Nothing to Complain About

Having moved through the fears that surfaced during my early second trimester (that I would give birth to very premature babies, that my family would spend a lot of time in the NICU, that the birth itself would be more of an ordeal than a joyful arrival), I am now in what everyone agrees are the final days of my pregnancy.  Until recently, I got away with a fair amount of normal activity. Once I realized that by napping every day I could still maintain a semi-regular work and life schedule, I kept thing up to a good extent. I took Ada on errands to Trader Joe's, we played in the park, I took my turns dealing with her bath-and-bed routine. Granted there were evenings that found me lying on the couch drinking water and wishing away my aches and pains. But for the most part, I looked and felt like a normal pregnant woman. 

A couple of weeks ago I left normal. The petty annoyances of a twin pregnancy that can blossom into "problems" are creeping up on me, though thankfully without making that transition from hampering to maybe-you-should-go-on-bedrest. One nap is barely enough. I can't bend over at all without wincing in pain. Walking more than a couple of blocks is stressful - I move at a snail's pace, walking makes me have to pee and causes those pesky contractions to pop up. Ditto for standing for more than short spells. (Watering the seedlings for five minutes on Sunday afternoon led to a half-hour of couch time, followed by sitting up without contributing anything to the household other than witty repartee.) I haven't done bath time for over a week, and even the usually mama-focused Ada has figured out that Chris and my sister Karen are way more reliable as playmates and helpers.

In addition, I am now not sleeping for more than an hour at a time. All night I run through the following pattern: sleep, wake, pee, shift pillow positions, huff and puff, lie down, repeat. Oh, and competing for stupidest complaint ever: my ankles and feet are swollen. I lost my ankles about a week back, and a few days ago I noticed my feet were getting puffy. I know that a lot of pregnant women get swollen much earlier in their pregnancies, even with one baby.

To read the newsletters that come with each monthly doctor visit, I should be surprised not to have become a swollen mess much sooner. A good friend recently recounted that she practically burned her pregnancy support hose after she gave birth, while Ellen mentioned that she was pleasantly surprised by how long my body held out during this pregnancy.

I think I am just vain, but the swelling (along with slightly elevated blood pressure) was kind of the last straw in terms of reminding me that I have to stop acting normal, that now is the time to take it very easy. So I have caved. I spent much of Saturday with my feet higher than my heart, and I have moved into a new stage of pregnancy-induced laziness. Or more accurately, pregnancy-induced stillness.

Two people are making this possible: Chris and Karen. Chris has been consistently great during my pregnancy, taking on more than his usual share of childcare, cooking, etc. Even better, we have a relationship in which he has always done a lot in these areas. The change is from pulling his weight to pulling most of mine too. Plus he has been good about telling me to go sit down, lie down, stop fussing about trying to be productive.

Karen came into town last week and immediately became Ada's new love object. She has played "nap" and "camping" uncountable times already, drawn with sidewalk chalk, pretended to be a mama polar bear, read books, made lego cars and taken over bathtime without complaint. Before she got here, she was a little worried that the twins would show up before she did. Once her plane hit the tarmac she started to worry that they wouldn't show up until after she left. While the latter could happen, her visit will still be worthwhile. She has taken the pressure off me to be a fully attentive, active parent of the type that I can not fathom being right now.

I know this won't go on for too much longer, which makes it easier to put up with my current slow lane lifestyle. No doubt, soon Chris and I will both have a lot of work to do, and soon after that Karen will go home. We will miss her. Everyone should have a sister who will come stay and help when you need her.