This post has been percolating in various narrative forms in my head for over a year. I'm a creature of self-control, and even though I'm tempted to labor over self-edits ad infinitum, the fact is, for tonight, this Sunday night ... dinner is eaten, the Olympics are on, and I'm running out of time. So, I'm writing; I'm publishing. Lula is asleep in Mormor's arms, Nell is lurching forward (army-crawl style – she knows how to crawl but just chooses the easier route?) over Theo's drawings of an Easter train ("It has to be pink! Draw me a pink train; the bunny goes here!"). Theo just ate some soufflĂ© and is playing with Papa. Our time at the condo is ticking away and I want to get something, *anything* down.
I could write about the simultaneous joy and terror of discovering that we were expecting twins: at the six-week ultrasound, after the tech's pronouncement of monochorionic/diamniotic (identical) twins, John's extremities went numb and he started laughing uncontrollably. Or I could talk about the complete and utter normalcy of my pregnancy's progression, punctuated with numerous false scares and an eventual switch to a new OB/GYN (yeah ... maybe that's a topic that deserves its own post).
Or maybe I'll just leave here a promise to eventually capture more than a sketch of this crazy reality ... plus a few photos.
Hey, family and friends. Thanks for reading. We really appreciate it.
I'll write soon.
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| Photo credit: Grace Wilson (Sweet Pea Photography) |
