When the tech doing my ultrasound stopped halfway through and told me she needed to get the doctor, I braced for bad news.
This was my first pregnancy after a miscarriage. My eyes focused on the flickering overhead lights, trying so hard to contain my tears inside my eyes. My focus was interrupted by my doctor’s high-pitched voice, who — as she opened the door to the room — squealed, “Well, you’re having twins!”
My husband started laughing, and I started sobbing, but they weren’t happy tears. I was absolutely terrified of having twins.
I was in denial about having twins
I was so shocked that I kept telling my husband not to get his hopes up. I reminded him of the pregnancy loss we had just experienced, about how sometimes pregnancies start with multiple embryos, but only one baby makes it to the end, and at one point, I even suggested that one baby could eat the other in my uterus.
None of those things happened, and by the 20-week mark, I came around to the idea of having twins. It was clearly happening, evident by my enormous belly.
My fear was rooted in that I really struggled after my first child was born. I was utterly unprepared for the monumental shift that comes with motherhood. Compounded by the fact that I cannot operate without at least eight hours of sleep, I fell into a spiral of postpartum anxiety and depression that went completely undetected at my multiple check-ups.
I figured that having two more babies would mean that my sleep would be even worse, and therefore, my anxiety and depression would be doubled.
I focused on myself
Knowing my struggles, my doula suggested that we focus on myself when it came to preparing for postpartum the second time around, instead of the babies. My husband and I already knew what to expect when it came to having newborns, but neither of us wanted me to be crying 24/7, as I had been two years prior.
The stakes were low, intentionally.
Courtesy of the author
I decided that the twins were going to be fed whichever way worked, whether it was breastmilk from my breasts, from a bottle, or formula. My focus was not to extend myself trying to make breastfeeding work. When it came to feeding, I also decided they would get bottles for their night feeds, so we could ensure they were getting enough calories for optimal sleep. My husband would wake up with me, feed the babies while I pumped, then we would each change one, and put them back to sleep. If one baby woke up to eat, we woke the other too, so they’d be on somewhat of a schedule.
I also didn’t expect to be fitting back into my clothes by a certain date, or even attempt to wear real clothes for months. When the pandemic hit, and everyone was at home, it helped me with my FOMO. No one was doing anything anyway, so I didn’t really care if I was wearing the same T-shirt for three days. Who was going to notice?
They are so close
As they grew older, and I experienced the twin magic right in front of my eyes, I also realized that they had a built-in play buddy.
While with my son, I had to sit on the floor with him and keep him entertained; the twins would play independently with each other for chunks of time, letting me do something as simple as load the laundry.
Now that they are 6 years old, they help each other out all the time. If one is thirsty in the middle of the night, instead of coming to us to wake us up, they go together to grab water and run back to bed. They, of course, fight like any siblings, but they can also spend hours in their room setting up their stuffed animals as an audience for one of their pretend dance performances.
Recently, I was looking back at photos of me pregnant with them, and I could see the fear in my eyes. I wish I could go back in time and tell myself that I was better prepared for twins than I was for a singleton, and that I was in for one of the most unbelievable rides of my life.
