36 weeks, and other things.

We never thought I'd make it this far, but things are rolling right along. Next week will mark full term. It's also the week doctors will be pushing to "get things going". Join us in praying that these two decide to come on their own before we have to deal with lovely obstetricians.

Below is Baby Center's estimation on what 36 weeks with fraternal twins looks like.

. . . and what I look like:

Somedays I can be found jumping on our bed. We're still discussing names (and probably will be until we're holding them in our arms). Both babies are still head-down, and Little Man has dropped into place and is engaged waaay down low, gearing up for birth (though it's hard to see that my belly's "dropped" because there's another whole 6+ pounds of child above that!).
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In other news:

We've made some great friends at church -- couples, single people and families.

Peter was awarded "Employee of the Month".

This week is freshers week, where all the kiddos arrive in town and drink fermented beverages to their hearts' content.

We turned our heat on [low] today.

I crave pineapple and fruit smoothies.

We want to go to Spain for Christmas.

Recap on yesterday.

For those that know about yesterday's trip to the hospital and are curious, and for those that didn't but do now, I'll quickly sum it up.

Somewhere around 2pm Thursday I got hit with unexpected (are they ever anticipated?), h a r d contractions (surges, Angela, surges). Just about the time I was able to catch my breath, wonder what it was, draw a quick conclusion, and pick myself up off my rear end, another would hit. They lasted longer than the "normal" 30-70 seconds that doctors tell you they last and were closer together than the 10-15 minute ones I had experienced a couple weeks ago.

I wasn't home, but had met Peter for lunch when he got off work. I'm not really sure what the people in the Pub thought of me, but frankly I just don't care. Besides, I am learning with a stomach my size, about anything is excusable-- we moved to t h r e e different tables at that Pub until we found a booth with stools the right height that I could prop up my feet, and a bench with a back comfortable enough to lean against. People graciously offer me their spot at the front of the bathroom line, add a spoonful more to my ice cream cone, allow us the best seats on the bus, and smile when they see me running ("running") to the public bathrooms.

. . .rabbit trail.

Could walking to lunch have triggered these? Very possibly. But we had our fill of bangers and mash anyway (actually, I had this odd chicken dish but I know for next time to get the sausages. Peter shared) and did a little shopping before heading home for my afternoon nap (go ahead, laugh about it). I figured if I was going into labor I didn't want to be at the hospital at that point anyway, and if I wasn't, what harm was the walking going to do? In fact, maybe it'd just put me into labor).

About these surges. They weren't like any that I had experienced before. Got that. They were more like the rocking-on-all-fours, trying-to-get-comfortable-enough-to-just-breathe kind. The ones where your husband kneads--no, beats--  your back with a rolling pin while you pray you get through it.

We decided to time them when we got home since they weren't stopping or even easing up, but increasing in intensity. They ranged anywhere from 2 to 15 minutes apart, with a couple 30-minute spans of nothing. Great. What in the world does this mean?

This lasted all through the night, and undoubtedly neither of us slept very much at all (Peter even less than me). Come morning I called the hospital for the opinion of a midwife, and several said they wanted me to go in so they could check it all out. They stuck me on a monitor for over half an hour to record the babies' heartbeats and movement with the contractions, which was actually a neat experience-- watching their heartbeats climb and drop and hearing their every move. 2 hours later, the senior doctor decided it would be a good idea to keep me for several hours more to see what the contractions did. After that, we asked them to do a test that is claimed to be 95% accurate-- if it came back positive, I would be going into labor within the next few days, or hours, and they'd have to keep me. Negative, 95% chance I wouldn't go into labor within the next few days, and we could go home. Amazing that by this point, I was so exhausted that I found myself almost (I said, a l m o s t) hoping it would come back negative just so I could go home, to my own bed, have a real dinner, and relax with my husband. Funny how that all works.

The test came back negative, and we were free to leave. I had always imagined having the whole this is definitely it, no doubt about it feeling, and I really never experienced that, but I guess we went in 1) because the midwives asked me to (what was I going to do, refuse?), and 2) because I really wasn't sure what was happening. The surges were weird, the frequency was weird, the intensity was weird. I've never been in labor before, maybe it isn't like I imagined. But apparently it is true-- labor can present itself in many different forms and, with a twin pregnancy everything, I repeat everything, is heightened-- cramping, backaches, nausea, contractions, fatigue, growth... Times two (huh, imagine that).

And I'm still home today, relaxing in my own bed, cooking my own meals, wearing my own clothes. I'm grateful to be here, but really, anytime you're ready kiddos, we're ready for ya.

No induction, no induction. Yipee yay yay.

I don't have much time here, but just wanted to write a quick update.

Yesterday we met with the team of midwives at the clinic right near our house. These women are angels. Turns out, we can refuse the 37 week induction if both babies are happy and healthy where they are.

After feeling my belly and hearing heartbeats, one of the sweet midwives let us know that there's "really no more room in there" and "it's rather full". Basically, I can only stretch so much (no kidding), and once my body figures out it cannot grow another centimeter, it'll signal that it's time to evict Thing 1 and Thing 2.

Wahoo.

Our birth plan is revised, revised again and now complete. The hospital bags are packed. The crib (er, cot) is made, baby clothes washed, diapers opened. Now we're just a-waitin'.

Last night I had my very first maybe tonight'll be the night, feeling. Does that mean its close? Not necessarily. Neither does contraction after contraction (or, "surge", as Hypnobirthers like to call them), or the fact the my belly hangs out of just about all my maternity tops. 

Since no one knows what triggers labor, we truly have no idea when to expect these two munchkins. But we do know they'll come. Thank God, they'll come.