I’m feeling pretty quiet right now. Mostly because 90% of the time I feel like if I open my mouth I’m going to be sick, and the other 10% of the time I am too busy shoving food into my mouth to talk. It’s a very contradictory dynamic.
I remember sitting here sometime early last week wishing for some pregnancy symptoms. Wish granted. I am not a violent person, but I would like to go back to the me of a week ago and give her a good hard kick in the shin.
I’m not really complaining, though. It isn’t fun, but there is certainly some peace of mind in every sip of room temperature ginger ale. (This is my favorite–it actually tastes like ginger.) I am hoping for even more peace of mind at tomorrow’s ultrasound. Nothing would make me more grateful this Thanksgiving than a heartbeat (or two).
Speaking of two, I haven’t yet wrapped my head around the whole twin thing. I know I won’t feel like it’s real until/unless we hear two heartbeats this week. Right now, the idea of twins is just floating around in my head causing total panic at completely inopportune moments—like 3 am when I wake up to use the bathroom and then toss and turn for a few hours trying to figure out how on earth we will be able to afford to put two babies in day care. Catch says we’ll find a way, but at 3 am all I can see is our future family of 4 + 2 dogs living in a tent in my mother’s back yard. Fortunately, it has only snowed in Los Angeles twice in my lifetime.
It’s not that I’m not excited. I’m just also scared. And I’m kind of upset with myself for being so scared about everything. I want to be able to sit back and enjoy it and not worry about things like miscarriage and finances. I’d like to start knitting a baby hat or two without fear of jinxing everything. (I know—totally irrational—still can’t help it.) Catch is pinning twin things on Pinterest and my mother is looking at houses and talking mortgages, and I’d like to just curl up in a corner under a blanket with my fingers in my ears and make it all go away for a little while. Maybe it’s just too much, too soon, but can you even say that after spending the last 21 months focused on starting a family? Too soon? The me of two months ago would probably love to give me another good kick to the shin for that one.