I'm sitting at the kitchen table with a half caffeinated coffee. My laptop in front of me. Bills, hard candy, and left over Christmas cookies spread out on the table top.
A few days ago, we found out that we were having boys, just as we had wanted.
Later that evening Jesse reminded me to write about it. He said,
"I can't wait to see how you'll memorialize it."
I'm in charge of keeping our memories.
But it's been a few days and I've had a hard time letting my mind wander, the way it needs to when I write.
I've been too busy thinking about all the big adult things we'll need to do, like insurance plans, a possible move, taking leave from work, decorating the baby room, etc.
Jesse has been my sounding board for all of it, whether I'm babbling audibly, or emitting it through silent consternation.
I really haven't been alone until today.
He'll be gone through the afternoon at a convention.
I'm thinking this is the right time.
So I stare at my cup of coffee and try to see the forest through the trees...

When I woke up this morning, I noted that it was just me and my belly.
I rolled onto my back so that all my other organs kind of sink down. This way my uterus is perfectly defined.
I laid there for a little while and traced its parameters with my hands. As though I were shaping clay.
Hi.
Hi Baby A.
Hi Baby B.

When you're little, I'll let you use my arms like super highways for your toy cars.
I'll dress you up in overalls and we'll take walks.
You'll ask me lots of questions, and I'll get the honor of being the first to tell you that,
"That's a hummingbird."
and
"That's an apple."

Jesse's scared of the awkward years, but I can't wait.

For the bad hair cuts and faltering steps toward adulthood.
For the moment they make me laugh because they told a really funny joke.
I realize I'm a little drunk off the hormones right now, but I trust my adoration will stick.

When the ultrasound technician casually told us we were having two baby boys, Jesse let out a little "Woop!" and my eyes flooded with tears. He squeezed my hand and we looked at each other as though we had accomplished something. Nodding our heads and smiling.
Clutching the pictures she let us take home, I put my sunglasses on as we took the elevator down. My nose running and my eyes red.
On the way home, we stopped for lunch and made some phone calls. You can never anticipate just how you'll react to big news. In this case, we were a lot more quiet than I had imagined we'd be. We'd been given the go on the rest of our lives.
Answers beget questions.
It's taken me this long to say as much, because of just that.

The unknown is big. And so we crave the facts.
I don't know how many times I've told people that "each baby is 8 ounces."
That I'll be "19 weeks on Friday."
It's as much as I can say so far.
And so I say it, over and over.
I think that lasts a life time.
You recite what little you know.
Like fighting an empire with a toothpick.

Boys.
I'm having two boys.