Finishing the marathon

The first year as a “mom with multiples” has been like running a marathon.

This time last year I was waiting with bated breath for the arrival of twin girls. Up until that point, Dan and I had spent 8 months living from one doctor’s appointment to the next. My days were filled with visits to the OB, the perinatologist, and the hospital for non-stress tests. We worried constantly about all the things that might happen. Would I have to go on bed rest? Would the girls be premature? Would I need a cesarean? Would they have to spend time in the NICU?

In hindsight, I think we were so fixated on “the birth” that we didn’t stop to think about what happened next. And then when Hannah and Abbie were born, we were so busy trying to keep our heads above water that we never stopped to take it all in. I went to a “Moms of Multiples” meeting back in May and when the topic to turned to what we as moms were doing to take care of ourselves, I told the group that I wasn’t taking care of myself. That I couldn’t take care of myself because I was too busy trying to keep my head above water and survive.

Someone once told me that the only people who can truly understand what it’s like to be a “mom of multiples” are moms of multiples. That it doesn’t matter how many children you have, or how close in age they are. Because it’s impossible to know what having two babies is like unless you actually had two babies at the same time. At the time I thought it was bullshit. This wasn’t my first pregnancy. I knew what I was doing because I had done it before. I also knew that I possessed what many other women lack: confidence in my abilities as a parent. That may sound haughty, but knowing that I am a “good” mom (whatever the hell that means) has given me a degree of strength in my thirties that I sorely lacked when I was in my twenties. But the reality is that unless you’ve been in my shoes, you really don’t know how hard it is. You can’t know.

Now that I am literally at the 26^th mile marker of my twin marathon I am forcing myself to look back on the last year of life. In many ways this has been the hardest year of my life. Harder than anything I could have ever possibly imagined. We’ve weathered a lot. Including but not limited to jaundice, RSV, torticollis, physical therapy, more doctors and co-pays than I can count, breastfeeding, multiple stomach bugs, not to mention full-time jobs and the needs of another child. I’ve been peed on, crapped on, and vomited on multiple times. And at the end of the day, I’m still here. My girls are here. Noah and Dan are here. Noah, Hannah, and Abbie are happy, healthy, and thriving. They are loved by family and friends around the world.

Sometimes the greatest gifts we receive are the ones we didn’t realize we wanted (or needed). I can truly say that the LAST thing I ever envisioned hearing someone say to me were the words, “congratulations, you’re having twins.” It was so unexpected and overwhelming, and to some degree that pronouncement is still sinking in because in that moment our lives were changed forever. In ways both big and small.

I can’t go grocery shopping with the twins. Why? Because traditional grocery carts were designed to accommodate one child, not two. Which means I have to take the stroller (however I’m an industrious gal. I can make short trips by attaching a basket to the stroller handles).

Letting one girl cry it out at night wasn’t much of an option because Hannah and Abbie share a room. Teaching one a lesson ends up pissing the other off.

As Dan and I tag-team the girls, sometimes Noah is forced to fend for himself. Which causes me to feel guilty that he is being ignored. I’m Jewish, so guilt comes with the territory.

Everything is doubled. Diapers, clothes, shoes, toys, etc. What we’ve spent in the last year on diapers, wipes, and formula would frighten people.

But I wouldn’t trade any of it. Why?

I love watching Hannah and Abbie play with one another when they don’t think anyone is looking.

I love the look on their faces when I come into their room each morning.

I love how they light up when Noah plays with them.

I love watching them fight with one another. For the moment, it’s still cute.

I love knowing that they will always have each other, and a big brother to protect them.

My mother has always told me that G-d have me my shoulders for a reason. . . and that he will never give me more than I am capable of handling. The last 18 months have rendered this advice true. To this day, strangers will approach me on the street as I am pushing my double stroller and they will say, “Wow! You must have your hands full. Better you than me!” This sentiment used to really bother me. But then I decided to own the sentiment.

“You’re right. Better me than you. Because unlike you, I can handle this with grace and a sense of humor.”

Bring it on.