20 weeks and counting

I am 20 weeks this Sunday and feeling pretty good. My belly is quite big already, which is scary, but I guess since there are two in there, it's to be expected. I remember the second trimester with Kara as one of eating...everything in sight. I was hungry all the time and ate like a horse. This time, I have to eat slowly and carefully. I fill up very quickly and don't get hungry again for 6-7 hours at a stretch. Oh, and heartburn. ugh. My stomach is already so scrunched up into my sternum that if I eat something greasy, with peppers or onions or with tomato sauce, I will not digest it FOR HOURS!!! It's awful. On top of the eating issues (which seem to consume my afternoons with heartburn and a sour stomach) I am out of breath easily. I hate to complain, since I've wished and prayed for this pregnancy for so long now, but I have to admit that pregnancy is not fun. It's scary...terrifying, really. I heard a story about a friend of a friend the other day who stretched so much with twins that he stomach muscles tore up the middle during he last few weeks (eeek!). So I'm scaring myself a little. I obsess with online photos of bellies at the same week in their pregnancy as me...and I am HUGE. It's all belly, but it's frightening, to say the least. I worry that my body won't be able to accomodate the babies and then what? I have to cool down and stop worrying about my body's possible inability to handle this pregnancy. I mean, I'm not a petite woman. I am generally 140lbs and 5'6", strong and athletic. When I got pregnant I was 154 and now I'm 175. Right on track, weight-wise, according to the doctor and the book I'm reading about multiple pregnancy. I need to work on this.
Every other Monday, we get ultrasounds. It is so wonderful to have doctors that see the need to treat high-risk pregnancies different than normal pregnancies. Although I have to say, no pregnancy is really normal, is it? I mean, babies die every day and simple things (like a blood clotting test on the mother) could be done as soon as the pregnancy is discovered and a live baby would be born. Even with all of this extra monitoring, I am a wreck inside about this pregnancy. My new Maternal-Fetal Specialist has reviewed Kara's case in detail and can find NOTHING indicating the cause of death. This makes me terrified. I cannot lose another child.
We were at the cemetery a few days after we received the news of twins on this cycle. Ironically, the first thing we discussed was how we bought a family plot of 3 spaces at the cemetary when Kara was laid to rest, but now the two spaces on either side of us is taken. What heppens if these babies die? What if we didn't get enough spaces? This is the shit that goes on inside a dead-baby mama's (and papa's) head when you lose a child. It's awful. I am trying to believe that these two little ones will make it alive and well, but giving birth to a live child is just outside of my experience. So it seems unreal to me.
I'm still having a hard time dealing with Kara's death. I'm sure that pregnancy hormones play a part in this. I feel guilty that the twins have such good doctors and that I didn't find this practice while pregnant with Kara. I feel overwhelmed every time I think about living this life without her... it's too much for my brain. I miss her so much, that it physically hurts. She would have been 21 months this month. I try to picture her at that age and I'm at a loss. I can only see her as the beautiful infant she was whe she died. It's all so unfair and fucking wrong. For over a year after Kara's death, I was desperate to get pregnant again. I thought it would help 'fix' me. 'Fix' this situation. It hasn't fixed me. I am so thankful to be pregnant again and to be given the opportunity to add to my family. I look forward to possibly having two live children in my home. I look forward to raising them and enjoying every moment, those moment I'll never have with Kara. BUT - at the same time, I feel terrible that Kara never got any of those moments. I will feel broken and sad about Kara when I'm 65, 75, 85...until I'm dead. Nothing can ever 'fix' the loss of a child. Your world is entirely turned upside down and you look through a different lens than the rest of the world. But that's a post for another day.