Anniversary of an earthquake

A year ago today, Ted and I looked at an ultrasound screen and received the SHOCK of our lives as we saw something that we never expected to see: Four sacs! Words alone cannot describe how, in the minutes and hours that followed, all of our plans, hopes, and dreams for the future flashed before our eyes and then vanished, leaving in their place cautious excitement, a jumble of unknowns, and a long road ahead.

Ted and I spent the rest of that day in a stunned fog, telling only a few family members our news and laughing at their disbelieving reactions. We went to bed thoroughly drained from the wide-ranging emotions of the day, and I slept hard until a vivid nightmare jerked me from my slumber at 4am sharp. Although I have never been a journal-keeper, I felt compelled to get up and record what I had just dreamed. Here's what I wrote:

This morning I woke up from a nightmare. I was in a break room at work, where several women were heating up lunch. We were on the second floor, and I could see the street outside. All of a sudden, the room started shaking violently up and down and side to side. The quake lasted for a long time, and I was shouting out, "Jesus, help us! God, help us!" Outside, the road split open, and I was terrified for Ted and my parents. Then the quake ended, and everything was fine. When I woke up, it occurred to me that this is the first time I've understood the meaning of a dream. I've had an earthquake in my life, and all I can do is cry out to God.

A year later, the earthquake has passed, but the aftershocks continue in every part of our lives. The doctors told us that having and raising quads (even healthy ones like ours turned out to be) would be the hardest thing we'd ever done—physically, financially, emotionally—and they were right. It's impossible to grasp just how difficult it is until you've done it, and no one will ever understand what it's like (except for the other quad moms and dads out there). When the strain starts to get to me, and I feel like life will never feel normal again, it helps to go back and read what I wrote that night. The upheaval is temporary, and everything is going to be okay. In the meantime, all I can do is cry out to God.

The Lord is near to all who call upon Him, to all who call upon Him in truth.
(Psalm 145:18)

It's go time!

Amnio results are back, and Dr. S says there's only a 5% chance that Baby A will need ventilation once he's born. This is a good sign that the other babies' lungs are also developed enough to function properly outside of the womb. Therefore, in the interest of getting little Baby D out of there before she gets into any trouble, I will be going into surgery tomorrow morning at 8am. That's right, folks: We're having some Christmas Eve quads!

The timing certainly couldn't have worked out better, as my parents flew in yesterday to spend Christmas with me, and my brother and his girlfriend are flying in tonight. I am beyond thrilled that my whole family will be here for the big event! Please pray with us that the babies are born healthy and stable, and also that I come through this riskier-than-usual C-section with no complications so that we can all enjoy our precious time together before my family flies back to Texas at the end of the week. Tomorrow promises to be hectic, but we'll post names, weights, and all that good stuff as soon circumstances allow!

Christmas quads?

This morning, my reward for making it to 33 weeks was to finally get the babies measured again. During the ultrasound, I got some very good news: Baby A weighs 4 lb. 12 oz., Baby B weighs 4 lb. 7 oz., and Baby C weighs 4 lb. 5 oz. However, I also got some not-so-great news: Baby D hasn't grown at all in the past 3 weeks and is still weighing in at just 3 lb. 6 oz.

Yesterday Dr. S warned me that, if we learned today that any of the babies hadn't been growing properly, we might need to deliver them earlier than the original goal of 34 weeks. Since that's exactly what we found out, he did an amniocentesis on Baby A to check for lung maturity (for some reason, the largest baby usually has the least-developed lungs). We are currently awaiting the results, which should be ready later today or tomorrow. If Baby A's lungs are not sufficiently developed, we will wait a little longer to deliver. But if his lungs are mature enough, it will be go time! Stay tuned ...

There's a light at the end of the tunnel

Yesterday, when I reminded Dr. E that I was set to earn my A+ today, he replied, "You're not getting the A+! We're getting the A+! We're the ones doing all the work!" I just laughed, but really I was thinking, "Hmm, I'm pretty sure it's a lot harder to be me right now than it is to be you guys!" I then proceeded to try to pin him down on a timeline for the arrival of these quads. He told me that, although he and Dr. S had not put together a plan for me yet, he was pretty sure they wouldn't let me go past 34 weeks; he also mentioned that, after today, they wouldn't "torture" me with the mag anymore (since I am still on it, though, I assume he merely meant that I wouldn't be given any more boluses to reduce contractions).

So now we're in the final stages of the waiting game, unsure of just when in the next 2 weeks these babies will come. I am torn between wanting to make it all the way to 34 weeks for their sakes, and selfishly yearning to have my body back already. My belly is growing so fast that, every single day, I can detect a marked decline in my ability to move. I have never been allowed to leave my bed except to use the bedside commode (and every other day to shower), but even the seemingly simple acts of getting out of bed, standing up, turning around, and sitting down are laborious—and then I have to repeat the whole sequence in reverse (more than a dozen times a day, no less!). And forget about finding a comfortable position once I'm back in bed. Let's just say that, after nearly 7 weeks here, my rear end is sick and tired of sitting on this mattress!

I don't detail all of this to complain—I just want to provide a small glimpse into how increasingly difficult this pregnancy will be as its final days unfold. I sometimes I worry that I'll be completely bedridden, with a catheter and everything, before it is all over, but I just have to keep trusting in the Lord's timing for these babies. Although Ted and I can't wait to meet them, we know that their well-being is a million times more important than my comfort or our convenience. As long as the babies continue to be active, practice their breathing, grow at a similar rate to each other, and retain plenty of amniotic fluid in their sacs—and as long as my blood pressure and contractions stay under control—we shouldn't have a problem in making it all the way to December 29!

A sad note

The joy of hitting 31 weeks today is tempered by news of my Grandpa M's unexpected death yesterday. He recently turned 90 years old but was still living on his own, so his passing comes as quite a shock. At first we thought that Mom wouldn't be able to travel here for the funeral because her surgery is so recent, but her doctors are going to try to work with her to make it happen (she has an appointment with them tomorrow morning for evaluation). Obviously, I cannot attend.

The quads were going to be my grandpa's 55th, 56th, 57th, and 58th great-grandchildren, and he was highly interested in my progress. My mother and I kept him up to date on how things were going and, just a couple of days before coming to the hospital, I was able to visit with him so that he could see my big belly. Turns out that was the last time I would ever see him.

The day my mom found out she had cancer, Grandpa called me and gave me a good talking to. I was a mess, but he reminded me that I was the mom now, and that my job was to take care of these babies; he told me that the most important things for me to do now were to talk to the Lord a lot, to keep a good attitude, and to not lose control. He was right, of course, and his words pulled me straight out of the hole of self pity that could very well have swallowed me up in those difficult first days.

So, Grandpa, although I am very sad to lose you, I know that you would want me to keep focusing on the quads and their well-being right now. And that's what I'm gonna try to do.

Going for the A

From the beginning of this pregnancy, I've maintained that a birthdate "anytime in December" would be swell. Well, folks, we made it! Even the usually pessimistic Dr. E showed enthusiasm regarding reaching the 30-week milestone this morning—imagine what he'll be like on the off chance that I actually earn the A+ he promised me if I can last 2 more weeks!

In other exciting news, the babies were finally measured again today (after 3 long weeks of waiting). All of them were practicing their breathing during the ultrasound (yes!), and their estimated weights were exactly what we were hoping for: They are all over 3 pounds, with just a few ounces of difference between them. (According to the neonatologist, crossing the 3-pound threshold prior to premature delivery decreases the likelihood of severe problems after birth.) With more than 13 pounds of baby to support, though, it's no wonder that my back is beginning to protest; hopefully, both it and my ever-contracting uterus can hold out for another week or two.

You know, it's a good thing that Ted and I finally settled on some names last night because there's no doubt about it: Baby time is drawing nigh—it's exciting and terrifying at the same time!

What a difference a day makes

To everyone who prayed for my mom and me yesterday, thank you! I know that, without your intercession, I might not have been able to share with you today two pieces of great news:

First of all, my mom's surgery yesterday went perfectly. Not only that, but the sentinel node biopsy indicated that the cancer has not spread—HALLELUJAH! I was able to talk briefly with her this morning, and she sounded pretty good for someone pumped full of morphine. As I understand it, she should be going home later today to begin the healing process. Let's pray for a quick recovery so that she and Dad can fly up here when the babies come!

Secondly, the babies continue to cook ... despite giving us a big scare yesterday morning. It all started after I got another bolus in the middle of the night because I was once again having too many contractions. When Dr. E saw me in the morning, he told me that we were hitting a wall as far as boluses go and, since my contractions were becoming uncontrollable, he'd advised the nurses to get ready for some babies. Not long after he left my room, I began to feel very hot. The nurse turned on the fan and that helped, but I was still very uncomfortable. I started to feel like I was going to faint (which I never do) and no change in position provided relief. When I got up to use the commode, I thought I was going to pass out, so I called the nurse. Then I started having serious pain with my contractions. The doctor came back, they took away my food and drink, and the nurse drew blood to prepare for a possible C-section. I called Ted and told him that he needed to come now. The resident did an ultrasound to make sure the babies were okay (they were), but I was in so much pain that I didn't even open my eyes once to peek at them! The doctor then noted that I was a little dehydrated, so they increased my IV fluids. I think this must have been the problem because shortly thereafter my symptoms subsided and I began to feel more "normal." By the time Ted arrived, things didn't look so urgent, and he ended up sitting in my room all afternoon as I slept (I guess those big contractions really wore me out or something). By evening, my uterus had been quiet for several hours and it was clear that the crisis was over.

This morning I feel completely back to normal, which is good since the doctor just got done telling me that he really thought he was going to have to cut me open yesterday. He also told me that if I can hold out 2 more days (until the 30-week mark), he'll give me a B grade. If I can wait until 32 weeks, I'll get an A+. Those of you who know me well will know that this is exactly the type of motivation I need; I've always been a straight-A student and I certainly don't want to start breaking the pattern now! Plus, we still don't have names for the boys—I guess we'd better get on the stick, huh?

Uncertainty is the only certainty

Disappointingly, I believe that I am already approaching the limits of mag therapy. Why? Well, when I woke up this morning, my nurse informed me that I'd been administered yet another bolus in my sleep because the one I got last night just didn't do the trick. And then during my ultrasound this afternoon, the resident casually asked me what would be my "happy place" (weeks-wise) to deliver these babies, as if she were fishing to see how I would feel about going earlier than originally hoped. I answered that, although I've always wanted the babies to wait until at least the first of December, my mom's surgery and recovery time is pushing that wish back to mid-December now. It will be interesting to see if the doctor drops any more hints about an imminent delivery tomorrow. Regardless of whether the quads come next week or a month from now, I am quite anxious to see what their estimated weights are when they get scanned on Monday!

I am also very anxious about what tomorrow holds: My mother is going into the hospital early in the morning to get prepped for her double mastectomy, which is scheduled for around noon Eastern time. I wish so much that I could be there with her, and I am sick with worry about how her surgery will go (it's supposed to last 3 to 4 hours). Would you join me in praying for her tomorrow and also during the next couple of weeks as she recovers at home? We are hopeful that the mastectomy will get all the cancer and that she won't need further treatment; if all goes well, she should be well enough to travel here within a couple of weeks, if necessary. Whether we get good news or not so good, I am so thankful that she was able to fly out here last weekend to keep me company, help me feel a little pampered, and see in person how HUGE I really am—I absolutely dwarf her!

Four weeks down

I end my fourth week in the hospital as the nation prepares to celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday. And, although the past month certainly hasn't been an easy one, Ted and I have much to be thankful for, including the fact that the babies continue to stay put and grow (believe it or not, I gained 12 pounds last week!).

Unfortunately, my poor uterus is sick and tired of being stretched out, so it keeps contracting like crazy. As I type this, I am getting my second bolus of the week in an effort to calm down my relentless contractions. I guess that this Thanksgiving I'll just be substituting the traditional tryptophan coma for a magnesium sulfate brain fog. (Hmm, I'm pretty sure that I'd rather eat too much turkey ... )

Three weeks down

I think I'm finally emerging from my week 2 slump. Part of it is that I haven't had a mag bolus in several days (keep your fingers crossed for a quiet uterus!), part of it is that I've finally been granted shower privileges for every other day (much better than once a week!), and part of it is that I just found out my mom is flying in for the weekend! She wanted to see me before her surgery (which is scheduled for the day after Thanksgiving) and I am so thrilled—especially since she has promised to give me a little pedicure while she is here (I haven't been able to reach my toenails in a while and, well, let's just say that I could be considered armed and dangerous).

The babies continue to look strong on the daily ultrasounds—although my next measuring session isn't due for another week, it's clear that people are growing in there! This is reassuring in light of the fact that I haven't gained any weight since coming into the hospital (prior to my hospitalization, I'd been gaining 2 to 5 pounds a week). The doctor is considering ordering protein shakes for me and, since I expressed some boredom with the cafeteria offerings, he has advised me to acquire outside food as often as possible. I've taken to watching a lot of the Food Channel and dreaming about all the things I'll make once I'm outta here (or once the kids are out of the house!).

It's still hard to think about being here 2, 4, or 6 more weeks, but I am trying to just take it one day at a time. I couldn't do it without all of you, my faithful cheerleaders!

Third trimester, here we come!

Today marks the close of my 28th week, and we can all breathe a sigh of relief: If the babies were to be delivered now, they'd have an excellent chance of not just surviving, but doing so without major health issues. Praise God! That said, we are so thankful that the babies continue to stay put—there's a reason that it takes 40 weeks to grow a singleton, so we'd really like to get as close to that as possible (without endangering me or the Fab Four, of course). Dr. S now seems to think I will have no problem getting to 34 weeks; in fact, on Friday he joked about how he thinks he can take me to 38 weeks! (I laughed and told him that would be fine as long as I got to do some of that time at home.)

As much as I want the babies to do their maturing while still in utero, though, I must admit that I dread the aches and pains associated with them running out of room in my short-girl torso. The boys haven't given me too many problems yet, but the girls are already demanding more space. For a couple of weeks now, Baby D has been positioned so deep in my pelvis that when she kicks, it feels like she is in my leg! And for the past two days, Baby C's head has been directly under my right ribcage, making it impossible for me to find a comfortable position in my hospital bed (not that it was very comfortable to begin with). Poor squished babies! I am starting to think that Dr. E's repeated suggestion of putting me on the rack to stretch me out a bit might not be such a bad idea after all ...

Two weeks down

I'll be frank: My second week in the hospital has not been easy. Most nights, Ted has had to work later than planned (which obviously eats into our precious time together), and neither of us has yet been able to sleep well here. The stress of separation and sleep deprivation have no doubt played a part in the sore throat and general feelings of malaise that we've both come down with in the past couple of days. Add to that my ever-increasing (and grog-inducing) doses of magnesium sulfate, plus some bad news we've recently gotten regarding my mother's health, and it's no wonder that I could sometimes cry at the drop of a hat.

Thankfully, the babies seem to be doing a lot better than their mommy. Their movements are more frequent and stronger than ever, and the daily ultrasounds to check their heart tones confirm that they are not in any distress, despite the continuing contractions. They are also growing well: As of Friday, they weighed approximately 2 lb. 7 oz., 2 lb. 1 oz., 1 lb. 11 oz., and 2 lb. 1 oz. (A to D). I asked the doctor whether we should be concerned that Baby C is so much smaller than her siblings, but he said that she is doing fine and will probably just be a little more "petite" than the others. (Since her femur measures second-longest, though, I am choosing to think of her as tall and slender—you know, like a supermodel!)

Most importantly, we are now just 5 days away from the 28-week milestone. In light of this, a neonatologist recently came in to talk to us about the prognosis for babies born at this stage. Although they would have a good chance of eventually making it, the immediate and long-term risks (including all sorts of breathing problems, bleeding on the brain that could result in cerebral palsy, and a fatal inability to digest food properly) are scary to think about. Knowing a little more about what the babies would have to go through if they were born right now really reinforces our hope that they don't come for several more weeks—no matter how stressful and uncomfortable a long hospital stay proves to be. We can endure anything if it means an ounce less of pain for our babies once they're born.

Bed-restless

I've come to the conclusion that the words "hospital" and "bedrest" belong nowhere near each other. Sure, I am confined to the bed all day, but I would definitely never describe my time here as restful. For one, a nurse comes in every hour to check on me, day or night (at first, they were also taking my vitals every hour, but that's now been knocked down to every 4 hours, thank goodness). Plus, I have to use the commode every 90 minutes or so, due to the massive amounts of water I am drinking and all the IV fluids they're pumping into me. Add to that 5am visits from the residents, midmorning visits from the doctor, daily ultrasounds, twice-weekly physical therapy, twice-weekly massages, twice-weekly weigh-ins, and daily visits from chaplains, volunteers, patient relations, room service, and housekeeping, and it's hard to squeeze in a nap, let alone a full night's sleep!

I guess all this activity is good for me, though—it makes the time go by a little faster and helps to keep my mind off of home (have I mentioned that I miss Ted terribly during the day?). And yesterday I actually got to make a new friend; at the doctor's suggestion, a nurse put me in a wheelchair and took me down the hall to meet a girl who is 22 weeks pregnant with triplets. She was admitted on Monday and, like me, is probably here for the duration. I am hopeful that we will get to visit each other again soon so that we can keep each other encouraged during the long weeks ahead. Even though 28 weeks is the short-term goal (for an 80% survival rate versus 50% at 24 weeks), we would both love to gestate our babies much longer than that—the less time they have to spend hooked up to all sorts of stuff in the NICU, the better!

One week down

Things have quickly settled into a monotony around here, which is why I have not posted an update since moving into my sweet pad. My contractions seem to go through cycles, at times stopping almost entirely for hours on end, only to start picking up again the minute the doctor implies that he might take me off the magnesium sulfate. I am very fortunate, however, in that the dreaded mag has spared me its worst side effects; my only complaints so far have been a dry mouth and fatigue (Ted would add that I must also feel very hot because the room is "freezing" but I feel totally comfortable). In fact, I am feeling well enough that I wouldn't mind taking a few phone calls (hint, hint!). The prospect of being here for several more weeks is admittedly starting to bum me out, but I just keep reminding myself that anything I can do to keep my babies from being born too early is worth it. We're only 12 days away from the 28-week mark!

Movin' on up

I've just been moved to a (much nicer) room with a view, and this can only mean one thing: I'm in here for the long haul. I'm not too surprised, as I've been piecing together clues pointing in this direction for a couple of days now. First of all, every new nurse on duty has automatically assumed that I will be here until the babies come. Also, the chaplain who visited me yesterday mentioned that someone could teach me to knit or crochet while I am here (!). And this morning, a nurse suggested that Ted bring some of our own pillows and blankets to make things feel more homey.

Most telling, however, was this morning's exchange with my doctor's partner (Dr. E) who, after seeing my contraction patterns, ordered both an increase in my magnesium sulfate and a return to Indocin (a pill that relaxes the uterus):

Me: "Soooo ... I'm not leaving anytime soon, am I?"
Dr. E: "This is when you leave" (proceeds to write "HFO" [Hell Freezes Over] on the whiteboard in my room).

'Nuff said, no? I am not too unhappy about being here long-term, though; everyone here is wonderful and I feel increasingly reassured that I am getting the best care possible for these babies.

Incidentally, almost as soon as I got my bathroom privileges yesterday, they were revoked due to my sudden increase in contractions. So I'm back to the bedside commode (ugh) and who knows when I'll ever see a showerhead. I guess all the activity yesterday (getting out of bed so they could change my sheets, washing up at the sink, walking to the real toilet umpteen times, talking to nurses and getting somehow poked or prodded by them every half-hour or so, undergoing my daily ultrasound, etc.) was too much for my humongous uterus to handle.

All this is why I've asked people to please not visit or call for the time being—the slightest increase in activity (including any sort of extended conversation) drives up my pulse to as high as 145 (compare that to my pre-pregnancy resting heart rate of 60), which just totally wipes me out. And the last thing I need right now is to be using up my energy on anything other than growing these babies and keeping them from coming for at least 2 more weeks. I absolutely love hearing from everyone via the comments on this blog, Facebook, or just plain e-mail, though. Your words are a constant encouragement to me, so please keep them coming!

Day 3 and counting

Yep, it's day 3 and I am still on the mag pump. I didn't sleep very well last night, so I napped most of the morning and plan to nap some more this afternoon (one of the perks of being on bedrest!). Dr. S came in a few hours ago (for about 2 nanosececonds—I counted), and all he said was that my uterus seems to be calmer and we'll see how I do over the weekend. The nurse came in later to expand on that, saying that I'll definitely need to be on the mag for at least 24 hours after my last steroid injection (which I had at 11am today) and then, once they decide to take me off the mag, I'll need to stay an additional couple of days for observation. So according to my calculations, the best-case scenario has me going home Monday at the earliest (although I am not holding my breath for that to happen).

In fun news, I had an ultrasound yesterday afternoon to check the babies' heart tones (they say this will be a daily occurrence while I'm here). The resident who performed the scan was pleasantly surprised at how "big and beautiful" my 25-week quads are, and when I told her their 23-week weights, she was quite impressed (yay for my overachieving children!). She noted that the babies are very active and was glad to see that they are practicing their breathing as they should. I don't have any pictures to post, but at today's ultrasound I will try to remember to ask whether the hospital's machine has the capability to burn the images to a CD (I remembered today that I stashed one in my purse before leaving home, just in case).

The best thing that's happened so far today is that I have been granted bathroom privileges (no more bedside commode, woohoo!). And the nurse is hoping that I will be allowed to take a shower tomorrow (they let me get up to wash at the sink this morning, but it's just not the same). But now I need to lie back; the nurse just informed me that I've had six contractions in the last half-hour. RATS!!!

Quick update

My doctor (Dr. S) came to see me this afternoon, just after I got my steroid shot, and asked, "You know why we're torturing you, don't you?" He stressed that once labor gets going, the momentum is very hard to stop, so we have to put the brakes on it now, while it's in its early stages. He also told me that we need to get my uterus completely quiet before I can go home—and he said that that might not happen for several more days (boo!). The time estimates for a discharge date seem to get longer and longer, but I am glad that I and my babies are being so well taken care of. Thanks for all the prayers and well wishes you have been sending our way today!

In the hospital

Well, after 2 uneventful weeks of the doctor saying I was "doing awesome," I somehow ended up in the hospital all of a sudden yesterday. The trouble started in the morning when the nurse called to tell me that I'd registered 10 contractions in an hour. I gave myself an extra bolus of terbutaline and remonitored; doing that cut my contraction count in half, but I was still over my threshold of four. I remonitored again in the afternoon—same story: five contractions in an hour. That's when the nurse called to tell me that the doctor wanted me to come to the hospital.

Ted brought me to triage, where they put me on a contraction monitor for over an hour. When they saw that I was still contracting every 5 to 6 minutes, they decided to admit me for overnight observation. Once I got to my room, I found out that the doctor wanted to put me on a magnesium sulfate pump to "wipe out" my contractions. So they hooked me up and I prepared to be miserable. Fortunately, I tolerated the prescribed dose very well; the only side effect I experienced was that I felt very hot. We turned the air down and got a fan, and I was fine for the rest of the night (although Ted just about froze to death—sorry, honey!).

This morning I am having contractions every 10 minutes or so, which is better than yesterday but still not great. The resident told me that sometime today they will give me a steroid shot to accelerate development of the babies' lungs. They say it's just a precaution, but the nurse did mention that they give the shot to women who have a very good chance of delivering in the next few days. It's scary because I am not feeling any pain or anything different, yet they are telling me that these babies could come at 25 weeks and 3 days.

Please pray with us that I can keep these babies cooking for at least 3 more weeks. Thanks to a visit from my mom last weekend, the nursery is ready to go, but just about everything else (including those four little bodies) is not!

Shrinking spaces and two sweet faces

Our little Fab Four have increasingly been making their presence known during the past couple of weeks, making it feel like an air popper is constantly running inside my belly. In fact, about a week ago Baby C kicked hard enough for Ted to feel baby movement for the first time, which was pretty exciting for both of us. And on Monday I was actually able to feel a body part (head? heel? elbow?) when I pressed on the top of my belly!

At Tuesday's 23-week ultrasound, I found out why I've been so much more aware of the babies lately. The tech determined that they now weigh 1 lb. 7 oz., 1 lb. 5 oz., 1 lb. 2 oz., and 1 lb. 3 oz. (A to D), which is just over 5 pounds combined (up from less than 3 pounds at my 20-week ultrasound). To further confirm the babies' significant growth, the nurse said that my belly has now surpassed full-term size (37 weeks) by nearly 2 weeks. It must be getting crowded in there!

I also got to see more 4-D images of two of the babies. Here is a video of Baby B, who let us have a good, long look at his cute little face:

And here's Baby C (she had her arms in a very dramatic pose and refused to move them so that we could get a better look at her):

Babies A and D acted bashful and turned around every time we trained the camera on them. The ultrasound tech said that we'd try to get 4-D images again next week (when Ted will be with me), so hopefully I'll have more videos (or at least stills) to share at that time. I am anxious to get my first look at Baby A, and I would like to see how much Baby D has changed since the 20-week mark.

Incidentally, the round-the-clock terbutaline hasn't entirely gotten rid of the contractions, but it's definitely helping: I haven't had more than four an hour since I began the therapy. And the initial side effects have subsided except for when I get a bolus; this extra-high dose is delivered every six hours and drives my pulse up to about 120 beats per minute, often making me feel weak, shaky, and short of breath for a half-hour or more. My doctor says that this spike is normal and I shouldn't worry unless my pulse reaches 125 or higher. Otherwise, things are looking good: I have no swelling, my blood pressure is staying nice and low, and I have no protein in my urine. My body's just gotta keep this up for at least 5 more weeks!

Contractions, be gone!

At yesterday's 22-week appointment, I unexpectedly got to hear the babies' heartbeats for the first time. When I reacted to the sound, the ultrasound tech laughed and said she always forgets that moms of multiples miss out on listening to the heartbeats. I got to hear only a couple of seconds' worth for each baby, but it was long enough for me to notice that each one has a distinct rhythm. Even after all this time, I still can't believe that there are five hearts beating inside of my body!

After the ultrasound, the nurse got out the measuring tape and determined that my belly is measuring at 36 weeks—that's 4 weeks larger than I was measuring just a week ago! This could explain why I suddenly started to experience so many contractions last week; with this huge uterus, my body thinks it's time to get these babies out of here. In fact, when the doctor saw how many contractions I'd registered over the weekend, he decided to take me off the Procardia and start me on something a little more hard core: a terbutaline pump. The pump is about the size of a beeper and delivers the terbutaline (an asthma medication that has been shown to prevent preterm labor by decreasing contractions) straight into my leg muscle via a thin, flexible tube. I get a low dose around the clock, with a big dose (called a "bolus") being delivered every six hours. It makes me really weak and shaky, but the nurse said that these side effects should abate after a couple of days.

The other big news to come out of yesterday's appointment is that the doctor told me that I needed to quit working, even from home. To help keep my uterus quiet, I am to lay on my side as much as possible and avoid any unnecessary stress (these babies make sure I have enough of that as it is). So as of today, I am a woman of leisure—ordered to stay off my feet and lacking the strength or mobility to do anything else anyway! We'll see how long it takes for me to go out of my mind.