I am now in the “home stretch” of this pregnancy. It’s very strange, how time speeds up and slows down at different points. The first trimester seemed to last forever, despite the fact that you don’t even know you’re in it until five weeks are done! For me, in particular, there was a lot of worry about the viability of the pregnancy, which that made each day go so slowly. Every little milestone (woohoo, nine weeks!) felt huge. The second trimester was plenty busy, with lots of doctors appointments and changes to body, mind, and wardrobe. But despite the fact that 14 weeks (early March) feels like it was AGES ago, it also seems to have really flown. 27 weeks? That used to feel so far away! And yet here I am, on my way to 28.
The funny thing is that I don’t feel like I have any real idea of how much time I have left. At the most, I’ve got just over 10 weeks, because my OB has already said she wouldn’t have me go any later than 38 weeks (August 17, in case you’re counting). But I also know that twins are at a higher risk for preterm birth, which could be anytime between now and then. I also know that I was born early – a first (singleton) baby born at 34 weeks. I don’t think there’s much evidence that I therefore have a predisposition to early babies, but still, it’s hard not to worry. I don’t (I think) have any warning signs for preterm labor at this point. My cervix has remained long and closed, I’m not having any regular contractions (I’m not sure I’m having any at all, but it’s possible I don’t know what to look for). The babies will hopefully keep cooking at least another eight weeks. But I just don’t know.
That’s really my biggest worry at this point: that they’ll come too early. Though I’ve heard great things about NICU nurses, I’d prefer to avoid getting to know them over the course of several weeks or months. I’m concerned enough about it that it even keeps creeping up in my dreams, including last night, when I was visiting both of them in the NICU (they had names, and were doing pretty well, thank you!). But I woke up thinking that, at this point, every week that passes is an important milestone. Every new week means a couple more percentage points on the side of “likely to have a good outcome.” There are some bigger milestones, too. 32 weeks (July 6) means I can go to my regular hospital instead of heading downtown to the super-high-needs NICU. 35 weeks (July 27) means I even have a decent chance of avoiding a long stay in the NICU altogether. Once the month of August hits, I feel like I’ll be home free.
Of course, you just never know. You don’t ever know what can happen between now and then. You don’t know what rare and unusual thing can happen and throw everything for a loop. But I suppose I can only work with the information I’ve got. No sense worrying about the one-in-a-million, because what could I do to prepare for it, anyways?
So, here I am. Trying not to freak out when one or the other baby doesn’t move for an hour or two (as soon as I almost totally lose it, the quiet one speaks up), taking it easy to avoid overexerting myself (making the bed was a feat this weekend), and trying to find a comfortable position for 5-10 minutes at a time. I sure hope time doesn’t slow down too much…
