this should be simpler. 

I’m standing in the shower, listening to Chance the Rapper and swaying a tiny bit – I need them to move. 
I need the reassurance that they are there and alive. 
You never really get away from that anxiety that follows you through each try and failure. Infertility follows you even when you have suceeded.  It’s just a little bit different, it’s grown a tiny bigger, and the fear is smarter now. 
You’re constantly standing on the edge of the cliff and hoping the wind won’t get too strong to blow you off. 
The water is steamy and hot and, thank God for it and this huge shower, so that I can have the water soothing my aching lower back while I type away, sway, and try to process my feelings. 
“I’m trying to keep my faith…”
Do I pray right now? 
I started spotting brown discharge today. 
It’s normal. I know. It’s so normal in pregnancy, especially with twins. But it’s the first time and I still hold anxiety that they’re not there, they’re not real, that we didn’t make it this far. 
I’m so afraid that they’ll slip away. 
I’m thinking of my mom and I’m thinking about death and I know how simple it is. 
People are there. And then they’re not. 
Anya from Buffy said it better. 
I’m starting to bond with them. I’m connecting with them during my sleepless nights of them keeping me awake and imagining them in the spring sun and their tiny bodies laying in bed next to mine, emptying my breasts, still finding life in my body. 
I have dreamed of at least one daughter. I get that knowing feeling people talk about. I’m thinking of Arcade Fire lyrics and holding their hands to show them the world and using their names on my tongue and they’re real, they’re here, and I need them to hold on and grow. 
It’s easy to believe your body can’t do something. 
My body has endured so much trauma from such a young age – it has survived and thrived – but there is that constant worry. 
That anxiety. 
That fear. 
Is this parenthood? Does this fear continue and grow? 
I’m trying to find peace. I know the science and I know that there is only a small amount of discharge and they’re okay (right? right?), but the anxiety is there. The loss of breath is in my lungs and I’m worried. 
When did they become so real? That they’re there and inside me and growing and growing. 

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