“Are they twins? I always wished I had twins,” said a typical innocent onlooker.
I smiled sweetly instead of verbalizing my inner thoughts of, “Really? Why?”
Twins is not just matching outfits or birthday songs that contain an extra conjunction. It’s more.
It’s the feeling of holding one baby while watching the other one whisked off to the NICU. Not being able to fully enjoy one because you are concerned for the other.
Twins is the elation of watching them when they are together and in love. The secret looks you catch them giving each other and the way they push each other’s buttons in a way you guess even the closest siblings cannot. It’s the way that when one of them gets sick the other says she feels it, and you just have to believe it.
It’s the exhaustion of developing two people who are six minutes apart but often have countless variances between them. It’s sometimes remembering that the only things they have in common are their birthday, long eyelashes, and a last name. It is double pick-ups with the consciousness of not comparing how simultaneously similar and different they feel in your arms.
Twins is finding a tribe of people who share the strange and unexpected knowledge that comes from raising three kids when two of your’s are Geminis who are actually Geminis. A funny kind of abundance…
It’s the unspoken words between you and your husband that you both realize one twin’s strengths are the other’s weaknesses. It’s wondering if you should help even the playing field. But part of you doesn’t try to because you hope it means they always look out for each other.
I hear that parents worry they cannot possibly love their second child as much as their first. They don’t realize that your heart grows. With twins, it swells to a size that would make The Grinch jealous. Twins completed our family-covering every struggle, strength, and pure joy I could have ever imagined.
I guess I always wished I would have twins, too. And I do.