12 weeks


So, it’s been three weeks since we found out that our sprout had company.

The shock has mostly worn off.

Okay, we’re still reeling.

All I can say is:  There better be at least one girl in there, because there is no way I’m sticking around in a household of four men.

My sister-in-law assures me that I have a 75% chance of having at least one girl  (25% g/g, 25% b/b, 50% b/g, for those interested) so that makes me a little happier.


I’m HUGE already.

With Gabe, I barely needed mat clothes until well into my 5th month.  With Thing 1 and Thing 2, I’ve been in stretchy pants for weeks.




Granted, some of it is chub, but MOST is baby…s.

I’m still getting used to talking in plural forms.

I’ve already seen my midwife twice, but unfortunately, it looks like that relationship will be limited this go-round.

Apparently, multiple births are considered high-risk and as such, my midwives have to differ to an OB.

Not only that, but my desire for a homebirth as given way to giving birth, not only in a hospital, but in an O.R.

I’m finding this pretty tough.  I already feel completely out of control when it comes to this pregnancy and it looks like I’m going to have a similar amount of control when it comes to my birth plan.


I’m hoping that if this pregnancy is picture perfect, the OB will be willing to sit quiet in a corner while my midwives deliver me.



About Angela

My name is Angela. I am a 28 year old psych and criminology graduate, but I'd rather not diagnose you. I am a cuddle-slut. I can recite the entire script of The Princess Bride, (including accents) and believe that the meaning of life is contained within. Polyanna, Snap.com commercials, and Oprah 'reunion shows' make me cry. I can whistle and hum at the same time, but I cannot touch my toes. I am an expert in both listening and talking. I look good in orange. I am a writer. I kick ass in Gin, Hearts, and Cribbage but I don't understand Canasta or Bridge. I can be heard singing Broadway numbers from my shower, and have dressed up as a viking princess, (complete with aluminum foil breast plate) The Phantom of the Opera, and a Ghostbuster for Hallowe'en. I have a bird named Bean. I have a brother named Adam. They are not related. I like vanilla body lotion, peanut butter, saunas, Jim Carrey, broccoli, pets, TheOnion.com, Muppets, Kevin Smith, Corelle dishes, dry erase white-boards, Barenaked Ladies, Philosophy, the letter J, Harry Potter, picture frames, swimming, quilting, Michael Moore, genealogy, Raggedy Anne, tacky 50's tchotchke, 'Idiot's Complete Guide To' books, tweezers, feather pillows, polar dips, aquariums, Martin Luther King Jr., and Dr. Pepper. I don't like meat, gossips, cooked carrots, American Idol, mosquitoes, sweating, politics, public washrooms, tardiness, tuition, hunting, pat answers, pick up lines, brown bananas, cliches, pine scented air freshener, Kevin Costner, bacon, candied apples, pro-wrestling, humidity, and hypocrisy. Books I've read recently The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, The Dark Tower, When Nietzsche Wept, What's So Amazing About Grace?, Catcher in the Rye, Not Wanted On the Voyage, The Red Tent, The Little Prince, The Way the Crow Flies, Slaughterhouse-Five, The Poisonwood Bible, The Fall, The Knot of Vipers, Calculating God, The Chrysalids, Sick Puppy, Nineteen Eighty-Four, Franny and Zooey, The Brothers Karamazov, and jPod. I am slightly neurotic. No I'm not. Yes I am.

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