Double Your Pleasure, Double Your Fun

Two, Two, Two Births In One



My daughter just cut her bangs off, completely off. My son can’t write his letters, but is fully capable of dismantling the bathroom sink. It’s moments like these that it’s good to remember . .



To have children or not was never a question in my mind. The timing just never seemed right. We were either moving, changing jobs, going back to school, or just believed that there would always be time. At thirty-five, it seemed to me that we better start trying soon, or it may be too late. Of course, nothing is that easy. My body, apparently functional in every way, just didn’t produce eggs. Since eggs are a necessary component of the conception process, we had trouble.


At first, our doctor, a very fine reproductive expert, felt that we should try six months of a chemical protocol. Having done some reading on the subject, I wanted reassurance that my plumbing was up and flowing smoothly. I certainly didn’t want an abundance of eggs with nowhere to go. After poking and prodding and a surgical opening in my belly button, we were told the pathway was clear.


Onto the chemical protocol we proceeded. I had heard horror stories about being involved in this procedure for months without even a nibble. Even the most secure fisherman wouldn’t like the odds. At this time, I began to feel like a machine. Dump in enough high performance additives and I’d certainly improve my output. I figured any output was definitely an improvement. Our first month without success led to stepping up the volume and delivery system of the additives. After viewing a how-to video on administering injections, we were sent home with a bag of needles and a prescription for what appeared to be liquid plastic. I felt quite nervous about this procedure since any air in the vial could lead to dire consequences. This really was the perfect opportunity for my husband to do me in. With dedication, and I’m sure a big smile on his face, he injected me twice a day. With great finesse, my husband was so skilled with the needle, he could have an after-work drink, watch TV, talk to a friend on the phone, and strategically locate a site on my bottom that had not been abused yet that day. At this time, I learned that harvesting was not an exclusive term reserved for farmers. We were now in the harvesting stage of the conception process, watching diligently as a nice crop of follicles developed. More chemicals were needed to complete this phase. Thankfully for my bottom, it came in pill form. The next day was the most beloved of all days for teachers, a snow day. A free day at home to do all the relaxing one could wish for in the long January stretch. That day brought to mind Francis Scott Key’s words,”bombs bursting in air”, except the bombs were bursting in my belly. I phoned my doctor saying I had severe pain in my abdomen. He announced,”The time is right. Have fun.” I couldn’t walk upright like other members of my species, and I was supposed to ‘have fun.’ Dutifully, on a lunch break from work, my children were conceived. Of course, we didn’t know it then, so the wait began.


Two weeks later brought us the news from the blood test. I phoned the doctor’s office from school. When the nurse confirmed the fact that we had been successful and had managed to get pregnant, I excitedly hung up the phone to call my husband. His first question was, “How many?” That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, but it certainly took residence there quickly. Is there one or are there eight? Will I proceed with a private birth or will I be appearing on ABC’s 20/20? I attempted to put these thoughts in some safe corner of my mind strutting around as proud as could be of the great feat we had accomplished. After a few weeks more, we went for the ultrasound that would reveal how many new members of our family were residing inside me. To our utter delight, we were told that we were going to be the parents of two very finely developing embryos.


The weeks passed slowly. I made sure to let nothing pass my lips that the food and drug administration wouldn’t unanimously approve of. Even carrying twins, I lost weight. That too was a major event in my life. There’s probably a lesson to be learned from this eating regimen.


At the midway point in the pregnancy, twenty weeks, we had a marvelous surprise. During yet another ultrasound, of which there were at least thirty, we saw our children for the first time. What excitement filled the air as the technician lubed my ever-growing belly with a solution of what appeared to be liquid Vaseline. Since we wanted to know the sex of our unborn, we waited anxiously for the announcement of gender. She asked casually, “Oh, do you really want to Know?”


“Of course!” came our duet in reply.


“Then take a look at your little boy.” Moments like this are difficult to express with clarity, because words do no justice to the feelings you have in your heart. Over my belly and through the goo to my other baby she went. I asked what the half moon shape was that appeared on the screen. She explained that what we were seeing was our daughter’s developing tooth buds. It was as if my sweet daughter was smiling at me from somewhere deep inside. We left that building, but I’m sure our feet weren’t on the ground. That day, we knew our life was taking a wonderful turn. We had beautiful, well-developing children. We just needed to find enough patience to wait until we could meet them face-to-face.


Labor Day approached, but it was not my Labor Day. All my friends that have gone through a childbirth experience expressed what a remarkable job I had done with controlling how much weight I had gained. I never heard this kind of praise, not once, in my whole life. I too was pleased that at thirty-four weeks of pregnancy with twins, I had only gained eighteen pounds. That was about to change as we quickly approached the home stretch. During my last three weeks, I had an almost inhuman growth spurt. Even experienced ob/gyn nurses came to visit my room during exams to take a peek at the colossal appendage I toted with me to all my appointments.


The end of September was looming, as was the kindergarten cutoff date. Thankfully, at my visit on the twenty-ninth, the doctor said I needed to have my labor induced. I was admitted and early the next morning, I was introduced to Pitocin. This drug is the chemical equivalent of a high powered vice grip. I remained calm, practiced my rhythmic breathing, and listened to the solo being sung by the poor girl next door. She was having a very different experience than me. Noon came, and with it, and internal eruption. My water had broken with such force, that my mother and aunt leapt from their chairs. I announced that I was leaving, to which the nurse responded, you’re committed now, you’re going nowhere!


The afternoon passed with out much event. Calm, still breathing, I waited for a nurse to tell me my time had come. After the change of shifts, my husband not-so-gently encouraged someone to check me. The moment had arrived to meet my babies. There is a very tangible moment when there is no other option but to PUSH. Some sweet nurse says very delicately, “Sorry dear, not yet.” Don’t they realize your body is turning itself inside out !!


After a frantic ride to the delivery room, all calm abandoned at the door of my room, I decided I might want some pain relief. “Too late!” was their cry. They finally did offer me a spinal block, which I willingly accepted. At least six needle sticks in my spine later, I was numb from the waist down. ‘Push’ they shriekd. I pushed even though could feel nothing, and my son very abruptly entered the world. Placed of my chest, the only words I could find were a reverent, “Oh, my God!” He was quickly whisked away to allow room for two very large people to apply pressure to my belly. My daughter having been cramped for space, decided to revel in all the new room she had.


“She’s stuck! I can’t reach her!!”, I heard my doctor shout. All the fears I so skillfully kept at bay entered my head with tornado like speed, spinning and tearing at the joy of the moment. My husband, witness to the whole event, said the doctor really, really tried to reach her. Later description of the ringside seat left me wondering how one ever recovers from such and event.


“Put her out!” Clearly an emergency was transpiring and they dared try to put me asleep. Needless to say, I resisted. They were successful; however, as they are experts at administering drugs.


Upon waking, my first question was what Apgar my baby girl achieved. The neonatologist asked my profession. She was understanding of the fears all Special Education teachers must have during a pregnancy and she assured me, that although her delivery was less that ideal, my daughter would be just fine. I was given a picture of a tiny, very beautiful baby in an incubator. I would get to see her the next day, because frankly, neither of us was in much shape for a visit at that point.


Since our children’s birth, we have had the usual moments of bonding, of insecurity, and of wondering just what we had done. There have been times of utter panic, and outrageous laughter. Our children have been a gift from God. They have defined us, inspired us, and pushed us to examine what is good and right with the world. As for me, these children are the world.


This entry was written the summer before my children began kindergarten.  They are now healthy, active 15 year old high school sophomores.  How blessed I've been to know these two wonderful human beings and to have to job of nurturing them into their adulthood.  Time has passed so quickly.  To those of you who read this, appreciate ALL the moments of your life because they are so fleeting.