Carbs

They make my mouth taste like a tide pool at low tide on an unfortunately hot and sunny day. Except not quite as good. In fact, I imagine between the salt and the minerals in the rocks and the little creatures living in there, it probably has a decent sushi-ish taste that would be quite an improvement on the post-graham-cracker funk I've got going on in here.

It is Colorado's fundamental problem that there are no nearby tide pools for me to lick.

But I do appreciate the delightful concentrations of Adventists and Presbyterians who run hospitals here. All my doctors seem religious in a very friendly way, and I've really never enjoyed hospitals so much. The Adventist hospitals in Parker and Littleton have been unmatched in their medical services. I had to spend only five or so minutes at a Littleton Adventist shot clinic to get my H1N1 vaccine, and Parker Adventist has been fabulous through several ER visits.

And Monday, I get to go up to Presbyterian St. Luke's in Denver to see a high-risk pregnancy specialist who works at the best NICU at which you can deliver in the western US. So GO PROTESTANTS! My hat is off to you and the fabulous services you offer.

And what I'm hoping your finest can tell me is how my kiddos are faring in that regularly ultrasounded belly of mine. Seriously, I don't know that I'll ever get the residue of ultrasound gel off of me. The stuff dries on my skin while the ultrasound is still in progress, and by the time it's over all the napkins in the world can't scrub the stuff off. It peels itchily off of the parts of my abdomen I can no longer see without a flashlight and a mirror, and I just have to hope it's coming off in the reduced-soap showers I'm required to take. Apparently soap, like so many other things, is an infection risk.

Typical.

But with Dr. G's office equipment, the visual has been tentatively encouraging. Goofuth is still low on juice, but it doesn't look too terrible. And while Gallant regularly flashes any interested doctor with his mini-man parts, Goofuth appears to be man-part free. Nothing is certain, especially in some of those grainy pictures, but all bets are on Gallant having a sister. Judging by their earlier ultrasound behavior (from when they had equal fluid surrounding them), they're essentially miniatures of Tim and me: one restless girl with a severe case of the wiggles, and one patient boy with a tendency toward quiet. Or so I'd assume based on Gallant's having stuck his head firmly in the placenta at the furthest end from his sister, and Goofuth's enthusiastic squishing of my guts.

We're two days away from three weeks past membrane rupture, and three days away from the 20-week mark at which doctors will administer labor-postponing drugs if I start contracting. It is very much a miracle that we've made it this far, and I can't thank you enough for your prayers and thoughts on our behalf. I really believe that it's because of your efforts that God has preserved our precious little babies so far. It has taken lots of power to keep the kids safe this long, and that's the power called down from heaven by prayer. So thank you, and thank God for the countless blessings that add up to two live fetuses still in the womb.