September Fifteen, Two Thousand Fifteen
And just like that another month passes. How has September been? Fast. Amazingly, terrifyingly fast. We're having ultrasounds every two weeks now, and the babies are growing straight and true. Last week, they were guesstimated to be 2lbs 12 ounces, 2lbs 10 and 2 lbs 4. We have names, but we don’t know who’s who yet. For now they're just A, B and C.
Honestly, the weight disparity between the largest (B) and the smallest (C) does concern me, but apparently only me. The doctor thinks they’re doing great. I suppose it's because if they were ALL 2 lbs 4 they’d still be on track, so the fact that two are larger is only good. Besides, C is crammed directly under Gill’s right ribs causing nothing but pain, so it’s probably for the best she’s a bit wee. And indeed, a couple weeks ago, my poor lady seemed to be at absolute peak misery. I honestly didn’t understand how we were going to get through another couple months.
Part of the shock of finding out the way we did was because the pregnancy until then just seemed so ... normal. We had no indications at all that there was thrice the meat in there. She was maybe a little big, and we would laugh that she was waddling a bit early this time, but second pregnancies are mysterious and so we didn’t dwell.
But then after finding out, it didn’t take long for those ladies to make themselves profoundly known. By the next week Gill was already outpacing a regular pregnancy, it seemed, and getting more and more uncomfortable by the day.
And now? It's like she's full-term, but at 29 weeks. Behold:
And we still have 40 days to go! (Hopefully.)
Happily, last week she reached some sort of accord with our unborne brood and we're trucking along pretty good. She sleeps on the couch recliner now, and I with her, and that's helping a good deal. (Ain’t no thing to me. I can sleep anywhere, anytime – this is my great gift and will likely be highly useful going forward.) It does break her heart that she can’t sleep in our beloved bed, but every time she would wake up she’d be in tears from the pressure on her hip so I just can’t allow it to happen anymore, no matter how she pleads. But she’s given in and has icily accepted her new upright life and things are much better for now.
So, yeah, we live on the sofa. And, my lord, do we watch a lot of TV. Which happens to pair nicely with our other new and delightful habit: eating nothing but complete garbage.
As is my nature, I’ve been reading every single book about multiples on this green earth and one of them, a well-respected one, expounds the theory that the future health of our babies is completely contingent on how many calories mom can cram down her maw. Via any means necessary.
Now, I feel like normally my skepticism would have a few follow-up questions in regards to this hypothesis, but given our current state the advice sounds sound, and so cheeseburgers and milkshakes are the special of the day, every day. I think it gives us some way to feel like we’re being proactive, while simultaneously allowing my poor engorged wife license to indulge herself. And heck, I drove all that way, so dad and lad should get burgers too.
Speaking of consumption…
We’ve done great things around the house in preparation. Well, maybe “great” is an exaggeration, but when it comes to home-making skills our bar is set pretty low. So, getting rid of my old piano, having new hardwoods installed, and then half-cleaning up our basement is pretty solid work around here. We also bought a minor mountain of little girl clothing from the ‘Multiples Sale’ over the weekend. Acquired an extra crib and change table, bought a van, bought a mutant mega-stroller, bought bought bought. We’ll consume our way out of this yet.
September 11 was the last Indicator Indicator show on the books. And I felt nothing, really. We didn’t promote it, barely prepared for it. I just wanted to play with the boys again, and it was fun. Apparently it sounded good, but I don’t really know. I remember telling the crowd only half-jokingly that I didn’t feel like talking to them. Oh, and we tracked an entire record the week before. I guess that's owed a comment or two.
As a Canadian, and a Winnipeger particularly, it’s bad form to admit certain things. That you paid full price for something, say.
Or that you made something great.
But it’s true. That's what I think. Anyone who spends an inordinate amount of time making something – anything - is tacitly admitting that they believe their shit to be rad and deserving of love. So, in the interest of honesty, yeah, I’m proud of the work. We did awesome.
But was it fun? I’m not sure. The time crunch was so severe – 14 tunes in 6 days – that it was more hectic and blurry than anything.
Little moments do stick out here and there – recording bass and drums with Kevin for the first time since we were both teenagers, singing tight harmonies around a mic with Matt and James, doing a full-band re-recording of ‘January First’ and getting nearly the whole lead vocal track in one take (very possibly my last take in a professional studio.)
And my boys did such great work. Kev drummed beautifully throughout. At this point I honestly feel like it’s as much his project as it is mine. Matthew came with his usual centering influence on me and the music, his perfect rhythm and vibe always a yang of sorts. James played his face off, as per usual - he’s such a strong keyboardist, and one of the few musicians I know that can quickly get his head around the little twists and turns I like to take.
They are my good dudes, and it was damn lovely to get a snap-shot of the pretty excellent band that we have become over the last few years. Along with my other Quinzy boys & honorary member Curran coming in for various odds and ends, the session turned out to be a lovely send-off.
Really looking forward to getting this whole unwieldy mess mixed and mastered and released and then purged from my system. Hoping to have it out before 2016, but I’ve been doing this long enough to know that that is almost definitely not going to happen.
(Editor’s note: Too true.)
