While we enjoyed the ease of diaper-free, bottle-free living and the pleasure of sleeping through the night, we both felt very strongly that the Boy have a sibling. We assumed it would be an easy task. I'm a planner and outlined a perfect timeline for spacing siblings and plotted the perfect maternity leave. I quickly learned that I don't have nearly as much control as I like to think I do.
We experienced two miscarriages (one in November of 2007 at 7 weeks and another in September of 2008 at 8.5 weeks). Both of which were "missed miscarriages" which basically means there were no signs (bleeding, cramping, etc), but that there is no heartbeat detected on the ultrasound.
After the second miscarriage we looked into adoption (something we've both always been very open to and excited about) and also weighed out the pros and cons of raising an only child. After the holidays we decided to give it "one more try."
We found out at the end of January that I was pregnant. Neither one of us let ourselves get excited. We were "cautiously optimistic," but no longer had the luxury of naively thinking that two pink lines on a home pregnancy test automatically means there will be a baby to follow 9 months later.
Because of the miscarriages the doctor wanted me monitored closely from day 1. I went in for bloodwork to be sure my betas were rising. After the third draw I was told that the betas showed a "promising increase" and that they didn't feel the need to repeat them a 4th time. I was scheduled for an ultrasound on Friday the 13th of February. The nurse actually asked me if that date was OK with me. I honestly expected to receive bad news at the ultrasound regardless of the date and figured a Friday afternoon would work best since I wouldn't have to go into work the next day so I accepted the appointment. I spent my prep and lunch period preparing sub plans for the next week just in case I needed to be out of work.
Hubby met me at home and we drove over to the office together. I had just hit the 7 week mark on that day. I was mentally prepared for the worst and felt that there was no way I would be surprised this time. Little did I know I was actually in for the biggest shock of my life.
We went into the dark little room. I was sent to the connecting bathroom and told to trade my jeans for a stylish paper sheet. While I was trying to decide which private area I most wanted covered because the miniscule size of the sheet certainly meant there was some form of a peep show about to occur, I could hear Hubby debriefing the tech on our history and asking her to "go easy on us."
Moments later I was lying on my back with my insides being examined on a monitor. I opted to look out the window and wait for the shoe to drop. Nobody was saying anything. I took that to be a bad sign. I glanced at Hubby. He was squinting at the screen, but I couldn't read his face. I glanced at the tech. She was quiet, serious and focused. She must have realized that I was willing her to say something because she finally muttered, "I just need to take some numbers. It'll be a minute." I didn't want to ask, but I felt like she should have said, "Don't worry there is a heartbeat" before her other two sentences. Of course now I really assumed something was wrong.
She finally broke her silence, but certainly did nothing to reassure me. She said, "Was this a natural pregnancy?" I said it was. She asked, "Have you had any bloodwork done to check your betas?" I certainly didn't that was a promising question. When I said that I did she asked if my numbers seemed normal. I told her that I was told they looked good. She then asked who my doctor was and finally said, "I need you to look at the screen." I didn't want to because that was the step where the tech would then point out what was wrong. However, since I had no pants on, I didn't exactly feel as if I was the one in control of the situation and obliged.
I glanced at the fuzzy black and white monitor. She wiggled her magic wand, pointed to the screen and showed me a blob with a flicker in the middle. I knew it was a teeny tiny heartbeat and immediately called the tech many profanities in my head. She said, "This is the baby..." and before I could say, "what the hell is wrong with you? Why were you asking such awful questions and looking serious and leading me to think the worst" she moved her wand again and said, "And this is the OTHER baby!"
If it wasn't for the fact that we were looking at a live shot of my uterus I would have thought they mixed my results up with someone else. The tech had a nervous smile, Hubby was pumping his fists in the air and doing a bit of a jig, and I being the loving and nurturing mother that I am lay there emotionless and finally uttered, "Oh my God, we have to buy a minivan!"
We left the office with a black and white photo that looked liked two little beans labeled "twin A" and "twin B." I had expected the worst. I had hoped for the best. I never in a million years thought that I would be told we were having two babies. As we drove to the Boy's school to pick him up, Hubby was overjoyed. Surely he had visions of matching outfits and cutesy rhyming names dancing in his head. I just kept muttering, "Oh my God...Oh my God" over and over and over. I think I did that for 24 straight hours. We react differently to things.
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