So I was thinking about having twins. I realize I can't just wish them into existence (wouldn't that be handy though?), but for some reason yesterday I was able to believe that it might actually be possible not only to conceive, but to conceive two healthy take-home babies.
I told you I was bi-polar.
The twins would be girls, and it would mean that I wouldn't have to choose between the two girl names My Beloved and I already have picked out (he likes one, I like the other).
See? Wouldn't it be so neat and tidy for the Clomid fairy to bring us twins? That would be a whole family in one shot, complete with big brother Thomas watching vigilantly from what I imagine is probably the nicest cloud in the heavens - certainly the one closest to the chocolate dispenser, anyway.
Clomid increases the risk of having twins by 10%, according to something I was reading the other day. I managed to fall into the 1% of people who experience a massive abruption, and Thomas landed squarely in the 15% of babies for whom abruption is fatal, so I think a 10% twin risk is well within our fighting range.
Or maybe I'm just insane. Could be.
I'm not completely out of my mind though. Most of me still finds it next to impossible to believe that I'll ever hold a live, wiggling, screaming baby of my own, but I suppose it's a good thing that I'm willing to entertain the notion that there could be a different ending to our story one day. I don't necessarily believe it, but I can entertain it. That's something, right?
Last night, just before we drifted off to sleep, I whispered to My Beloved, asking if he still truly believed we would have another baby. In the dim light of the hall night light I saw him nod his head and smile almost imperceptibly.
Peace flooded my body and I slept.