These few weeks have been a time of change indeed! The babies seem to have grown like crazy and are already making me take unprecedented amounts of visits to the powder room! Week 23 came and went in a flash of midwife appointments and work. Talking of work, it would seem that my brain really has turned to treacle and I’m rapidly becoming incapable of thinking about anything unrelated to cotton buds or fundus height charts. It would appear that the great festival of nesting has begun already and anything occupying my mind either side of that is a vast nuisance. Now I’m at the stage where I feel I should have a runner to help me deal with the children’s tea, a secretary to take care of all my house admin and an assistant manager to deal with my entire company. Unfortunately, all 3 have eluded me temporarily and I’m left getting through about 4 important jobs a day only to crash out during mid –evening: exhausted.
Apparently I’m meant to be eagerly requesting the whereabouts of the nearest ante natal class around now, but being the incredibly bad example of motherhood that I am, haven’t the time or the inclination … mostly as a combination of having trodden this babba-track twice before and simply not being able to fit enough hours into the day as it is already. First time mums: please beware!! Such a lackadaisical approach is incredibly poor show and should NOT be emulated in any way. My previous ante-natal classes were extremely informative and helped a great deal with the labour in particular… forewarned is forearmed and all that! The fact that the dads in the classes almost curled up into foetal positions at the fright of the labour video was more of an amusement than a hindrance at the time. The joy that the health visitor/ midwife running the class often presents the womb as a pink knitted tube and feeds a half dead rubber doll through the middle should not detract from the psychological and practical benefits of labour awareness. It’s the thought that counts. I remember it well… the breathing practice, massage techniques and soul searching on half empty hessian bean bags whilst sharing fears with total strangers about to become mums too….those were the days!
Weeks 24 and 25 heralded much fun in the form of heartburn and Formula 1 racing. Not a combination you often see, but a conglomeration of wondering whether the babies were sprouting huge heads of hair (as per wives tale whenever that burning sensation occurs), and also worrying about the little beans ears as Lewis Hamilton whizzed pass in blissful ignorance at Silverstone. Despite having researched the effects of 150khz flying past my tummy every 90 seconds during an afternoon’s fun at the Grand Prix, not one person came up with a resounding ‘NOOOOOOO, don’t do it’ in neon capitals. So off we went; myself and the greater he. We had a wonderful day and logged it as one of those ‘ that’s the last time we’ll be able to do THAT’ days before imminent quarantine occurs post birth day. Of course, the bubs would choose that day to give serious heartburn signals. At one point I did wonder whether twin 1 may arrive with full length rasta plaits and a Mclaren race suit to boot. The good news is that from now on, if the babies were to arrive early they’d have a good chance of survival- hurrah!!
Week 26; the 4d scan! Ahh how decadent we were. It had to be done though…with the twins being the last in a long line of boy babies, a bit special and probably a bit squished in there. The hiccups and hefty kicks had been coming in to play more frequently and the scan info said week 26 would be the last chance for a sneaky peak of the teeny beans due to lack of space and rapidity of growth. Scan day was absolutely fascinating; not least of which because we were told I must eat a bar of chocolate and consume a fizzy drink beforehand to activate movement pre- showtime! ‘Why can’t all medical processes be as accommodating’, I wonder to myself.
The scan itself showed the head and shoulders of each baby and after a considerable amount of coaxing with a variety of amusing positions and scan gun prods, we were rewarded with fully photographic images of the babies. The fact that twin 2 regularly insisted on sitting on twin 1’s head just to upstage him seemed to establish something of a personality trait to keep an eye on in future! Sibling rivalry and not even born yet. To our delight, both babies looked fine and were also given a full MOT check for growth by the sonographer. At the end we were presented with a beautifully packaged CDrom of the 30 minutes footage, some colour photos and a goodie bag of free photo sessions once the babies were born. The fact that one twin seemed to look exactly like his daddy and the other like one of his elder brothers called for post-scan celebration in the form of cake and coffee in the adjoining eaterie shortly afterwards. NB~ this is a service provided privately and at some considerable expense to the parents therefore not advisable to pitch up at the nearest maternity unit demanding full detail studio shots and goodie bags!
The good books of foetal growth all claim this week that the baby’s sensibilities increase in the form of awareness and intelligence. Although we couldn’t detect a calculator in there, we did notice that the babies were very good at changing facial expressions. One appeared to be chuckling to himself whilst the other one frowned a lot… that was directly connected to the ‘bum-on-head’ display…. Obviously one taking the proverbial whilst the other was giving it a big ‘gerofff!!’.
Next week we move into the third and final trimester… I can only imagine what joys of expanse and discomfort it will bring. Apparently a pregnant lady can go to the loo absolutely anywhere at all under the laws of the United Kingdom. If the babies press down any further on the bladder, this may be taken a little more literally than first intended!
©Tess Egerton July 2013