This past Wednesday we found ourselves in the same uncomfortable chair we sat in some nine months ago. At the radiology center, awaiting an ultrasound we were quite sure brought us bad news. We had stayed so laid back and relaxed through the whole pregnancy, not even bothering to take a pregnancy test for weeks because, I mean, we knew what was happening. Those of you who know us well know we remain quite eternally optimistic. The pregnancy was received with utmost joy, and even the heavy morning sickness that plagued me for weeks (whew, ladies who have dealt with this! This was my first seriously sick pregnancy, and it was not fun!) was always placed in the context of the incredible miracle occurring within my body. There are studies that show that morning sickness actually protects the baby, so bring it on!
And then at our first midwife appointment, after rattling through that long list of early pregnancy questions, I lay down on the exam table and we couldn't find a heartbeat. No mater how laid back and optimistic we were, we couldn't help but feel transported back to that same office this fall. When our midwife suggested maybe we could get an ultrasound that afternoon, we both agreed. On the car ride over, Ben started praying. "God, I pray that one day you will bless us with another child," he began. The prayer of a man who knows the worst is going to happen. It really isn't my style to interrupt, but I had to, because in truth, I just didn't like that prayer. In my heart, I was not praying for some baby, someday. "God, we pray for this baby. We pray that you would protect this baby and make this baby strong and healthy because we love this baby you have already given us."
A few hours later we were in the exam room. Hopefulness aside, we were pretty much expecting the worst. No matter what, I knew that I wanted to actually see the baby on the screen. I politely asked the ultrasound technician if she could please turn the screen towards me. We made small talk about our children, how many girls and how many boys. When she got an image, I was scanning the screen desperately looking for a heartbeat. When she didn't say anything right off the bat, my heart sunk.
A moment of silence.
"Two?" she asked hesitantly.
I had no idea what she was talking about: how many girls we had, maybe? How many boys? "Do you see the heartbeat?" I asked.
Another moment, a glance at the screen. She smiled. "Two?" she asked again.
I looked at Ben, confused, and he smiled back at me. "I think she's telling you, Adele. There are two."
Suddenly I understood. My eyes filled with tears, and I just stated laughing. Never in my life have I felt such surprise, such relief, such utter joy in a single moment. There we were, sitting in an office and awaiting to hear that we had lost a beloved child, only to find out that we were in fact pregnant with twins!
"And they're both okay?" I asked. Totally fine. Large for their gestational age, actually.
I laughed for the whole rest of the appointment, which was something like 20 minutes. I have no idea how the technician even managed to get any ultrasound images, because I just couldn't stop laughing, and I really am not the giggly type. I walked around the house laughing for the rest of the week, and whenever Ben caught me, he would just smile and say, "High five!" and give me a big hug. We're both so happy.
So here we are joyfully awaiting the arrival of two babies sometime in December. Natural twins in a family where there are no twins anywhere to be found. We are excited and relaxed and really just feeling incredibly blessed by this miracle. And in my spare time I am trying to figure out a few things about this whole twin thing, because I have no idea what this entails. None, my friends, but I am ready to learn.