Helloooo! I have realised I have neglected my blogging commitments. When I had the idea I thought it would be easy to find time once a week to update anything I want to ramble on about, I should have been more realistic to the fact that I hardly have time for a shower these days. But anyway! Lots to update so I shall get on with it before the twins wake up. Again.
Right now I am 26 weeks plus 5 so I've been telling everybody that asks that I'm 27 weeks along, which even confuses a lot of people (but how many months is that?). The real reason is that I'm wishing my pregnancy to go faster than it seems to be at the moment. Every week as I look at my pregnancy progress I read onto the week ahead. When I see pregnant women with a bump bigger than mine (very rare these days) I have to control my face into not giving dirty looks out. When I find out someone is expecting, especially if they have just announced it which puts them at around the week twelve mark, I feel what I can only describe as an overwhelming sense of smugness. I know all of these are wrong I just can't help it. Ill blame the hormones. Or the tiredness. Don't judge me.
So a lot has been happening since we have found out about our new twinnines. The house that dan built (that's what I'm calling the extension) is coming along nicely. We should be moving in about 4 weeks! I can't wait because it will give us a chance to organise, which every parent knows is the secret to success. It's that simple.
I have also developed pelvic girdle pain. I basically can't even move without being in agony. It sounds dramatic but when you can't even turn over in bed without moaning (not the kind of moaning that makes the babies just to be clear) it wears you out. So the doctors have prescribed me codeine and physiotherapy lessons. The codeine is basically me clutching my bag of pills wherever I go with fear of leaving one behind (not unlike how I feel about my children). The physiotherapy is me in a tiny room with a (perfectly lovely) lady asking when and where it hurts and me trying to describe the persistent pain without using swear words, or shouting. It is not her fault. Long story short she sent me home with another appointment in 2 weeks and a couple of exercises to do at home. You know, when I have time. So the bag of pills are now cello taped to my body. Just in case.
My seven year old, Mya, is excited as The Big Summer Holidays (pronounce with the capitals like the title of a film whenever it is said) are starting soon. Probably the day I go into labour. So I will have a helper with all the other babies. Mya takes this job very seriously may I add. So seriously that she has begun telling me how to look after Isaac and Olivia. Can you imagine being lectured on how to look after your children, by your child, who is (although she doesn't think so) still a child. Talking of the twins, I have started weaning. Now, this is a very complex process, one that is too long to talk about now (note instead of long I mean stressful) so I will instead do a separate post about this. When I can face it.
Back to the pregnancy, I have had numerous scans since my first visit and I'm pleased to say all is well. For now. I can't help getting so worried about the two little blobbies in there but I suppose when you are a parent that never goes away. We haven't found out the sexes this time, which is exciting! Although it has reignited the thoughts of the other half that he is a doctor. (When Isaac and Olivia were born, he went around telling all the REAL doctors that he did science at A level and then insisted that after he told them this they treated him as an equal. I think they began to treat him as a mental patient but that's just me.) He believes he is a sonographer and can tell what everything is and that we are having boys. ("I saw his bits!" "thats the colon") however, I do agree that it may be boys but NOT because of his sonographer skills. It is because my bump is absolutely massive. Imagine an exercise ball. Those ones that are in all the gyms when you finally get around to going but you avoid because you're not too sure what to do with them and what if you fall off and everyone points and laughs at your stupidity (is that just me?) yes. Imagine trying to shove one of those down your gym top (if you are one of those people that wear the skin tight lycra sexy stuff, in which case you'll probably know what to do with those exercise balls) that is how it feels.
As Olivia and Isaac were born at 34 weeks so that is my goal, if you like, to get to with these pair. So if that's the case we only have seven weeks left! Eeeeek! In all seriousness, I can't wait for the new additions to our beautiful family and I don't mind having this exercise ball for a couple more months as long as they are alright. And as long as I have my bag of pills.
Till next time!
Lauren xxxxxxx
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