Silver Lining

twenty one.

"Would you like to know the genders?" my doctor asks me as she scans my belly with the ultrasound probe.

I look up at Nathan, squeezing his hand, "We've decided to keep it a secret until they're born."

"Okay, perfect, I'm going to print you off some gender-safe pictures to take home now, but they are both looking extremely well. Baby A is a little smaller than their sibling, which is why you felt them kick later, but I have no worries; you're doing an incredible job."

"Thank you so much," I smile, avoiding eye contact with the screen as much as possible. I don't know the first thing about reading sonograms, but I also don't want to risk it.

I wipe the gel from my stomach and pull my leggings up over my bump before I get off the table. I take my coat from Nathan's arm and put it on.

"Everything is in your folder, if you need me for anything, you've got the number," she reminds me, handing my folder back to me.

"We appreciate it, we'll see you in four weeks."

Something I never knew before getting pregnant with twins was the need for more ultrasounds. I knew with single pregnancies you have less than a handful throughout your entire pregnancy, but with twins, they're every four weeks from twenty onward. So, I'll be seeing the twins more often, which certainly isn't something I'm mad about.

Nathan holds my hand as we make our way out of the doctor's office and only when we get in the car does he lean in and kiss me with a longing that makes my heart flutter.

He leans his forehead against mine, "Your body is fucking incredible; we've got two healthy babies because of you."

"I mean, you did help a little," I whisper, a giggle bubbling up as soon as the words come out.

He laughs too, "Yeah, you're totally right, me finishing in an expired or broken condom, really was a lot of help in the process."

"So romantic," I muse.

"I'd say," he chuckles, reaching for his seatbelt and bucking in, "You'll definitely be blaming my part when you're in labour and pushing these babies out."

"Oh, don't remind me, I like to ignore that I'm going to have to do so," I wish I was joking, but the thought of giving birth genuinely terrifies me.

"You'll be amazing, Iris," he tells me matter of factly like he knows with no doubt that I will.

"Your support means the world to me because I don't think I'd try to do it naturally if it wasn't for you telling me I'd be able to do so, I'd just go with the c-section. I know women's bodies are made for this, but I don't believe I'll be able to do it until I do, you know? I know I'm a pessimist, but there is no rational part of me right now that can envision my body giving birth to two babies back to back," I ramble as he drives out of the parking lot.

"Your body is an incredible thing, Iris; it knows what it's supposed to do, but if you can't or you change your mind, we've spoken about the surgery," he tells me, but the idea scares me more. It's not so much about the pain, but more so being partially paralysed and the risks that c-sections come with. 

I know many senseless people share an opinion that it's cheating birth in a way, but nothing about surgery is cheating. You're going through something major, it's not a sign of weakness; it's sometimes even the last resort to save you and the baby.

"Can I just wake up one day and they're placed in my arms and I don't have to go through any of it?" I wish it was that easy.

"If it was possible I would pay every single dollar I own," he says in full seriousness.