My partner and I found ourselves in a cramped ultrasound room, waiting anxiously as the technician refused to reveal the screen until she was sure that everything was fine. The suspense was maddening. After what felt like an eternity, I finally asked, “Is everything okay?” With a smile, she turned the screen to show not one, but two tiny beings. My fiancé was convinced it was a prank, while I was still trying to process the fact that I was carrying two sets of fingers and toes.
I bragged to my doctor about my lack of morning sickness, feeling fortunate compared to other expectant mothers. But that luck quickly vanished the next morning as I found myself glued to the toilet, heaving up everything I had consumed.
And sleep? Forget about it. Between the nausea, restless leg syndrome, the babies shifting, and heartburn, I barely managed to get any rest. When I did sleep, my dreams were bizarre—like the time I dreamt I was a surrogate for my mom, who was being assisted by my fiancé and uncle during labor. Or the night I dreamt I naturally birthed a Subway sandwich. Yes, I wish I were kidding.
I longed for the cute baby bump I saw on social media, posing in front of the mirror to capture “belly pics.” Little did I know that in just a few weeks, I’d resemble a Macy’s Day balloon. By the end of the pregnancy, my stretch marks were visibly stretching and bleeding.
During my visits to the OB-GYN, I often found myself surrounded by moms with neat, rounded bellies, engrossed in parenting magazines perched on their bumps. Meanwhile, I waddled in, feeling like a giant balloon. When asked about my due date, I had to clarify that no, I wasn’t just carrying one enormous baby; there were actually two in there—a boy and a girl. Yes, I was excited, but no, you couldn’t touch my belly.
As I adjusted to carrying twins, my patience thinned, and the emotional rollercoaster began. I have a video of myself sobbing when my fiancé ate the last of my chocolate chip cookies—seriously, it was a low point.
Then came the swelling—my cankles had rolls, and my body felt like it was in a vice. When I visited my doctor, I looked more like Violet Beauregarde from Willy Wonka than myself. The diagnosis? Pre-eclampsia. When he asked if I wanted to deliver that night or the next morning, I opted for right now!
Soon, I was surrounded by two incubators, a team of neonatologists, and double the nurses. After two water breaks and the sound of two precious cries, my twins were finally here, and every moment of discomfort was worth it.
Little did I know that three years later, I would be welcoming another set of twins. And yes, I would probably cry over chocolate chip cookies once again.
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Summary
A candid look at the challenges and unexpected realities of carrying twins, from the initial excitement to the physical and emotional toll of pregnancy. The journey involves unexpected cravings, sleepless nights, and humorous dreams, culminating in the joyous arrival of two babies.