Examples of unpleasant things that are now a normal part of my life:

I itch all over- all the time. A histamine problem, perhaps caused by new hormone levels. My legs itch, my elbows itch, my tits itch, my crotch itches. I catch myself sometimes scratching my boobs in the grocery store. People probably think I'm homeless and crazy.

I have gotten a cold sore every three weeks. This was something that I had hoped pregnancy would somehow fix, not make worse. I look like my husband has been "showing me how it's gonna be around here from now on", what with all the scabs on my lips. Perhaps I'll start to spontaneously bruise just to add effect. It wouldn't surprise me if that's another perk of pregnancy.

I have a "gestational rash" on my rib cage. There are four kinds, all non-life-threatening. One of them is gender specific (the baby, not the gestator). I'm probably going to have boys. Damn it.

When I get even a little bit cold, my nipples really, really hurt. No amount of padding can hide this very 1980's symptom of chilliness. They are pointy for all to see.

Not to make too big a deal of it, because I already mentioned this, but it can not be understated how much gas I emit.

Sex life? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. I'm an incubator now. No man can look at his woman's lower abdomen, knowing that there are his babies in there, and think, " I want to fuck that". Both sides of the equation may want to do it, but actually doing it is really not that appealing. Hormones make me disinterested (why do it, when the goal has already been met?). I'm also asleep by seven PM. Alternative methods? The thought of jamming something that isn't food in my mouth is... nauseating. The subject of cunolingus has not come up, leading me to believe that thoughts like "hello, who's in there?" might be distracting to my man. Though every book and expert says an orgasm won't hurt those little guys, it's tough for me to be feel okay masturbating. After all, it's like causing an earthquake in their tiny world. What if it shakes them loose?

It's a gas

I never knew I could fart so much, or for so long. I have always been a flatulent girl. But, pregnancy has unleashed a new superpower. I can now lay out monumental, euphonic toots that ought to win me awards. And no, they do not smell like baby powder.

This is, so the books tell me, normal. So many disgusting things are now normal. From what I understand, there is still a plethora of bodily malfunctions yet to come. No wonder we pregsters feel so darn unsexy.

Twins, twins, and more twins

I have two friends who are also pregnant, both about three weeks ahead of me. Kelly, who never really planned on having children, and Bridget, who wants a big family and is jealous of my doubleness. 

Saturday night, my hubs Mike and I met up with Kelly and her hubs for dinner. They were still adjusting, they said. As Mike and I told the story of our ultrasound and talked about how having two was going to change our plans, it's doubtful that they had any notion whatsoever that they were also pregnant with twins. Yeah. Crazy. They had that same ultrasound experience today. What are the chances that two former college roommates who work together could double knock up their wives at the same time? I smell a screenplay.

Now we wait for Bridget, whose ultrasound is around the corner. By god, if she has twins, I'm calling Fox news.

AN INTRODUCTION

Something happened Monday that completely changed our game. We already knew we were pregnant. The basic blood-work and pee tests were normal.  But, we were getting an early ultrasound at nine weeks instead of the usual twelve because of a persistent pain near one of my ovaries. As soon as the technician put the trasnducer on my lubed, still flat belly, we knew something was awry.

They were like googly-eyes, two shiny globes with dense white balls at the bottom. She moved the transducer around, claiming that she was looking for the ovaries, but clearly stalling. I know what ovaries look like and this wasn't it. The same image kept coming back on the screen: two watery bulbs containing fuzzy nuts. I thought, this must be a difficult part of her job, delivering news like this. Finally, she found a tactful way to break it to us, "So, who has a history of twins in their family?"

It's Thursday. I'm at home painting the living room, preparing to sell our tiny house a lot sooner than we had planned. Someone else probably ought to be doing the painting. But, there is no one else. I feel the pressure of accelerating time, a coil of days and weeks that constricts my chest and makes my breaths short. Officially, we are due September 23, seven months from now. But, twins alter the time line. I could be put on bed rest for months. They could come very early. Everything has to be done right now.

This blog is about what really happens to two self-interested urbanites when they discover that they are having two babies instead of one. It's about a pair of thirty-somethings used to having a lot of personal space as they prepare to share their 950 square foot home with a Lab, an active cat, and two infants.

There will be no sentimental waxing about the beauty of creating life. I won't be referring to my fetuses as "little miracles" or "double blessings".  If you are put off by the graphic details of a pregnant woman's anatomy, find another blog. If you are looking for reassurance as you try to cope with your own surprise, find another blog. If this all sounds extremely entertaining, read on...