They're not really "double trouble"

I hear the term “double trouble” rather often when I’m out with the boys solo and occasionally when both Amanda and I are playing a game of herd the twins. I know it’s a well-meaning saying, but it’s actually quite inaccurate and not for the reasons one might think. I dislike the idea of associating a child with trouble (those “here comes trouble” shirts drive me batty), but that isn’t the issue at hand. No, what I’m talking about is the good twin/evil twin phenomenon.

I’m not setting up some evil twin trope here or anything, I’m just talking about the tendency of one twin to suddenly become downright angelic when the other becomes a screaming banshee. The twins switch roles, too; one does not seem to take on a particular role with significant frequency.* The truly shocking part comes when both are tantruming away and causing mommy and daddy to hyperventilate as the frazzled parents seek some way to stop the aural onslaught without capitulating to demands…and suddenly one of them stops and begins being super cute and loving. Sometimes the now-angel twin will go pat his furious brother on the back or give him a hug. This will often have the exact opposite effect on the evil twin. Although I do not even remotely believe this is actually the case, it almost seems like there is a finite amount of good shared between them and sometime one of them takes sole possession of that good.

Of course, the good twin in this scenario is only so much so; he will often use the tantrum as an opportunity to collect all the trains his brother was playing with so as to create a monster locomotive horde.

No, seriously, we flipping LOVE trains!!!

It is this action that makes me suspect that there is distinct intentionality in these interactions and it is one of those times that a parent must admit that even his/her infant child is far more capable of complex thought than they might suspect. It seems that from a very early age (somewhere around 3 months), they began to comprehend that “good” actions would garner immediate attention. At the same time, they also realized that “bad” actions will gain them immediate attention as well. They’ve ALSO realized that they are more likely to get attention if they act in the opposite manner of their sibling if one is angry.

I’m completely fascinated by this; I’m pretty sure there’s a rather complex deductive proof to be found in their actions. I’ll be damned, they’re already logically sound. I’m so proud!

* Footnote: A slight caveat is necessary here. Sometimes the boys’ actions will “cluster” and pull towards one side or the other for a couple weeks at a time. This has always been short-lived, however.

On The Boys Turning Two

Two years ago, two tiny little boys came into my life. I was filled with anxiety and fear: fear that I would break them, that I would fail them in some fundamental way, fear that I wouldn’t be able to be what they would need me to be. Through bleary eyes and almost sleepless nights, we slogged on from one day to the next, making our way through those petrifying early days of parenthood by running on fumes, delirium and that new parent high.

We didn’t break them. They grew quickly.

A year ago we were in St. George, Utah. We picked a theme of Super Mario Bros. for their birthday because Amanda I like gaming, the colors were fun and conducive to twins and because the boys weren’t yet “into” anything per se... Maybe anything with wheels, but nothing beyond that. We had a small celebration over at my brother’s house. He made a cool cake. The boys ate 1-Up mushroom cupcakes and vomited green frosting all over Amanda later that night.

I was still petrified, but about new things. I worried most of all about being able to provide for them financially and emotionally.

____________________________________________________________

It’s amazing what two years can do. For this birthday celebration we could pick either Yo Gabba Gabba or anything with trains because those are their favorite things in the world; trains probably win out but Amanda and I are partial to DJ Lance's antics. We'll figure it out prior to your party this weekend, but I'm still voting for a Muno cake.

I know I am a good father now; I know I am unlikely to break them and I know my failures (the inevitability of which I’ve come to accept) can be mitigated by greater effort…or if all else fails, therapy. I now know no amount of income will be sufficient because I’ll want to buy them the entire world.

I’ve come to expect chaos, and then expect love.



Chaos



Love (amid chaos, about an hour later after finally falling asleep)



I expect one of the boys to hit/bite/harm the other and then give them a hug. I expect a screaming, thrashing tantrum followed by cuddles and spontaneous hugs. I expect the accidental “shit” that slips from one of our lips to be echoed by the boys at the most inopportune time. I expect to wake up in the morning anxious to see them and collapse, exhausted from the day’s efforts, at night.

I expect things I never expected when we were expecting, and I anxiously await each new development as they grow far faster than I could have imagined.

My dear Timothy, my dance machine and my dear Raiden, my little clown… Daddy is in awe of you. I promise to try to never tell you that you’ll understand something only when you’re older, but know that you won’t understand just how much I love you until you have a child of your own.

All that brings me to my mother, who also has a birthday today. Although our options were limited, we picked May 7th as our planned c-section day specifically so that the boys could share their day with her.  

Mom, you amaze me. I can only hope I show my boys a fraction of your determination, strength, patience and resolve. I hope your day is wonderful and I cannot wait to see you at the end of the month.

Happy birthday to all three of you.

Judgment Day

There is a relatively infrequent occurrence that drives me to nearly apocalyptic anger when out in public, something that without fail will illicit from me a froth-filled diatribe about the perception of fathers as uninvolved or incapable: changing tables in women’s bathrooms, but not men’s.

I am far from a germaphobe; I have changed my boys on a variety of surfaces, but I must admit that I prefer to not place a changing mat on a bathroom floor while dealing with the dirty business. That many places—especially small restaurants—do not provide changing tables isn’t a big deal. It is only when this bizarre and overt display of gender inequity suddenly confronts me that I lose my composure and spit out pithy phrases about heterosexism, society facilitating the continuation of the culture of the uninvolved, clueless father and so on and so forth. I don’t raise my voice, I just engage in…well, let’s call it “passionate pontification.” Invariably my wife helps bring me down to earth by laughing a bit at my sudden verbal explosion, wholeheartedly agreeing that the situation is crap, and then gently reminding me that we both still have baby butts to change, whether on a changing table or otherwise. I then march to the bathroom to do my doody duty, all the while imagining that the manager of the establishment will meet me at the door, offer a sincere “thank you” for pointing out the inherent inequity to both fathers and mothers, and outline his/her timeline for correcting the oversight immediately. That this has yet to occur should come as no surprise.

This situation speaks to the flack Huggies generated with their recent ad capaign with a number of father bloggers. Those very capable folks have commented with far more intelligence and insight than anything I could offer at this point, so I merely wish to cite the commercials as an example of the perceived ineptitude of fathers when it comes to childcare. Turn on a television for more than a couple hours and you’re all but certain to find a dozen other examples. It seems that fathers are largely (though not exclusively) expected to be clueless, to blunder, to be the last resort babysitter and not a true parenting partner.

I think I was ignorant of this perception to some degree prior to my boys coming into the world. In my mind the world was bifurcated into involved, competent fathers and slacker jerks who didn’t do their fair share. I reserved plenty of vitriol for the latter type of father, but I guess I didn’t pay much attention to the fact that men are typically expected to fail spectacularly in their contributions to early child rearing.

This lack of awareness on my part led to one of the more harrowing, stressful situations I’ve experienced with the boys. They were about 11 weeks old. We were living in St. George, Utah at the time, a community not known for progressive attitudes (though I did see a large number of very involved fathers). We had just moved and Amanda was working away, so I took the boys with me to bargain hunt at one of my favorite discount stores for some household goods. They were breast fed at the time and had just eaten quite well, so I knew I had about two hours to complete whatever shopping I wanted to do before they needed to get back home. While debating between a mellow gray rug and a fun lime green shag, Raiden began to fuss. Then Timmy fussed. Then both cried. I shushed and rocked them, trying to make my decision quickly, but I only succeeded in quieting them a little. Like a flock of vultures crowding around a dying animal, they decended on me. Six women, ages ranging from a few years my junior to 30+ years my senior, materialized from thin air. They began the conversation by commenting on how cute the boys were (a very true statement), how brave I was to take them out solo (a comment that will always elicit an eye roll from me), the usual awkward (but completely understandable) “do twins run in your family were they natural were they early etc?” question set… And then the real discomfort began:

“So where’s mommy?” one asked while the others nodded, as if the question were a statement with which one might agree or disagree.
“At home, working away. She sometimes works very long hours while I only work 30 or so,” I responded.

They “Ohhed” at this in as neutral a tone as possible, but I could hear the judgment. Still, the conversation had been pleasant enough so I chose to ignore it. About then, Raiden began a much louder cry, one I recognized immediately. I rocked them both with a bit more vigor, something that typically soothed them. Still he persisted… And then it began:

“Oh, he wants his mommy.”
“Poor little guy is hungry. Do you have a bottle for him?”
“I bet he’s wet. Do you have a dirty diaper, little one?”

I found myself overwhelmed, flustered and downright angry. I knew Raiden’s cry very well, just as any involved parent comes to know their baby’s early forms of communication. This cry meant he was bored and needed something different. I wanted to lash out at this gaggle of ladies ogling my beautiful boys and passing judgment so casually, but I couldn’t muster sufficient energy to do the job properly. After all, I was an involved father of very young twins! I grabbed one of the rugs and placed it in the cart. I told them that I knew he had a full belly, I just changed him before I walked into the store, and that cry meant he was bored as his “I want mommy” cry was far higher pitched. As I marched up to the check stand feeling far more flustered than two crying babies would ever make me, one of the gals said something like “well, I can tell he’s still hungry.” I fumed while checking out and ignored the realization that I had forgotten toilet paper. I hurried home and, once inside, asked my wife to cuddle with me to help melt away the self-doubt those unintentionally evil women wormed into my brain. The only good to come from the situation was that their small mob forced me to make a snap decision; that inexpensive lime green rug looked fantastic in the guest bathroom.

As I cuddled with Amanda, the boys content now that they were doing something different, I began to recollect some words of wisdom from my mother. She had told me to expect this; she shared stories of being a single mom and finding heaps of scorn and very little support. Judgment was just par for the course when it came to parenthood, in her eyes, and she asked that I strive to make sure I don’t judge others for their different parenting styles unless it was obviously harmful. I try very hard to keep that in mind and I encourage everyone to do the same, but I still hold plenty of animosity for aloof fathers. These days I set aside a bit of my scorn for our social structure more generally, for things like advertisements and television shows that claim fathers are inherently inept and male bathrooms that lack facilities available in female ones. These things allow fathers to have an out, to have an excuse to be uninvolved. We shouldn’t let the deadbeats have that luxury.

Where Has the Time Gone?

I have all but abandoned this blog. That makes me sad, really; I enjoyed the heck out of blogging. Life is hectic; time is fleeting. Finding little moments to compose something thoughtful about the beautiful but mundane moments is far tougher now than it once was. I'll leave off with a status report, at least, in the hopes that time will avail itself more often soon.
I am now a stay-at-home father while seeking employment outside of the home. We have relocated to Perrysburg, Ohio, a suburb outside of Toledo, and we have settled in nicely. The boys, now a little over 16 months old, have grown like little weeds and are beautiful, wonderful and they cause an incredible amount of havoc and chaos. Amanda's mother takes the boys twice a week (Tuesdays and Thursdays); the boys seem to absolutely love this time with her. This helps me keep up on housework, get in some extra job seeking time, spend a little time trying to work on my neglected thesis and generally keeps me sane.

A photo or two of the little guys is needed, I think:

I hope there are more posts to come. I keep up on reading, just not posting!

Brought to you by the letter "Arrrrrr"

No time for a real update beyond letting folks know that the boys have gone from sleeping all the time to fussing most of the time. They're still awesome, however. Instead of some long-winded review of our lives, let me offer a couple photos. First up is a hat that is far too large on an itty bitty Raiden:

Now let's move on to a mohawk-sporting Timothy:

That's it for now. Hopefully more soon!

Flippin' Cute Kids

Hey look, a post!

The boys are two weeks old today and this is the first post I've made in about 11 days. I have no idea how people manage new multiples and a healthy blogging relationship. As such, I've obviously let the blogging slip to keep up with these beautiful boys. As far as an update goes, just know that the boys are incredibly gorgeous, my wonderful wife has been recovering perfectly and we absolutely love being parents. Now for what you've really been waiting on: photos!

These were taken in an inexpensive in-store studio on May 14th. They aren't perfect, but the subjects certainly are. Hopefully more updates are to come soon; I've tons to say now, but no time to say it. See you soon, all.

one way to keep twins happy

this blog lacks capitalization. amanda is taking a short break, so i have two babies in my lap. here's one way to keep fussy twins happy when no breasts are around:

holy cow do i ever love these guys.

this is from a conversation with amanda today in which she said the following: i don't want them to grow up. i love babies. i don't want 9 kids but i can see why someone would want nine of them because i love babies.

we had just gotten back from the store where we saw a couple with nine kids. we both decided nine kids was insane, but i had to acknowledge that my initial adversity to more than 2 (there are already too many people on this beautiful planet of ours) is already waning a bit. I know that one more pregnancy would be it, though!

so yes, we went to the store today. amanda is so bloody tough that she decided that, since she was feeling stiff and wanted to move around but the area near our house is full of hills, a trip to the store was called for. the boys slept the entire times and amanda braved it like a champ only 3 days after a c-section. my wife is pretty burly, folks, but she's also a sap. Winning combo? i think yes.

Our New Arrivals

Just a very brief update. The hospital's internet restricts access to all social media (blogs, facebook, etc.), so I've run home to let the dog out and upload a couple photos. Know that everyone is doing fabulously well and all will be coming home either tomorrow or Monday.

Timothy Lewis Reissig-Berry was born at 12:19 pm and weighs 6 lbs 2.4 oz and is 19 inches long.

Raiden Anthony Reissig-Berry was born at 12:21 pm and weight 5 lbs 8 oz and is 19 ¼ inches long.

But more importantly, photos!

Raiden

Timothy

And from just an hour ago:

Set In Stone

May 7th.

12:00 p.m.

That's it.

That's the date and time we're to become parents.

...oh my...

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.

Single Digits

Nine...as in days. As in single digits. That's all that remains.

I think I just pooped my pants.

When Amanda playfully flashed up 10 fingers yesterday, my stomach instantly went into knots and I had the distinct feeling I might pass out. I'm nervous, of course, but for the most part it was because I thought there was still so much to do. Amanda made me take a step back and actually consider what remains to be done and...well, it's almost nothing. I've been on a cleaning and organizing rampage for a couple weeks now. She has helped immensely, but for the most part I insist that she rest. She actually does sometimes, so that must mean that she really needs it. She is uncomfortable as heck, as one would expect, but she is in good spirits. We slept in this morning, cuddling for some time when we awoke. While we're rarely able to do that anyway, the times will become even more infrequent once the boys are here, I suspect. I'll miss that, to be sure, but I can't wait for them to arrive. Surprisingly, I'm less nervous about their actual arrival. I've realized that I have no idea what to expect except a lack of sleep. We've informed ourselves as best as possible. Fearing the unknown makes no sense to me, so I've opted for a state of heightened excitement. Still, my stomach remains in knots.

* * * * * * * * * *

Boys, do you know what you're getting yourselves in to? You're being born into a family with two parents who still don't know what they want to be when they grow up and who have extremely crass, dark and morbid senses of humor, a father who is distracted by any bright and shiny object, suckers who can't let a suffering animal out of their sights, giant nerds who think it's great fun to dissect an argument and see the flaws within, etc. You're both doomed, you see, but also know that we love you more than we ever thought possible. I simply cannot wait to meet you.

Don't Judge Me

Just a quick post today. I installed the car seats on Monday, which was rather odd in and of itself. Later that day, I drove to the store alone. It was a beautiful day and I had the windows down while music was blaring perhaps a bit too loudly. A couple in a big ol' SUV pulled up next to me, looked over in the back seat and gave me a nasty look. So I got my first "you're a bad parent" glare, I guess, as they probably thought the babies were having their eardrums blasted out of their heads...or maybe it was because I was playing Outkast. In any case, I love that I was judged so quickly and sternly before they were even born. I wager I have a lifetime to grow accustomed to this.

(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday

Welcome to a mostly wordless Wednesday. For me, that means I'll limit myself to a paragraph.

It's incredible how a simple act can drive a point home. Laundry has been primarily my responsibility for some time, and doing the first load of the boys' clothes gave me great pause. As I loaded that first washerfull, I said to myself "This is the first load of laundry I'm doing for my boys. I'll do a thousand more over the years, but this one is the first." It seemed poignant at the time. Seeing some of the (flippin' adorable) clothes hanging in the closet drove the point home further and I had to snap a photo. How strange and tiny they seem hanging there. My pulse quickens when I look at them, a mixture of excitement and nervousness threatening to boil over in a frothy mess of panic and unmitigated joy. Soon now...very, very soon.

(I lied--NEXT post will be about what the doctor said)

Daddy Also Gets (a little bit) Pregnant

Welcome to Fatherhood Friday! Forgive me folks, but this will be a little light on the funny and a little heavy on the science. Having recently experienced a few phenomena that gave me reason to consider it, I decided to do a little research on the physiological changes male partners experience during pregnancy. I figured there would be a fair amount of research available and I was able to find some interesting data, albeit less than I thought. Join me as we take a whirlwind tour of the research that I've come across that all seems to supports the thesis that, yes, Daddy also gets a little bit pregnant.

Let's first turn to a short historical account of male pregnancy sympathy, then discuss the specific physiological mechanisms for this condition. We'll follow that by turning to manifestations of this condition (including my own purely anecdotal account) and end with some speculation as to why this occurs and consider some potentially fascinating implications.

When people discuss males experiencing some symptoms of pregnancy, they tend to refer to sympathetic pregnancy, otherwise known as Couvade syndrome. "Couvade" sometimes refers to rituals certain societies conduct to have men to either act out or actually experience pregnancy-like symptoms (such as those discussed here), but I have in mind the actual physical manifestation of pregnancy-like symptoms some men report. This is typically the domain of bad 80s sitcoms, not reasoned inquires into biology. In the past, sympathetic pregnancy was only considered in the extreme (if it was considered at all) and was seen as some type of deficiency, an abnormal psychological event typically described in Freudian terms that had outward physical manifestations; it was ultimately seen as a purely psychosomatic event. New research seems to suggest that the overwhelming majority of men experience some form of pregnancy sympathy with their pregnant partners and those with the more severe forms (including those who develop distended abdomens) simply suffer from a more drastic form of the physiological changes most of us male partners experience. In short, it seems perfectly normal at least up to a certain point.

Let's now consider some of the available research on this intriguing phenomena. This article (hereafter called the Storey article, after the primary author of the study) cites an incredible number of scientific studies that verify that men experience significant hormonal fluctuations during pregnancy and after their child(ren) are born, and this hormonal change is most significant in those men who report two or more "couvade symptoms." One of the articles cited by Storey defines couvade or sympathy pregnancy symptoms in a pretty similar manner to how one would describe some of the issues that come along with pregnancy: weight gain, toothache/bleeding gums, heartburn, hemorrhoids, increased appetite, decreased appetite, vomiting, weight loss, pain, varicose veins, spontaneous nosebleeds , etc. (the list goes on, but those are the most commonly experienced conditions).

Let me clearly state that Storey admits that the study really only applies to those societies in which males have very direct and constant involvement in the pregnancy as well as in child rearing. Let me also admit that this article is a bit on the dense and somewhat impenetrable side, so I'll try to distill some of the findings down to digestible chunks. Here are a few highlights:

* Males experience significant fluctuations in prolactin production around the third trimester. This hormone is primarily associated with the production of breast milk. Males always have a certain level of prolactin production, but in the third trimester and immediately after the birth of their child(ren), prolactin production in males increases up to 20%.

* Males experience a huge dip in testosterone production right around birth of their child(ren). Storey found that they experience a 33% decrease in the first three weeks following birth. This begins to return to normal levels after four to seven weeks.

* Even when not in a birth situation, it should be noted that increased prolactin production in males almost always corresponds to a decrease in testosterone production in males (and, interestingly enough, to a decrease in estrogen production in females). Whether the exact mechanism for the decrease in testosterone is the increase in prolactin or vice-versa, or if they are carried by some common third cause is still up for debate. In other words, we know THAT this happens, but we don't exactly know HOW it happens.

* Cortisol production also experiences significant changes, increasing for both males and females immediately prior to birth. Cortisol is often associated with stress (although, from what I've read in other research, this connection is somewhat dubious). Storey found that there was a strong correlation between men who had partners who reported a significant reaction to babies crying (specifically, that they felt the overwhelming urge to nurture when they heard the noise) and an elevated cortisol level. Among those males who had partners who did not report feeling a strong urge to nurture their crying children, the cortisol level barely peaked or didn't increase at all. The real kicker here: the females who reported great concern over their baby crying had higher cortisol levels, and their male partners had correspondingly elevated cortisol levels. Furthermore, male cortisol levels among all male participants increased an average of 50% over pre-pregnancy levels. This last finding may not be all that significant, however, because cortisol levels tend to increase in any stressful situation.

* The spectrum of male hormonal changes and the reports of sympathy pregnancy symptoms follow something of a lopsided "U" pattern. They start out pretty high in the first trimester, dip strongly in the second, then peak highest in the third and immediately after birth. My speculation: consider the parallel to women and their reports of discomfort...it seems pretty darn similar to me. Please note that I'm speculating here!

Another article discusses weight gain in male marmosets and tamarinds. This project seems to point to other causes for weight gain among partners of pregnant people than simply giving in to temptation. Note that I don't think that's what is going on in my case. I've put on over 10 lbs since Amanda found out she was pregnant, but I think that's due to my inability to resist chocolate! However, some men have reported maintaining identical diets to what they ate prior to their partners' pregnancy but still gaining significant weight.

A couple other studies, such as this one, have looked at male parent brain structures. Among first time marmoset fathers, researchers observed a substantial increase in dendrite connections in the prefrontal cortex upon birth of their offspring. What does this mean? Well, the prefrontal cortex is the part of the brain that affects planning, proper social relations, decision making, etc. so more connections suggests greater ability in these areas. While I did find an article that contends that this extends to human fathers (the article I cited merely postulates that this is the case), I can't find what I did with the blasted thing. As such, we're left to speculate as to whether or not this situation can be extended to us hairless primates.

A study by Sandra J. Berg (and others) offers some additional data of interest. This study was essentially a follow-up of the Storey study and it largely confirmed the findings of the earlier study while also going a step or two beyond. The Berg study found that:

"* The testosterone concentration was significantly lower in the overall sample of 23 dads than in the 14 control subjects [non-fathers].

* Cortisol concentration was significantly lower in dads than in the control group [please see note below].

* Dads had a higher proportion of samples with detectable estradiol [estrogen] concentrations."

Please note that the second point in the quote above does not contradict Storey's findings. Storey was discussing men who were partners of pregnant women. Cortisol actually builds in women when they're pregnant and is heavily involved in the onset of labor (it's at its highest at that point), thus the increase during pregnancy in the male partner seems to parallel the increase in the pregnant female partner. Berg's study considers people who are new fathers, not those experiencing childbirth. Let it be known that I find the cortisol issue the most questionable of all the issues discussed herein, but that may be because I'm not entirely clear on the nature of cortisol and its role in various biological processes. Any biologists in the house?

As discussed before, in the past men were viewed as somehow psychologically damaged or at least misguided if they expressed pregnancy sympathy. Now we've come to see that there are some underlying physiological changes that might be the causal agent of these outward physical expressions. That does not mean that all pregnancy sympathy-like symptoms ARE actual outward expressions of internal hormonal changes. Rather, I just want folks to be aware that men DO often experience hormonal fluctuations. Here's a pretty interesting article that provides some accounts of men experiencing these symptoms, and here is another.

As for myself, I have no idea if any of my "symptoms" are manifestations of hormonal changes, the result of some type of psychological condition, etc. What I do know, however, is that my teeth have been killing me for the past week or so and my gums have been bleeding like crazy, something that hasn't happened to me since I had a particularly nasty tooth extracted a few years ago. I've also gained over 10 pounds, but as I stated earlier this is due to an inability to resist the siren call of chocolate. I've also been...well, rather moody lately with no idea as to why. I try my best to suppress this, though.

Let me briefly divert the discussion to two semi-related topics. That male and female human beings are very similar is pretty well established. I mean, ask most partners if they understand their significant other and they're likely to express frustration and/or amusement, but on a basic biological level we're remarkably in line. An additional piece of this similarity can be found in, of all places, our nipples. We're pretty unusual in the mammal world in that we have very similar structures under the skin that's under our shirts. Male humans actually have perfectly intact mammary glands, while the males of many other species have either vestigial nipples and/or glands or no nipples at all. Only one male animal in the world spontaneously lactates, that being the Dayak Fruit Bat. However, men can and do lactate, typically as the result of some type of medical condition or treatment (and it happens in babies of both sexes often enough that it has a terrible sounding name: witch's milk). Remember how I mentioned that prolactin is directly related to lactation and how men produce a small amount at all times but a larger amount when their child(ren) are born? Here's something crazy to think about in relationship to that: there was a long-standing disagreement in the medical community as to whether or not the average male could lactate given the right conditions. One camp held that only males with already elevated prolactin levels (either naturally or with hormone supplements) could lactate while the other camp contended that any male could with proper stimulation. It turns out they were both right. The act of nipple stimulation in males actually increases prolactin production, and many males can makes themselves lactate given enough stimulation once the prolactin production reaches a sufficient level. Don't worry, folks. I love non-traditional gender roles, but this one might go a step beyond what I'm comfortable with doing myself. That said, I certainly wouldn't judge a man for engaging in the activity if he and his partner thought it was the best move for their offspring. There have been numerous reports of men doing this exact thing. Pretty intriguing, no?

Speaking of non-traditional gender roles, let's take the biggest possibility head-on: male pregnancy. While this sounds like the start of a joke (or the premise for an especially terrible movie), it's not. Researchers seem to agree that a male human could certainly become pregnant through IVF (in vitro fertilization) followed by implantation somewhere in the abdomen. A uterus is not strictly necessary for pregnancy, as illustrated in the unfortunate circumstances of ectopic pregnancies. But from a couple modern cases, given just the right set of conditions, we can see that a non-uterine pregnancy can be carried at least to the age of viability. But, as is well known about ectopic pregnancies, in almost every case they're life threatening to the mother and often don't lead to viable babies. Basically at this point it's quite possible that a man could carry a fetus (most advisably a male as carrying a female baby would require extensive hormone therapy), but the male host would most certainly die in the process of a modified cesarean extraction because the placenta would intermix with whatever organ(s) it came into contact with, causing massive and irreparable hemorrhaging. Advances in science suggest that either the growth of fetal tissue could be appropriately redirected to non-vital organs, or there's the more drastic (and questionable) measure of uterine transplants.

Ok, back to the original topic. The specific mechanism for all this interesting pregnant partner hormonal shuffling is still unknown. It has been speculated that pheromones somehow influence this process, a very possible but unconfirmed idea. It's also possible that proximity to pregnant females and/or newborn infants trigger hormonal changes similar to how mechanical stimulation of male nipples increases prolactin production but this, too, has been insufficiently studied. Another study by Berg & Wynne-Edwards suggests that there's no specific correlation between the fluctuations males experience and the fluctuations their female partners experience, though there is still strong evidence that hormonal changes DO occur in men on the birth of their child(ren). This actually pushes a "proximity theory" to the forefront, but only as an intuitive explanation.

Future research will hopefully involve folks like stay-at-home dads, gay couples with children, adoptive parents, fathers who actually dislike the idea of having children, and single fathers with full custody. Perhaps these folks could give us greater insight into the way we males--on a biological level--prepare ourselves to become fathers.

All of this begs a simple question: why? Why would males have their hormonal patterns change at birth? Being someone who is more or less a biological reductionist (meaning I think just about everything can be explained in simpler, more basic biological terms, such as our behaviors reducing down to a set of biochemical responses to stimuli), it seems evident that we males have our testosterone levels dip because we need to nurture at that point and testosterone tends to make us aggressive and competitive. Here's an example of a pretty carefully constructed reductionist view of couvade symptoms. If the story of testosterone reduction giving rise to nurturing behaviors in males holds, this would have an obvious evolutionary advantage. But reductionism is pretty far from a perfectly provable thesis (though I think it's defensible), so I have to shrug my shoulders at this point and say that we may not know why, exactly, and we may not even know exactly how, but we do know THAT this happens, and isn't it pretty damned fascinating?

I'd love to hear thoughts on this, especially from anyone who would contend that they did or did not experience (for men) or see (for the partners) any pregnancy sympathy symptoms. Hopefully you found this interesting; if not, sorry about that! I'll be back next and hopefully I'll bring the funny with me.

The Story So Far - Part II: Wait, What, Twins?

Pregnancy was such a strange thing at this point. It still is, really, but less so now that I can feel the boys play their daily game of "Which one of Mommy's internal organs should we assault now?" But in this modern age, most folks have had at least a couple sexual partners in their lives, right? And for those of us heterosexuals who have, we've been working pretty diligently to make sure no pregnancy tests come up positive, actively preventing and hoping against hope that no babies come into our lives before we're ready for them. So even in the act of trying to conceive, the world was turned asunder. And with something growing (at the time more or less imperceptibly) in Amanda's belly? It was a massive change in perspective, but something was missing. We're both trained academics. Neither of us really believe all that easily without strong empirical evidence, so we both wanted some significant visual representation of the event but none were yet discernible. Amanda would sometimes say that she felt different from before, but typically she said that she “didn't feel pregnant.” She actually lost weight in those first few weeks, and this (and absolutely everything else, basically) made us worried. I've become a champion actor, though. She worries enough for both of us, so I always present the nonchalant "oh, it'll be fine my dear" front. I wager I'm just like tons of other first time dads that way.

So we waited, and waited, and the three weeks dragged on and on. Amanda had a habit of giving a countdown that morning, calling out “X days until we get the see the babies!” while getting ready in the morning. When we finally reached the night before our appointment, I encouraged Amanda to go to bed early with me and then I had serious difficulty falling asleep. I felt like a kid the night before Christmas.

That morning (10/22), we rushed off to the ob/gyn to face a mountain of paperwork and dozens of questions. We saw a nurse, asked a ton of questions, saw a doctor, asked more questions, sat through a short examination and then sat through a seemingly endless wait, all while filled with a breathless sense of excitement and nervousness. Finally it was our turn in the ultrasound room. I held Amanda’s hand in the dark room illuminated by two large monitors as the technician squeezed the (mercifully warm) jelly on her belly and I thought to myself, completely in jest, “wouldn’t it be funny if she said twins?” The technician placed the transducer on her stomach, causing an indeterminate black and white image to splash up on the screens.

...And then the technician said “So, you’re having twins” in this nonchalant manner, kind of like she was commenting on the entirely unsurprising weather conditions that day. “Here’s baby A…” she continued, to which Amanda responded “Baby A?!” The technician moved the probe a little and said “And here’s baby B…” to which Amanda responded “Baby B?!” It was taking a moment to sink in, apparently, so the technician offered the initial information again: “Well, yes. You’re having fraternal twins!” Amanda’s subsequent response was a not-so-surprising “Shut the f*** up!” My wife has a bit of a mouth on her, as do I, but I think I was too deep in shock to comment in any manner. My knees grew rubbery under me, threatening to give out under the strain of so massive a number as two. It's seemed so large, so much more massive than one could ever be. I squeezed Amanda's hand in a weak attempting at feigning giving her support because I was the one who needed it then. The technician just laughed and continued on, I squeezed Amanda’s hand some more while my mind grappled with the new information, and we finished a perfect check-up on our twins. After wiping away the ultrasound goo, we left the ultrasound room with our prize: empirical evidence that, yes, we are pregnant and yes, there really are two of them in there.

As an aside, I don't believe anything is really ineffable, but the moment we heard the heartbeats of both these little almost amorphous blobs of cells was pretty darn close. The failure to describe is not with language itself but rather with my mastery of it; my words are inadequate to capture the true spirit of what I was feeling in that small spans, but I'll try. It was an unusually quiet moment, contemplative and filled with a sudden reflection on mortality, love and on the wonder of nature. We had merely done what billions of people before us had done and trillions of other animals do every day, and yet in that minute blip in space and time it felt like an entirely unique experience. I didn't feel the burden of responsibility, at least not yet, nor did I feel pride, either, because ultimately this was just the result of sex. I also did not immediately feel love--to me, they were still just a mass of cells that I had great hopes for--but I did feel an instant, extraordinarily strong bond to their potential for being. The almost overwhelming initial sense of awe has since faded substantially, but it has been replaced and exceeded by the wonder that comes from watching something you helped create grow and by an ever-increasing bond as the little beings make their presences known in constantly changing, more noticeable ways. It's still pretty awe-inspiring...but I've gotten off topic. Back to the story at hand.

We walked outside in a daze, passing the ultrasound pictures back and forth while discussing just how badly we wished we still smoked. Once outside, we whipped out our cell phones and broke our pregnancy news silence. Although we told our parents and our oldest, closest friends immediately when we saw the results of those first home pregnancy tests, we were trying to wait to tell others at least until we reached the 12th week. Once we found out that we were having twins, however, all illusions of withholding this information broke down. After a few phone calls each and after Amanda sat through having roughly 300 vials of blood drawn (ok, more like 12), we hopped in the car to head home. It was only then that Amanda seemed to reflect on her earlier exclamation.

“Kevin, did I really tell the tech to shut the f*** up?” she inquired.

“Yes, yes you did.”

"Was she offended?”

“No, not at all. She seemed amused.”

“Oh, good.”

We both laughed until tears formed in the corners of our eyes. We laughed because of Amanda’s sudden outburst, because of the wonderful, terrifying, awe-inspiring news we had just received, for the strange and audacious notion that we—two people who barely know what they want to be when they grow up, let alone how to raise kids—have somehow produced twins, and for joy at being so privileged as to have this opportunity. We settled down after a bit, drove home, and tried to go about our day as though nothing had changed.

Just in case you were ever curious, reading and understanding Kant hours after finding out that you have twins coming is an extraordinarily difficult task.

We’ve since struggled with worry and fear, adjusted to the idea of twins and embraced it fully, and fell in love with them before we even knew their sex. The day we found out that we were having two boys was a little bittersweet as we were both hoping for one of each, but we quickly got over that initial hesitation. We even decided on names rather quickly, something we thought we'd never accomplish with males. Now it’s just another waiting game punctuated by occasional doctor visits and both of us attempting to get the many things done that need to be finished prior to their arrival. We’re anxious, nervous and ever so ready to meet our boys in person. How can eight months seem so short and yet simultaneously so long?

Next update: A Top 10 List of Near-Universal Maxims for Partners of Pregnant People.