I’ve heard for years about the special connection that twins have–eh, maybe that can be true for identical twins, but definitely not for my fraternal twins. In general, though, I don’t buy it.
Or rather, I didn’t use to buy it.
My twins happen to be fraternal–and they are boy-girl. Not the variety of twins who tend to enjoy whatever twin ESP which other sets of twins might experience. Not typically, anyway.
Last week, boy twin was fighting the good fight against pneumonia. He was admitted to the hospital for eight days, and therefore away from his twin sister for a (relatively speaking) eternity. He ultimately recovered and was discharged in fine shape–but the topic of the week has been his I.V.
We were in the E.R. when the topic first presented itself. The I.V. team showed up to install his first I.V., and after the dire trauma this caused finally blew over, Kyle’s first complete sentence was, “I need to tell Lauren about my I.V.”
The next day, we conferenced Lauren and big sister Jenna in via cell phone to cheer Kyle up. All Lauren could talk about was Kyle’s I.V. Her first sentence to him: “Do you have an I.V., Kyle?” “Yes, Nor-nen. I have an I.V.!” He was especially proud of his I.V., and Lauren was just as thrilled to ask him that same question over and over as Kyle was answering her.
A few days later, Kyle’s first I.V. went bad and we had to put a new one in on his other hand. Despite some admirable efforts from our stellar I.V. team, Kyle was acutely upset and nothing from my Toolbox from Motherhood could soothe him. “Be brave for Lauren,” I whispered. “Be a big boy and we’ll get your new I.V. in and we’ll call Lauren when you’re done and tell her all about it. Be brave, Big Boy. Be brave for Lauren.” Boom. I.V. in. (Good timing, I.V. team! Pretty sure the timing had nothing to do with my pep talk, but I felt very “win one for the Gipper”ish and nobody can take that away from me.)
The day of discharge finally came. Our favorite nurse finally had to take out his I.V. He was upset at first at the sticky uncomfortableness of the medical tape which we ripped off of his skin, but he was so proud of his Band-Aid. He was proud because he wanted to show his twin sister, “Nor-nen”, where his I.V. had been.
He was so sleepy when we finally arrived home that day. But Lauren came home (from Grandma’s house) after his nap was over and inspected every inch of his hands while she asked about his I.V.’s. He showed off his Band-Aids. She was appropriately impressed with his stigmata-like wounds. Three days later and he’s still a rock star around here.
Maybe it’s because they’re the same age and are always in each others’ space. Or maybe there’s something to this “twin intuition” thing.
I like it.