Ouch.

Remember in my last post how I was whining about a crafting injury?

Turns out, it’s probably not a crafting injury. Who knows what it is, frankly. Hopefully not something that would get me my own episode of Mystery Diagnosis. (Is that still on? I watched that obsessively while pregnant. If we still had cable, I probably still would.)

Monday morning, when I blogged about the birthday party, I was feeling much better. But then that evening, my knees were in agony. I couldn’t get off the sofa, much less go downstairs. It was awful.

Tuesday morning, again, I woke up and felt okay. Not great, my wrists still hurt, but not terrible. I was able to work for most of the day. I felt kind of dumb making a doctor’s appointment, thinking I probably was already almost over this, but I did anyway.

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Lots of tests.

Chatted with the doctor for a bit, she threw out some possibilities, and I had bloodwork done. When I left her office to get the kids from school, I was still feeling reasonably good. But on the drive home, my shoulders started to ache. Turning the steering wheel was tough. And by the time we got home, I was again in extreme pain.

Did you know you use your shoulders a lot? I didn’t. Now I do. Even when you walk. So again, I spent the evening on the sofa, this time hardly able to move my arms. My left wrist was throbbing with pain, rendering my left hand useless. That was super fun.

Went to bed with some shiny new painkillers coursing through my veins, and with the aid of a heating pad wrapped around my wrist (don’t worry, I didn’t sleep with it on) I was able to grab a few hours of sleep before it wore off and I had to take another.

One of the theories my doctor proposed was parvovirus (aka fifth disease) which apparently sometimes only presents as joint pain in adults. So I might be suffering for a while – it can take weeks to go away.

After I left the doctor’s office, I suddenly remembered that I’ve been taking an antiviral four times a day for the last seven weeks. (I totally spaced on that when the nurse asked if I was taking any medications – oops.) So I looked up the side effects, and sure enough, one of them listed was joint pain. Of course, probably all medications list joint pain as a possible side effect. Nevertheless, I called my eye doctor this morning and he said to reduce the frequency to one time a day. Maybe it will make a difference. I really hope so. I’d cross my fingers, if I could.

365 in 2014: 01/02/14

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The boys had their 6 year well visit today.

Linus: 47.8 lbs (50th); 45.8″ tall (50th)

Oliver: 44.8 lbs (50th); 45.8″ tall (50th)

Miles: 50 lbs (50-75th); 46.3″ tall (50th)

Compared to their 5 year stats:

Linus: 42 lbs (50th); 43.9β€³ tall (50-75th)

Oliver: 40.5 lbs (50th); 44β€³ tall (50-75th)

Miles: 42.1 lbs (50-75th); 44.2β€³ tall (75th)

So, Miles has gained 8 lbs, and Oliver has gained 4. They’ve grown about 2″, which seems like not very much, especially since people say they look so much taller. I’m not surprised Miles is now outweighing his brothers (unlike at birth), because he eats more, and what he does eat is somewhat healthier.

But overall, they’re all doing fine, and were just advised to eat more fruits and veggies. Ha, if only it was that easy, right?

(P.S. That’s Miles in the picture.)

One fateful morning

Even though it’s been nearly two years since the fateful day, I don’t think I ever posted on my blog the detailed story of how we found out we were having triplets. It’s still pretty vivid in my mind, after all this time, so I think I will post it now. Just so I have it written. Since this is as close as the boys will ever get to a baby book. Heh.

It was June 6, 2007. A Wednesday. I was 7 weeks and 3 days pregnant.

I’d already had an appointment with my OB three weeks prior, when I was just four and a half weeks pregnant. At that appointment, I just talked to the doctor, he did an exam, and I had some blood tests done. It was confirmed I was indeed pregnant, but that was it. No ultrasounds or anything (not that there would have been anything to see at that point.)

So that first ultrasound. My OB did ultrasounds on all of his pregnant patients at around seven weeks to rule out ectopic pregnancies. It was a morning appointment. George came with me. I was so nervous, because I hadn’t had any morning sickness yet. I didn’t feel pregnant at all. We’d just gotten back from California, and the memory of the noodles we’d eaten at a restaurant in Chinatown made me kind of queasy, but that’s it. We went through the drive-through of a McDonald’s on the way there so I could get something to drink and George could get a bite to eat. I was far too nervous to eat. I remember thinking as we sat in the drive-through line, “boy, I hope it’s not twins.”

We got to the doctor’s office and signed in at the ultrasonographer’s office. I was nervous. So nervous. It wasn’t a long wait, but it might as well have been hours. Finally, I am called back. George had to wait in the waiting room during the ultrasound, but he would be allowed to come back after the tech had taken all measurements and such.

I’d heard you were supposed to have a full bladder for this early of an ultrasound but fortunately, the technician said I wouldn’t need to, so she let me use the bathroom before we got started. Soon enough, I was up on the table, and the ultrasound began.

I couldn’t see the screen, and the technician was quiet. Very quiet. Every so often she’d ask me to hold my breath while she clicked things on her keyboard and moved the wand around. A few minutes in, she asked, “have you had any morning sickness?”

I replied, “no,” and assumed the worst. Why would you ask such a thing? Clearly, it was because there was no baby in there. I stared at the ceiling tiles and just willed her to tell me already. Just give me the bad news. I was prepared. Just stop torturing me. But she continued to click and scan and have me hold very still.

After an eternity, she asked me to go get George so he could take a look. At this point, I was somewhat relieved. She didn’t seem to have terrible news for us, and she wouldn’t ask George to take a look if there was nothing good to see, right? So I went and got him from the waiting room.

{{At this point, my memory is somewhat foggy. You can understand, right? Shock does that to you.}}

We walk in, and as I go to sit back on the table, she says something that will change our lives forever.

“You’re having triplets.”

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I just remember at that point, completely withdrawing into myself. The entire world shrinking to the size of a pea, I don’t know, was I blacking out? Utter and complete shock. I don’t know. I laid back on the table and grabbed George’s hand. He was silent. He was sitting. I don’t remember if he said anything. The first things that ran through my head were terror and disappointment. I was scared. I wasn’t supposed to have multiples! I wanted a natural childbirth, a fun stroller, cloth diapers, breastfeeding. I could see all of these expectations of parenthood slipping away.

High-risk pregnancy. Bedrest. Miscarriage. Premature babies. It was scary. I was not excited. I think I cried a little. Or I wanted to.

Then the tech asked us if we wanted a recording of the ultrasound. I said yes, of course. George looked through his wallet for ten dollars. He gave it to her and she put a DVD into the machine to record the rest of the scan.

And you can watch that part for yourself…

After the scan was done, we had to go upstairs to my OB’s office to talk to him. We sat in the waiting area and I could see nurses peeking into the room, staring at us and whispering to each other. Oh yes, the freak show had begun.

We went into his office, and he said, “oh yes, I thought your uterus felt big at your last appointment.” Ha ha!

But then we talked about the dangers. Possible complications. “Don’t tell anyone it’s triplets until you hit twelve weeks.” And then there was, “you were built for a triplet pregnancy!” And George’s favorite, “Go. Have a drink. Both of you. I don’t normally tell my patients this, but Pam, have a glass of wine. Let it sink in.” In a daze, we left the office and got into my car.

“We’re going to need a minivan.”

We headed to the pub. It wasn’t even noon, but our friend James, the owner, let us in and served us our drinks. Of course we told him. I called my mom. She laughed. I called my friends. Most of them didn’t believe me. I couldn’t blame them, I barely believed it myself. I went back to work and informed my coworkers. It was a surreal day.

And two days shy of six months later, the boys were born. πŸ™‚