On Tuesday I was in the office (as you do, on a Tuesday). It was a long day and a long meeting, so I’d gone for my fifteenth cup of coffee in an effort to keep my brain moving and was walking back into the conference room, when the entrance door opened. I looked up, coffee in hand, and saw a man grinning from ear-to-ear, a slightly dazed woman, and there in both of the man’s hands were tiny baby carriers holding little tiny babies, both of them dressed head-to-toe in pink.
“Oh, you have twins!” I said, grinning as I leaned down to peek in. “I have twins!”
“You do?” the woman perked up. “How do you find it?”
I looked at the woman, then. She had that look that I recognize, that slightly tired, slightly euphoric look in her eyes that I suspect I had. Her tiny babies were newborns and from beneath her shirt I could see the lines of a slowly deflating stomach, and I remembered the thick rubbery skin as the pregnancy melted from my body.
I remembered something else, too.
Early days after I had Nick and Nora, I was once again moving around Sainsbury’s with them tucked in the trolley. They were teeny tiny babies, I was stressed to bits because they generally let me get away with one trip at a time, and it was so overwhelming, this new motherhood, this world with little people. I had PPD to boot, the type of PPD that made it hard for me to relate to everyone apart from the twins, and all I could do was stress. About everything. All of the time.
There I was, putting along in Sainsbury’s like a zombie. My hair was dirty. My clothes undoubtedly had baby sick on them. I had a heaving trolley and two beginning to fuss little people. I was in the baby aisle, stocking up yet again on more formula.
There, at the end of the aisle, was a mum holding the hands to two young children, probably about the age that Nick and Nora are now. The little girl had mittens which dangled from her coat, the little boy had a bright blue winter hat on. The mum let them choose one treat each, which they did while holding her hands and chattering excitedly. She looked at me and my cart of nappies, sleeping babies, and looked at me. She smiled.
“It gets easier,” she said kindly. She looked down at her patient twins, each holding a treat, and looked back up at me. “It all gets easier.”
She waved and walked away then. I never saw her again, but I remember her words. Her words were the only words that were outside of all the norms twin mums hear, and I have heard them all. I needed someone – particularly someone who had been in my shoes – to cut through the fear, the crap, the nauseating status quo comments – and just reach me. I needed someone to reach me.
Back in the office, I looked up at the mum of the sleeping twin girls. “It’s amazing. It’s a wonderful, amazing adventure. Twins are brilliant. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different.”
The mum tentatively smiled, the husband beamed, and I stood, smiling, and walked back into the conference room.
-S.
Twins are brilliant. I don’t know how anyone does it any other way.
Glad you had an opportunity to help another mom of twins along – with all the attention and rude questions that twins generate, I bet yours was a rare and welcome response.
Yes, yes they are.
All children are brilliant, with twins you get double the joy
It’s always a good thing when you can draw upon your own experiences and help uplift someone who likely is going through the same things you have. Hopefully someday she’ll remember your words and be able to help someone in kind too.
This post made me happy as I’m nearly 27 weeks along with identical twins. :)
Tell her if she needs a break, you know someone who has a raging case of baby fever who’d be willing to take one off her hands for a bit. I’m willing to send a kitten as collateral (I’d send the cat but the shipping charges would be outrageous – the kitten is much lighter).
I generally tell peoople that twins are harder and easier than you think they’ll be. Let’s face it, newborns can’t run away in the supermarket with their pants on their head (easy), but there’s the whole walking-zombie issue (hard, tres hard).
The sick on the other hand? Usually somebody had to point that bit out to me, anyway.
G
It’s good to know that you are making a difference – and that’s been something we have held onto that even the dark days will pass
It is wonderful of you to put their minds at ease. My daughter always got horror stories when she took her twins out.
I think people don’t realize how horrid the horror stories are when they retell them. My brother is now able to speak with laughter about the fact that his twins learned to get out of their cribs and maneuver the doorknobs in the same 3 day time span. The day my nephew woke from his nap, let himself out of the house and ran naked down the block towards the beach…not so humorous. Glad you could give her a boost.
When I discovered I was pregnant with twins I cried…. Not tears of happiness either! I was so scared . I had a 2 year old so I knew what was ahead! So I really thought it was going to be a living hell! Ever the optimist :)
But I was pleasantly surprised. It’s been easier than I expected. But I think it’s because they weren’t my first. Nothing really prepares you for that. The life change is overwhelming. Adding another two to the mix just meant things r really busy! In saying that they r 6 months on the first and aren’t anywhere near sleeping the night! We r exhausted. It has to happen soon.
Much more helpful than “TWINS! How can you do it. It must be so hard.”