Zan and Jayna…why didn’t I think of those names?

For those out there keeping score on my cervix, it is now ~1.5 cm dilated. Which is basically bumpkiss. Still thick and high. Doc said she maybe could touch Big Boy’s head, but that was only when she activated her go-go-gadget long fingers. I’m 35 weeks 5 days, so he still has time to “activate.” (I’ve totally turned these twins into wee animated superheroes with my overactive imagination…Wonder Twins, Activate!…that’s what I expect them to do the day I go in for the big birthing…lock and load…Big Boy head, engage…Sidekick Wonder Girl, get in line and do the same…KABLOW! POW! BOOM! SPLAT!…ok, scratch the SPLAT!…hopefully, someone will catch the slippery sucker before he or she hits the floor)

The nurse said I lost 3 pounds. I think she just wrote down the wrong weight last week. (remember, I can no longer see the pound tally as I’m too bulbous from the front to stand on the scale like a normal person…I gingerly ease on the scale backwards and don’t bother to ask the weight…what good is that gonna do me at this point?) Oh, she did follow my weight measurement with the comment to E, “You know, she totally deserves a tummy tuck after all this. You should definitely get her a tummy tuck.” Great, nurse lady. Thanks for putting that idea into everyone’s head…the idea of my flappy fat suit that’ll be dangling from my torso months after these twins evacuate. Excelente! Maybe she was getting me back for last week when approached with the idea of a C-section, I accidentally blurted out (the walls, they are quite thin at the doctor’s office), “I really don’t want the doctor to go all Freddy Kruger on my a$$!” Oops. She was on her way out the door when I megaphoned that sentiment and hurriedly shut the door and whispered (‘whispered‘ I’m guessing so I would get the hint that, ‘Hey, deaf lady, have those twins robbed you of volume control because everyone can hear you!’), “I had a C-section and I think they’re great.” Okay. Sorry. Maybe I get carried away with my mental imagery of giving birth on Elm Street or seeing Dr. Edward Scissorhands, OB/GYN. Oh, well.

Doc was very complimentary of my progress thus far and praised my lack of complaining and how well I’m doing what I do. That was nice to hear. I almost cried. (left over Christmas day blues topped with someone being nice?…ah, tear duct overload…but, I did what I do during the sad part of a movie at the theater- pinched myself really hard and told myself it wasn’t real) It was especially nice to hear with Insensitive E in the room who really has absolutely no clue. I guess my secret self-flagellation/pinching projected an odd expression on my face because after saying how I never complain to her, she did add, “Oh, but maybe you lay it on thick at home. E, am I right? Wink-wink.” He flatly replied, “No, actually she doesn’t complain at all.” And, I don’t…to him…because it would just be falling on deaf ears and what’s the point. But, my dear chickadees, you’ve heard me nag and whine, right? I swear, if I had your home addresses, I’d show up with my twenty kids begging to shack up with you. Because some of you guys really are just peachy. All cute, soft fuzz covered sweet peaches.

Not totally related but interesting: I’ve mentioned the D.C. blogging mamas I infiltrated during NaBloPoMo. Wrekehavoc posted a recent pic (and I hope you mind my linking to it, wreke) of the powerhouse get-together of wrekehavoc herself, Nylonthread, and KellyO. E has nosily walked by enough times to know who I read and why and what they’re about. So, he walks by Christmas Eve to catch this photo of the three amigos.

E: “Who’s that?”
me: “Those are the D.C. girls.”
E: “Hmm, they totally look like your kind of people. You should move to D.C. You’d be very happy with them.” (is he trying to hook me up with 3 married women here?)
me: “Uh, ok. But, I’m taking the kids.”
E: “Well, what do I get?”
me: “Your parents.”
E: “Ok.”

So, do something about that nasty cold weather and I’ll join your commune in D.C.

Thank you for hanging with me during that brief commercial break. Doc complimented me and went on to say if anyone could birth these babies vaginally, I’m her number one pick. I’ve popped out two healthy babies already with no problem whatsoever. With Gab, I didn’t even need (nor have for the majority of the time) the doctor in the room. Her head was perched there in my hoohaa for a good 10 minutes while we waited on the doctor to hoof it to the delivery room. The nurse sat there playing with Gab’s hair and begging me to not even breath or she’d flop on out, SPLAT! And, let me say, it was a very odd and uncomfortable sensation having a baby’s head wedged in your patooty which you can feel and a nurse sitting there running her fingers through said baby’s hair. Watch it, nurse lady! You might be working in some of my down there hair with that baby hair you’re winding around your finger.

So, what to do now? Just sit and wait some more. Doc definitely doesn’t want me to go past 38 weeks which would be sometime around January 11th. She’s put the offer on the table to force an eviction next Friday or Saturday (Jan 4th or 5th) if I want. Yes, it’s getting more and more difficult to breath, get up and down, sleep, tame the wild heartburn beast, battle the tingling/numb sensation mostly in my right hand and arm, but I’m willing to march on to make sure we’ve got some Olympic swimmer quality lungs in these babes. And, I really would like to give them the opportunity to Wonder Twins, Activate! on their own accord. It’s worked so well for me the past two times; I don’t want to jinx it. I’m sure both Gav and Gab left a cheat sheet in there somewhere for them to read. Or maybe a copy of The Long and Winding Road of Mom’s Vaginal Canal- CliffsNotes.