Category Archives: Introduction
BT – before twins
FS – the first set of children
OW – other whole, husband
TT – twin tummy
More background, so that when I have thousands of readers, I’ll be able to write witty little references to posts like this one, written waybackwhen.
When I was 19 I got married, got pregnant and had my first baby (not necessarily in that order). Then I had another baby. Then I got divorced. Then I got married again. Then I got divorced. Then I got married again. Then I got divorced again.
Now I’m married again (this is the last time, dammit!) and my first two babies are now 21 and 19 years old. I knew I was done having children. I always swore I wouldn’t have more than one baby-daddy. Besides, I was pretty sure I couldn’t have more. My Other Whole (OW) was a 40-year-old childless bachelor. I felt badly that I couldn’t give him a family, which I knew is something he’d always thought he’d have, but life doesn’t always work out the way we think it will (ya can say that again!).
So there we were, enjoying our child-free life, riding the motorcycle, cruising around in his Porsche, eating out wherever and whenever we wanted… you get the picture.
Then I started having strange symptoms. I was bleeding when I shouldn’t and not bleeding when I should. I had a couple of hot flashes. I felt weird. I thought I was starting menopause.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered last year that I was pregnant at 41 years old. Surprise might not be the right word. Shocked, afraid, disappointed, nauseous, worried, guilty for not being more careful and wondering how to tell OW describes it much better.
When I went to the doctor at about 6 weeks, I hadn’t yet told OW and I still wasn’t 100% sure I was pregnant. They did an ultrasound and I was told that I was definitely pregnant and definitely pregnant with twins. I could not believe what the ultrasound tech was saying. I sobbed and refused to look at the screen. When I sat in the OB’s office, he discussed my options with me and then gave me more bad news. He believed it was a mo/mo pregnancy, which would give me about a 20% chance of having two live babies (as it turns out, that figure was completely wrong. While it can’t be “cured”, with very, very close monitoring women have something like an 80 to 90% chance of having two living babies).
I could barely stand up straight when I walked out of there. I was just beyond stunned. I was going to wait a day or two before I told OW so I could calm down, but I’m just not that kind of person. I couldn’t possibly have held it in. I went straight to his office, shaking and crying. He thought I was dying or something.
When I told him I was pregnant his mouth dropped open. When I told him it was twins, his mouth dropped open a little more. We had an emotionally difficult couple of weeks while we tried to just understand everything.
We decided not to tell anyone (and I mean no one) until after we’d had genetic testing done and felt more confident that the pregnancy could be carried to term. After the initial shock, we eased into acceptance and then happy excitement.
We told our family at Thanksgiving. My kids took it really well. My mother didn’t believe me. It really took several minutes of convincing and pointing to my name on the ultrasound for her to believe it was true! My sister has fraternal twins, so my mom was understandably blown away.
OW’s mother had exactly the reaction I expected (I should note here that OW and I weren’t yet married). The first words out of her mouth were, “Well, you’ll have to get married right away! Oh dear, a lot of the family doesn’t even know you’re living together!” LOL – I mean, she was happy but that really was her first concern. She is so thrilled that OW is in a real relationship and is getting married and having kids. I think that worried her to death. I think a lot of the family figured he was gay or something so they’re relieved too. hehehehe. This is the Deep South. People get married and start families young!
It was a rough pregnancy and the boys had a bit of a rough start in life, but now they are beautiful, healthy, screaming, purple-faced, pissing, shitting, snuggling, smiley, cutie-pie babies.
That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.
This is the bare, rough, un-sanded, unvarnished walls of my life. It seems odd to me to just jump into an essay without laying out an outline of sorts though. Who am I? What am I going to write? Why am I writing and why would anyone read it?
It doesn’t matter to me much at this point whether anyone reads it. There are things spilling out of me that aren’t appropriate for my cutsey baby blog and I need to write them down. I’ve always been a bit of an exhibitionist and what better way to expose oneself than to post it online for all the world to see?
I suppose I think a lot of myself, imagining that the world will give a shit about peeking into my soul, no? All the same, maybe I won’t feel like Orville Redenbaker’s love child if I can just spit out the kernels.
I’m no George Ella Lyon, but I’m pleased with the result. It was really interesting to do. I thought it would be a bitter diatribe about my younger years but it wasn’t at all! I’d like to do it again next year. I’m sure it would be different every time, reflecting where I am in my life at that moment. So here is my introduction:
I am from avocado green walls, carpet, and appliances; from Covergirl Blush and Seventeen Magazine.
I am from same-as-same ranch-style, nondescript, beachy suburbia, with a creepy guy living down the street.
I am from the St. Augustine grass, oleander hedges, salty sand, always humid air.
I am from Christmas stockings filled with oranges and nuts, sweet tea drunk from mason jars at Daddy’s side’s family reunions, too loud laughter from this side and admonishments to hush from that side.
I am from Bear and Sally, from Dorothy B and a man I never knew, from Nancy and, grudgingly, George.
I am from the stoic and the emotional, the quiet and the boisterous, the pious and the raucous.
From I’m gonna skin you alive, give me some sugar, and you never consider the consequences.
I am from hellfire & brimstone Baptists who never drank or danced and nominal Methodists who played cards and weren’t afraid of gin.
I’m from Wauchula, Stuart, the Scots, the Germans; the sour cream pound cakes and hot dog casseroles.
From the great grandma rumored to be half Cherokee and taller than any man, a secret child, Papa’s mysterious missing fingers, and the crib death no one spoke of.
I am from scattered artifacts; some missing, some locked away, some better buried. From hot Januarys, angsty teen years, scary woods, mama crying again, and road trips to Disney.