What's Your Name, Little Girl?

I wish I could say that today is the day I'm finally going to be able to share names with you, but the truth is that we've only picked one.  I will share that one, but don't all my southern friends and family fire up the monogramming machines yet.  There's a chance her name just won't fit her once we see her despite how much I want it to.  Yes, I said "her."  Chunk doesn't have a name yet.  I'm trying.  I really am.  Take it up with Mr. I Hate All the Names That Aren't John.  Anyway, the name we've picked is Pearl.  Now I'm going to tell you where that came from.

When I was pregnant the first time (3 years ago this month), we had discussed Pearl as a girl's name, although we didn't have much time to get attached to it before that baby was gone.  About a month after we said goodbye to that baby, I was in full hermit mode crying and wishing we'd have known whether that baby was a boy or girl so that maybe it would bring me some closure.  At that moment, my sweet neighbor stopped by with some kind words and a gift from her and two other neighbor friends who knew about our struggle and our loss.  The gift was a beautiful necklace with three charms: an angel wing, the word "loved", and a pearl.  They didn't know we had talked about using that name.  That day brought me the first moment of peace and calm I really had since losing that baby.  I always associated that baby with the name Pearl, but I never felt comfortable "giving" her that name.  When we found out one of our twins is a girl, we didn't discuss using Pearl for her (although I pushed for Ruby since I like it, too, and it would be kind of like a little tribute in my mind), but after lots of disagreeing, I brought it back up for consideration.  I'd come across something about oysters, and I thought about how we get pearls.  They're created by friction, it takes a good bit of time, and they aren't that easy to obtain, but it's obviously worth the trouble.  I feel like that is fitting for this baby we've been working on for so long.  Maybe that first baby was just letting me know she was a "she".  Maybe that baby was sending us a sign of hope for us to eventually have our Pearl.  Maybe it was just a coincidence, but it brought me peace, and the name has since held meaning for me.  I really hope it fits her once she's here.

Other than picking one name out of four, there's not much to report.  I'm huge, my fingers hurt, heartburn apparently caught wind that I hadn't been hit yet and was swift to jump in and fix that, and I'm snoring and drooling in my sleep more than my dogs.  Super glamorous.  But who cares?   I've got just over a month left, and while I'm terrified, I can't wait to meet these crazy kids.  At today's growth scan, Pearl was not into it and repeatedly pushed back at the ultrasound wand and shook her head "no" as they tried to get a measurement.  They estimate that she weighs about 4lbs 4oz. Chunk was more laid back, although he probably didn't love having his space invaded by his sister's flailing arms.  They estimated that he's about 4lbs 7oz.  Not so chunky compared to her now, but the doctor was still happy with the growth for them both.  I wish I had nursery pictures to share, but I'm not quite there yet.  I mean, you got a name, though, so that's progress.

*Edited to add my cravings since I didn't mention those earlier,  and I think it's fun to go back and see them.

Cravings:  Sparkling red grape juice, grapefruit juice,  orange juice,  milk,  falafel wraps, pears.

Expectations

There are a lot of things I expected during pregnancy and a lot I didn't expect.  I expected to feel like it's totally surreal.  I expected to be big and hungry and tired.  Here's something I didn't expect: twins.  I guess I should have, because others apparently did.  Not long before we conceived our first baby, I was talking to my grandma, and she told me that she'd seen a girl in the park that looked just like me, and she was pushing twins in a stroller.  She said she felt it was a sign I'd have twins.  I laughed but mentally dismissed the possibility.  If I couldn't manage to get pregnant, I definitely wasn't going to end up with twins!  Matt's aunt said she saw us having twins.  Years passed and I felt like maybe the twins she invisioned were really just two separate babies that would never make it to earth.  Before we conceived the second time, I was started on Letrozole, which is used off label for ovulation stimulation.  I ovulate like clockwork, so it was just something to try in case the eggs weren't mature at ovulation.  Letrozole is typically meant to make one quality egg rather than two or more.  Because of this, the "risk" of conceiving twins with Letrozole is about 3.4% (according to one study).  We did 3 cycles of Letrozole, and those cycles didn't work.  Later, when I was not on any medications, I had an ultrasound that showed I'd ovulated from both ovaries.  My doctor was pretty surprised and commented that we may conceive twins that month.  Instead, no babies were conceived at all.  No huge surprise there.  When people would say things like, "maybe you'll have twins," I'd tell them that I'd rather not.  Carrying one baby was scary enough.  Twin pregnancies come with more risks, and I didn't want extra risks.  On the cycle we conceived, I went for my follicle scan, and the doctor saw two mature follicles and told me that meant a 7-10% chance of twins.  After I realized he didn't say "72%" (he has a thick accent), I just said "ok" and was on my way without much of a second thought.    On the day of our IUI, he told us again that the chance was 7-10%.  Meh.  Whatever, doc. We knew we'd be lucky if even one stuck.  Well, here we are.   Expecting our twins in less than 2 months.  I wonder if it will ever sink in.  It's strange to feel like this was a hard fought battle, and the result was that we got even more than we thought we were fighting for.  In a good way, of course.

I have to be honest that I didn't expect to make it to this point.  I mean, I've definitely gotten more confident with each passing week, but it's been a mental struggle to prepare things, because I guess I'm still afraid on some level that this isn't going to happen.  I have avoided taking tags off of things or opening things until it's down to the wire, and I really need to have some clothes ready for them and a diaper bag at least partially stocked.  So each week, I've done a little more.   The nursery still needs finishing touches, but it's functional.  We're getting there.  I am terrified, but I also can't wait.