Pre-op appointment

I don't know what all I was expecting, but I didn't expect that I'd get poked at again at my pre-op this morning. Heck, I was just there on Friday! Did anyone really think that I'd dilate?

*crickets*

Of course I didn't!

So the pre-op appointment consists of a regular visit with the "leaving a sample" (Nice euphemism for "Go pee in a cup."), checking my weight (No apparent change from Friday, although I had more clothes on - it's a wee bit chilly.), blood pressure (Still good), fundal measurement (You know, I forgot to ask. Ehn! *shrug*) poking and surgery discussion. The poking served to give me a brand new way of expressing just how closed I am.

I am no longer Tupperware.

Now I am a Roach Motel: "Babies get in, but they don't get out!"

OMG! Did my doc just compare my Cervix of Steel and Power Uterus [Insert Coining a New Phrase chime sound here.] to bug poison?! Yes, yes she did.

Fortunately for all involved, I have a bizarre sense of humor and found it funny.
Besides, do you really think I want to go all psycho on the woman that will be slicing and dicing me in 3 days? Nuh-uh!

After the poking and laughing she suggested I get dressed, because I guess it's tough even for docs to have a serious conversation with someone whose ass is exposed on the paper liner of the examining table - her massive girth covered with a wee flowered sheet. A sheet clearly never intended to protect the modesty of women with such an ample abdomen and pair of hips as I am currently sporting.

Many more kudos all around for making it this far, health of babies, shininess of hair and visibility of ankles. No, really, the ankles are such a hit, I should photograph them! I won't though. I can't bend that far.

Then we discovered what it really means to have the first scheduled c-section appointment of the day. The c-section is planned for 7:30 am. I thought that meant check-in at 7:30, then general dithering about for a couple of hours and then Crowbar Enabled Baby Removal.

Uh, no.

It means that the operation is at 7:30 am. We need to check in at 5:30 am.

Oh.

Uhhhh...oh.

Well, I'm not sleeping anyway! What the hell!

And I'm not to eat anything after midnight on Wednesday, which means that I shall be snacking at 11:30 pm, of course. Then the arrival, signing away of my life and innards and promising to not be surprised by the bleeding, vomiting or itching that come with any of the drugs they will be plying me with during my 4 day stay at the hospital.

Four days. But there will be Jello! And room service! And a bed that has buttons that make it go up and down and inflate lumbar and ankle pillows and possibly a vibrate option, but I'll probably need to ask about that one.

Did I mention that I hate Jello? Yeah. They told me no real food until I fart.

WHAT?!

My gustatory pleasures will be limited to liquids and Jello until I can pass gas, proving that my innards aren't tied in a knot. I'm hoping that they have some sort of additive in the IV drips that provides such a happening and that I don't sleep through it or anything. The Preggosaurus needs snacks!

When the appointment ended, we hobbled over for another non-stress test where Emma, again, proved to be difficult to get a read on. She's still in there, but is somehow deeper inside than Logan and can somehow move around. On the way over to the test we met a woman that over heard us talking about the twins and told us that she'd just delivered a pair of identical twin boys 3.5 weeks ago. I took one look at her and asked her "Through you?!" because she sure as hell didn't look like someone who had just given birth 3.5 weeks ago! The answer was yes, and that the weight went whipping off.

I think I've just met my new hero!

So be prepared for the before and after photographic evidence.

Three (3) days left!
Or as Eric likes to say: 60 hours and 40 minutes left!