I’ve missed you all so much. I can’t believe it’s been so long. I’ve just been a little preoccupied. Cooking a couple little chick-a-dees. Side effects include extreme nausea and some vomiting. Not condusive to blog composition or generally living like a human being. So there’s that.
But let me back it up.
Just on a whim. No hunch. No special premonition. In fact, I felt a positive result was highly unlikely. But I’d taken one each month for the past 3 or 4 months, so I thought I might as well.
And immediately. I mean, really.
Immediately. The test said “Pregnant.”
“That was REALLY fast,” I thought.
The first suspicion that their might be twins. Cuz that’s a lot of hormones, ya’ll. To make that test scream PREGNANT in my face faster than the speed of light?!
I had to wake up my amazing hubby. We hugged, laughed, cried a little (me). Decided when and how to tell family & friends. Stared at our Crazy Toddler with excitement and gratitude and fear. I mentioned to him, off hand, “Weird, I’m a little afraid we’re having twins?!”
That weekend, we began telling immediate family and close friends. The fourth member of our little family would be arriving in November. The fourth baby in our extended family to arrive in 2013. Just like the four that came in 2011. Happiness and excitement and joy all around. And again I mentioned, “Weird, I kinda think we’re having twins…”
Then we waited for the first appointment where we would see the little nugget(s) for the first time. The nausea had begun. Like, for real, no joke nausea. And since everyone in the world is an expert, everyone in the world told me I was having a girl. Because apparently mothers and daughters are hard on one another even from the womb.
My hubby and I eagerly gazed at the ultrasound screen and saw that tiny little form. One. One little Osborne cookin’ away. And I quickly decided all the experts were right, and I was just crazy. No twins. Just a silly little ONE waiting to join our Crazy Toddler sometime in November.
We gathered our pictures and went on our merry way.
Except not so merry.
Oh the nausea. Oh and vomiting. Oh and Crazy Toddler with energy and curiosity and so, so, so many words. Another 4 weeks of languishing on the couch with rare spurts of personhood. A full 2 weeks where I couldn’t even open the fridge without turning green.
And my glorious, heroic, handsome husband. Who deserves a cape and a medal and a statue in his honor for doing everything for everyone every minute while the mere shadow of his wife slowly melted into the living room furniture, smelling faintly of vurp and play dough. Often crying with no reason or warning.
One day, when I finally had the strength and stomach to stand at the pantry and select my own snacks, I just stared, and stared, and stared. Because the hormones were too thick and no synapses were firing.
I felt a choking in my throat and tears working their way to the surface.
Calmly I asked, “Babe, I need help.”
“With what?” He gently replied.
Here come the flood gates….
“I just don’t know what to eat!”
Sobbing tears mixed with hiccuping laughter. Because seriously. Seriously?! I’m weeping. Weeping. In the Pantry.
The fog had lifted (slightly) as I drove to the week 12 appointment. We were supposed to listen to the heart beat with the Doppler, make another appointment around week 16. Done and done.
Daunting and lonely.
Excited and grateful.
Tears and laughter.
This is it. Our whole family. Two for the price of one. One big batch, cookin’ in the oven all at once. Approximate arrival: November 2013.
Buckle up friends. Here. We. Go.