Babys first Picture from Ultrasound

As my wife lay prone on the table nervous and shaking, I stood before her the pinnacle of manhood. I stood with the countenance of a Viking, the posture of an English gentleman, and the confidence of a peacock in a chicken’s beauty contest. Most notably, my face was in full defiance of any possibility of bad news. Hopefully, my manly confidence held my wife in a cradle of security, as I was totally uncertain of how to comfort a half naked wife on a table with stirrups.

This particular visit to the doctor was to get the first ultrasound of the fruit of my loins. My baby, sure to be pure genius in diapers, was about to make his or her on screen debut. Nothing in the world could possibly be more exciting than seeing your baby on that screen for the first time. My wife seemed hesitant, but given her position on the table I thought nothing out of order.

Somehow her Mommy instincts were on high alert as though she knew that something was askew. The Mommy radar is certainly the most highly tuned instrument on the planet. My Mother could see me playing with something sharp anywhere inside of a mile. Whatever the case, her radar was going wild.

Being the sensitive warrior I was, I tried to massage her feet, which led to a swift kick that caught me off guard. I had no idea that a woman did not like to be touched in cold, sterile environments. Lesson learned.

I decided the right course of action would be to soothe her with calm words of love and support and to do so from the other side of the room. This seemed to be the correct course of action. That is, until the doctor walked in and she gave me a look that said, “I do not understand why you are not here beside me.”

Shuffling quickly to her side, I placed my hand upon her belly. This sent the signal to the Doc that both she and the kid were mine, and that he should remember that. Why must a man claim what is his in this way? It is one step removed from hiking your leg, yet Man continues to need to claim his territory. I digress.

The Doctor hooked up the contraption and began to move the wand over my wife’s large belly. Did I say large? I meant to say that he moved the wand over my bride’s love hump. Nope, that will not work either. The Doctor moved the wand over my child. There we go. That is much better.

In a minute the Doctor asked us to look at the screen, which was a bit redundant as our eyes had not left the screen since the machine got turned on.

“Look at what we have here, the Doctor said. Now this was unexpected.”

Upon hearing these words, I strained my eyes ever harder to make out any semblance of life. Seeing nothing recognizable, I looked to my wife. As she lay there, her eyes were as wide as saucers, and she was white as a ghost. Trying to figure out what I was missing I looked at the screen again. There in very clear outline was a head, and then a spine, and then another head on the end of the spine!

The last thing I remember was the lights going out, and my Viking countenance hitting the floor. As I came to, I remember thinking to myself that we had surely spawned the Anti-Christ. A baby with two heads and one spine? One at each end? Oh my God, what have I done to deserve such a devastation?

The Doctor looked at me and informed me that my reaction was normal when Dads find out they are having twins.

Twins! Thank the Lord and all that is Holy! I was having twins. Two fruits of my loins! Double the fun, and double the excitement! Double the love, and double the adoration from my little ones. Oh, I am so blessed to have such a wonderful set of babies!

It took a while for me to realize that it also meant double the money, double the diapers, double the rashes and crying fits, but I did not mind. My Viking countenance was intact and flourishing. I was King of the Castle and Lord of the Manor. I had Fathered not one, but two beautiful little babies. Surely my legacy would be legendary. Surely, I would go down as one of the best Fathers in all the world’s history. Surely I would be revered by all within my home! All the Knights of the Round table would want to cross swords with the Man who had fathered such royalty!

Now, where is my apron?