Happy Mother’s Day everyone! I hope all you mamas reveled in your day. I certainly did. Bring on the mama love!
So, I’m pregnant with twins. Many of you just found out with my last post (part 1), but I’m closer to the end of this pregnancy than to the beginning. It just took six months before I was ready for pictures and wide-spread announcements:
I would have said something earlier, but there was no good way for you to respond. During the ‘Stare at a wall and eat cake’ phase of this pregnancy, “Congratulations!” and “How exciting!” left me speechless and uncomfortable.
Twins are exciting. And daunting. With A I didn’t sleep four hours in a row until she was 24 months, and this time there will be two of them. In their first 4-6 weeks of life, twins eat every two hours and take an hour to nurse; so if things go well I’ll be sleeping in 1-hour stints round-the-clock. One twin mom said she went through 800 diapers in the first month of her twins’ life. These are just a few things I know in advance…
While in twin denial, responses that signified sympathy or horror better mirrored the way I felt and provided the empathy I needed. I’ve heard, “Holy shit,” “Congratulations?” “Condolences,” and even, “That’s f*%+$d,” and I wasn’t offended. Tru dat.
As I have become welcoming toward these babies, the celebrations feel more appropriate and the contrary responses mark how far I’ve come. Look! I think. Your jaw is on the ground but mine is not! I must be doing better!
“Do twins run in your family?” Yes. But my mom has 100 first cousins so there are bound to be a few sets of twins in there.￼ It is perhaps more striking that twins run in my friend group: I know at least six twin families, most of which had a singleton first. This association seems as likely a reason for my dropping two eggs as my genetic lineage. I’m also 38-years-old, and my ovaries might be having a blowout sale. Everything must go.￼
I fear the martyrdom of motherhood. I fear going bonkers. I fear that the relentless and under-appreciated work ahead will make me an angry, tight-lipped woman in middle age; that I will lose my joy, generosity, ambition, and groundedness. That’s all.
I’ve been binging on podcasts as a comfort measure, and it’s nice to learn that most twin moms are terrified in early pregnancy. These good-natured women offer practical advice on tandem nursing, cloth diapering, getting out of the house, surviving. But I’m listening for something else: I scan their voices for traces of irony; any hint of resentment over what life has handed them. But there is none. They love their kids. This is all I need to know.
Even as I’m starting to feel better, some pregnancy anxiety continues. Twin births are high risk and I feel a lot of pressure to accept medical interventions. We live far from family and our home and cars lack sufficient space for these babies. My daughter just turned three and I can’t imagine how I will continue to care for her. WTF bedtime. Also, there’s a pandemic.
One day at a time. I am trying to get clear with myself on what I want to happen and put my energy in that direction. Covid-19 restrictions will lighten and allow me to labor without a mask and with both my husband and doula. These babies will come at term, without an induction, and with all of the space, time, and good vibes they need for a safe and beautiful birth. Let’s call this plan A.
I love raising kids. In addition to being totally crazy-making they are funny, inspiring, and impossibly cute. It’s not the children I fear; it’s the opportunity costs – the turning over of who I was but no longer get to be.
Instead of grieving the loss of possibilities for my life, I turn fears on their heads and discover possibilities that excite me. For example, I’ve never seen myself as a mini-van mom, but I’m over-the-moon with the idea of getting one of these:
Yes, this was a planned pregnancy for one of them. The other was very, very unplanned. Believing in fate and karma, I search for some understanding of these babies as reasonable, just, and timely for my growth and purpose. I try not to suffer over what might happen. I remind myself that what I fear is the unknown, and my future has equal potential to be wonderful as it does to be difficult.
I honor friends who are living the pain of wanting a child or more children. Raising children is painful, but not raising children is also painful.
Knowing that we are who we admire, I feel myself drawn to women who have flocks of kids and manage to enjoy their lives. You give me hope.
While I struggle with the idea of lost adventures, I am excited to experience new emotional peaks and valleys. I’m thrilled at two more chances to manifest daddy’s left-handedness or grandpa’s light-blue eyes.
I dare to imagine the big-family benefits that I never considered before: A full dinner table every night and not just on holidays. Bringing the party to every party. Themed Halloween costumes (we can now be all of the characters from The Wizard of OZ!). Family raft trips. Boat camping. Built-in friends for everything. Family band. Grandchildren?
I frolic in the glow if A’s love like a pig in mud. When I’m with her, loving her, it also occurs to me that I might feel this way about two more small humans. The possibility blows my mind.
Get in the van, y’all!