That's the date and time we're to become parents.
We had another appointment today. The boys are in fine health. Timothy measured a massive 6 lbs, 4 oz while Raiden tipped the scales at 5 lbs, 11 oz. The doctor referred to them as giant twins for such a tiny woman. While she is exceedingly uncomfortable and finds sleep difficult at best, Amanda's health is also outstanding. Again, our great fortune bewilders (and relives) me.
Given that Raiden seems incapable of deciding if he's going to be breech, transverse or head down, we've opted for a scheduled c-section. I was hesitant about a c-section originally, but my opposition stemmed mostly from Amanda's recovery afterwards. The research seems to show no appreciable differences, after 24 hours, between a baby who comes out the more traditional route and one who comes out through an incision in almost all cases, but there is a slightly elevated risk to the second twin in vaginal births. That's enough for Amanda. Additionally, we really want a particular doctor to perform the procedure who likely wouldn't be available in the case of vaginal delivery.
So there it is. The decision is made, the schedule is set. Barring a sudden change, we know the date of birth of these boys. It's as though we've been climbing to the apex of a massive, never-ending roller coaster's first drop. The cars have slowed to a crawl and they've started to creep over the edge of that parabolic arc, teetering on the vertex as we prepare to commence a seemingly infinite free fall into the great unknown. Each day the mass transfers a bit more to the other side, the potential energy building as the cars slowly ease over. Many other cars have gone on this track before, descended into the unknown and continued on successfully and with great joy, but this is our first ride. We wait on that precipice, creeping almost imperceptibly forward, counting the moments as we prepare for gravity to take over and allow us to slip forward. It's going to be one hell of a ride; the anticipation is overwhelming.