We are having 2 girls! Maybe, sort of, kind of. We had another ultrasound last week and the tech said that the babies look “girl-ish.” They weren’t very cooperative during the ultrasound, though, so there is still a chance that they could be hiding little man parts. We should get a better reading during their anatomy ultrasound in a couple weeks. Yippee! Michael is in so much trouble! Outnumbered 4-1. hee hee.

My cervix is also behaving… which is always good to know!

WARNING: The following post may not be suitable for those who don’t have children but might want to someday, those who have children and haven’t yet begun the painful potty-training process, to those of weak constitution, weak bladders, and those who scream at the sight of spiders. If you fit this category for the love of all that is good in this world. Please, please leave now. Really, I mean it. This is not a joke. I’m warning you….Okay, your funeral.

Cerclage day (otherwise known as the day Edie thought she was going to die from fright) was a success. Michael drove me to the hospital first thing in the morning so that we could be there in plenty of time for the torturous preparations that needed to be done before the surgery. I am not the most pleasant person when I am nervous/scared but Michael was amazing in his efforts to keep me sane along the way

Nothing makes me feel older than having the doctors constantly point out that I am of “Advanced Maternal Age.” Even when they don’t say it out loud, you can always find paperwork inconspicuously labelled “AMA.” I’m 35 for goodness sake! It’s not like I am 100 or something. OK.. I know that they do it for a reason. I have more of a chance for complications or chromosomal abnormalities because my eggs are old and stale from sitting around for 35 years…. but still! Can’t they think of a better name like “Slightly-Higher Maternal Age” or “She’s Really Not That Old”?

Had a much less stressful appointment on Tuesday. Of course, as expected it wasn’t without it’s tear-works. Those Phillips girls know how to put on a waterworks show even with positive and hopeful news. After waiting for 45 minutes to get in to see the Dr. and then playing musical exam rooms we finally made it to the ultrasound room. Now, while I’m sure every woman in the known universe will tell you that the T.V.

On a much needed lighter note.

We have undertaken the completely futile task of potty training Isabel, although our approach has been far to passive for the likes of many, we move forward nonetheless in our attempts to reduce our daycare costs (There’s a non-potty-trained-child premium). However slowly, I mean ssssssllllllllooooooowwwwwwwwlllllllllyyyyyyyyy, there has been progress. In fact even last night our little Isabel amazed us all with a feat that would rival even the best of the boys.

Where do I even begin….

Last Thursday was our appointment with a high-risk specialist. Last Thursday was the worst day of this pregnancy so far. We have been preparing ourselves for years. We knew that if we were to get pregnant again it wasn’t going to be easy for anyone. We knew a cerclage was going to be necessary. We knew that a premature birth was likely. We have been educating ourselves for this scenario. We felt confident and prepared.

Problem is, we never planned on twins.

So, it’s the day before the first ‘official’ ultrasound and I get a call from Mommy Inc. I can tell she is in the car driving home. Uh Oh. That can only mean one of two things. A – She’s sick, B – well… Daycare called to report that little Iz was vomiting and needed a pickup. Guess, I was going to miss the appointment on Friday since I certainly can’t go in Mommy Inc.’s place.

I’m not entirely sure why Isabel wants to be difficult about what she eats. The meatballs in her spaghetti are not going to hurt her. That macaroni and cheese is actually good and contrary to belief does not contain flesh eating bacteria or alien worms, and the yellow sauce is really just cheese. Besides, apparently she has ingested her own pee in utero.