The wand moves around on my stomach. Sam and I peer at the monitor above and listen to the tech chat about heartbeats and measuring me and how I charted. I tell her, “I’m 9 weeks 1 day according to my charting, so it’ll be interesting to see how close the baby is to that.”
She pauses for a brief second and I see an odd shape on the screen. I think it must be the placenta. Or yolk sac? Or just space – it’s all so wishy washy up there that I can’t ever tell what’s what this early on.
“So…, ” she says slowly, “Can I show you something?”
Oh no, I think. It must be either really good or really bad. I take a deep breath. “Ok.”
She swishes the wand again. “That? That is a baby. There is a little heartbeat.”
I smile. Whew. Good.
But then she turns the wand to the other side of my stomach and at that moment, everything stops. I know. I know I’m having twins. I feel like I’m having an out of body experience and can’t put any thoughts together to make myself come back. My mind is blank and my heart races and I feel like I might explode at any moment with anticipation. I also feel like I might barf but am not sure if it’s sickness or the wait. It feels like a million hours go by in those short seconds as life comes to a screech.
“And this,” she tells us with a smile in her voice, “this is a baby too. Another baby.” And the picture shows another little blurb of life, with a tiny heart beating away so furiously. “You’re having twins.”
I lay on the table in shock letting it register and then start to laugh. Sam sits in the chair with Bella peering at the screen, his mouth open wide. “You were right,” he says, and I laugh and then cry and can’t take my eyes of the screen. I’d told him a few weeks ago I thought I was having twins but then nearly everyone who is really sick thinks that – so I pushed it out of my head. What were the odds after all?
We get to see both babies on the screen, hear their heartbeats at 178 and 194. They move around and wiggle all over. Its surreal. Like Christmas morning and winning the lottery and jumping off a cliff with a hang glider all at the same time. She measures them, just as excited as us, and says, “Look at that, Baby A is 9 weeks 1 day, and B is 9 weeks. Just like you said.”
Fertility Friend charting FTW.
The doctors are all called in, my midwife among them. She chats with me about how she won’t be able to be my main provider anymore because I’m now high risk, but she’ll still be the backup one. I am sad but all I want is the best care for multiples I can get. I meet the new OB briefly and love her.
As we walk out, I can’t stop giggling. Sam and I steal glances at each other and smile, then ask Bella, “How many babies in Mama’s tummy?”
“Two!” she says confidently. By the time we get home it’s grown to a just as confident, “Three!”
We’re working on it.
And now. There is the planning. The months of excitement and changes and all that comes with this. From cribs to co sleeping to breastfeeding to cars and carseats and strollers and trips home and bed rest and Bella and babywearing and cloth diapers x 2 and money and labor and OMG SO MUCH. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that at some point, I will have two babies to hold and rock. How much this will impact Bella, our family, and my sleep (yes, that fits right up in most important things) – how all our lives have and will change in a single instant more than we could have ever imagined.
But. Today there is just us. With twins. And we don’t have to do any of this for a while. I firmly believe we were given what God knew we could handle, and in return he will provide us with just what we need. From strength to finances to time. He knew how much I wanted a bigger family and gave me just that. Sickness, tiredness, all of it. I can handle this. Sam and I can do this.
Today I am pregnant with twins. And I am thankful.
::fist pumps God::