I walked into work Friday morning and was immediately asked, “Are you pregnant??”
Um, what? Why would you think that?
Apparently, someone who works in our unit is in the early stage of pregnancy. This someone has told one other person, and that person isn’t saying a name…just that someone is pregnant.
Cue Bump Watch 2013…because what else would happen in a unit full of a bunch of nosy women?
After I denied all possibility of being pregnant on Friday, I get to work on Monday morning with a new crew and I’m again asked if I’m the one who is pregnant. Multiple times.
I finally asked: “Do I look pregnant to you??” I almost dreaded the answer, because if they said yes, I need to get my butt on the treadmill and fix that.
Thankfully, I was told that last week, I simply looked like I didn’t feel well…I was paler than normal and I was seen with my hand on my stomach.
Le Sigh. People, I’m always pale. No, I didn’t feel well last week, but it was related to the yellow dusty air that always plagues me this time of year. And I probably did put my hand on my stomach…because I was an hour late for lunch and I was starving. But it is physically impossible for me to be pregnant, so alas…y’all keep looking.
And then yesterday, a man calling himself a prophet was visiting a patient on our unit. Before I even knew who he was, he informed me that I was having twins. I told him that no, I was definitely not having twins, and throughout the day he kept repeating it to me when he saw me. Later on, he changed his statement…informing me that twins run in my family. I guess maybe I confused him. I’m not saying that I do or don’t believe in prophets…but in this case, he had a 50-50 shot of being right. (I am curious, however, if another coworker who has been trying to get pregnant for a long time is expecting a girl soon, as he informed her.)
After explaining to my coworkers the reason for the speechless flush that apparently came over me, the “having twins” thing has been on my mind ever since.
Yes, actually, twins do run in my family. My father is a fraternal twin; one of his brothers has a set of fraternal twins; he has two sets of identical twin cousins; and my mom had identical twin uncles. That’s just MY family…there’s twin action in my husband’s family as well. When my son was a little over a year old, I miscarried a very early twin pregnancy…one that I had only just found out about when I went to the doctor for an unrelated problem.
Needless to say, when we were having trouble conceiving our second child, and the doctor prescribed Clomid for me…I was terrified to take it. I filled the prescription, and after getting home that day, I sat there on my couch staring at the bottle wondering if it was a bad idea to take this medication. I put the medication in the cabinet, and announced to my husband that I was incredibly stressed out about trying to get pregnant…and that we would be taking a month off from trying, and the following month I would take the Clomid.
Well, the following month, November 2003, I finally got a positive pregnancy test. Soon after, I found out I was carrying twins,without ever taking the Clomid, thank goodness. I bought two sets of baby booties to cleverly announce it to my family, and I started a memory book for each baby. One week we saw two heartbeats on the ultrasound, but the following week there was only one heartbeat…my precious daughter.
I never saw myself having more than two children, honestly. But over the last 9 years, I have wondered many times what our lives would be like if Diva’s twin had survived, and we had three kids instead of two. And every July 30th birthday that rolls around, I think about the baby I didn’t have…and my husband has caught me more than once looking at the baby book I started but never got to finish.
I realize that as early as it was, I’ll never know for sure if it was a boy or a girl, but I’ve always felt like it was a boy.
He would have been named Ethan.