So, one of the perks of carrying twins while being “advanced maternal age”, is that I was required to have ultrasounds every month. I got to see my little babes growing month by month, which usually doesn’t happen. I remember at my very first ultrasound, I asked the not-so-very-friendly technician if she had ANY idea at all, if it was a boy or a girl. I was only 9 weeks pregnant, and knew that you had to wait til the middle of your pregnancy to find out. She did this all day, every day and while we were so excited about our first pregnancy and truly felt like we were the only ones who have ever been pregnant before in the history of the world, her bedside manner reminded us that we were a dime a dozen. To our surprise though, she very stoically said she thought it was 2 boys. She quickly followed that up with the “it’s way too early to be sure, so you can’t hold me to this” speech, which was fine. I knew she was wrong because I had always wanted a girl. I love manicures and pedicures and looking at little girl clothes and couldn’t wait to plan my daughter’s wedding with her. So that was that.
My due date was November 28th, so I was lucky enough to be pretty pregnant – with twins - through the summer. Fantastic! I never had bad morning sickness, and actually only craved fruit and yogurt. This was somewhat disappointing because I had always looked forward to pregnancy as being my time to eat the crazy stuff I liked without any judgment from anyone else. I missed sleeping on my stomach, and I could pretty much go to bed for the night, at about 4pm - a real problem for this admitted TV addict. But considering how closely they were watching me, and my “advanced” age, my pregnancy was going well.
Cut to August. I was 7 months pregnant, big belly, kinda cranky but still loved the beach. I thought the beach would cure all my pregnancy woes. Being tan always makes you feel better, right? I even tried to dig a big hole in the sand so I could lay on my belly – I SO missed sleeping on my belly! Didn’t work. At all. And it was probably pretty horrifying to watch the whole thing too. I gave up on that and decided to visit a friend who lived nearby. I got out of my car – also a big ordeal at this point – and stepped onto her deck and said hello to her. Next thing I know, my friend is screaming and swatting at my leg. I had no idea what was going on, but I too started screaming and swatting at my leg. I couldn’t even see my leg; I hadn’t been able to see my leg for months now. But then I saw it. A little furry, frenzied squirrel launched on my leg. My memory is that it was swirling around my leg like the Tasmanian devil. Then it was gone. What it left behind were 4 puncture wounds, bleeding dark red blood. I KNOW!!! – I never knew squirrels attacked people either. No one had ever heard of that, not my family, not the animal control officer that my poor horrified friend had come out after I left, not the woman who answered the phone at my OB’s answering service – no one.
I obviously burst into tears, got in my car and drove home to my husband who I’m sure thought I had a psychotic break when I called to tell him what happened. I sounded like some crazy, pregnant woman who had taken over his wife’s body. We went to the ER per my OB’s recommendation, as I envisioned multiple shots in my belly for rabies. I thought for sure, my poor kids were going to be born with fluffy tails and nuts in their cheeks. Once there, our doctor informed us that squirrels don’t carry rabies. Phew! But why the hell did it attack me?!? Who had that happen to them while 7 months preggers???? They cleaned it out and sent me on my way. My water broke a week later…..they say it had nothing to do with the squirrel attack. So much for all that “good luck” rain on my wedding day!
This was about 2 weeks later, almost healed. Freakin' squirrel!