Dear @#%! Baby,
Your dear old Grandma B has been convinced for years that I would have twins. They run in that side of the family and there hasn’t been a set in a while. She seems to find it HI-LAR-I-OUS to imagine me juggling two babies instead of one. Not only that, a coworker of mine, who knew I was pregnant before I did, is also saying I will be popping out two. I do not find this funny. At all. Double your pleasure? Double your fun? DOUBLE MY MANHATTAN. I’m being cursed.
Don’t you dare be two. DON’T @#%#$% DO IT. The only benefit I can see is if we end up somewhere and there is a neighbor named Danny so my two kids can creepily ask him to play.
There is another bit of upside, I suppose – if the twins are fraternal and one of each sex – then I can be done. Finished. Only have to do this once. BUT GOOD LORD. The diapers. The feedings. The drama. Yikes. I am afraid of the prospect of one baby, two would surely have me hiding under the bed. Not worth it.
My first REAL OMG THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING appointment is today. If I see two heartbeats, I swear to whatever above…
UPDATE: While I did have my first OMFG appointment today, no twin warnings will be issued for another week or two. Whenever I schedule the damn thing. FYI, if you’re keeping score at home, I am sitting at about 9.5 weeks.
UPDATE 2: I saw a double rainbow on the way home from the appointment. And the next night, The Shining was on TV. Those aren’t signs, are they? ARE THEY??