My exam went fine, Dr. Risky said I have healed well and she cleared me to resume normal activity. I’m actually kind of looking forward to exercising. Of course, ask me again in the morning when it’s time for me to go to the gym. I’ll be singing a verrrrry different tune. But before I go to the gym I am going back to physical therapy to get my hips and back in a bit better shape. I’m hoping my physical therapist can make some good and easy suggestions to help get me back into shape. Emphasis on easy. Hopefully something involving eating cookies.

Speaking of cookies, there is one thing that isn’t quite right. In the last six weeks, I’ve had to check my blood sugar a few times to see how my body is adjusting to no longer being pregnant. The good news is that my blood sugar after I eat is normal. The weird news is that my fasting blood sugar (my blood sugar when I wake up) is way too high. It should be 90 or below, and it has been 111, 110, 135, 100, and 140. Dr. Risky thought that it is a little weird but she was encouraged that my post-meal blood sugar is at a normal level. But, to be sure, I am going to mention it to Dr. Looove when I bring Annabel in for her two month appointment in a few weeks.

Has anyone else experienced this? I’m not snacking overnight or eating gobs of sugar before bed. I’m hoping this isn’t a precursor to type two diabetes.

I told Annie what was going on and she was like, “whaaaaa?”

I’m glad she’s sympathetic.

As Mike said, we went in to Labor and Delivery that day because I wasn’t feeling right. It wasn’t anything in particular but a collection of symptoms: a sudden and awful headache, belly tenderness, decreased fetal movement, and just a general unease in my head that I needed to be seen by a doctor. When we arrived at the hospital we were whisked away into a room and tended to immediately. Mike was really certain that we were going to be there for a couple hours and then be sent home. I was less certain but didn’t want to jinx anything either way.

I had a non-stress test that showed Annie was fine, and my urine check didn’t indicate pre-eclampsia. My contractions were minor and irregular, and it was looking like Mike was right, and we’d be heading home. The resident checking on me went to go talk to Dr. Risky, and I sent my parents a text saying everything checked out fine and we’d probably be going home. As soon as I hit send, the resident walked back in with a scrub cap on and said, “So, what do you think about having your c-section this afternoon?”

Everything kicked into high-gear at that point. I called my parents, my cousin, my brother. I tried to send texts to all my friends, but the c-section prep made it impossible. My amazing nurse Helen inserted my IV, did a blood draw, and asked me 1,001 questions while Mike gave me this weird wipe down with sterile wipes. The wipes were FREEZING. Helen checked my blood sugar and it was really low, so she gave me a bag of cold fluid via my new IV. Between the fluids, the wipes, and my nerves, I was shaking badly. And then things got funny.

I started to feel nauseous, so I told Helen as much thinking she could put something in my IV to help with that. She told me to sit back and take some deep breaths. Not hard to do since I was, you know, already laying in bed. This is where things get fuzzy. I THOUGHT I said to Helen that I felt like I was going to pass out, but Mike and my cousin Leah (who had arrived by then) said I didn’t. According to everyone else, I was unresponsive and making guttural noises. The crazier thing is that I don’t remember passing out. I have fainted plenty of times and I remember losing consciousness, but not this time. I have some fuzziness, but as far as I remember, I said I was going to pass out and then I was OK. But, no. Thinking back now, I realize that the room was jammed with people. I remember hearing the doctors and nurses saying my blood pressure (70/40) and that the baby’s heart rate was decreasing. I remember seeing the frightened faces of Mike and Leah, the serious faces of the medical staff, and trying to assure the anesthesiologist that “I’m a fainter, it’s noooooo big deal” while he looking at me like I was a little bit crazy.

The decision was made to move me to the operating room immediately in case I lost consciousness again. In there, the anesthesiologist told me that he wanted to put me under general anesthesia for my c-section. That meant I’d be sleeping and Mike wouldn’t be allowed in the operating room. His reasoning was that he was worried I’d pass out again and he didn’t want to wait to get the results of my blood tests – blood tests that would indicate the safety of being awake for the surgery. Mike and I had always known this was a possibility, but when it was presented to me I looked at Dr. Risky and pleaded with her not to let it happen. If I needed to be put under for the surgery, that was one thing, but if there was a possibility I didn’t, I really wanted to wait and see. She agreed, not only for our sake, but also because general anesthesia complicates things. Luckily, the blood work came back in my favor, and I was allowed to be awake.

I had a lot of time on the operating table while I waited for things to be determined – time where I was alone, since Mike wasn’t brought into the room until moments before the surgery began. I tried to stay calm – Annie’s heart rate was extremely elevated because of the drugs they’d given me when I’d passed out – so I knew I had to keep mine under control to not make things worse. While I laid there, I was greeted with a friendly face. My friend Staci, a nurse and one of my sorority sisters from college, received a text from my cousin telling her I was going into surgery. She hightailed it down to the hospital and made it in time to be there. I was so happy to see her smiling eyes behind her surgical mask. I can’t tell you how much calmer I felt knowing she was there.

The surgery went off without a hitch, and soon the anesthesiologist was telling Mike to stand up and watch our baby be born. I felt all the tugging and pressure, and then a lightness. There was a commotion from all the people in the room, and then I heard a tiny but powerful sound – Annabel’s cry announcing she was here. She sounded exactly like her sister the day she was born. There is nothing – nothing – like hearing your child’s cry, because that means they can breathe. Memories from Madeline’s birth came flooding back, and I realized I was crying. I badly wanted to see my baby, to touch her, and confirm that she was here and she was OK. When Staci brought her over to me, it was magical.

That first touch was so amazing.

Even now, 27 days later, I am having a hard time writing more than the blow by blow of the day. I want Annabel to know how great a day it was. I had been so scared that the emotions would be overwhelming, but they weren’t. I was scared I would be overcome with sadness, but I wasn’t. Not that day. The day of her birth was just joy and love and happiness. The staff at the hospital took such amazing care of all of us. They knew about Madeline, and they wanted to hear about her while they met Annabel. They made an effort to include Maddie in the day and it meant so much to me. At the hospital, we enjoyed the newness of our daughter. We reveled in her birth and specialness.

At home, we continue to do so.

Someday, I’ll find the words to express just how special she is.

But then yesterday morning, I started bleeding out of nowhere. I was surprised and a little worried, since I hadn’t bled for 12 days and this was bright red. Luckily, I was scheduled for my two week appointment with Dr. Risky. As she examined me I told her about the bleeding. She asked a few more questions, and then said, “It’s your period.”

I threw my head back and howled, “nooooooooooo!”

I got my period exactly 28 days after Madeline was born, and now I had it 18 days after Annabel’s birth. My. Body. Hates me.

But still, I was in denial. I asked her how that was possible, since I am breast feeding and it hasn’t even been a month since Annie was born.

“Oh yeah, it’s absolutely possible. You’re just one of the lucky ones.”

And then she said, “Let’s talk about your birth control options.”

So I said, “ABSTINENCE!” because HELLO!

She replied, “Yeah, but not forever, and you’re probably super fertile.”

I said, “all I have to do is tell my husband that and his penis will curl up into his body. Problem solved!”

She laughed and then handed me a prescription for progesterone birth control pills.

Now I have nine months of PMS slamming me. Thank goodness I can now eat chocolate.

I mean, this little thing is so cute I can hardly stand it:

But she doesn’t need an Irish Twin.

The text4baby campaign is a nationwide effort to give expectant and new mothers information that promotes healthy pregnancies – and healthy babies – via text messaging. It is totally free, and once registered an expectant mother (“or father!” Mike just yelled across the room) will receive three free text messages a week with health tips specifically tailored to the stage of their baby’s development. So, if you are two months pregnant, you will be texted info about being healthy when two months pregnant, or if you have a two month old, you will be texted info about your two month old. As your pregnancy advances or your child gets older, so will the information texted to you, and it will continue to do so all the way through your baby’s first birthday.

This service is so important because, shockingly, America has one of the highest infant-mortality rates in the industrialized world. Each year more than 500,000 of our babies (one in eight) are born prematurely, and about 28,000 infants die before their first birthday. These statistics don’t have to be so dire…by literally putting health information at the fingertips of expectant and new families, we are empowering them to give their babies the best possible start in life.

As you all know, Madeline was born premature, and one of the reasons she passed away was because of “complications related to prematurity.” So if you are pregnant or a new parent, please sign up for text4baby by texting the word “baby” or “bebe” to 511411. If you’re not pregnant, please help to spread the word. (a press release with more info on text4baby can be read here.) The more parents this information reaches, the more babies will make it to full term, and that is something we can all be proud of.

Everyone deserves a healthy little baby like this:

After Annabel was born and my surgery was just about over, I was breathing into my oxygen mask when I suddenly heard an unmistakable noise. It was a STAPLE GUN SOUND! I shouted, “That is the creepiest noise I have EVER HEARD!” I don’t recommend shouting on the operating table, by the way. The doctors did not appreciate it. I looked at Mike and said, “I am going to barf OMG,” I also don’t recommend saying that unless you actually mean it, because the anesthesia resident jumped up to adjust my IVs before she realized I wasn’t entirely serious. Just thinking about the noise of the staple gun is making me dry heave.

Now I have to be clear about something – I was never worried about staples actually hurting. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to feel much – if anything – down there. It is all mental. I had a dressing on the incision for the first 36 hours, but when an OB resident came to remove the dressing early Sunday morning I freaked a little. I couldn’t believe they were just going to leave it exposed! And then I had to go home before they were removed. I REFUSED to look at the staples – I had Mike check them to make sure everything looked OK. When I went in to Dr. Risky’s office to have the staples removed, I seriously had to go to my happy place. Unfortunately, I could still hear her drop each staple onto the paper draping…all fourteen of them. GAG.

Something that no one warned me about after my first c-section was the terrible gas pain. I know, you hear gas pain and you’re like, TOO MUCH INFORMATION. But it’s not your typical gas pain from eating a burrito. This is drop me to my knees, make me scream pain that comes on really suddenly as it moves around in my intestines. It. Is. Awful. I am taking medicine for it, which helps a bit, but MAN. I did remember how bad the gas was after my first c-section. The first time it hit I was standing at Madeline’s incubator and I honestly thought I was dying. Luckily there was a nurse nearby that recognized the signs and told me it was normal. Thanks for the warning, Former OB (yet another reason why she is my former OB).

Annabel is doing great. She had the tiniest bit of jaundice when we left the hospital, but it was just about gone when she went for her first check up with Dr. Looove. Unfortunately yesterday it came roaring back, so we had to take her to get some blood work. She needs to repeat it again today so hopefully her bilirubin numbers will be on the way down instead of up. Fingers crossed!

What’s that, you want to see a picture of a naked yellow baby? Well I will give you one.

She is my little Lemon Head.

Flash to the day Annabel was born. I found myself laying on the operating table not entirely sure what the hell had happened because I’d lost consciousness, and suddenly I was getting a catheter before my anesthesia (DO! NOT! RECOMMEND!), extra IVs placed because I was a “bleeding and crash risk,” OH and I had to get numbing medicine shot into my spinal column – and my husband wasn’t in the room with me to hold my hand. So instead I crushed the hand of a second year resident. I hope she wasn’t in charge of cutting anything important. I could feel a little bit of a panic coming on, you know, OH MY GOD I’M ABOUT TO HAVE MY INSIDES ON THE OUTSIDE! But then Mike came in and the surgery started and that was that. So I think my denial bubble was a nice place to be.

However. Instead of preparing for the surgery, I really should have been preparing for the recovery. My recovery period after Madeline’s birth was a joke – I never took it easy, I spent all day in the NICU at her bedside, and I ran on adrenaline. I blocked out a lot of the physical pain I felt because the emotional pain was much larger. I really had no idea what to expect this time around. And, so far it’s been alright. I am super sore – my skin just aches (but no stretch marks!!) and my incision is sensitive. My back is killing me and I won’t even get started on my boobs. But honestly, it hasn’t been that bad. I’ve been resting as much as I can. My mom and Mike have been helping me immensely with Annabel. It’s been a very good recovery so far.

But I know you’re thinking, “Heather, you said you’d take post-baby pictures of your belly!” And I am true to my word.

I am distracting you from my belly with the cute baby

Considering how gigantic my belly was ten days ago, I am satisfied with how much it’s gone down. I did the Snoopy dance (you know, nose in the air) when I weighed myself for the first time after giving birth. I felt like I was on The Biggest Loser! I don’t care if the majority of that was baby – how often does a person lose double digits in a week? But then I had a humbling experience. You see, I had to switch off the big mesh panties the hospital gives postpartum women because I was so itchy from the c-section drugs. I had my mom pick me up some underwear at Target and…holy crap it’s humongous.

again using the baby to distract you

If you have a keen eye you might have noticed that I had to do some, um, adjusting to the waist band.

The shame! Except not really. My adjusted undies are super comfy.

And now I will cleanse your palate with a baby picture!

HEATHER: “You think we’re overreacting by going to Labor & Delivery?”

MIKE: “Not if you’re going into labor.”

HEATHER: “You think I’m going into labor?”

MIKE: “I don’t know.  Do you?”

HEATHER: “I don’t know. Maybe.”

MIKE: “Maybe?! You think you might be going into labor?!”

Heather shrugged, then looked over at me, suddenly nervous.

HEATHER: “Dude. What if I AM going into labor?”

Upon arriving at the hospital we decided to document things with “before” photos of ourselves just in case this was indeed Annie’s big day:

Minutes later Heather was examined by an O.B. Resident who, after performing an ultrasound, went off to call Dr. Risky  and discuss the situation. We waited nervously until the Resident popped her head back into the room and said, “What do you think of maybe having a baby today?” Heather and I exchanged glances as the Resident explained that, considering the high risk nature of the pregnancy and Heather’s prior c-section, it would be best to go ahead and have the c-section now instead of waiting and risking further complications. After discussing the options we agreed this was the best plan – especially since, because Heather had skipped her blood thinner shot the night before due to her headache, she wouldn’t have to be put under for the operation. The Resident told us Dr. Risky would arrive and perform the c-section within the next hour or two (once blood tests confirmed that the blood thinners had indeed left her system)!

We whipped out our cell phones. Heather called her parents in Ventura County who immediately hurried down while I reached mine at their home in the San Francisco Bay Area as they readied to go to dinner to celebrate their 45th wedding anniversary. They quickly canceled their reservation and began the seven hour trip to Los Angeles.

The minutes were ticking away as a pair of great nurses, Helen and Staci (a former sorority sister of Heather’s who started her shift early to be there), prepared Heather for surgery. Soon Heather’s cousin, “Tia Leah,” arrived as Heather reclined on the hospital bed.

That’s when things got scary…

Heather, after being given a shot of Terbutaline and hooked to an I.V., mentioned she felt strange. Nurse Helen told her to relax and close her eyes. Instead of closing her eyes, however, Heather just stared back at her.

“Go ahead,” Nurse Helen repeated. “Just close your eyes.”

Again, Heather just stared back at Helen with a blank visage. I stepped toward Heather, concerned, and called out her name. No response. Worried, I repeated Heather’s name again and again with rising intensity, but still she just stared. Nurse Helen quickly told Leah to push the emergency button. As Leah hurried to push the button, Heather’s head rolled to the side and she emitted a series of guttural noises.

Doctors and nurses burst into the room with the crash cart and tended to Heather as Leah and I looked on, frightened. A doctor soon said that Heather’s blood pressure was alarmingly low – when they could get a reading it was 70/40 -  as the team tried to bring it back up. For frighteningly long moments they had no luck until they gave her a shot of Ephedrine and the life returned to her eyes. The anesthesiologist told us that Heather’d had a vasovagel episode, and because of Heather’s drop in blood pressure – and its effect on Annie’s blood pressure and heart rate – they needed to take her to the operating room and get the baby out now. Unfortunately, because they didn’t have time to wait for the results from Heather’s blood test, they would have to put Heather to sleep with a general anesthesia for the operation. This meant Heather would be unconscious during our daughter’s birth, and I would have to wait in a different room while it all happened. This was one of our biggest worries about taking the blood thinners – that we might miss our baby’s birth if Heather went into labor before she stopped the shots in time – and here it was happening. I was disappointed, but considering the scary nature of things I agreed as I just wanted Heather and the baby be okay. Heather was quickly wheeled out of the room leaving Leah and me, stunned.

Upon arriving in the operating room Heather told Dr. Risky how much she didn’t want to be put under for Annie’s birth, and luckily, Dr. Risky had her own concerns about putting her under for medical reasons. After a pow-wow with the anesthesiologist, Dr. Risky convinced him to wait a little longer for the blood test results. He agreed, and when the results came they showed that the blood thinners had indeed left Heather’s system.

A nurse soon returned to the room Leah and I were in,  and told us (as well as Heather’s parents and aunt who had by then arrived) that Heather was worried about me and wanted me to know all was okay. She also told me that they wouldn’t be putting Heather under after all and I could be in the room! I hurriedly dressed in scrubs and made my way to the O.R.

The operation began and Heather and I huddled together behind the curtain, holding hands and fighting tears. More emotions than I could describe swirled in our heads. It was impossible not to think of Maddie, as Heather and I had waited behind a very similar curtain on her birth day. That day all we cared about was hearing Maddie cry upon coming out, because that would mean her lungs were healthy enough to do so. Maddie came out crying, and so did Annie. The moments were shockingly similar…seeing Heather cry tears of joy upon hearing her daughters’ cries, and me staring in shock at their shocks of black hair just like their daddy’s.

Annie was taken to a table by the nurses so they could clean her up, and I quickly took photos of her first moments of life. I then cut her umbilical chord, took her in my arms, and carried her over to her mother for our first moment as a family. It was very bittersweet to be able to have this moment with Annie, because Maddie had been rushed from the O.R. to the NICU before Heather could do anything more than kiss her hat. This time we made the most of it:

I soon went to the waiting room to show the photos of Annie’s birth to our family, then retreated to a recovery room where Heather waited with Annie. We texted photos of Annie to Uncle Kyle and Aunt Monica and Uncle Sheridan, then watched as Nurse Staci gave Annie her first bath. Annie absolutely LOVED getting her hair washed. I have a feeling she will be a HUGE fan of the hair salon in a few years. (My wallet sighs.)

Upon moving to our postpartum room Heather, Annie and myself were greeted by some of our friends, and everyone took turns holding the Amazing Annabel and talking about how much she looked like her sister.

As Annie’s Birth Day drew to a close, I checked Twitter and this blog, and told Heather about all the love the Internet was sending our little one’s way. We were both so touched.

My parents finally arrived after making the long trek from San Francisco and met their granddaughter for the first time. They told us Annie was “the best anniversary gift they could have been given.”

As midnight struck I kissed my daughter on the head and whispered, “Welcome to the world, Annabel. Welcome to the world.”

It helps a lot that I have good genes. My mom carried my brother and me to 42 weeks. FORTY TWO WEEKS WITH TWINS! We weighed in at six pounds 11 ounces and six pounds 14 ounces, and my mom didn’t have a single stretch mark. You can’t even hate her because FORTY TWO WEEKS WITH TWINS OMG.

There are a lot of other factors involved for me. Even though I’m only five foot three inches tall, I have a long torso for someone of my height. That gives the baby a little more room. I also grew straight out, then when I hit 49 1/2 inches around my stomach started growing up and down. Very uncomfortable for my body, but much easier on my skin.

I also have this most likely inaccurate theory that the shots I give myself every day help. My idea is that I have to pinch the skin on my stomach every day looking for a place to plunge the needle, and somehow that has helped stretch my skin gradually. Like I said, it’s probably inaccurate, but I’m not a real doctor, I just play one on the internet! Plus I know that if you google something enough you’ll find an answer that supports any theory.

Of course, there is one other big factor behind my smooth skin – food and I have a bad relationship when I’m pregnant. Believe you me, when you throw up a bazillion times a day and the only meal plan you’re allowed to eat is the same one Jennifer Aniston follows, you’re not going to gain a lot of weight. Or, really, any weight at all. I really cannot wait to not to think so much about food. It will be glorious.

So, in conclusion – have good genes, grow a long torso, make sure the baby grows up and down, give yourself blood thinning shots every day, barf your brains out, and eat like a bird!

When I put it that way, stretch marks don’t seem so bad, do they? Hee hee.

That’s the pleasant side view. Then there is the HOLY CRAP head-on view:

Mike says that’s the scariest picture ever. Well, PRETEND IT’S YOUR STOMACH, MIKE!

It IS very uncomfortable. I’m not sleeping much. I have been having a lot of contractions, and in general my body is really tired. But I can’t complain, because in just four days? I will be officially full-term.

When Doctor Risky came into my exam room yesterday, she reminded me of this, and then she and Mike did a happy little dance while I shifted around on the table. We’ve all worked really hard to make it to this point and we are THISCLOSE to achieving our goal of a full-term Binky.

During my exam we talked about the increased contractions I’ve been having. They haven’t been regular, but they’ve been coming with a bit more frequency and a lot more intensity. My fundal height is still way ahead of the curve. So keeping all this in mind, Dr. Risky has me on strict orders to call her office or Labor and Delivery if I have four contractions in an hour, even if they are irregular. She’s being very conservative about my previous c-section scar and really does not want me going into labor.

We then talked about my medications. On Saturday I will give myself my last shot of blood thinner! I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS! I’m still going to take my anti-contraction medications until 24 hours before my c-section.

That, of course, brings up the million-dollar question – when will my c-section be? Dr. Risky was originally talking about having my c-section sometime in February, but with the baby’s size and my contractions, she is considering a change of plans. She decided to schedule an ultrasound for next Tuesday. Depending on the results, my c-section could possibly be bumped up to next week!

Our main concern has always been what’s best for Binky. If coming next week is the best, we are thrilled that she’ll be here so soon. But if Dr. Risky decides she needs more time, she’ll be a February baby.

Unless, of course, Binky takes matters into her own hands and sends me into labor. It would be just like one of my kids to want to do things her own way.

I leave the house occasionally, but when I’m at home I look like this:

A look I copped from Madeline:

She had the one eye open thing down.

At my appointment with Dr. Risky on Tuesday, she looked at me sitting on a bench in triage and said, “well you are certainly looking VERY pregnant.” Uh, YEAH. I had an uneventful exam – which was pants-off, and we’ll leave it at that - and then Dr. Risky answered some questions we had. Well, questions Mike had. I sat there, screwed up all my courage, and then asked, “so…uh…how do you close up c-sections?” She looked and me and asked me what I meant, and I said, “well, last time I had glue….”

And then she said, “OH. I use STAPLES.” And the word echoed and bounced around the room and things got blurry.

Mike looked at me and I swear I started to hyperventilate, and THEN she said, “sometimes the glue is better because it stretches with your body a little more than staples do.” I seriously don’t know how I didn’t fall off the table. STAPLES! OMG! Way to sell it Doctor Risky!!!

It will take me a month to mentally prepare.

Since I was twenty-one weeks pregnant Mike has taken a weekly iPhone photo of my belly after every doctor visit. It’s been a good reminder that I haven’t always been this gigantic:

click the photo to enlarge

I was just cruising along with my little belly, and then WHAM – GIANT BELLY.

If I really want to feel good about myself, I should take a weekly POST-BABY belly photo.