12:45 a.m.
After switching from my left to right side every two minutes for the past half hour (God, I miss stomach sleeping!), I finally give up and flop onto my back.

12:50 a.m.
Worry about how much damage I'm doing to my babies by sleeping on my back. Turn to my left side. My back is killing me, so I pull pillows back onto the bed and wedge one underneath my belly and another behind my back. It doesn't help at all. I actually start to whimper a little.

1:05 a.m.
Get up to pee. Two whole drops!

1:10 a.m.
Brainstorm creative ways of answering the question  -- "But who's the real mom?"  -- that Emily and I will inevitably get from strangers after the boys arrive. Can't come up with any polite but still zingy alternatives to "We both are! Now mind your own business, dummy!"

1:20 a.m.
Feel like I have to pee again, but know my bladder's gotta be empty. The idea of an empty bladder makes me scared that I'm not drinking enough water and possibly dehydrating the twins, so I get up for a drink, and then pee again.

3 a.m.
"Holy *%@%#!!" Leg cramp, leg cramp, oh God, leg cramp. Angrily shake Emily awake as I grit my teeth and wait for the excruciating pain to pass. It's not fair she gets to sleep through all my torture.

3:01 a.m.
Ahhh, leg cramp has ended, but I moan for another five minutes as I flex my foot so that my wife understands the true cruelty that is a middle-of-the-night calf cramp. I swear, some pregnancy god devised this quirky little symptom for her own amusement: "Oh look, she was finally sleeping and now she's writhing like a hooked worm on speed. Mwhahaha!"

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