The twin thing
Of course, we knew twins (or more) were a possibility when we started the whole fertility drug adventure. But I was convinced that it wouldn't happen to us.
I make it sound like it's some kind of booby prize -- and of course it's not. Lots of people pray they'll have twins. And now that I've gotten used to the idea, I'm extremely happy to be having them, for a number of reasons. But I must admit that initially, my reaction wasn't "Wow! Cool!" -- which seems to be the reaction of most people when we tell them we're having twins.
Actually, I take that back. When we first saw those two little dots on the ultrasound screen at 6 weeks, my very very first, un-vocalized, gut reaction actually was something along the lines of "wow, cool." But it was quickly followed by a feeling of disappointment. I wanted one baby. Two eventually, yes, but not both at once. I wanted to lavish all my attention and love on one little being, not have to juggle two. How would I give them both my undivided attention? What if I accidentally loved one more than the other?
Next came panic: how are we going to afford this? Are our careers / social life / sex life over? Will I ever write again? This was followed by the more physical fears: can my (rather petite) body handle this? Will I be OK? Will they be healthy?
(I should admit that at some point, maybe a day or two later, the catty little devil on my left shoulder snickered and told me I'd never wear a string bikini again. The angel on the right was quick to remind her that I never had anyway, so stop being such a petty bitch.)
I'd just never imagined us being Twin Parents. Something about it seems so -- I don't know -- suburban. Trendy. Yuppie-ish. Qualities I like to think don't apply to us. (See Jane conveniently ignore the fact that she has a job in advertising, lives outside a major metropolitan area, and just bought a house). I think it also has something to do with a vestigial prejudice against the whole fertility treatment thing, and the association of multiples with it.
It wasn't that long ago that I thought if we weren't able to have a biological child, we should just accept that fact, take it as a sign, and adopt. The idea of fertility treatments seemed selfish to me somehow; entitled and unnatural and consumerized; the province of priveleged, career-crazed people who wanted it all and waited too long to start trying for a family, assuming they could, in essence, "buy" a baby with a little Clomid and maybe a round or two of IVF if it came to that.
Of course, I was quickly cured of my high-and-mightiness when it became clear that getting pregnant wasn't going to be easy for US. And I realized just how many couples, of all ages and walks of life, struggle with it. All of a sudden, I understood why infertility is such a painful and frustrating thing. Adopt? Hell no! I want MY OWN child! Teenage meth addicts manage to get pregnant. Why not healthy, responsible, 31-year-old me?? Overpopulation? Screw overpopulation! My children and I will be dead by the time things get really bad anyway!
We didn't have to spend much on our treatments as they were covered by insurance, but I'm pretty sure I would have begged, borrowed, or turned tricks for extra cash if they hadn't been. I have no shame or regret whatsoever about the fact that we "got help" getting pregnant. And I don't begrudge anyone for a minute their decision to do the same. I guess there is just some part of me that fears that when people see our twosome their first thought will be: Fertility Drugs. And maybe they'll be thinking the kind of uncharitable thoughts I might have just a few years ago. Assholes.
I promise not all of my posts will be this long.
Let me just end with this: on my way back to work from lunch today, I felt an odd little twinge in the right side of my abdomen. And, even though it's too early to feel any fetal movement, I smiled and touched my belly and thought, "Hey, little monkey on the right, you OK in there? You dancing? Or is your brother/sister pushing you around?"
That felt really cool.
I make it sound like it's some kind of booby prize -- and of course it's not. Lots of people pray they'll have twins. And now that I've gotten used to the idea, I'm extremely happy to be having them, for a number of reasons. But I must admit that initially, my reaction wasn't "Wow! Cool!" -- which seems to be the reaction of most people when we tell them we're having twins.
Actually, I take that back. When we first saw those two little dots on the ultrasound screen at 6 weeks, my very very first, un-vocalized, gut reaction actually was something along the lines of "wow, cool." But it was quickly followed by a feeling of disappointment. I wanted one baby. Two eventually, yes, but not both at once. I wanted to lavish all my attention and love on one little being, not have to juggle two. How would I give them both my undivided attention? What if I accidentally loved one more than the other?
Next came panic: how are we going to afford this? Are our careers / social life / sex life over? Will I ever write again? This was followed by the more physical fears: can my (rather petite) body handle this? Will I be OK? Will they be healthy?
(I should admit that at some point, maybe a day or two later, the catty little devil on my left shoulder snickered and told me I'd never wear a string bikini again. The angel on the right was quick to remind her that I never had anyway, so stop being such a petty bitch.)
I'd just never imagined us being Twin Parents. Something about it seems so -- I don't know -- suburban. Trendy. Yuppie-ish. Qualities I like to think don't apply to us. (See Jane conveniently ignore the fact that she has a job in advertising, lives outside a major metropolitan area, and just bought a house). I think it also has something to do with a vestigial prejudice against the whole fertility treatment thing, and the association of multiples with it.
It wasn't that long ago that I thought if we weren't able to have a biological child, we should just accept that fact, take it as a sign, and adopt. The idea of fertility treatments seemed selfish to me somehow; entitled and unnatural and consumerized; the province of priveleged, career-crazed people who wanted it all and waited too long to start trying for a family, assuming they could, in essence, "buy" a baby with a little Clomid and maybe a round or two of IVF if it came to that.
Of course, I was quickly cured of my high-and-mightiness when it became clear that getting pregnant wasn't going to be easy for US. And I realized just how many couples, of all ages and walks of life, struggle with it. All of a sudden, I understood why infertility is such a painful and frustrating thing. Adopt? Hell no! I want MY OWN child! Teenage meth addicts manage to get pregnant. Why not healthy, responsible, 31-year-old me?? Overpopulation? Screw overpopulation! My children and I will be dead by the time things get really bad anyway!
We didn't have to spend much on our treatments as they were covered by insurance, but I'm pretty sure I would have begged, borrowed, or turned tricks for extra cash if they hadn't been. I have no shame or regret whatsoever about the fact that we "got help" getting pregnant. And I don't begrudge anyone for a minute their decision to do the same. I guess there is just some part of me that fears that when people see our twosome their first thought will be: Fertility Drugs. And maybe they'll be thinking the kind of uncharitable thoughts I might have just a few years ago. Assholes.
I promise not all of my posts will be this long.
Let me just end with this: on my way back to work from lunch today, I felt an odd little twinge in the right side of my abdomen. And, even though it's too early to feel any fetal movement, I smiled and touched my belly and thought, "Hey, little monkey on the right, you OK in there? You dancing? Or is your brother/sister pushing you around?"
That felt really cool.
posted by Jane at 2:51 PM
3 Comments:
i am definitely in the wow.cool camp. and keep the posts long, dude.
I feel confident in predicting that people will say retarded things to you about having twins. One of my friends who did IVF and had twins was asked by a stranger: "So, which one is from the IVF?" Or they'll ask things like, "So, do twins run in your family?" with a clear intention of finding out how you got 'em.
I am also sure you will handle it with grace, wit, and aplomb. And count me in the wow-cool camp, and in the keep-the-posts-long camp.
Hey! Just sat down and read everything--it's great. (And I'm with everyone else--keep the posts coming, and don't worry for a hot second about length. It's good stuff.)
I'm too tired for an intelligent comment, but I did want to say that I remember that twinge. For me it came at 11 weeks--a "vibrate-y," fluttery feeling on one side. No one was ever 100% certain what it was, but the best explanation I heard was that it was the fetal heartbeat; apparently it's sometimes possible to feel it, if the dots are in the right position. Wow. Cool.
p.s. Let me know when I can put you on my blogroll.
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