We learned this morning that we will not have twins this fall. That’s the bad news. The good news is that one of the two is the picture of good health. I’m having a hard time assessing my feelings about this right now. I was standing beside Cheryl, holding her hand as we watched the ultrasound screen. I was immediately worried that I could only see one fetus, but I told myself that I was not the expert. I tried to wait patiently for the technician to do her job. I let patience off on the side of the road when the tech uttered the phrase, “oh, that explains it.” It wasn’t a cherry “OH! THAT EXPLAINS IT!” It was a muted, slowly enunciated “oh, that explains it.” That was when I knew. That was when I felt disappointment. The tech went on to explain why she felt one didn’t make it, but I wasn’t really listening. The explanation didn’t change anything so I really didn’t care. Then she took another look at the one that was alive and kicking, and it was doing a lot of kicking. She held the probe still and asked us to take a good look at our little boy. I looked at this child of mine, squirming like he was already trying to one-up Beth, and I was distracted from the earlier bad news.
So where do I find myself now? I’m looking to start my work day, albeit a little late. Sure, it’s better to have one than none. On the other hand, how happy would you be if you and your family were involved in a car crash and one of your two kids died? No, this is not exactly the same, but how can I feel good about loosing something; something that I looked forward to nurturing, loving and raising as my child?
One child will be easier to care for than two. We’ll have more disposable income. There will be more room in our house with only one more. We won’t have to sell my car and upgrade to a more expensive alternative. It will be easier to save for college. It will be easier to go places as a family.
Last time I checked, you couldn’t factor human emotion on a balance sheet.
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