Everything is Puhfectly Nah-mal.

In her soothing accent, my childhood doctor used to proclaim "everything is puhfectly nahmal" at the end of each visit. Lungs, check. Reflexes, check. Blood pressure, check. Whenever I have a doctor appointment that goes as expected, my pediatrician's voice rings in my head, a calming mantra confirming the news.

Monday morning at way-too-early o'clock I had an ultrasound. Not that I had specific reason to worry, but nonetheless I spent the last week or so before a little keyed up about what the ultrasound might show. I am not even sure what I thought the results would be, what bad news I'd learn. I guess it doesn't matter, since all went well today. (Everything except my arrival at the wrong location, annoyance that no one was around, and eventual realization that I needed to be 5 minutes down the road instead. Luckily I got the "fast" ultrasound tech, who turned my 2 hour appointment into an hour. I even walked out "early.")

So everything continues to be normal - twin A (the girl) is the one who seems to have been standing on my bladder on a routine basis. Her brother twin B was a little less wiggly during the scan, consistent with the movements I have been feeling from their respective areas of my uterus.

Now I do have something to worry about. That whole naming thing that Chris and I put off until after this scan can now start in earnest. We've gotten a few suggestions, even some non-sarcastic. We are going to have to get moving on this. If it is true that 97% of twins are born by 37 weeks (something I read recently) we have no more than 18 weeks to find some names for these future bundles of joy. Break out the lists!