The brothers have entered my favorite phase of babyhood where they are no longer luggage but are still immobile. They have personalities but they don’t yet have behaviors = Pretty fun.
“Where was I before I was your kid,” Avery asks.
“In the sky,” I say, “waiting to be born. I was waiting for you to come.”
“And the brothers?”
“They were in the sky too,” I answer. “Only I didn’t know it. Are you happy that we got them?”
“Yes!” she says. “Toren is the best baby in the world!” Eirik should not be offended as both babies are unequivocally Toren.
I have this feeling too: Our babies are the best babies in the world. The anxiety I felt when I found out I was having twins has melted into this bliss of being the mother of a large family I never knew I wanted. I get to have three.
*
My experiences of parenting these children are so different. Avery’s love is oxygen; I can’t imagine life without it. The brothers are as gifts. Eirik is the baby I wanted; Toren is the baby I never could have imagined.
I don’t mean to compare my boys and find them lacking; I only mean to learn a little more about what each one is by noticing what he isn’t; like noticing the ways in which a wren is not a chick-a-dee.
Eirik is an old friend. He pauses while nursing to look up at me and his smile cuts straight through my heart. When I’m sad I can hold him and feel better. He is round and scwunchy and my only hope of a south paw in the pack. He initiates giggle fits with Avery. There is nothing complicated about his love. His hands are so wide that I have counted to make sure he doesn’t have six fingers. He will either grow into a strawberry-blonde version of Clark Kent or a big guy with a comb over. Possibly both with enough time.
Toren is both sweetness and drive. With the way he gets a baby chair bouncing I wonder why it isn’t yet an Olympic sport. He has already gained three pounds on Eirik to become the larger of the two. His legs are like tree trunks and I couldn’t be more proud. (Who da big brother!?) The first thing he taught me is this: If you want to be cuter all you need is a little fat and a better mood. Eat the pie; lighten up.
Being the mom of infants again is made simpler by knowing that it gets harder with time and not easier. As this blog emerged with Avery’s mobility, I have no written record her infancy. I’ve enjoyed having another chance to catch these early days.
At five months, Eirik still accepts swaddling for sleep; Toren is done. Eirik nestles in like a teddy bear when I carry him so I can smell the back of his head. Toren rides straight and tall like a miniature prince. Eirik indicates his desire to nurse with a subtle lift-of-head and a penguin flap of the arms; Toren gets loud. Eirik nuzzles and sips; Toren yanks at my nipple and pumps his feet against the wall to maximize flow.
Everything changes so fast. Even as I write these words, I wonder, is that still true? We are always free to reinvent ourselves.
*
These boys have traded roles from how I understood them at birth. Toren was insecure as a newborn: He cried a lot and I was uncertain about how to handle him. Maybe it was his time in NICU; or my hesitation about having twins. Maybe he didn’t feel welcome. Maybe he is less trusting by nature.
I felt that I would have to earn his love, but how? In a home swimming with babies, how could I compete for one child’s affection? I wore him a lot and hoped for the best.
But Toren wasn’t asking me to meet unrealistic expectations. He just wanted to know that he would be safe and loved in his new family; which happens to be my specialty. When I realized he only needed me to be myself, worry lifted from my bones. Fear not, little child. You will be mothered.
Our problems ended. Eirik struggles to sleep but this baby drifts off silently; snuggling down under his giraffe blankie with his matching pacifier. I love you too, ‘lil buddy.
*
lovewarrior 