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2/24/1999 Unprayed PrayerFour years today our lives changed forever. Four years ago today I learned that I was pregnant with twins. We had planned our lives so well. We had decided to have our second child when our oldest son was 3. When I became pregnant nearly a year ahead of schedule, we were surprised (so much for the cervical cap), but we were not too worried. To be honest, I was feeling pretty smug. I thought we had a real handle on this parenting thing. Breastfeeding had been a breeze, Daniel was an easy, well-adjusted baby, Tab was as involved in parenting as I was. So what if our second child arrived a little sooner than we planned? We were old pros; we could handle it. My first ultrasound was scheduled on a Friday morning when I was about 11 weeks pregnant. I decided to take the day off from work because my father was visiting from Maine, and I thought I could spend the afternoon with him. I was not looking forward to the ultrasound because I remembered from my first pregnancy that it was an uncomfortable procedure when performed in the early stages. In order for the ultrasound technician to get a good look at the uterus in the first trimester, the patient has to drink 32 oz. of water an hour before the appointment and then not urinate so that the distended bladder will push the uterus into a better position. You lie on the table, full as a water balloon, while the technician presses the ultrasound wand hard against your lower abdomen to get the image on screen, jostling your full bladder even more. And you pray that she'll finish soon so you can dash for the bathroom. It may be a simple medical procedure, but it would make a fiendishly effective form of torture. So there I was four years ago this morning. The ultrasound room was dark to allow Gloria, the technician, a better view on screen. Except for the low hum of the machinery, the room was quiet. Gloria was not much of a talker; she concentrated on the job at hand. I closed my eyes and tried to relax and forget about my bladder. If I hadn't been in so much discomfort, I almost could have fallen asleep. I wasn't in a hurry to see the screen: at this early stage, I knew the ultrasound image would look like a formless blob to me. Then Gloria broke her long silence. "Guess what? You're going to have twins." My eyes flew open. I gasped, "You're kidding, right?" She answered, "I never kid about something like that." She told me to wait a little longer; she wanted the radiologist to look at the image just to confirm and be sure there was no problem. After what seemed like an eternity, she returned and told me I was all set. She gave me a photograph of the ultrasound image with two formless blobs labeled A and B. So many worries were going through my head. How could we afford two more babies? How was I going to take care of two newborns? Sure, Daniel had been an easy baby, but the early days were still rough. I didn't want to think of how much harder it would be with two. And breastfeeding--how on earth would I manage that? Worse were the fears that I didn't even let myself think about: higher risks of miscarriage or complications from premature births. The next thing I remember I was at Tab's office. He knew with one look at my face that something was wrong. I told him to sit down, then I handed the picture to him. I pointed to one blob and said, "Here is your baby," and then pointed to the other one and said, "And here is your other baby." He was momentarily speechless, a condition I have rarely seen in my talkative husband. We decided to call both of our mothers from his office and tell them the news. I'm not sure why we decided to do that right away; maybe we felt the burden of this news would be lighter if we had others to carry it. Tab and I went to lunch at Sunny Garden, a Chinese restaurant with a delicious lunch buffet. Unfortunately, neither of us could eat much. We mostly stared at each other ruefully, occasionally taking each other's hand across the table. Once or twice we burst out into maniacal laughter. Then I left Tab at work and headed to my grandmother's house, where my father was staying. When I told Nana the news, she gave me a big hug and said, as she always does, the exact thing I needed to hear: "Honey, the good Lord saw what a good mother you are and knew you could handle two more." And, yes, it turned out all right. The pregnancy was uneventful. The babies were born nearly full term. Breastfeeding twins, once Matthew caught on and once I learned how to nurse both simultaneously, was a wonderful experience. I remember very little from the first six months of their lives--sleep deprivation must inhibit the brain's ability to form longterm memories--but we muddled through and life became easier as the babies grew. Tab and I had always agreed to have only two children. I had enjoyed Daniel's first two years so much, though, that I'd secretly wished that we could afford to have more. So I'll always regard Stephen and Matthew as the unlooked-for answer to an unprayed prayer.
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