Waiting for you. Week 21.

I’ve picked up a bad habit – reading the blogs of other mothers, some of whom have some really, really awful stories to tell. But, oh! These blogs are good. The writing is good, the people are good, the stories are real. You can’t beat good blogging. It’s the new indie rock.

I found two of these new mom blogs because many women bloggers have, quite understandably, flipped the fuck out over John McCain’s assinine comments during the last debate about “health” of the mother being an “excuse” (I really wish I could render McCain’s sarcastic wrinkly finger wagging air-quote gesture in print somehow) that “pro-abortion” proponents use for protecting women’s reproductive rights.

The blogger backlash led me first to Uppercase Woman, by Philadelphia writer Cecily Kellogg. I’m now undoubtedly hooked, and the timing couldn’t be worse.  Why?  Well, Cecily was pregnant with twin boys four years ago, during the last presidential election. She had severe pre-eclampsia, diagnosed in week 22 (EXACTLY WHERE I AM RIGHT FUCKING NOW, btw) and lost both of them, four years ago this coming Sunday. But the story is even worse than that – worse than just “losing them.” She had to have a late term abortion after one of them died in utero and she was in danger of dying herself.

The other new mom blog I found is by a woman named Alexa at Flotsam. She shares another harrowing, god fucking awful tale about complications in her twin pregnancy. Her twin son had died from some mystery infection in utero and she ended up delivering her daughter at 25 weeks (she continues to blog about her daughter’s progress). Damn, damn, damn.

See why I shouldn’t be reading this shit right about now? But I have, so now I subject you as well.  Please, if you can stomach the kind of grief and heartache women face every day with this shit, read their stories. But for GOD’S SAKE, NOT IF YOU’RE PREGNANT! Especially NOT if you are pregnant with twins, like me! Wait until those little bugs are out here raising hell, at least.

But, if you are willing and able, here’s Cecily’s response to McCain and the recap of her story. (Scroll down to the bottom of the page to start from the beginning – there are a bunch of posts related to it.) Cecily, I know you’re dealing with some strong anniversary reactions right now and a lot of grief. Much love to you, fellow stranger.  Alexa Flotsam’s story is here, and it is equally powerful.

When you take 30 seconds to consider the reality for women who have to endure something as atrocious as the death of her unborn child or children at that stage of development, I hope you feel a very hard slap in the face. I hope it hurts. And by you I don’t just mean John McCain or Sarah Palin or any other so-called “pro-lifer” out there. I mean all of us. We all need to feel a little pain when considering how these kinds of issues become political footballs among the majority of us who will never have to face this specific brand of agony. But perhaps if we all hurt a little more for these brave, loving women, we might collectively come to our senses regarding the safeguarding of, yes, women’s HEALTH.

Glad I got that off my chest. It has been no small amount of emotional workout to keep my anxiety in check after reading those stories.

After reading a bit about all that can go so desperately wrong at this stage, I freaked out and called the nurse practitioner coordinator person at my OB/GYN’s office. This is the first time during my pregnancy where I’ve had to wait more than two weeks to see a doctor in person. Given a few things, like a) Cecily’s story, wherein she had severe pre-eclampsia at 22 weeks and was virtually asymptomatic and b) women who’ve undergone IVF are twice as likely to have pre-eclampsia and c) I was still unsure if I was feeling the boys move enough, or in the right way and d) I didn’t have a glucose challenge test scheduled yet and e) after my last ultrasound, it was not recommended I come in after two weeks for a new cervical length check like they wanted me to at weeks 18 and 16, I had some questions.

“Wow, that was a thorough voicemail!” she laughed when she called me back. Damn straight it was. I’m a social worker. I work in the health care industry, though off to the side now. I know that doctors, nurses, all sorts of medical professionals fuck up. Not intentionally, but in a “we’re so, so, so overworked” kind of way. They follow protocols more than instincts, and treatment protocols are dictated by insurance companies who have the ultimate goal of saving bucks, not you. Often these are tailor made for the general population and don’t fit your specifics. So yeah, I had questions.

And you know what? I was okay with her answers, which were that a) they’ve been checking my urine and blood pressure for early signs of pre-eclampsia and everything looked great – they really were not worried at this stage. b) I’d get the referral for the glucose challenge test (to check for gestational diabetes) at my next visit. c) What I described over the phone as possibly the movement of the boys sounded like it was indeed movement, not bad gas, and if I was worried at all, to come in and they’d check on me. And to call if I had any worries or concerns at all. I was okay with that, and since that day I feel them moving a lot more. Though I still swear it feels like gas in the wrong part of my body.

Anyway, you want to know how the kids are? This is what they say about week 21:

• They are plumping up like little turkeys in there, baking away and packing on the pounds. Like mother, like sons.
• They are wrinkly like prunes or like your grandpa’s ass, perhaps. Depends on your grandpa.
• They are sucking their thumbs! Man that’s so cute to think about I can hardly stand it.
• They do seem to be wriggling around a lot in there now, as though to say, “Mom, look, you’ve got to get a grip on yourself!” after my agonizing and worrying about it.

As for me? I’m just great, just:

• IN PAIN! My back hurts. Oh, it hurts. It hurts a lot. But the good part is that it’s a new kind of hurt, not that same old boring hurt I had from guitar injuries. And the other blessing, seriously, is that about 5 minutes of back rub in the right spot does give me relief for about an hour. How I suffer depends on what I do.
• Worried. Ah, sigh. What can I do? I go back to the doctor on 11/5, unless I really just can’t deal with it. Then I’ll go back earlier to hear the heartbeats and reassure myself I’m not really that gassy.
• Did someone say gassy? Hullo, constipation? Upping my rations of Rasin Bran this week.
• Big. And getting bigger, it seems, by the day.
• Limited in my activities. This is self-imposed, due to my back pain (see aforementioned bullet 1). If I stand long enough to get my hair dry, I’m in pain. Fucking ridiculous. I know, my belly is big and heavy and yes, teeming with life. My back muscles are not up to it, at all. I do have a massage scheduled for tomorrow. I know that’s going to help, and my appointment with my back doctor is on the calendar. So hopefully I can do things like unload the dishwasher and fold laundry again shortly. Yeah, I’m really hoping for that.

You know what else? I seriously can’t wait for this election to be over. I hope, oh how I hope, that Obama does it. I hope he gets in and whips the government back into shape. I think he can. I think we can. But god am I tired of the election. I’m just tired of it.

And you know what else, else?

I still love being pregnant.

Check back in another 15 weeks and see if I’m still saying that.