My husband knew I was pregnant about ten seconds after I did, when I woke him up holding the positive pregnancy test. But neither of us knew at that point that we would be welcoming not one, but two babies into our growing family.

When I was about six weeks pregnant, I wasn’t feeling very well with cramps and light bleeding, and we were a little worried that something was wrong. Because it was a weekend, the on-call doctor advised me to go to the hospital. We were really nervous but hoping for the best. My husband had to wait in the exam room while they took me down to get an ultrasound.

As the ultrasound tech performed the scan, I couldn’t see the screen. She was asking me a lot of questions, and it seemed to be taking forever. Finally, she flipped the screen around and said, “Here’s the baby’s heartbeat. And here’s the other baby’s heartbeat.” I literally began laughing and crying at the same time. I certainly did not expect to hear that! She then printed a picture for me to take back to my husband.

When I came back into the exam room, my husband knew it must have been good news, because I was smirking. I could tell he had an immediate sense of relief but had no clue about the surprise pregnancy announcement I was about to reveal. I didn’t say a word and just handed him the ultrasound print out. Since it was still very early, you couldn’t see the babies, but you could very easily see two sacs.

He took one look at the picture and then looked up at me for confirmation. I held up two fingers. “And they both have heartbeats,” I told him. I will never forget the look on his face as he took this all in. It was a combination of so many emotions ranging from joy, shock, confusion, bewilderment, happiness, excitement, and perhaps a little bit of panic. He was too stunned to even say anything! Once he regained the ability to speak, we began immediately talking about the craziness of having two babies on the way and planning for their arrival. We celebrated with a milkshake on the ride home and couldn’t wait to spread the news to everyone about our quickly growing family.

Photo by Cassidy Rowell on Unsplash

“Any day now,” my ob-gyn said two weeks before my due date of January 23, 2013. I was 4 centimeters dilated and 80 percent effaced, meaning I was going to meet my daughter soon. That day, I hugged my co-workers goodbye, organized the baby’s armoire for the 15th time, had my husband fuel up the car, and waited. My due date came and went -- nothing.

I continued the countdown for a few more days, crossing the 28th off the calendar, and went in for another checkup. My doctor looked perplexed. “I’m rarely wrong,” she said, eyeing my bump. “You shouldn’t go beyond a week and a half,” she added. “We may have to induce.” She gave me a few dates to choose from for an induction, but I was intent on going into labor naturally. I didn’t think my late delivery would go much longer. So I took my belly home and researched ways I could hurry things along: long walks, spicy food, pineapple juice. Check, check, check, but still nothing.

A few days later I came across another suggestion: eggplant parmigiana! I read about a restaurant in Georgia that has served this dish to more than 300 expectant mothers who reportedly gave birth within 48 hours. I was skeptical but decided to take a chance, if only to enjoy a nice lunch before my days of eating out were put on pause. Three hours later I felt a few twinges that slowly escalated into full-blown contractions. Coincidence?

I was in labor. Here we go, I thought. I called my husband at work, and he quickly reminded me of the old 5-1-1 rule (contractions should be 5 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute each for 1 hour). I sat on my couch and thought about all those women who had regaled me with stories about how they did the laundry or went to the movies while they were laboring. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

Around 10 p.m., the contractions were coming quickly -- 5-1-1 was in full effect -- so I met my ob-gyn at the hospital. But a quick check of my cervix revealed I wasn’t sufficiently dilated. My choices were simple: Go all the way home and labor some more, or stay in the hospital and be induced. I later discovered my doctor had scheduled me for an induction at 6 a.m. the next day, which meant there was a hospital bed waiting for me.

I still thought my baby would arrive before daybreak, so I decided to stay the night. It must have been quite cozy inside my belly because she didn’t budge on that cold winter’s night. The next morning I was induced and Eva made her fashionably late entrance into the world at 7:24 p.m. on February 1, 2013. We forgave her lack of punctuality as soon as we saw her beautiful little face.

Photo by Xavier Mouton Photographie on Unsplash