Pregnancy & Newborn

The first morning of my second trimester, I woke up with a new lease on life. I made a huge bowl of organic, slow-cooked oatmeal tricked out with berries (antioxidants!), almonds (protein!) and fresh maple syrup (deliciousness!). And then I puked it all up. The worst part? I still had to eat something. So I settled for a frozen microwave burrito.

Despite that minor setback, I’d say the second trimester of my twin pregnancy has delivered on most of the promises made by the singleton pregnancy manuals: Increased energy, almost no nausea, ability to focus, and a big enough bump to warrant smiles from strangers but not so big that people reach for their phones in case an ambulance is needed.

What I don’t think is normal, however, is requiring an afternoon nap every single day.

Each morning after driving my boys to preschool, I go to my beautiful office and work happily for a handful of hours.

And then I crash. As in zombie crash. As in barely make it home and crawl into bed crash.

I don’t remember it being this bad with my previous two pregnancies. Maybe it’s because I’m carrying twins, maybe it’s because I’m older (I’m 37), or maybe my “scared of the dark” three-year-old is to blame. Or all of the above. But all this napping really cuts down on a girl’s to-do list.


After my daily nap (which I keep trying to limit to 1 hour but inevitably ends up 2), I walk around in a fog for the dinner, bath, bedtime routine. But those morning hours sure are awesome.

Here are the boys waking me up from my nap. Quite the role reversal.


And so it goes. And so it goes.

twin pregnancy 24 weeks


A few more second trimester confessions:

  • Every time I have a doctor appointment, I secretly wish they’ll put me on bed rest. At least that would help me justify the amount of time I’ve spending in bed this pregnancy. But I’m probably not getting put on bed rest for that exact reason.
  • (I know daily naps are not an option for every mom — you are superstars and I am in awe of you.)
  • I sweat like crazy when I sleep. It’s gross.
  • I’m not nearly as hungry here in the late 2nd trimester as I was the first 20-something weeks. Thank god.
  • I’ve started to embrace my large size and turtle pace. I think the humility that comes with late pregnancy is all part of preparing us for life with newborns. I get much less done every day, but I’m learning to let go. And that feels great.
  • I can still fit in a booth at my favorite diner, but not for much longer.
  • I’m starting to feel panicked about getting quality time in with my boys before the babies come. More on that in the next post.



It’s finally time to give up my rock n roll hair salon.

As much as I love my stylist, how he spends two hours expertly trimming and thinning my unruly locks, and working in quirky, edgy little touches, I just can’t do it anymore.

Even though my stylist will never let me look like the suburban mom I am, sitting in the electric chair-inspired chair staring at a stained glass painting of a man slave performing fellatio sure makes me feel like one.

(My mom once asked if she could go to my salon. Um, no. Never.)

As my twin pregnancy progresses, I can only imagine dragging my supersized self way downtown in the freezing cold and trying to hoist myself in and out of the S&M-themed hair washing station.

And after the twins come? I’ve already had the unpleasant experience of pumping in their CBGB’s-inspired bathroom (measuring approximately 1 foot by 1 foot), with walls plastered with Toilet Boys, Television, and The Clash concert posters, no sink (but feel free to sanitize with the warehouse club alcohol sanitizer, which is ALWAYS empty), and a door that almost closes all the way.

Don’t get me wrong — the tattoo-covered staff is unfailing sweet. On their breaks they read things like Dante’s Inferno while smoking cigarettes and sipping tea. And they pretended not to be horrified that time I hogged their only bathroom to pump (“I’m sure weirder things have happened in there,” one of them said.)

But alas, its time for a grown up salon. A place I can get to via the comfort of my own car. A place where they offer coffee and cold water in glasses, mints in their spacious bathroom, and refill your parking meter in the off chance you stay longer than an hour.

I’ll miss the amazing haircuts, the rock scene gossip, and that long lost urge I get to hang out all day in smoky bars when vintage Stones start blasting over the speakers.

But it’s time, folks. For better or worse, it’s time.


twin pregnancy 18 weeks

I’m 19 weeks pregnant with twins, which means I’m halfway through.

How do I know, you ask?

Since I’ve had previous C-sections, the latest my doctors will let me cook is 38 weeks. The average twin gestation is 36 weeks. So there you have it — halftime, baby!

Ever since about 15 weeks, the nausea has vanished, I make to-do lists again, and I only have to nap about every other day.

The nesting instinct has hit hard (it seems early, doesn’t it?), and after three trips to Ikea with my superstar mom, I’ve assembled the following:

2 Gulliver cribs

1 Mandal dresser (with the help of my brother)

1 Gulliver changing table

2 Hemnes 2-drawer chests to go with the new bed my husband got me for Christmas (he scored a floor model just before collapsing from the flu).

I’m an Ikea assembly machine.


Earlier this week, we got to see every square inch of Bambino and Bambina during our anatomy scan (or “magic baby spy machine” as we told our boys). It took a full hour and a half for the ultrasound tech measure all their parts, and then have the perinatologist come in to give closer inspection to each baby’s heart and brain.

Moments before the ultrasound, my friend Nina texted me to remind me that they always find something wrong at these things, and usually nothing is.

It made me think of the scary news we got four years ago with Isaiah’s anatomy scan, something about one of his kidneys not working and needing surgery immediately after birth. Nina said her daughter Rose was supposed to have some heart issue also requiring immediate surgery. Both babies were born just fine.

It was a welcome surprise to not head home with a head full of worry and a self-imposed Google ban.

Both babies currently weigh 9 ounces, which is exactly what “singleton” babies are supposed to weigh at this point. (“Singleton” is one of those words you will never utter unless you’re a mom of twins.)

The main job of both babies now is to gain weight. This is the part that terrifies me. I mean, just run “twin pregnancy 30 weeks” through an image search and you’ll see what I mean.

Not to sound ungrateful or vain. I know that in the case of twins, gaining weight in the second trimester is hugely important since I won’t be able to carry the twins to a full 40 weeks. The bigger the babies are, the healthier they will be. But man oh man are twin bellies huge.


Meanwhile, our first ever au pair arrives from Brazil this Thursday.

It seems a bit indulgent to have her come so soon, but I was terrified of going on bedrest and decided to have her start now and get settled with the boys just in case.


So here we are, in this sweet pocket of second trimester goodness. May it last as long as it can last.

(My four-year-old took this photo of me in Ikea. Yup. That pretty much captures the nesting madness.)





I’m lying on an exam table at my ob. I’m five weeks pregnant and got an early appointment because I had a ton of cramping.


Do you believe this?


That’s twice this week.



Is something wrong??


(pointing to a back hole on the sonogram screen)

See this?

(points to another black hole)

And this?


And that’s how I found out I was having twins.

The weeks that followed were like one long flu. Only unlike the flu, I knew that I wouldn’t be better in a day, or even a week. I felt like absolute hell, and knew I’d feel exactly the same tomorrow.

I gained a whole new appreciation for people with chronic illness. I found myself wanting to read stories about people in awful situations like concentration camps or living with cancer to remind myself that there were others far worse off than me.

But instead I puked, ate, and slept (in bed, on the floor of my children’s playroom, in the doctor’s office, and possibly at a stoplight).

The few people I told about the twins had to decipher what I was saying through my tears. We had expected a #3, but the idea of a #3 and #4 hadn’t occurred to me on any level. And I didn’t have time to look on the bright side because I was too busy puking.

My bedroom became a black hole. Feeling so exhausted reminded me of depression, which terrified me. I could hear my two boys (ages 3 and 4) playing downstairs with the babysitter and felt immensely guilty, and wondered how I’d ever have the strength to mother not just two but four children. Needless to say, it was a shitty time.

A friend told me about Zofran, the anti-nausea medication, and by week 10 or so I was able to make it to my office for a few hours before retreating to the black hole for the rest of the day.

And then, on week 11, something miraculous happened — my mom arrived. A week or so later I found myself wanting to make a to-do list. And things have been gradually looking up ever since then.

I can’t imagine how people get through the first trimester of a twin pregnancy while holding down a full time job, commuting, or being a stay at home mom with no babysitter. I can’t imagine how people do this without telling anyone. I can’t imagine how people do this more than once.

Today, I bid my first trimester goodbye.

And with that must come some gratitude.

I have two very wiggly healthy babies who are exactly the same size and exactly where they should be at 13 weeks 6 days. I have a husband who came home early to help me, and then worked well into the night. I have a mom who dropped everything to come run my household, a step mom who came to keep my boys busy, and friends who texted me daily and others who dropped off bags and bags of maternity clothes. I have a business I love that fortunately didn’t implode while I was doing time in the black hole. And two little boys who are thrilled that I’m having twins because “we each get our own baby.”

Thank you for your gifts, first trimester.

I’m so glad we will never meet again.