So, I call my doctor's office in a panic. Can I lose them all? Can I come in for an ultrasound? Can I see the actual doctor, not the nurse practitioner who doesn't know me? I don't care that she's in surgery, I will wait and she will understand. Trust me, she knows me.
At the office, my fears are soothed because the ultrasound shows three healthy babies. Identical twins, Babies A and B, in their little shared sac and Big Baby C, who has his own room (Doug says, "Don't get used to it, kid."). Three strong heartbeats, three growing babies.
I feel relief. I had spent the past two weeks telling myself and anyone who would listen that I had no idea how I was going to be able to take care of three babies, that it was impossible, that my husband TRAVELS for a living, but when I thought I might lose them I realized how much they meant to me. All of them. I was so relieved to see those heartbeats I almost cried. I think Doug did cry, but he's a weirdo who's been happy from the beginning.
I wouldn't say I am adjusted to the idea of three babies. I would say I am coming around. I am resigned. I love them all, but I'm still not sure how or if we can work out the logistics of THREE newborns (probably preemies). I am terrified and just can't get into the adventure of it yet.
But for now, the babies are there. I keep thinking tomorrow I'll wake up and just feel better. I'll be happy about them. It hasn't happened yet, but I can feel the possibility is there. I'm starting to digest all the information, starting to accept the life that's coming, because I love the babies. It feels strange to both want the babies and still dread the sacrifices a little, but I'm guessing lots of moms feel that way sometimes.
Hey, do you think my mom didn't really LIKE the burnt grilled cheese?? She always said she did!
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