Last night I was browsing a pregnancy-multiples message board forum and came upon someone who just a day earlier learned that she was pregnant with twins. She was freaking out a little–both because of personal health risk reasons and because well, she has all kinds of babies inside of her. Anybody would freak out with that knowledge.
I know we did.
Today marks the 6th anniversary of the absolutely astonishing news that I was carrying twins. My weary reproductive system was already stressed with its own problems–which separately were minor issues but all together compounded the risk to my unborn babies–and was now responsible for nourishing and protecting not one but two babies. My previously well-organized, well-scheduled, laser printer labeled world was turned upside down. Not in a million years did I seriously consider the possibility of carrying twins.
In the end I did carry them to 36 weeks–considered full term for twins. And while life sure was disorganized for a while, my Type A personality eventually became an asset instead of a liability. Organizing double the documents, double the doctor’s appointments (and double the co-payments…) and double the immunization records and HELLO COLIC GREAT TO FINALLY MEET YOU were made easier when managed by my high functioning frontal lobe. Also made easier by Argentina and it’s various award winning Malbec, if we’re being honest.
So in summary–
To my twins: Happy First Day of Me Knowing You. I hope you enjoyed your accommodations while you were here. Oh, you didn’t? Well, you can blame your brother/sister. Don’t ask me to take sides because I blame you both. I mostly blame the one who kicked me in places that made me feel like she might be birthed out of my bum–I’m sorry, does that bother you, kiddo? Well maybe you should keep your feet to yourself. “Tuck and turn”–it’s not just advice for a golf swing, but also for being birthed. It’s like this book is being written backwards, right?
To my waistline: Happy Last Day of Me Knowing You. I hope you enjoyed those size 8’s while they lasted. How about gaucho capri drape-y pants? I hope you liked those. I still have the pants. I miss the waist. ::princess wave:: goodbye, goodbye….
(I realize that my then-three year old is posed oddly here. She’s hugging my leg. Stand down, clever and snarky commenters!)