Well, if you want to know exactly what passed through my mind when they said the word “TWINS,” it was actually quite literally blank, like I didn’t know what that word even meant. Mike was sitting in the corner whispering: “Oh sh*%!” My first real thought was: “Holy crap! How many carseats are we going to have to have!??!”
After that thought, there was a lot of anxiety. Our minds couldn’t grasp the fact that we wouldn’t just be squeezing in one more little Yarnoz in our family/cars/home. We launched into planning ADHD - we need another car! and crib! and high chair! Oh my! Can we get three kids to daycare every morning? (The resounding answer was ‘no’ for that one.) How much Xanax will Hamilton need? Am I going to lose my job over this? I can honestly say that there were days when I wanted to do nothing but cry.
Then there came the visit with the high risk obstetrician. It seems his job is to warn about all the complications and disasters that can strike a 34-year-old woman with multiples brewing, then to gleefully tell you each time “But you are doing great!!” Not necessarily a balm for the already anxious soul.
Meanwhile, the ‘fault’ for all this lies firmly in my genetic tree -- hyperovulation being a common occurrence in the Rabalais women. (Not to mention there was an accidental perch on an ancient fertility chair in 2007 (see photo) and a fateful conversation about 2 years ago when I jokingly told Mike: “Wouldn’t it be nice if I could pull off a two-fer and squeeze out some twins? This would cut way back on the amount of time I am restricted from traveling to Haiti.”)
Should have guessed it might happen, but it honestly never crossed my mind.
Eventually, as I worked my way through double the nausea and fatigue, it started to sink in. It was actually getting to be a little bit fun watching people’s expressions when I told them I was harboring twins inside. One of my pulmonology colleagues looked absolutely horrified and screeched, “Was that expected?” Or another one I love: "Did you take something? (Yes, I induced this on myself because I wanted to have 3 children under 18 months... what!?%$" But most people looked shocked in a good way and would say things like, “Won’t that be fun?!” or “Oh, good luck! You’ll be very busy!” And a few continue to light up and say things like: “I’m a twin!” (guy on the landscape team today) or “I had twin boys and it was wonderful” (GI attending who typically barely speaks to me). In fact, when you have two it enters you in a tiny little elitist club of twin-bearing women, each one having her own special story to go along with it.
So, the second trimester has been all about less -- less nausea, less fatigue, and less anxiety -- as well as more -- more OB visits, scans, and freakish comments about my innards. The kiddos are moving, frequently kicking each other in the head when scanned, and the abdomen is growing. Mike likes to remind me that I have the genetic equivalent of a whole Yarnoz inside of me. (I’m still holding out for a kid that might resemble me though, since I’ve totally lost with Kemper.)
As we enter into the third trimester, we’ll probably relapse back into high-anxiety mode. (Can I make it to 38 weeks? What if I’m early? What if I have to have a c-section? How am I going to pick up Kemper anymore? Which car should we buy? Which au pair should we choose? etc etc...) I mean, it’s hard to really feel like you are ever out of the woods -- there is only 44mm of a “gorgeous cervix” (by far, the weirdest compliment I’ve ever gotten from a man) between the world and my little Yarnozs -- I simultaneously want to keep them in there forever and want to see what our new little people will be like.
Hopefully it really will be as fun as people try to tell me it will be... but maybe not too much fun, because Mike has already told me that he “can’t make it through another pregnancy.” Plus, the obstetrician already warned us that we have an even higher chance for twins again next time....
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