I'm Baaaaack!

After a long hiatus from the blogosphere, I am back at my computer, ready to record the funny tidbits and trying times that accompany raising the Wonder Twins. In fact, I've made it a belated New Year's resolution to publish a blog at least once a week, with the goal of binding the posts into a book of sorts to give the girls each year at Christmas. In essence, it will be the story of their little lives. And mine.

So much has happened since my last post, which was, in case you didn't notice, last year. I'll try to encapsulate the events I didn't have the time or energy (feeding two babies every 2-3 hours is exhausting!) to write about in the past two months.

We enjoyed a spirited Thanksgiving with family at our house. Thanks to Grandpa Buzz and Grandma Lynn, Geof and I managed to wolf down homemade meals in between crying fits, feeding sessions, pumping and diaper changing. Without their handiwork in the kitchen, we probably never would've eaten more than a handful of chips or a couple of cookies. The grandparents also proved that they were naturals in the nursery, often letting us sleep in while they bottle fed and burped the babies as the sun came up.

The girls' first Christmas was definitely one to remember. They, of course, will not, but that's why we have digital cameras. I'm not sure exactly how many pictures we took that morning, but I can say with certainty that we snapped shots of them wearing their Santa hats with all things Christmas - the stockings handmade by Great-Grandma Becky, the tree, wrapping paper, bows. You name it, we got a shot of it. Their big gifts? Blue boxes bearing banks from Tiffany's, a rain forest-themed play mat and cash for the college fund. Hey, it's never too early to start saving for Harvard!

Geof and I spent New Year's Eve at home with the twins. They went to bed around 10:30 p.m. We went to bed at 11 p.m. At that point, catching a few Zzzzz's was WAY more appealing than watching Ryan Seacrest give the play-by-play of the ball dropping in Times Square. I told Geof I was pretty sure that was the first NYE I'd spent sober and party-free in at least a decade. Man, we're getting old. :)

A week after saying "hello" to 2010, I said "good-bye" to maternity leave and returned to work at the N.C. Department of Transportation. Coming back meant assuming a promotion to Senior Communications Officer, which I had applied for over the summer and secured a few weeks after having the babies.

Being back in the office is definitely a mixed bag. On one hand, I am thrilled to engage in adult conversations on a regular basis and begin working on challenging, new projects once again. But... on the other hand, I miss my little girls. Thankfully, the pace of work is so fast that I don't have time to be sad. I simply look forward to the end of the work day, when I get to pick them up from nursery school and love on them all I want!

Although Geof is not the biggest fan of his weird work schedule at WRAL-TV, it is definitely helping us limit the amount of time the girls have to spend at day care. Geof drops them off on Mondays and Tuesdays at 2:45 p.m. before he heads into work, and I pick them up at 5:30 p.m. when I get off work. On Wednesdays, Geof takes them in at 9:45 a.m., and I pick them up at 5:30 p.m. Geof watches them on Thursdays and Fridays, which are his days off, and I take over on the weekends. It's wacky, but it works for us. We like the nursery school a lot, but I feel MUCH better knowing the girls spend more time at home with one or both of us than they do with strangers. Since being a stay-at-home mom is not an option financially, this is a really good alternative.

So, how are the girls? They're growing like weeds! They both now weigh more than 10 pounds, and they're finally starting to fit into their 0-3 month clothes. In fact, during last week's 3-month check up at the pediatrition's office, we learned that they've closed the prematurity gap and now fall in line with other babies their age on the growth chart! We're so proud of them for getting to be so big and strong!

They're also very close to sleeping through the night (Please, God, let this happen soon) and often shower us with smiles, which we're pretty sure aren't gas-related. We're having so much fun watching them develop little personalities! I savor every minute I get to spend with them, because I know the next time I hold them they'll be just a little bit closer to being "big girls."

The babies are such a blessing. We're so thankful to have them. Despite the early mornings and late nights, we would never want our lives to be any different. The girls are the best things that have ever happened to us, and we can't imagine our family without them!

Wonder Twin Power, Activate!

It's pretty normal for Geof and me to eat dinner late on a weeknight. But, it's not normal for me to feel nauseous after chowing down. That was my first sign that the Wonder Twins were getting ready to activate in a BIG way!

It was about 11 p.m. on the night of Wednesday, Oct. 14, and I had waddled my way upstairs to try and calm the unsettled feeling I had brewing in my belly. After heaving my hefty frame onto the bed to relax after a long day at work, I started feeling what I was fairly certain were contractions.

I had only had a few only encounters previously with contractions, and they were the Braxton-Hicks "fake" contractions. This time, though, I felt certain the sharp pulses of pain were the real deal. I started timing them to figure out how fast they were coming. Judging by my trusty alarm clock, they came about every six to seven minutes and lasted about 30 seconds each time.

Oh boy.

Make that "Oh, girls!"

At that point, I looked at Geof and said, "I think I better call the doctor. I'm pretty sure I'm in labor." Geof did what any smart husband would do. He turned a bit pale, kissed me and furiously began packing suitcases for a trip to the hospital.

I reached the on-call doctor around midnight and explained to him the pace and strength of the contractions. "They aren't unbearable by any means," I said. "Just very uncomfortable."

Dr. Tosky, who sounded tired, asked it this was my first pregnancy. When I replied in the affirmative, he suggested I spend the next few hours trying to get some rest. He urged me to stop watching the clock and call back if I felt the pain intensifying or lasting for longer periods of time.

I agreed, but falling asleep was much easier said than done. Because Twin A was on my far right side and Twin B was sitting in the center of my belly, my balance was all out of whack. When I tried to lie down, it hurt my back. When I tried to prop myself up against pillows, it hurt my back. When I paced around the bedroom, it hurt my back. I could quickly tell there was not going to be much sleeping that night.

Around 7 a.m. on Thursday, Oct. 15, I dragged myself downstairs to the den where I plopped down on the couch and started timing the contractions once again. After a half hour, I deduced that they were coming every five minutes. I was too sleep deprived to tell if they were really stronger than the night before, but they were definitely coming faster.

At that point, I did two things. First, I called work and left a message saying I wouldn't be coming in that day, because I might be in labor. (Seemed like a good reason to me.) Second, I called the on-call doctor who happened to be Dr. Buckley, one of my favorite docs in the practice and the one I'd hoped would deliver my children. I laid out the events of the previous evening and explained what I was currently feeling. He asked me to come to the office for an exam.

Before we loaded up the car and hit the highway, I was bound and determined to take a shower, deep condition my hair and shave my legs. I figured if this was labor, there was a good chance I wouldn't be able to do any of those things for several days. Plus, I didn't really want to appall the staff in the labor and delivery unit with my leg hair. (Hey - it's hard to bend down to reach your legs when you're nearly 35 weeks prego with twins!)

Following this brief beauty regiment, we went to the OBGYN office where Dr. Gausmann examined me. She said I was already dialated three centimeters and was 100 percent effaced. I was in labor! A quick ultrasound showed the girls were both facing head down, so a natural delivery would possible as long as they didn't change positions before or during delivery!

We were elated. And nervous. It was really happening!

Dr. Gausmann sent us straight over to the hospital, which is conveniently located next door to the doctor's office, for admission into the labor and delivery unit. The nurturing nurses had me change into a hospital gown, took my vital signs, and hooked me up to an IV and several other monitors. The hardest part was getting sensors in the right places to track the twins' heart rates. The poor girls were so squished together in my tummy that it made it hard to separate one baby's heartbeat from the other's.

Shortly after getting hooked up, Dr. Buckley came in to examine me. He determined I was only dialated 1.5 centimeters. He said he'd be back in a few hours to check my progress, and if I hadn't made much by then, he'd probably send me home to let the twins "cook" a little bit longer. In the meantime, the nurses encouraged me to walk around and let gravity help move the situation along.

I did. However, I think it took me about 30 minutes to make a single lap around the labor and delivery unit - an unimpressive time for a long-distance runner. I was walking like an 85-year-old woman in serious need of a cane. Or hip replacement surgery. I also had to stop at times when the contractions were especially strong to breathe through them. Geof was there right by my side every step of the way.

As I walked, I sipped on ginger ale, because my tummy was feeling a little off. I hadn't eaten anything since dinner the night before, and no one would let me eat anything but popsicles now that I was in the hospital. Ugh. I was starving! Even hospital cafeteria food sounded good.

After completing my laps, Dr. Buckley did as promised and came back in to check my progress around 3:45 p.m. I was dialated four centimeters! The walking (more like hobbling) had worked. I would not be sent home... or as I joked with Dr. Buckley, he would not be voting me off the island.

At that point, Dr. Buckley decided to break my water. He used a odd, crochete hook-looking instrument to do it. It didn't hurt at all, but the quick gush of warm fluid felt really weird. It was like sitting down in the bath tub. Only I was in a stiff hospital bed, not my big garden tub at home.

In addition to the weird sensation, I was also surprised by how quickly my contractions increased in intensity. Before, when the nurse had asked me to measure my pain on a scale of one to 10 with 10 being "hit by a Mack truck," I said I was a four, maybe a five. The contractions post popping the bag of waters skyrocketed straight to eight or nine.

I tried to breathe through them, but implementing the relaxation techniques we'd learned in childbirth class seemed pretty impossible at this point. Imagining myself sunnying on a secluded beach was replaced instantly with the urge to punch anyone who told me "You're doing great! Keep breathing." Who knew hormones could induce such violent tendencies? :)

For their own personal safety, it was probably a good thing that Geof and Dr. Buckley were having an in-depth conversation at the foot of my bed about surfing. I had been participating in the conversation until the first mega contraction hit and cordial discourse was no longer possible for me. However, I do think it's pretty gnarley that Dr. Buckley is a surfer.

Once the medical team realized how much pain I was in, they called in another doctor to give me the long-awaited epidural. I can't remember the doctor's name, but I do recall how excited he was to hear that I was having twins. He is the father of twins, and as great I as thought that was, I really wanted him to talk less about his kids and focus more on injecting me with serious pain-relieving drugs. It's amazing how your tolerance level depletes when you're about to give birth.

About 15 minutes after receiving the epidural, my legs started to feel warm and a little numb. The pain of the contractions was slipping away, and I felt comfortable for the first time all day.

Hooray for the wonders of modern medicine!

Another check of my cervix showed I was dialated nine centimeters! In the span of about an hour and a half, I had dialated five centimeters! Things were moving fast now.

Somewhere around 5:30 p.m., the doctor determined I was fully dialated and asked the nursing staff to prepare me for delivery. They wheeled my big bed down to the operating room, because despite our intentions to have a vaginal delivery, it was a real possibility that things could change during the procedure, and I would need to have a C-section. By already being in the OR, the doctors could conserve time and focus on getting the babies out, not logistics.

I should also mention the great irony of the day was that Geof, a photojournalist by trade, did not have our camera at the hospital. We had left it at the home of our friend, Sloane, who'd thrown us an amazing baby shower the previous weekend, so the only camera we had was on Geof's Blackberry. Not exactly what I'd imagined using to capture the first images of our newborns!

Throughout the day, Geof had texted Sloane to see if she could bring the camera to the hospital. Unfortunately, her son was sick, and she didn't think she could leave her Wake Forest home to come all the way into Raleigh to make the hand off.

Thankfully, Sloane had a change of plans and was able to drop off the camera. Being the smart reporter she is, she did not just leave it at the security desk in the lobby. She made sure it got upstairs to the labor and delivery unit... and eventually to us.

It couldn't have come at a more perfect time. As Geof was assuming his position at my bedside in the OR, a nurse tapped him on the shoulder and handed him the camera! Alleluia!

After getting me situated on the table and putting my legs in these huge, transformer-looking stirrups (way scarier than the ones at the OBGYN), we were ready to begin. Remember, because of the epidural, I could not feel my lower body or the contractions, so the nurses watched the monitors and told me when to start pushing.

Geof was my cheerleader sans skirt and pom pons. When the nurses said "push," so did he.

"Push! Push! Push!"

Then, he'd start counting. "One! Two! Three..." Although the nurses appreciated his enthusiasm, they did say, "Mr. Demi, can you please count a little slower?" He agreed to reign in the adrenaline and count to their beat.

I personally liked his faster counting, because it meant less time thinking my eyes were going to pop out of my head. I had never pushed so hard in my life. Even when I was pulling nine Gs with the Blue Angels during a media flight in Tucson. The pilot told me to "bear down" like I was going number two. This was WAY more intense, and I wasn't even upside down thousands of feet above the ground.

The pushing paid off quickly. At 6:06 p.m., Avery Caroline Levine came into the world. Dr. Buckley held her wiggling 4.5-pound frame up, so I could see her, and she was beautiful! I was so moved by the enormity of the event that I started crying. I couldn't believe the little person I'd been talking to in my belly for so many months was finally here!

My state of awe didn't last long. As soon as they whisked Avery away for cleaning and analysis, the pushing started again. A mere three pushes and eight minutes later, Alexa Lee Levine was born. At 4.6 pounds, she was just as beautiful and perfect as her sister. Geof, the proud papa, got to cut her umbilical cord.

Although both girls were very healthy and attentive, they were taken post delivery to the Special Care Nursery, because they were about five weeks premature, which is normal for multiples. Thankfully, before the nurses took the babies there, they let Geof and me hold them.

This was the moment I had been waiting for for so long and the real reason why I had felt so strongly about having a natural delivery. I wanted to cuddle with them in the first minutes of their lives and let them know how much I loved them. Thanks to the obedience of the girls (for following our requests to turn head down) and the skill of Dr. Buckley and the Rex delivery team, I got to have my moment.

Lordy, Lordy! Looks Who's in 4D!

I love getting ultrasounds. That's a good thing, because as the mommy-to-be of twins, I get lots of them. I think I've had five, so far, and we've got another one scheduled for Wednesday morning.

It gives me piece of mind to know that the Wonder Twins are healthy and progressing just as they should be.

It also gives me a good laugh when our parents try to decipher the pictures. It's like that generation's version of Where's Waldo.

Geof's Dad, Buzz, just throws his hands up in the air and says, "I can't see anything. I don't know what I'm looking at." Geof responds with "How can you not tell that is her head?" Buzz replies, "Doesn't look like it to me."

My mom's ultrasound interpretation skills aren't much better.

One night after I had just posted some new ultrasound photos to the blog, mom called with the sound of worry in her voice. She said, "I just looked at the pictures, and I'm concerned about Twin A. It looks like she only has one eye."

"Mom, Twin A does not have only one eye," I said. "She is not a cyclops."

"But, it looks like it," Mom replied. "Are you sure?"

"Mom, I'm pretty sure the doctor would've mentioned it to me, if my baby didn't have two eyes," I countered. "You're just seeing a shadow. Remember, the camera has to shoot through skin and fluid. It's not like your digital camera."

I guess our parents didn't have ultrasounds when we were born, so it's understandable that they confuse the dark blobs on the film with missing body parts.

In an attempt to help them and others see our darling baby girls more clearly, Geof and I decided to get a 4D ultrasound. It's the latest trend for our generation, and after taking part in our session today, I can understand why.

The traditional black and white ultrasound that you get at the OBGYN's office is considered 2D. The 4D ultrasound converts that image to 3D, adds color and includes a video component. Bottomline? It's like having a small window into the womb!

Because the twins are almost 34 weeks old, we knew we'd have a great chance to see their nearly developed features. That was evident as soon as the tech turned the camera on in 4D mode! We immediately saw Twin B's ear in crystal clarity. Apparently, she wanted to be close to me, so she buried her head in the placenta. Comfortable for her, yes. Not so good for picture day.

The tech moved the camera around on my belly, trying to get a better angle. After a few attempts, we soon discovered why she wasn't moving much. She and her sister were totally intertwined. It's like they were cuddling! In the photo below, you can see Twin A's arm is wrapped Twin B's face, and Twin B's little knee is right below it.

The tech told us what the stretch marks on my belly had already confirmed - there isn't much room for the babies to move in the womb. So, she tried manually to help them scoot their arms and legs away from their faces by massaging my tummy. Eventually, it worked, and we got some great shots of Twin B's face. Just look at her tiny lips! Her hand is propped up against her left cheek, and to prove she's got Olympic gymnastics potential, she's got her right leg fully extended next to her right ear. I give her a perfect 10!

She's obviously proud of her flexibility, because in this one she's smiling! :) You can also see her tiny eyelashes.

Getting Twin A's elusive face to appear for the camera was even more challenging. That's because she's facing head down, and her sister is lying across her. They're in their own separate sacks, so it's not like Twin A is getting squashed, but I can understand now why she kicks so often!

For a little while, all we could see was the back of her head, her ear and her arm stretched over face as if shielding her eyes from the sun. Or the flashbulbs of the paparrazi. Interestingly, the tech told us the bumpy looking spots on her head are actually hair! I guess she won't be born bald! Yay for pigtails and hair bows!




After much rolling from one side to the other, I finally got Twin A to shift enough, so we could see her face. She has her right arm up next to her head with her elbow sticking up. Her nose is also a little flattened, because she's right up next to the membrane of her little sack. But, she's still pretty darn cute.



Geof talked to my belly the whole time, encouraging the girls to turn and look at the camera. In this photo, it looks like Twin A heard him and was ready to respond. Her little lips are just starting to open.





We have the entire 50-minute session on DVD, as well, so we can see the girls opening their mouths and moving their arms and legs. We plan to pull out a few of the best clips and post them to YouTube. That way, anyone was wants to check out the Wonder Twins in motion can with just the click of a mouse!


Although the 4D ultrasound is a little pricy and not covered by insurance, it's totally worth it. We look forward to meeting the girls in person and seeing just how much they look like these images. I'm sure it'll be much easier for our parents to tell without their arms and legs in the way!

Twinkle Toes

Considering I haven't been able to reach my feet in months, I can't exactly give myself a proper (or pretty) pedicure.

Rather than ask Geof to try for me, I rely on the nice folks at a new nail salon that just opened near my house to pamper my peds. Or, at the very least, make sure I haven't sprouted an eleventh toe. Remember, I can't really see my feet, either.

I can't resist describing this place. When you walk in, the first things you see are two massive crystal chandeliers that look like they were stolen from the Las Vegas strip. The wallpaper is gold, and there are all kinds of random decorations hanging above the pedicure chairs. Some look like flowers. Others... more like colorful peas in a pod. None of it quite matches.

Clearly, the owner wants you to feel you're in a five-star salon. I'm pretty sure it's not threatening the client base at, let's say, Canyon Ranch. But, as long as they're not charging me what Canyon Ranch would to get my toes done, I don't really care. At least, they're trying.

My favorite part about going there is sitting in the massive massage chairs. Today, I got a Swedish massage on my shoulders and lower back, while sipping a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup milkshake from Cook Out.

Heaven.

The funny part about today's spur-of-the-moment salon visit was the reaction from the staff to my big belly. The last time I went in was maybe a month ago. My baby bump hadn't yet blossomed into the beautiful egg-shaped cone that it is today. Apparently, cones are the coolest at wannabe ritzy salons.

As soon as I sat down and pushed the massage button, four petite Asian nail techs gathered around me and started asking questions and making comments in rapid-fire succession.

"When you do?"

"You know girl or boy?"

"You big!"

For some, English was obviously not their native language. But, it didn't matter, because their cheerful expressions and smiles easily relayed their interest in my future family.

When I explained that I'm expecting twins, they started shouted in a foreign language I couldn't understand and waved everyone else who worked at the salon over, so they could look at my stomach. Some even wanted to touch my tummy, which is always a little uncomfortable.

I felt a bit like a pudgy celebrity sitting atop my throne (massage chair). My daughters were stars already!

I wanted so badly to take a cell phone picture of them gawking and pointing at me, but I figured that might be a little awkward. It was just so funny to be an object of such interest in a random nail salon that I thought only a picture could adequately express the hilarity of the situation.

Needless to say, if I don't deliver the Wonder Twins before my next appointment, I might need to bring a baby bodyguard along to control my newfound paparazzi. I'll be even bigger then. That should earn the Maternity Queen some extra time in the massage chair, don't you think?

Uh oh... is it time?

Around 2 o'clock this afternoon, I seriously thought my work day was going to end much earlier than usual. And it wasn't because I had comp time to burn.

I was in the middle of drafting a press release about the opening of North Carolina's first "green" rest area when I began to feel pangs of pain in my belly and along my lower back.

"Ugh," I muttered as I thought back to my lunch. "I probably shouldn't have eaten that tortellini so fast."

Pang... pang. Pang-pang-pang!

It clearly was not the pasta that was causing this pain. It was something different that I hadn't felt before.

At first, I assumed the Wonder Twins were just pushing extra hard against my tummy. They tend to do that after I eat, which makes my baby bump feel quite firm. Sometimes, the pressure is so great that I can't feel gentle touches around my belly button.

This time, though, it wasn't them lobbying for more womb room.

My heart started to race as I pondered the possibilities. Was I in labor? Was I having contractions? Was the Secretary of Transportation going to have to drive me to the hospital in the state SUV?

Being that I have never been pregnant before, I don't exactly know what contractions feel like. Everyone keeps assuring me by saying, "Oh, you'll know." Yeah, right.

My doctor told me contractions would feel like really bad mentrual cramps. The pain kind of felt like that, especially because of the lower back aches, but there was no rhythm to the sensations. They just sort of pulsed to a random beat.

I whispered, "Please don't come yet, girls. You've got four more weeks to finish developing, plus two showers to attend. It's not time."

They must have heard me, because about an hour later, the pain went away. Apparently, the twins enjoy parties just as much as mommy and daddy, and they didn't want to miss out on any celebrations in their honor!

I really think what I was experiencing were Braxton-Hicks contractions. The fake contractions. They're supposed be sporadic, irregular in intensity and not grow stronger with time. That pretty well describes that I felt.

Thank you, baby books, for reminding me of this phenomenon. And, thank you, Dr. John Braxton Hicks, for detecting it in back in 1872.

Next time, I will not allow imitation contractions to fool me! Oh, no. I will walk them off or deep breathe them away. That is, unless they're real contractions.

In that case, I'll make a beeline for the state SUV.

The Book Worm and her Squirmy Worms

Beside my bed, there is a large, brown woven basket full of books. One of them is a fiction novel I intended to read last year and clearly never got around to opening. All the rest are pregnancy-related books.

I've got "What to Expect...," "Your Pregnancy Week by Week" and a whole slew of others on topics like breastfeeding and preparing to bring baby (or in my case babies) home from the hospital.

The problem is I haven't really had the time (or frankly the energy) to read them since the middle of my second trimester. Bad mom, I know.

I really think there should be a pamphlet sold with every book that states: "Warning. Planning for motherhood is an exciting, yet time-consuming task. Don't even try to complete this book until you've picked out your baby furniture, registered for gifts, decorated the nursery and childproofed your house. Any attempt to do otherwise is an exercise in futility."

Somehow, I doubt Random House is going to agree with me.

Because I know the Wonder Twins could come at any time in the next few weeks or months, I feel a little guilty that I haven't made my way through more of the book basket by the bed.

This weekend, I tried to make up for my literary deficiency. I overachieved and read the entire end of "Your Pregnancy Week by Week." I am now officially up to date on all things that could possibly happen between now and week 41 (overdue)!

The good thing is I had already learned most of the information in my childbirth class at the hospital.

The bad thing is I think the authors of the book needed some "filler" content for some of the latter chapters, so they found the most disturbing diseases or health problems a baby could possibly suffer from and put at least one in each chapter. Thanks, Nurse Nancy. Now, I won't be able to sleep tonight.

To lessen the nighttime tossing and turning, I try to read in the morning and not just before hitting the sack. It gives me a chance to process the information but not enough time to dwell on it so much that it interrupts my sleep.

That's good news for the twins. They are both extremely active these days, and they tend to launch a physical protest when I move too much at night.

I try to apologize for flipping my giant body from side to side, but I don't think they can hear me. Their response is to push. Hard.

Twin A's new trick is to slide waaaay up under my right rib and push out, forming a big, round bump. Twin B tends to slide to the middle of my tummy and push her head (I think) into what used to be my belly button until it looks like the nose cone of the space shuttle.

Usually, a light tummy massage will lessen the pushing but not always. They are obviously hard headed like their mother.

Their tummy-contorting movements have earned them the nicknames "Mommy's Squirmy Worms."

Perhaps, they'll calm down a little if momma book worm trades her maternity books for "High School Musical 3."

The Name Game

Of all the pregnancy-related questions I get asked by friends, colleagues and complete strangers on a regular basis, the most common one is "Have you picked out names yet?"

My 81-year-old grandmother in Pennsylvania just asked me that yesterday. She's knitting Christmas stockings for the Wonder Twins and needs to know their names before she can start winding the red and green yarn around her needles. You see, grandma knits stockings for everyone in the family, and the name always goes at the top of the sock.

"Can't you start at the toe?" I inquired. "No," she said. "That won't work."

Well, unfortunately, I had to tell her the same thing that I tell my friends, colleagues and total strangers: We aren't saying for sure until we meet the girls.

I'll be honest. It's not like we really think we're going to change our minds in the minutes post delivery. We're really using it as more of an excuse to avoid the following hypothetical, yet extremely awkward situations:

1. As soon as I divulge the girls' names, the face of the person I'm talking to is either totally expressionless (bad) or contorts into a fake smile (also bad) while mumbling, "Oh, those are... nice names." Whatever. You hate them. Thanks for your sincerity.

2. Upon hearing the names, the person immediately exclaims with vigor, "I have a third cousin who's a stripper in Wyoming with that SAME name!" OMG! I'm so NOT excited.

3. After I share the names, the person says, "There are 14 girls with those exact names in my son's preschool class. He doesn't get along with any of them." Great. Have you ever thought that it might be your son?

All of those scenarios and thousands of others would definitely make us question the names we've picked for ridiculous reasons. Since we happen to like the names we've picked, we've decided to avoid the weird commentary and keep them a secret until the big day comes.

Sorry.

We will let you know that the babies' middle names are easily pronounceable family names unlike "Dara" and "Geof." You'd be surprised how many times a day we get "Darrah" and "Gee-off."

We'll also tell you some name combinations that we didn't pick:

1. Demi Levine - Sure, "Demi" works as a first name for movie star "Demi Moore," but not so much for the daughter of someone named Dara Demi Levine. Waaaay too confusing when the teenaged boys start calling.

2. Dara Demi Levine, Jr. - No way. Not happening. Sounds like a weird Jewish country song.

3. Geoffina Levine - First, that's not even a name. Second, her nickname would definitely be "Geoffina Levina," which reminds me of "Julia Gulia" in the movie, "The Wedding Singer," with Adam Sandler. That's just mean. We would like the girls to actually have social lives when they're older.

I'm fairly certain I haven't given you enough clues to figure out their names. So, I guess you'll just have to wait until delivery day to find out!

Don't you just love a good cliffhanger? :)