~ The Vigil
I found out I was pregnant pretty early on, on May 6, only Week 4 according to my last period date of April 10. We were very happy to have succeeded so soon, in the second month after we started to try in earnest. At that point, except for a nascent soreness in my breasts, I didn't feel different at all, just excited and full of our secret. There were a couple of big events coming up (my graduation from library school in early May, our move to a new apartment two weeks later, and just after the move a late May trip to Italy to celebrate the wedding of an old friend of mine). We knew we had a lot to do and that new pregnancies are risky, so we said nothing to anyone all throughout the month of May.
I felt good for two weeks after I found out, sailing through the graduation, and had to do nothing out of the ordinary besides cutting out wine and caffeine and buying some new bras that were comfortable enough to wear at night (the breasts only got sorer!).
Then, about the end of Week 6, the morning sickness hit. It seemed to hit all at once. One day I eating normally, the next I was dry-heaving and dizzy. The timing was terrible, right before our move and the trip to Italy. And I couldn't talk to anyone besides Dan about it because we agreed that it was still way too early. The books that said morning sickness is a good thing were small comfort. I managed to participate on a relay team I had signed up for (my leg in the race was six miles), but had to rest all day after that, despite being surrounded by boxes in our new place. (We're still not completely unpacked. Dan can't do it all and work his full-time summer research job, and I get tired too easily.)
The trip to Italy is a bit of blur. Jet lag and dehydration made the morning sickness worse, so our first three days in Venice I subsisted on gelato and spaghetti with marinara sauce. We moved on to Rome, where the wedding took place, and fortunately I felt better enough that I enjoyed that part of the trip. But returning to the States on May 31 just brought more jet lag (I was smart enough to avoid dehydration this time), and getting back to work was really tough.
My second week back at work after the trip I started having horrible stomach cramps. I knew these weren't uterine cramps, having had a tricky digestive system since I was a teenager, but this time they were accompanied by the dreaded vaginal spotting that all the books and websites warn you about. So I called my doctor and, on June 6, a week before our first scheduled routine pre-natal appointment, Dan and I went in so they could check it out.
The ultrasound revealed the truth: there wasn't just one baby in there, but two! I'll never forget the look on Dan's face as the doctor turned that monitor toward us. We saw them again a week later (last week, on June 13), at the scheduled appointment; this time they were moving, wriggling around like tiny amphibious creatures. We feel a bit scared but mostly like we've won the lottery.
This past weekend, we told our families about the pregnancy, but we're not going to reveal the double good fortune until July 3, when I'll be at the safer 12-week mark and our next ultrasound is scheduled. Twins found in early pregnancy are occasionally subject to a truly scary phenomenon called "vanishing twin syndrome," where one of them just disappears from later ultrasounds. The idea that this could happen to us petrifies me. I am trying to eat better and gain some weight. I want both of our babies, and I want them to make it as close to term as possible.
Having achieved the ten-week mark, I still feel like I'm on a vigil, a secret one. We truly believe we'll see both Fishie and Froggie (as I call them) again in two weeks. But the fear remains. And so for now, as I continue to struggle with nausea, we're putting off the grand and shocking announcement that sometime in January we, Terzah and Dan, will be giving both of our families their first set of twins.