Prepare for the Twinvasion Part 5: Are We There Yet?! NOPE!

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TwinVasion Are We There Yet NashvilleMomsBlog

This is me three and a half weeks ago. Cute, right?! This was back when I was brushing my hair.

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This is me now.

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Oh. The. Humanity.

 

So basically, I have determined that the babies are coming…NEVER.

The average gestation for twins is 34 weeks. I’m 37 weeks 5 days. And counting. The internet said they would be here by now. My doctor said they would be here by now. But they aren’t. Never in my wildest dreams (which these days are mostly about Subway sandwiches…I know, I know the bread is made of tennis shoes) did I expect that I, of all people—a person so perpetually early that she has never not finished her popcorn before the movie started—would be shuffling around town with a guesstimated 12 lbs of baby a whole two and a half weeks later than expected. Tell me—how is it even possible?

The fact that I am still pregnant has left my entire medical twiniverse in a state of shock and awe.

“You’re not even dilated at all today, my doctor declared last week as he popped up from behind the pink paper curtain, shooting me a gloved thumbs up.

The nurse, who I secretly hate because she weighs about as much a crouton and looks like the pretty girl from Scandal but even prettier, cooed “You must be so proud!”

Even the stoic administrative bird (whom I fondly refer to as Clinical Cathy) was excited. She looked up from her bowl of Tootsie Rolls, “Induction scheduled for 38 weeks. Nothing to eat or drink after midnight.” And then she smiled. “Such an accomplishment. Good for you.”

I didn’t feel terribly accomplished. I just felt confused, sore, and ready to have slightly fewer people using my bladder as a speed bag. Truthfully, I feel like the only thing I have accomplished over the course of the pregnancy is memorizing a frightening battery of preemie twin birth statistics and letting them haunt me deep into the night.

I get it. “Waaaah waaaaah waaaaah! Poor Shannon! You won at twins; cry me a pair of rivers!” But seriously, y’all. I’ve spent the past nine months positively TERRIFIED that Hot Wheel sized children were peeking out of my cervix and just waiting for the right moment to pop out of my knickers. My doctor, the Maternal Fetal Medicine person, and my ever contracting uterus (from about 20 weeks onward) reminded me with that authoritative school principal bluster that labor was imminent. But nothing happened.

Like most women, instead of toying with the revolutionary idea of actually enjoying my pregnancy (well, as much as a person can enjoy being pregnant with two babies), I took every precaution I possibly could. I went on a special twins diet that had me eating more protein than a flippin’ Tiger Shark, I checked my blood pressure every other day at the local Rite Aid, and (I’m slightly embarrassed to admit) I had 9 months of the most cautious, non-invasive sexual intercourse the world has ever known. I mean, I probably looked like this the entire time.

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Poor husband.

Basically, if I ran into you at any point during the past several months, I was thinking about the tone and strength of my kegel muscles for the entire duration of our conversation.

When did pregnancy become so scary? When did something so natural start to feel like one protracted heart palpitation? The fear is real, whether you’re packing one baby or more, high-risk or uncomplicated as they come. Whether you’re some lithe pregnant ballerina type (You’re the worst, BTW, but your thighs are amazing!), or you’re built like a cement mixer (Can I get a woot woot!?), we expectant moms are fiercely protective of our bodies for 40 weeks. Exactly. About 35-36 weeks if you’re carrying twins. But maybe it is possible that some of us are a little too protective?

Because the day we wake up after that due date has passed us by, we’ve had enough. The anxiety, the weird maternity pants with that spandex over-the-belly thing, the grainy sonograms…we’re over it. All of it. And we’re exhausted.

The alcohol and deli meat deprivation has left our minds weak and our bodies tired, and we’ve barely taken a moment to glance at the beautiful, astonishing journey that has all but passed us by.

I have an induction scheduled for tomorrow.

I could spend these last hours bouncing on an exercise ball, eating ungodly amounts pineapple, and willing my cervix to ripen to avoid said induction. I could chug stinky raspberry tea laced with castor oil and spend more quality time with my acupuncturist than my family. I did all of the desperate eleventh hour stuff with my firstborn (who hung on until 41 weeks). But I’m not going to this time.

This time, things are going to be different. I’m going to take these last, giant clumsy moments of pregnancy and enjoy myself. I’m going to try and induce labor by watching the new unbreakable Tiny Fey thing on Netflix and by seeing how many Kettle Chips I can fit into my mouth at one time (spoiler alert: it’s 8). I’m going to pay a stranger $28 to rub my feet and paint my toenails (I was too afraid to attempt a pedicure during pregnancy…pressure points—they’re everywhere), and I’m going to have the kind of sex where I don’t look like a large-eyed, slow loris staring down the barrel of a gun. (Shhhhh! Don’t tell my mom.)

Pregnancy is scary, but it’s also amazing and special and utterly miraculous. Sure, it can be a long, lumbering and uncomfortable season, but it is—above all else—phenomenal. So, my fellow round-bellied friends, take that extra cheesy picture. Try to relish the last few moments of life as you know it. Have faith that your body, however tired and swollen, knows more about this child bearing stuff than your Google-happy brain does.

Friends, I promise you, the next Twinvasion post will feature far fewer pictures of me and more pictures of those (probably) cute-ish baby pals I’ve been talking up for so long!

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Shannon Lee Miller
Shannon was a proud Canadian firmly opposed getting married, having children, and moving to the United States. That was 10 years ago. She currently resides in Nashville with her husband, 4 year old son, and 1 year old boy/girl twins. She is a published songwriter and co-author of “Awkward Moments with Men”, a book of humour essays, and is currently working as a freelance writer and researcher. When she isn’t drowning in her adorable children, she loves cooking, tolerates exercise, and hates dancing. She is fighting a Swedish Fish addiction that has left her dentist shocked and deeply saddened.

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