My husband and I met through a dating service, that if I mentioned their name you would probably remember some scandal involving them taking money from some of their socially awkward clients without said clients permission. Anywho, after nearly two years of meeting the Mid-West’s most eligible psychopaths and ax murders the on-site match-maker slipped me my future husband’s ID number and told me to look up his profile. I checked it out. I mean, this match-maker used to be a Psychic friend, how wrong could she be? Turned out the tea leaves this match-maker was gazing at (or smoking) knew what they were spelling out. He was great. Little did I know that this man suffered from the same delusion I did. He also wanted to have children. Please note we never said anything about multiples!
My pregnancy was horrible with the boys! I was sick from day one until delivery. At eight weeks my OB demanded an ultra-sound to make sure the “baby” was ok because I was so dehydrated. What a day! I walked into my appointment went to pee in the cup before I saw the doctor to save time. (I found out it’s hard to hit that little cup while puking in the trash can.) I was then shipped to the ultra-sound room to get my scan. Once there I proceeded to vomit again. Because I was only eight weeks along the scan was the internal kind. Which for those of you who have never had the “pleasure”, they take this wand, lube it up, and shove it…well, I’ll just leave that to your imagination. Suffice it to say it’s a really pleasant experience. TRUST ME! So while I’m on this table with a huge stick up my hooha, trying to make small talk with the sonogram tech, I find out later, that my nurses and OBGYN are in the hallway taking bets on how many babies are in there. The best odds were for triplets. My tech on this day was the same wonderful woman who did nearly all of my sonograms with Myriam. She’s pretty much like an old friend, one that has a pretty intimate knowledge of my genitals.
It pays to know at this point that I pretty much knew I was having twins from the get go. You see, I kept having this nightmare where I was on the operating table and my OBGYN kept pulling out babies. Now he pulled out like twenty babies, one after the other but it was the same two babies just over and over again. Kinda like someone kept hitting the rewind button. Anyway, I understood what the dream meant. And the ultra-sound confirmed it. After a brief “Congratulations” and an “I’m so sorry” from my laughing tech I was handed a trash can, which I proceeded to vomit into, and I was then faced with the image that would rock my family’s little world. It looked like two fuzzy grey eyes looking back at me. My babies would now be known as Baby A and Baby B until their birth. Which would be a little sooner than anticipated.
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