Pregnancy outranks what ails me

 

 

The blessings are countless to be having twins, but life is also about to get a lot harder. For instance, short of losing a limb (broken isn’t enough) there’s no injury that will compare to carrying two humans in your belly for 9 months. It has barely slowed Jessica down at all, she can still move faster than me, so I can’t expect any sympathy for an ingrown toenail. I’m forever going to have to endure whatever ails me because any complaints will be met with, ‘I gave birth to twins.”

Just this week, I’d been experiencing some slight abdominal pain, but we planned on going to the aquarium. I briefly wondered if I could withstand hours of walking or would I be better off spending the day resting at home. Then I looked at my very pregnant wife and the decision was made. Aquarium, here we come!

God knew what he was doing when he made women the bearer of children. I wince in pain when a splinter is pulled out of my thumb, which is far less than a baby (or two) being extracted from me. Admittedly, I’ve always been the weaker one between us, but this whole pregnancy even amplifies that. It carries enough weight (literally) to forever be held of my head. Twenty years from now, a splitting headache could be keeping me from cutting the grass, when the words “I had twins” gets me into motion.

The words ‘I’m tired,’ have already been stricken from my vocabulary. I don’t have the nerve to complain about being fatigued to someone who has worked a 16 hour day when pregnant with twins, while the most I’ve done is complete Wordle in three tries.

After I have a restless night, I don’t have the nerve to yawn after hearing how the twins decided to have a dance party at 2 a.m. Plus, I know the effort it takes for her just to roll over.

I’m trying my best to look like I’m pregnant, that part I’m capable of, but it’s still not the same. Enough Taco Bell might resemble the feelings of a babies kick, but it’s only temporary. What’s inside me will come out much quicker and easier than our bundles of joy.

When asked, ‘How are you?’ My forever answer will be, ‘I’m good,’ because whatever ails me is less than being pregnant with twins.

Ultrasound vs. Picasso

 

'The second one is easier,' is often said about having children. If the ability to make sense of the ultrasound images is any indication, the claim is false. In my eyes, brain surgery appears as complicated as identifying specific body parts on the screen. There's a class for new parents about everything from proper nutrition to how to change a diaper, but there should be one on how to decipher images on an ultrasound. Looking at an image of a fetus should not require the same brainpower that interpreting a Picasso does.

At our first ultrasound I was tempted to ask the technician if the building had an antenna because the screen looked like there was no connection to cable. The screen was all jumbled. With two babies in there, the chances are doubled that I could see an arm. There's four instead of just two, within a pretty confined space, but it's all just a blur to me. I don't wish to find out, but I don't think having an ultrasound with sextuplets would make any difference. 

I trust the professionals with the fact we are having a boy and a girl. No offense to my son to be, who is still really young and will grow, but I couldn't see anything down there. If I couldn't see an arm, I'm not going to see that.

Then at the end, the ultrasound technician gives us a collection of printed pictures. The images do at least provide me with something to study. I don't show them to anyone, because I can't explain them. I'm no photographer, and often have my finger in the pictures I take, but am at least able to identify what it's of.

Despite the challenges it presents I do enjoy going. It's an incomparable delight to see your offspring in the womb, I might not know what I'm looking at, but I know they are there. Plus, every now and then, if the angle is just right, I can make something out. I'm pretty sure I've seen both of their profiles. Furthermore, hearing their heartbeats and the sign of life it represents is magical.

Though I may not be able to see much of their ultrasoumds,I'm still certain that both babies are pure works of art. 

Am I Ready?

 If I had a dollar for every time I've been asked, 'Are you ready?' since finding out about the twins, I'd be able to fill the van up with gas. You'd think I would have a set answer, but I don't. I better be though, because they are coming whether I am ready or not.

The question flashes me back to when I was about four years old, teary-eyed and nose white with sunscreen. I'm standing at the edge of a pool and a mean looking man with a whistle around his neck asks, 'Are you ready?'

I hold my nose and before I'm able to audibly respond, he pushes me into the pool. It's the moment of truth. I will either sink or swim. Spoiler alert: I survived. To say I swam may be an overstatement, but I was able to doggie-paddle or at least stay afloat well enough to be classified as a swimmer.

To this day, I wouldn't consider myself a master swimmer. I don't know the difference between the breaststroke and freestyle, but I can get from one side of a pool to the other with my feet not touching the bottom. I won't win many races, my grandma used to even beat me (I was close). but I'll reach the finish line. On a side note, I think pacemakers result in faster swimming.

My swimming abilities is similar to many aspects of my life. Most everyone else is better at it than me, but I will eventually get it done in my own unconventional way.

I also felt like I was jumping in to turbulent high waters when I got married. Again, everyone asked, 'Are you ready?' There was a lot I didn't know, but I couldn't afford to sink. Thankfully wives are good teachers and tell you everything you need to know. I sometimes forget, but am quickly reminded. If I waited until I could assuredly say that I was ready for marriage and all that comes with it, I would still be single.

When expecting our now five-year old, almost every conversation would include, 'are you ready?" Based on the number of babies I'd held, diapers I'd changed, and bottles I'd given...I was far from ready, but we somehow all survived. There were times I needed a raft, but overall was able to stay afloat.

Now there are two babies coming...am I ready for at 3 a.m. both are crying at the top of their lungs, Mommy is overly exhausted and mad that one won't latch on to drink, the five-year old whines she can't sleep because of all the noise and the dog is barking; all while I have a headache and can barely stay awake? There are days now that I'm ready for bed before it's dark outside and all I've done is play Barbies. People get nervous when I carry two glasses of water at the same time, and now I'll have two humans to hold. I get the remotes from our two TV's mixed up, am I going to be able to tell my own children apart?

Am I ready? I usually don't feel ready when I dive into the new stages of my life, but I manage to survive. When handed the twins for the first time, my only option is to swim and somehow I will, but it won't always be pretty.