We hit 35 weeks today. This is the date I was giving people way back when, back before the complications. If you'd have told me 6 weeks ago we'd get to 35 I'd have appreciated your optimism.
So after the doctor's appt. on Tuesday, Sarah and I went on a "holiday date" to Red Lobster. Big time, right? It's right across the street from the hospital, and since we were out anyway, I thought it would be nice since she's been cooped up in a hospital room or the house most of the last 2.5 months. We enjoyed our shrimp scampi (although my brother's is far superior) and she had an IBC straight for the bottle. Now that's living the high life.
Anyway, our hostess, when she sat us, asked Sarah if she was having a boy. Sarah replied (as she frequently does) "One of each." Our hostess asked when they were due, and we said that 40 weeks was Jan. 4, but we wouldn't make it that long, "of course." Well, it turns out that she had twins (a boy and a girl) and they told her the same thing. She went to 40 weeks. So someone out there makes it that long with twins. God bless 'em...
Sarah mentioned in her last post that she measures 43 weeks pregnant, if she were carrying a singleton. You know that you look more pregnant than usual when people in the maternity ward openly stare and ask how far along you are, and how many you're having. We are both amazed at her belly as the babies cause it to morph into different shapes. We can see how Emma is positioned from the outside now. Pretty crazy, and pretty cool.
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