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Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Come again, doc? -- Contributor Post

Today’s post is brought to you by the letters T and F and by the number 2.

T is for testicles. T is for testosterone. T is for trembling tearfully, totally terrified. But mostly, T is for twins.

I’ve been joking with The Cricket since pretty much the day we met about how she doesn’t want to have kids with me, because twins run in my family. It’s a bit of an exaggeration; when I say they run in my family, it’s more of a quick walk. There are currently two sets of boy/girl fraternal twins in my almost immediate family: my cousins Rick and Sue, children of my dad’s brother, and my brother’s kids, Zach and Taylor. It’s not an epidemic, by any means.

Also, you’ll note I said fraternal twins, as in the product of two eggs being produced. So technically my male relatives had zero to do with the making of said twins. But it was a fun joke, nonetheless, and I enjoyed the way she would roll her eyes at me when I would say it. Especially when I would say things like “Kennedy sperm don’t wait for a second egg to drop, they swim up and grab it!”

So when she told me she was pretty sure that she was pregnant, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to increase the frequency of the twin jokes. I was still cracking jokes as we sat in the doctor’s office for the first ultrasound. The doctor was chuckling good-naturedly, clearly feeling sorry for what Cricket had to put up with, when she suddenly stopped, turned pale as her lab coat, and said “Why would you say that about twins?!” I assured her that I was just joking, that I liked kidding with Cricket about twins, that I wasn’t serious. She turned the screen our way and said, “Well, it’s not a joke anymore.”

F is for father. F is for forty two. F is for freaking out. F is for frequently fainting and falling face first onto the floor. But mostly, F is for fuuuuuuuuuck...

Come again, Doc? What’s that you say? There are how many? Fuuuuuuuuuck...

Hey Mom and Dad, you’re gonna be grandparents again. P.S. There are two of them. Fuuuuuuuuuck...

Hey honey, I’m going after work to pick up a second Pack & Play, and I found a double stroller with matching car seats on Craigslist. Fuuuuuuuuuck…

F is for failure, as in me at fatherhood.

F is also for find, as in I know we’ll find a way.

F is for finished, as in my theater life for the foreseeable future.

F is also for figure, as in we’ll figure it out.

F is for fortune, as in how much this is going to cost.

F is also for fine, as in I promise we’re going to be fine.

F is for fear, as in what I feel in my bones.

F is also for fun and fantastic and fabulous, as in the times we’re going to have as a family. And that, my friends, moves all the fear further and further from the front of my mind.

And what does the number 2 have to offer?

2 is the number of times per minute that my brain shouts “TWIIIINNSSSSS!!!” at me. 2 is the number of condoms I’ll be wearing from now until the day I die. 2 is the number of babies headed my way. But mostly, 2 is the number of people I’m drinking for between now and May.

Wish me luck.


Jerry Kennedy is (in no particular order) a fiancee, stepdad, writer, actor, director, singer, and web dude living in The Greatest City In the World, Sacramento, CA. His hobbies include reading, skateboarding, falling off his skateboard, drinking, karaoke (especially after drinking), and making love at midnight in the dunes on the cape. You'll find his irregular ramblings about life, the universe, and everything at

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