It was 2 pm and Dr. Shay’s office was nearly empty.  On the other side of the reception desk I could see the nurses, Janet and Tammy, as they took a moment from their work to sample the apple cake that a patient had brought in to the office.  They had offered me a piece earlier, but I was too excited to eat, although the aroma that still lingered from the cake was a nice treat.  The window around the desk was decorated, and Christmas lights blinked, causing the silver garland to sparkle. I couldn’t imagine a better setting to finally receive the news of my pregnancy.
   Down the hall a door opened, then closed, and I heard Dr. Shay’s voice as he spoke to Janet.  After eight years of battling infertility, Dr. Shay, Janet and Tammy had become almost like family in my mind.  When Dr. Shay had examined me a few moments ago, it seemed he was as excited as I was when he announced, “Ah, your uterus is enlarged.  You’re two weeks late. Your temp is still up –it looks like the Clomid finally did the  trick!”   What he didn’t say was, ‘It’s a good thing, too.’  But I knew that if I hadn’t become pregnant this time, we would have to try another method.  Because of the long term side effects, six months of Clomid was all I was allowed.
   My husband, Phil, had been a little wary of the Clomid from the beginning.  The stories of multiple births worried him, although I explained that other drugs were more likely to bring that result.
  “Did you remind the doctor that you are a twin, and that twins run in your family?” Phil had cautioned.  “Tell him we want a baby, not a litter!”  We had both laughed, but I knew that Phil was still uncertain about having one baby, let alone two.  Since my grandmother was a twin, and two of her eight children had produced twins, I could understand Phil’s caution.  But I had dreamed of having several children and now, at age 31, time was getting short. Caught up in the magic of the moment, I allowed myself a brief hope that I really might be carrying twins.
   Dr. Shay’s voice was muffled as he moved down the hall.  I nervously picked up a magazine and tried to distract myself.  Janet had taken my blood test and asked me to stay in the waiting room for a few minutes while they confirmed my pregnancy.
     A toothless baby grinned up at me from the cover of a BABY magazine. When I had first come to see Dr. Shay, I poured over the parenting magazines in his waiting room, soaking up every bit of wit and wisdom they offered.  After the first year, though, I’d studiously begun to avoid them, in favor of more generic reading material.  But today I quickly thumbed through the pages, hoping to catch up.  There was so much to learn.