Bad things don't always happen in threes
Two of the friends I visited down in DC the other weekend were Mr and MrsAngus, who recently discovered that sometime this fall they would be supplementing their 2ish BabyAngus with - take a deep breath - twins.
As several of you know, I've long felt that it's not just my divine right but, in fact, my obligation to greet the news of "I've been knocked up/I knocked my wife up!" with a response of "Congratulations! I hereby curse you with twins." But this is the first time it's ever worked. And I have to admit: I spent almost our entire time together cackling evilly at the Anguses. (Which I'm now realizing, as a pseudonym, makes them sound like beef. Oh, well. Good thing they're not vegetarians.)
They kept asking me the nervous questions of expectant parents: How big did TheWife get before she delivered? (Answer: Pretty fuckin' huge, dude.) How long did it take her to recover? (Answer: I'll let you know when it happens.) How did you get sleep? (Answer: We slept in shifts, except that I decided that I was expendable and TheWife wasn't, so I basically spent the first several months living - and working full-time - on about 2 hours of sleep a night. By the end, my coworkers were taking bets on when I would fall over and die. (That's not a joke, btw.)) How screwed are we? (Answer: Pretty screwed. Congratulations!)
All of which sent me to my iPhoto archives after I returned home. TheWife wandered in, and together we looked through shots of her during her pregnancy, and marveled at how we'd forgotten that once she was a subcontinent. We poured through volumes of twinfant shots, and I was forced to admit - when looking at them as newborns - that I could no longer tell, at that stage, which was which. (Which is no different from the way it was at the time. Thank god for hospital bracelets, is all I can say.) We looked at lots of pictures of a very young Rabbit screaming, and recalled how for at least the first nine months we could only describe her personality as "pretty pissed off." We reminisced, realized just how much of a horrifying blur that first year was, and savored what terrific little girls the twins have since become. And we talked about all that our dear friends the Anguses would experience in the years to come.
At the end, sitting there in the dark, bathed in the soft electric glow of the computer screen, we shared a special moment in which our eyes met - full of love, and shared experience, and understanding - and said as one: "Thank god it's not us."
Heh - "Thank God it's not us."
Indeed.
I'm thankful that we're only expecting one. Yes, I know that ups us to three, but we decided we enjoyed the smaller, incremental steps rather than the "holy shit" onslaught of a litter.
Posted by:mr. big dubya | May 07, 2008 at 10:10 AM
I don't even think it would be a remote possibility in my famil tree, and I still think "thank God it's not/wasn't me."
(good book choices over there, btw...)
Posted by:foradifferentkindofgirl | May 07, 2008 at 01:23 PM
Oh, I LOVE that picture! My husband and I are weak, weak people and would never have survived two at once. I salute you both.
Posted by:Pam | May 07, 2008 at 07:31 PM
Holy crap, i couldn't even imagine. One at a time is hard enough. Pretty screwed, heh.
Posted by:claire | May 09, 2008 at 11:00 AM
Dubs: I still say you're a sucker.
KOG: As you'll recall from my 2/13 post, we didn't have any family history either. Nevertheless: twins happen.
Pam: Thanks... I'd forgotten about that photo, and was happy to find it again. It pretty neatly encapsulates a time in my life that I now like to pretend happened to someone else.
Claire: It's not the kind of thing you can really wrap your head around, even if/when it's happening to you.
Posted by:TwoBusy | May 09, 2008 at 10:55 PM