The Truth About the Twins

My little ladies, Miss Eme (on left) and Miss Brynn

I am not a relaxed person, nor am I laid back.  I struggle to live in the moment and usually move through my days far too quickly.  I like having control in all areas of my life at all times.  With me there is always a plan in the works and a vision for what my future will look like.  At least, that was me before I became a baby making machine.  

For the most part my life has unfolded the way I planned.  From career, to marriage, homeownership, and having my first child, things happened approximately when I had hoped and planned that they would.  I kept my first pregnancy a secret for almost 48 hours so that I could surprise Sean at a fancy dinner with a cute message written on a card (that surpringly took him awhile to decphifer).  I was able to keep my happy news to myself because it was something I had chosen, planned for and predicted.  Other people could be caught off guard, leaving their future to blow around in the breeze.  I was the writer, producer, and director of my life (so I thought) and I liked it that way.  

I also had a plan for when I became pregnant with our second child.  Something that I had carved out future time for when Ben was three.  I had already bought my son a big brother t-shirt in a larger size and planned on allowing him to inform his father of his sibling using said shirt, totally cute and sweet and planned.  You have probably already figured out that this was not the way things went down.

Because I mistakenly believed that I had ultimate control over my own universe, there were a few things I neglected to give attention to (namely birth control).  Yes, yes, I know this was incredibly stupid and irresponsible of me (actually us) but in my defense we did have to really "try" to conceive Benjamin and it wasn't like we were partying under the sheets super often.  I suspect I sent this whole twin thing in motion the evening I proclaimed at a party that I didn't need to worry about birth control because God and I had a special relationship and he didn't make things happen for me until I was good and ready.  I think whatever higher power exists is still getting a pretty good laugh at my expense.  

Anyway, on Mother's Day of last year, after a week of feeling totally miserable, I took a 99 cent pregnancy  test  (purchased at Reny's because I love a deal) at 4:30 in the morning.  I don't really have the words to describe how I felt when that second pink line reavealed itself.  I was shocked, excited, terrified, overwhelmed, anxious.  I was a mess of emotions.  My brain almost instantly started obsessing about finances, my career, time management, daycare, my son's development, our cramped house, and every other thing that might be related to adding a person to your family.  I crept back into bed with my sleeping husband, literally shaking with emotion.  I thought about the cute big brother shirt stashed away in the back of my underware drawer.  I tried my best to close my eyes and relax my body but it just wasn't happening.  This was not something I could keep in.  So, I jostled Sean and awoke him from the blissful ignorance of sleep and whispered/cried, "umm, Sean, please don't freak out because I'm already going crazy enough for both of us but .....I'm pregnant".  Much to my astonishment my husband smiled and giggled and pulled me close.  "You're happy about this?!", I exclaimed.  "Of course", he responded.  "But Ben's still so little.  We don't have enough money.  I'm still probationary at work.  I wanted it to be planned!"  I went on and on with all of my worries but could not sway my husband.  He liked that our kids would be close in age and trusted that everything else would work out.  His confidence and excitement made me feel better but didn't do much to ease my overall anxiety.  Please keep in mind that this is how I felt when I thought we were having ONE more baby.

Fast forward a week when my OBGYN had me come in for an ultrasound to determine how far along I was in my pregnancy (since I had mistakenly believed god was honoring our unspoken deal and, as a result, had no idea when my last period was).  Fortunately, Sean was there with me.  We were acting like old pros while waiting for the sonographer to show us our little jelly bean but when the picture came up on the screen we were met with a concerning pause.  I readied myself for the news that there was no heartbeat or that our baby wasn't developing properly but instead the sonographer's blank face turned into a smile and she said "there THEY are".  My first thought was, what the f does that mean.  Second thought, that's not the least bit funny and I could probably get her fired for this nonsense.  What I said out loud (many, many times) was "are you serious?!" and "oh my god".  I have never been in such a state of disbelief in all my life.  My husband, true to form, sat beside me with a ridiculous grin on his face, pleased as punch by this news.  Unlike Sean, it didn't take me long to multiply by two all my previously stated concerns about my pregnancy and now bulging family.  

To be totally honest, at any given moment during my pregnancy, especially those early weeks, I swung between excitement and total terror.  With Ben I only felt elated when I thought of my growing, stretching uterus but with the twins there were lots of other feelings vying for attention and some of them weren't very maternal or selfless.  At times I didn't feel like a decent person, let alone mother, for being less than confident about my path as a mom of multiples.  If you read my earlier blog entitled "Better you than me", you know that people got under my skin with some of the things they said about my pregnancy and future life in twindome.  I am normally fairly difficult to offend but many of the comments I referenced in that blog got to me because they hit a very vulnerable and insecure spot.  Many of those people said things that I had also said to myself and then tried to bury in smiles and positive affirmations.    My greatest fear was that I would never love my girls to the extent that I loved my son and, even worse, that I may resent them for intruding on our lovely little threesome. 

It turns out (as I attempt to type while tandem nursing) that there was plenty of love inside my pulsating little heart to go around.  And while there are days I wish it didn't take quite so long to leave the house (not that I am seen out with anything resembling regularity) or that my diaper bill didn't have quite so many digits, instead of feeling resentment or remorse, when I look at my newest offspring I feel blessed and know that I am living the life I was intended.  In fact, the girls have already changed me in ways I couldn't have begun to imagine mere months ago.  

The first thing my beautiful little ladies taught me was that I am not in charge of the universe, my own or anyone else's, and to try and hold the reigns every second is like trying to quit sleeping, eventually you're going to get exhausted and pass out, better to just give in and go with the flow.  I am now much better at living in the moment because poopy diapers require a lot of attention and my daughters' smiles literally stop time.  I've also learned to be okay being less than ideal in a lot of areas of my little life.  I have given up on my ideal weight, ideal cleanliness of my house, ideal social calendar, and ideal bank account.  I'm more likely to give myself a break where I once would have obsessed about every mistake, every unchecked item on my to-do list, every person I may or may not have offended.  I've relaxed and it feels really good.  Who would have guessed that having three kids under three years old would cause me to feel more at peace and less rushed?  Not me but it's the truth, it's my truth and not a bad one to be living in.  So, thanks Miss Emelia and Miss Brynn.  Please pull out this blog for me when you are 16 with cars and boyfriends named Brock and Rod.  I have a feeling I might be in need of some reminders of this new found relaxation and peace of mind.