So much for intuition!

My reputation (such as it was) as a spiritually attuned earth goddess of intuition has been shattered: we appear to be having two girls. (Either that, or two boys very good at hiding their genitalia between their legs.)

Two girls!

In the spirit of full disclosure, I will admit that I am a wee bit disappointed; I would have liked at least one boy. But that disappointment is fading by the minute, being quickly replaced by the joy of feeling a much more personal connection to these little bambinAs. Now I get the fun of imagining what they’ll look like as babies / girls / women and speculating on whether they’ll be tomboys or girly girls or some combination of both, like their mother. Already, they feel that much more like actual miniature people.

Some pragmatic pluses of two girls: no circumcision debate, they can share a bedroom in perpetuity, and we have many more friends with girls who can give us hand-me-downs. One big pragmatic con: when they get to toilet training age, I’m going to have to take both of them into public restrooms at once, rather than dividing them between me and A. Oh well.

As for A., he is very happy. He said, “Suddenly, this feels much more manageable.” He also said he’s already feeling protective of them. He doesn’t like the idea of lecherous guys thinking, “Ooh, yeah! Twins!” We’ll have to be sure not to name them Bambi and Bunny.

Anyway, most important of all – as I am supposed to say, and truly do feel -- both babies are doing great. They look healthy and normal and right on track for their development. They actually swapped positions since last time, so twin A is now twin B and vice versa. Competitive little things!

It was their Mama who almost flunked the ultrasound. Take heed all ye pregnant women: the don’t-lie-on-your-back-for-too-long thing is for real. After the technician had been probing around for about ten minutes and girl #1 was announced, I started feeling weird, then faint, then my lips went cold, my hearing went wonky, and ultimately I had to make a run for the bathroom across the hall where I threw up, almost missing the toilet entirely, and making a nice mess for some poor orderly. Oops!

After that, I lay on my side, and was OK – I thought. Then a doctor came in to do another, more detailed ultrasound exam. He was one smug prick of a doctor, I might add; we asked him if he could confirm the genders (I still couldn’t believe it) and he replied in his best this-is-how-I-talk-to-naughty-wittle-puppy-dogs-and-patients tone, “Well, I’m focusing on looking at the hearts and lungs and brains, but if I happen to see something I can certainly let you know.” The implication being: I have more important things to do than help you plan what color to paint your nursery, you putzes. He didn’t even angle the screen so we could see. And he said more than once that my lying on my side made doing the ultrasound a bit more challenging. So sorry to inconvenience you, asshole. I’ll just lie back and have a fucking stroke if it would make your job easier.

I wish I could say that I vomited all over him, but unfortunately I didn’t. I did, however, start to feel faint again and said I needed to sit up and take a break. Dr. Prick left the room. After a little while, I got up to walk around, hoping that might help get the blood flowing, at which point I promptly collapsed onto the floor. Luckily A. was there to catch me, and I sat there on the nice cool linoleum for a few minutes until I felt better.

The rest of the ultrasound continued without incident, and was blessedly brief. Goodbye, Doctor Prick. I hope we never see you again, and God help us if you’re the one on call when I deliver. Actually, God help you, because my husband will kick your ass.

So, that’s the news from twinville. We got some great pictures, by the way, and if I can get my act together, I’ll try scanning them and posting them here so you can tell me how adorable my daughters are. Daughters! I’ll be damned.


PS -- congratulations to my dear readers on getting the 'Airplane' reference. I love you!