Read Part I here
Sometimes it is the silence within that holds us back, those moments when we are taken by surprise by our own darkness. It knocks the wind out of us and leaves us lying breathless, gasping on the ground wondering who in the world we are.
I do hold back. Now. Then. It seems to be my way. And I remember the then, so many years ago now.
That day I walked into the room for an ultrasound alone only because we had just moved half way across the country and had no babysitter. Our firsts, twins, were a year. Spotting gave way to worry and led to the ultrasound. I wasn't far along.
As the technician squirted the warm blue gel over my belly and took one swipe with the wand, I blurted out half joking, half afraid, "Just don't tell me it's twins again."
With a stunned expression her face turned from the screen to me, "I can't tell you that because it looks like it is."
A quick visit from the radiologist confirmed her findings only he added, "It appears they are identical."
A strange mix of emotions took over on the drive home, that seemed to be an eternity. Joy. Concern. Worry. Excitement. Fear. Traffic slowed me down. I needed to slow, to breath because while this was great news it also meant huge changes not the least of which would mean losing our jobs. I wasn't sure I wanted this.
The babies were sleeping when I got home. I looked him in the eyes.
Read the continuation here.