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Ultra Sounds

November 30, 2011

“I’m pretty sure they had a bit of their own language,” one of us answers, remembering those days which are sometimes far back, or can feel like a moment ago. Little primitive grunting noises that our 1st babies could be heard making to each other at that time when babies start making more sound, more eye contact. Listening now to his teasing 8 year old boy taunts at her & her quick tempered flare ups that screech back at him, I wonder what they share. Together. From the moment their little cells scurried to form embryos right up through elbowing & pushing around in an increasingly crowded space, they had each other. I wonder if there is an unseen agreement they have, born in their subconscious minds from the beginning.

Not identical, they are uniquely different body types, with different palates and different temperatures. His slender body quick to feel a chill, snuggles under as many blankets as he can drag up to his room… throws from couches in the family room, afghans from closet shelves. Her ‘tossy-turny’ nights become sound and still only when enough covers have been kicked and strewn, that her sleepy body no longer feels hot and covered. At times after school I can hear her grunty, exasperated tone before she utters a word. Just by seeing her jumble down school bus steps as she hurries at me charging that I made her dress too warm, for the cool morning which turned into a warm school day. “I was sweating all day because you made me wear long sleeves!”

Not babies anymore, they startle me when I realize he has this long swimmers body, or the mature and ‘able to help now that she’s a big girl’ way that she now has about her. My first ever babies are these big people who eat more, yell louder and want to ride off on bikes without me around like some of their friends do but that I won’t allow. They push and pull at the space that is our home, racing to the container of ice cream with only one scoop left, or getting the bigger couch to watch Spongebob on, or pick the better turn being read to at night, first or last.

With hardly any out loud banter, there is a knowing of who will give in when, who will get the ice cream, who will stretch out on the big couch. Many times my guy gives the good chair, the last cookie, the better wii controller. I wonder why & I wonder if they know why. When his mind’s made up to hang in and fight though, the once grunty little monkeys can be loud angry kids battling to the death over a tic-tac.

Three minutes of a C-section make her his big sister. 3 minutes and a couple of lbs at birth. I don’t quite know what arrangement they have, or what they know when they negotiate their not so little lives together. I do know that when he goes into her room at night and they talk and giggle and keep each other silly company, they will fall asleep. My beautiful girl will be stretched out in her bed, her brother nudged into any remaining real estate not covered by her or her dozens of stuffed friends. Visible in this sleepy place, during that last nighttime check, is this wonderful moment. It’s this gift, this picture which unlike the shadowy, prenatal ultrasound images, now sweetly reveals the two who started together and how they share space.

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5 Comments
  1. This is so lovely. 🙂

    • Thank you for that & for reading it. I hope you’re reading while baking your amazing creations!

  2. Beautiful, Bonnie! Can’t wait to read more of you. 🙂

  3. Thx Peggy, I know how hard it is to find time to check out stuff like this. I appreciate it! (hugs)-bonnie

  4. Anna permalink

    Beautiful.

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