, , , , , ,

Over the next four Saturdays—leading up to my twins’ thirteenth birthday—I want to share with you my bizarre, yet magical path to motherhood.  It began four years before their conception, with my three-year-old niece’s prediction in Florida.

Becca (said niece) stood with me and my mother in my parents’ living room.  She pointed to the photo of me and my husband, Dan, which my mom displayed atop the piano.  When Mom handed it to her, Becca placed her palm over the image.  Then she looked up at her grandma and smiled.  “Aunt Judy’s gonna be a big, big mama!”

Her repetition of the word “big” struck me as important.  I wonder if that means I’ll have twins, I thought.

Three years later, Dan and I were married and living in Virginia when I had an intriguing dream.  I wandered alone through a vast library.  Then a voice whispered from behind the books.

You’re pregnant.

I frowned.  “That’s ridiculous.  You’re just telling me what I want to hear.”


Abruptly, I awoke.  Darkness enveloped me, and my husband slumbered on.  But I was wired.  I knew I’d received a message.

The next day, I bought and completed a home pregnancy test, which came out negative.  I couldn’t believe it.  I was certain conception had occurred mere hours before the dream, yet the results were clear.  Of course, I didn’t know then the pregnancy hormone takes its sweet time to show up in a woman’s system.

A week later, I met with a friend who was learning energy healing.  Happy to be her guinea pig, I lay on the table so she could practice her skills.

A minute after the session began, she giggled.  “Whoa!  Okay.  Something big just stepped in my way.”

I opened my eyes.  “Something big?”

“An angel.  My hands were the usual distance from your body, but it lifted them higher.  I wasn’t sure at first, so I tried to lower them.  Then it moved them up again and pushed me backwards.”

“I wonder why.”

“I don’t know, but the angel must know something I don’t.  I’d better keep my hands where it wants them.”

Three weeks after that, a wave of nausea and dizziness hit me in the bookstore where I worked.  “What the hell was that?” I said under my breath.

A woman approached the counter with an armload of paperbacks.  As I calculated her total, she struck up a conversation.  One remark stood out.

“I have twins,” she declared.

I glanced up as I finished loading her books into a bag.  “That must be a lot of work.”

I might’ve forgotten her comment, if not for a second conversation with a different woman an hour later.

“I’ve gotta get these home to my kids.”  She shoved a handful of children’s volumes into her tote bag and smiled.  “I’ve got twins, you know.”

“Really?”  That’s twice in one day.

After dinner that night, Dan and I watched the film Shakespeare in Love.  Within the first 15 minutes, the title character mentioned having twins.  I rolled my eyes.

As the credits rolled, we recalled that my hairstyle for our wedding was an exact copy of Gwyneth Paltrow’s in the movie.  Dan shut off the VCR, and The Ellen Degeneres Show sprang onto the TV screen.  Her guest was Gwyneth Paltrow, who just happened to be talking about her pregnancy.

I turned to Dan.  “That does it.  I’ll bet you I’m pregnant, and it’s going to be twins.”

After work the following evening, I bought another pregnancy test, to perform in the morning.  I went to bed and dreamed.

I was lying on my side at one end of the bed.  On the opposite end, a newborn baby lay on its side facing me.  A powerful connection stretched between us.  After a moment, its face misted over.  A new face emerged, virtually identical to the first.

I woke with the dawn and completed the test.  The signs were correct.  I was pregnant.