On having two 2.5 year old boys
On the 10th December, three years ago, I found out that the surprise baby in my belly was actually two.
Twins.
I’m not sure that word ever stops being a mind spin.
I won’t ever forget the hurricane of emotion that swept through my body.
I’ll never forget how Paul and I laughed and cried at each other in shock for weeks. Or how a nearly 1 year old Roo clapped her hands with glee in reaction to the thick atmosphere of excitement.
I’ve known of their existence for three years.
I’ve wished for them, cared for them, believed that somehow, somewhere, somebody has made a huge mistake and I wasn’t meant to have them at all.
Believed that at some point, one or both would be taken away.
And now, three years on, I have 2 two and a half year old boys.
Everyday is a challenge. Everyday is a blessing.
Everyday they make me laugh.
Almost every day, they make me feel like crying.
Fraser and Oscar, the Two.
Their love for each other is almost overwhelming to witness.
The first to comfort their twin. The first to cause the hurt that needs comforting.
Their giggles through their closed door when they are meant to be settling down to sleep.
The way they speak to each other, like their twin already knows what will be said, and has his response ready.
The way Oscar lisps, but Fraser misses the start of words.
The way a fussy Fraser inhales bananas, but passes all his tomato to Oscar.
The way Oscar calls anything he loves to eat “cake” – including tomato – whilst encouragingly holding it out for his brother to try.
The sharing, the scrapping, the chatting – all the stories you hear from other twin mothers running through your head.
One mother, stopping me in the supermarket, smiling and touching my shoulder as she said:
“Some days, it’s ok to have a glass of wine at 11 o’ clock in the morning.”
And the constant questions, playing across my mind.
How will I survive them? How do I hold onto every moment? How do I cope with two 2 year olds? How can I bear my love of them?
How on Earth was I chosen for this?
And then, I am privy to a moment – a shiny, amazing moment – in their secret, in fathomable world.
And I remember. And I am proud. And I am grateful.
I made them.
What would you do if you were told you were having twins? Laugh, cry, pinch yourself? Ring your Bestie and listen to her laugh at you? A lot…
