrella stand so that after I'd baked in the sun for 20 minutes I wouldn't get fried. Lemonade on a side table, fresh strawberries, etc. Then he brought me pix he snapped on our little digital camera of some of the plants that are growing: tomatoes, cucumbers, some lettuce just beginning to sprout, basil, etc. It was so nice to see that things hadn't died off from lack of attention these last 3 weeks. I wouldn't say anything looks great, lack of water and love will do that. But at least things aren't dead. Yay!

Aidan fell at some point and bit his tongue really hard. He must have cried for 20 minutes. I sat holding him with a ice pack wrapped in a cloth. It's frustrating. I don't know what he was doing, trying to balance on something and he fell back and bit himself. Probably just one of those things, but when you're lying down all day you feel guilty like maybe if I was up and around and paying attention I wouldn't have let whatever happened happen.

I woke up at 3:30 this morning getting kicked in the nether area. Lot's of movement today. Seems like a fight is going on in there.

I feel so much better th

What a shitty day. Nothing went wrong, I'm just demoralized. Aidan asked me why the babies are hurting me and can they go away :(

I got stuck on thinking about my sister today. Too much time by myself with too much space to think. Awful day. stupid post.

My mother in law moved in with us so D could go back to work and there'd be someone to look after the kids. The prospect of her living with us for the next couple of months does not excite me but I am grateful she is here.

To say we don't see eye to eye on a lot is an understatement. I am losing my shit lying down all the time. If I can make it to 37 weeks that's something like 73 more days of this and so far I've been home in bed for 15. Feels like a eternity already. I don't know how I'm going to manage.

Anyone read "The Yellow Wallpaper" where the woman goes nuts on bed rest? Instead of going insane I may just gain 400 pounds. If I'm not asleep then it seems I am eating, trying to stick to carrots, broccoli and veggies as my main snacks so I don't turn into a hippo - but the boredom is really getting to me.

I worked so hard on my garden this spring and when I asked my MIL what the chances were that she'd try to maintain it her answer was "Just about zero." Great. She wasn't mean about it, that's just who she is - very matter of fact. As in, "I don't do that, sorry." There was actually some sympathy in the way she said it. Still, a big disappointment for me though to go along with a lot of hard to take life things these days.

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