Battle Royale

The mass in Mr. A's chest is pretty big. After only a couple of hours of ultrasound observation, even I could look at the squirmer being examined and see that something was awfully wrong with his chest. Large black holes orbit his heart. The technician marked the outline of one and typed, "Largest cyst, 1 cm". Largest. Meaning there are more. 

After eight hours of testing and waiting, a platoon of white coats sat us down to explain that the mass-to-baby ration is within the "don't panic just yet" zone- 1.2. At 1.6, we panic. So, he's got some time to cook before we'll really know what we're dealing with. One thing is most certain- the boy can kick.

Mr. B, the quiet one, has just started to make his presence known in my womb. He is feet down (breech). So, you an imagine where he might be kicking. Sometimes, it's my bladder. Sometimes my colon or, even more tickley, my cervix. The MRI tech referred to the spectacle within me as a "battle royale". Lots of sibling rivalry. We are going to need a much bigger house.