There Will Be Three

The day sticks in my head because of what Kimberly and I each brought home. I had carried a rip-roaring headache from work; she, a pregnancy test. Headaches are common here; pregnancy tests…not so much. Of course, she mentions it in the offhanded fashion of someone who has to make a phone call before dinner; “I need to take a test.” My throbbing head searched for the adjectives to make this a complete sentence. Test….what kind of test? First time in my life I had test anxiety for a test that wasn’t even mine. Then, I realized it sort of was mine. She explained her missed period, we did the math and she went to pee. Emerging a few minutes later wearing a smile I’d never seen, she said “You have the magic stuff”. Thus we began the long journey of parenthood.

The next few weeks were pretty normal. Of course, she had to give up some things like alcohol (no big deal), Advil (a little worse) and caffeine (now it’s getting serious). Kimberly went through the misery of finding a new OB, which is an experience I don’t think most men really appreciate. Speaking strictly as a husband, I know I’d like to limit the number of people with that kind of knowledge of my wife, so I can only imagine how it must be to actively recruit another person, likely as not a man, to mess around in your business. What’s worse, it took more than one try to find a good doctor with a good office. But she did and is very pleased with her new physician.

After the search came the patient wait until the first appointment, which was scheduled for what was estimated as her 10^th week. We had originally been told that this visit would be mostly about collecting information and history, blood & urine and establishing a due date, so I didn’t go. Knowing her appointment was at 2:45, I waited patiently at work for the call letting me know everything went OK. The call I actually got at about 3:30 was a little more cryptic:

“Hey, I’m still at the doctor’s office”

“Oh. Is everything OK?”

“Yeah. Can you meet me for dinner when I’m done here?”

“Yes. You sure everything is alright?”

“Oh, yes. Everything is good. It’s just taking a little longer”

With that and an agreement on dinner, we hung up. Fifteen minutes later she called back.

“Hey, can you come home now?” I knew it….something was wrong.

“Yes, what for?”

“They did an ultrasound today. I want to show you the pictures”

“Ok. I’ll come now.”

On the way home, I was finally wrapping my head around the idea of having a baby. I’d known since we took the test that we were going to be parents, but with only a urine-soaked stick as the talisman of our impending parenthood, you can understand how the idea was still a little abstract to me. But driving down the interstate, the thought of holding my baby very soon started coming home, and I smiled all the way to the front door. As I got out of the car, Kimberly stood at the door rushing me along. I walked in and, without even a kiss; she pulled me by the hand to the computer where she had loaded the CD from the doctor’s office. The first picture on the screen was a simple baby ultrasound; nothing particularly special about it except that it was my baby and the picture was titled “Berrier Twins”

Twins? That better mean there are two pictures.

That isn’t what it means. It is only by the grace of God that my head didn’t twist off my neck, seeing how I spun it between her and the screen non-stop for at least five minutes, alternately saying “What?!” and “Oh God!”. I spent the next half hour or so staring at one of eleven pictures of two non-descript little blobs that had, with hands too tiny to see with the naked eye, turned my life completely upside down.

This had, as you might guess, changed everything. Kimberly’s age combined with twins now made her high-risk; setting in motion a whole new set of doctor visits. This meant more ultrasounds, more tests and more ways she had to take care of herself to make sure she and the babies stayed healthy. And, let’s not forget…we’re now having babIES… two of everything.

And, we started telling everyone. This is by far the funniest part. We broke the news to most everyone in the same way. “Hey, we’re pregnant” At this point, everyone said congratulations or something like that. Many even anticipated what we’d say when we revealed we had news. Then, we’d chase it, “With twins”. Laughter, almost across the board. People actually found it amusing that we were having two babies. And, I have to admit; once I regained consciousness I did too. After that, though, it was really kind of cool to think about having twins. I found it took considerably less time to absorb the idea of two babies than it did to accept the arrival of one.

In the meantime, I started a new job at one of the bigger hospitals in our part of the world. The orientation process required me to spend some time in different areas of the hospital, including the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). I had a little anxiety about an being an expectant father of twins in a place with so much misery, but I figured I could learn a lot, so I’d make the best of it. What I found out rather quickly was that a lot of twins end up there just because they tend to be born a little early and need time to “feed and grown” as one of the nurses put it. Some weren’t all that sick; others were tiny, barely a pound and fighting for every ounce. As we rounded, my preceptor refused to tell me one story, saying instead that I really didn’t need to hear about it. “The story”, as it turns out, was about a twin in the unit (less than 600 grams) whose sister was born into a toilet at 24 weeks and didn’t make it. She was right…I didn’t need to hear about it. I left the NICU honestly not caring if we had a boy or girl, only that whatever it was, it was healthy.

The next countdown was to Kimberly’s next ultrasound on July 17. I was again unable to join her but got home shortly before she did. I met her at the door and quipped “There are three, aren’t there?” She said “No, we’re back to one healthy baby.” I didn’t know before then that I could fit both feet in my mouth at the same time.

As you can see in the picture, baby # 2 never developed past the 10^th week; a common occurrence known as a “vanishing twin”. But the remaining baby was growing fast and well, making it very hard for us to be sad. I think Kimberly said it best with “we have as many babies as we’re supposed to have”; and that’s alright with me.

Most recently, we visited a genetic counselor for additional screening. Mainly they were looking for chromosomal abnormalities like Down’s syndrome. We still don’t know the sex, but the testing went fine and we’re happy to say that Baby Berrier is right where s/he should be. The pictures are incredible, but they really don’t do justice to the live ultrasound and the cartwheels the baby was doing while we watched.

Thanks again for all the congratulations as we begin our roller-coaster ride of parenthood. Keep watching here for more news and updates with the weekly blog, and as always, thanks for reading.

Do good things with the week to come, learn something new and be safe.