Six Years Ago Today Nothing Happened. Really.

Today is June 25th, 2013–or as I like to think of it, the 6 year anniversary of the day that nothing happened.  *Nothing.*  It also happened to be the last day I endured a 49″ waist, the meal restrictions of a type 2 diabetic, and ten weeks of non-stop Kegels.

That’s right you guys.  On this day six years ago, I was enjoying my last day of a high-risk twin pregnancy.  Right before I enjoyed my last sleepless night of constant back ache, twenty pounds of front-loaded discomfort and a sprinkling of hypertension.

Also just before I enjoyed another weekly cervical exam the next morning.  Turns out that six years ago tomorrow marks the moment when a doc declared me a glorious eight centimeters dilated and we were cleared for Go.  I don’t even know what doctor told me that.  Couldn’t even tell you if the doctor was male or female.  All I know is that after twelve weeks of wondering if these kiddos were going to make it at all I would have done anything to expel them from my loins at this point.  Twelve weeks of bed rest can make you crazy, in case you didn’t know.  I was so careful and so rule-abiding for so long in terms of enduring bed rest restrictions, keeping to a maximum number of steps per day, adhering to hydration requirements, making good on twice daily Ensure consumption, being unable to drive myself anywhere, and abstaining from Twinkies after I was declared a gestational diabetic–and none of this even earned me a Girl Scout badge.  Are you kidding me?  And then when we made it to 34 weeks and I knew they would be fine either way, I instituted a methodical biweekly bribing strategyin an attempt to coerce my OB’s to deliver me earlier rather than later (they never gave in, those “do no harm” jerks!) and all I got was a few sad looking, pitiful expressions of “thank your lucky stars that you’re still baking these buns after everything you’ve put us through since April”?  These doctors have some empathy made of steel, turning away Mont Blanc writing instruments and contraband Cuban cigars.  Believe me, I tried everything to evacuate my fetuses (feti?) as soon as I knew (a mother knows) they were ready for this outside world.  But no, I begrudgingly gestated for two more weeks.

If you’re thinking what a peach of a patient I must be, you would be right.  Probably.  But this day isn’t about me.  This day is about my beloved Popocatepetl and Iztaccíhuatl (pet names for the twins)  (everyone gives their kids nicknames, right?).  (I am kidding–they are lucky if I even remember their initials–“hey you!”)

These twins of mine are heroes.  Not only did they survive an unlikely extra ten weeks like the champion embryos they were–fighting against these expelling loins of mine can only be accomplished by champions, turns out–but they were born without complications and have flourished into the delicately charming, hilarious, inspiring children who turn six years old tomorrow.  Congratulations, team.  We did this together.  And you’re welcome for me not barfing up all that Ensure because back then I almost did a whole bunch of times that I haven’t even talked about.  Hey, those extra few ounces of birth weight are pretty grateful for that fact even if you aren’t, you two.

I did throw up on Baby B while in post-op, though.  Have you ever been in post-op?  There is precious little you can control in post-op.  It’s not called Perfect Land.  It’s called Post Op.  Things happen.  He doesn’t remember it, so maybe we should stop talking about it.

Then:

2007 birth day

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now:

2013 bday

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy 6th, you crazy kids.

 

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Cassandra can be found on Twitter @aclevergirl.  Learn more about her family’s unique challenges and why they have hope for a cure for muscular dystrophy at byrdsforacure.org.