As Mr. Darcy said to Elizabeth...

"It taught me to hope," said he, "as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before"

What I said to the technician was this:

"If you see something, if you see something bad, you need to tell me. Please don't do that thing where you tell me you forgot your pen and you walk out of the room, because I'll know. I've done this before, so please just tell me first and then get the doctor."
"I will. I'll need to get a Dr. but I'll tell you. If I don't see the heartbeats, I'll tell you."

All before I took my pants off.

"I'm going to let you do the guiding and we are going to look" she said. Not somberly, not seriously, but equitably. As if we were equals. As if I was completely sane. She allowed me to dictate the direction - of the probe, and the tone of the appointment.

"Yep. I see one."
"You see WHAT?" A shell? Where a baby once was? A blob? A mass? WHAT??!!! "You see one there, or you seee ...what? What is it you see??"
"I see one heartbeat....and there is the other. I see them. I see them both."

"Shut up. No you don't."
Seriously, that's verbatim.
"I do. I can see them both. Their heartrates are 158 and..." and I couldn't hear the other because I started to shake. Then yelp.

She was expert.
"Get under control, honey, and I'll get pictures."

"Do you know" she asked me "if they are fraternal or identical? Has anyone told you?"
I didn't.
"It's late, if I had seen you earlier, 6 weeks, I could have told you for sure but now, well, I can only guess. But it's an educated guess. I've been doing this for a long time."
and then she paused
"It looks like their dizygotic...that means.."
"Fraternal" I interrupted. "That means fraternal." That means better odds.
"Two eggs" she said. "So it's not your husband, you did this yourself."

Which is like...amazing. Two seperate eggs BOTH got fertilized? Really? I wonder if it was at the same time? Not that I want you to speculate or anything, I'm just saying. Wow. Two.

I called my sister from the car "I mean it's just so weird. Two kids from you know, the same..."
"The same what?" she said. "The same father? I hope so."

The technician said we look good.
Really good.
Measuring at 9 and 1/2 weeks, with heartbeats. Two seperate sacs. No subchorionic hematomas, no visual issues.
In her words "I've been doing this a long time and these look...good. I think, I think these are going to stick around."

So here we are. All that drama, all the sleepless nights, to be...fine.
Or as my friend Cindy said aptly "Past the first hurdle."

9 and 1/2 weeks.
Not Kim Bassinger 9.1/2 weeks but still.
Imagine.

Maybe this time I'll be lucky
Maybe this time they'll stay
Maybe this time, for the last time,
they won't hurry away.
I will hold them fast,
they'll be home at last.
Not a loser anymore,
like the last time and
the time before.

Ev'ry body loves a winner
these two are loved by me.
Lady Peaceful, Lady Happy.
That's what I long to be.

While the odds aren't in my favor
Something's bound to begin
It's got to happen, happen sometime
Maybe this time I'll win.*
















photo: s&c,dec 2009, family friends
* lyrics, with respect to Caberet, Kander and Ebb

Sleepless

We've never been good sleepers.
And by we, I mean the maiden name "we's". My dad, my brother, my cousins, my grandmother, myself. It's a family trait, this crazy insomnia, and it runs like a wide river through us.

Both my nephew and niece have it, a legacy from their dad. I'm fairly sure his middle child escaped it. It keeps you up at night, watching bad television.

I've sat through She Spies, Gazelle machines, the Juicer. I'm getting wise to not buying things but the Bobbi Brown Lifetime profile makes me long for a new brown lipstick.

I found my way downstairs last night. When leaving my bed for Ellie's room didn't work. I had two pillows, a snuggie, a fleece, leftover Orange Chicken and a poptart. Low fat.

On some level I thought "You know if you eat after 12, they can't do a D&C" and then I rationed that the poptart would make me feel better in the here and now, and that even if the news is bad, I'll likely leave and pick up Ellie from school then arrange better care. So I'm going to leave regardless.

Sometime around 1:35 a.m. my husband came down. Stood over me. He sleeps naked, and wanders thusly so eye level with your nude husband, meh, penis's are funny looking. Be that as it may I was two episodes into that 70's Show, and my eyes were slitted at the start of the third.

"Sleep. Sleep at last. Thank god almighty, sleep at last."

Then CLICK. Naked husband. With remote.
Clicks OFF tv.
And wakes me up.

And like Nancy Kerrigan I wailed internally
"Why? Why??? WHY????"

Two rules, if the baby is sleeping - you leave the baby alone. If it's not broken, don't fix it.

Why in the world do people constantly do things like cover insomniacs, turn off the lights, move pillows, adjust heat, TURN OFF TVs and wake them up.

I sleep, at best, in two hour increments. Must you - MUST you - try to help.
I've said it before, I'll say it again.

"Honey. Don't add value. You're only going to fuck it up."

Moody Blues

Tuesday afternoon.
I'm just beginning to see,
Now I'm on my way.
It doesn't matter to me,
Chasing the clouds away.

Tomorrow is Tuesday.
The day I go to the doctor again.
The day we find out ...well...whatever we are going to find out.
Are we in the game or are we out?

Rhyming completely unitentional...
but at least I know I could potentially have a career in infertility greeting cards.

When Toddlers Dress Like The Homeless