Attack of the Y chromosome!

Out of all the many pregnancy scenarios now doing constant sprints through my mind, there is one I did not anticipate.

I didn’t expect to be married to a man.

Don’t get me wrong. Mo really has taken on that pregnancy radiance. She still likes Grey’s Anatomy and Twilight. And she remains as much a treat to the eyes as she’s ever been. She’s a beautiful woman.

But I can’t help noticing the evidence to the contrary. She craves McDonald’s. She keeps talking about ordering Chinese. She buys frozen pizza. She lounges on the couch while I bring food. She has started eating wings. She eats. And she eats. And she eats.

It’s actually kind of hot.

Plus, there’s two little beings dying for food, and everything we’ve read suggests plumping them up as fast as possible, because chances are they’re going to make an early exit. Feeding, then, suddenly takes on this new importance, and it’s kind of fun -- for me, at least -- to think that chewing down another few mouthfuls, or delivering another fruit cup to the couch, is doing good.

I’m glad we’ve gotten to this place, actually. Or, more properly, I’m glad I got here. After a weekend spent in worry among reassuring friends and even more reassuring drinks -- not to mention one seriously good double chocolate cheesecake made by one of those friends -- anxiety is now transforming into excitement.

Yes, the numbers still make me nervous. Chances are far higher that these babies will be premature, that they’ll be underweight, that they’ll have other problems.

But Mo and I have control over exactly none of these things. What we have, instead, is a few months to enjoy the quiet of our home, to get it ready and to wait for a couple of kids I’m pretty sure we’re going to like -- Mo has already taken to calling them “the litter.” We have time, we hope, for a last trip or two. We have time to empty our bank accounts into the crazy implements of childhood -- I’m thinking all-terrain stroller; do they make gas-powered versions? We have time to enjoy each other.

And, of course, we have time to eat.