Two v. One, or How I Love My Children Equally, But More so When They Arrive One at a Time

I’m not up for Mother of the Year anyway, so here goes.

I have a set of twins who will be SEVEN tomorrow.  This is mind boggling to me.   One might say the twins were  a bit of an accident.  As in “Doctor, or so you call yourself, I’ve been taking these pills that you prescribed me to turn my eggs into shriveled little unfertilizable blobs and these five sticks I just pissed on say you are a complete asshat.”    Followed some weeks by “WTF DUDE TWINS???  TWWIIINNNSSS?????”   Then as soon as they were born it was obvious they are fraternal which means TWO eggs somehow managed to not shrivel under the prescribed drugs.   I didn’t go back to that doctor again.

So anyway, I had the twins when I wasn’t really in the mindset to have children.  Plus I was young and semi-stupid.  I did everything by the book, which at the time I thought was the way you do it, but now I think I should have done it my own way.  So I never rocked them to sleep for fear I would have to break that habit, times two.  I never co-slept for fear I would have to break that habit, times two.  I never held them too much or ran too quickly when they cried, for fear that those habits would have to be broken, times two.  I also worried if I was holding one more than the other.  The usual things like changing diapers and feeding were more like chores to me, but I think that was more due to my not wanting to have kids (but let’s face it, it IS a chore when they are small).  I don’t think I got over that for a long time.  I thought that once I had them, I would fall in love with them immediately and everything would turn into rainbows & butterflies.   The only thing that happened was that I did love them immediately, but I didn’t love having them, if that makes sense.  And sometimes I thought I only loved them because I had to, but that was just my guilt tricking me.  I did love them and I do love them.    I’ve seen many other women have “whoops” babies and they all seemed to handle it better than I did.  ’Course none of them had twins so I’m going to use that excuse rather than I was a terrible parent.

I think I was a good parent, but maybe I wasn’t such a great mother.  But it all worked out in the end.  The twins are thriving, I fell in love with them over time.  I think it helped when they started to develop their personalities.  Just like they had to grow into their personalities, I had to grow into being a mom.

These thoughts have kinda tugged at me over the years.  But they’ve really come to light now that baby Josh has arrived.  He was planned.  I wanted him.  I wanted him for about a year before efforts were made to make him.  There was a few weeks when I found out he was a he that I didn’t want him, I admit it.  He was supposed to be my girl, but apparently I don’t know how to make girls.  Or Joe doesn’t.  Whatever.    But having him has been a completely different experience.  And not just from the logistical aspect of having one baby vs. having two babies, although OH MY GOD is it easier having one.  I find myself enjoying him so much more than when the twins were his age.  We all enjoy him, even the twins.  Alex invites people over and says “come see my baby” or “this is my baby.”  He is well loved and well spoiled.  For the first few months, I never wanted to put him down.  He slept with me half the time and I loved it.  He would nap on my chest when he was small and I loved every second of it, and now that he’s too big and squirmy, I miss it so much.   He is still enjoyable now, of course.  He’s just shy of 6 months old, already scooting & rolling around, laughing and smiling.  And of course I find it so much easier with one baby than with two babies.    I am enjoying him so much I find myself thinking thoughts I swore I would never have.   Thoughts of possibly doing it again.  At this point there are only three things stopping me:  1. Joe doesn’t want to.  2.  I can’t handle the disappointment if I had another boy.  3.  I really, really can’t handle the disappointment if I had another boy.

The one thing that all babies do the same, whether you have 1, 2, or 3 at once, is grow up so fast.  My babies will be 7 tomorrow, and my baby baby will be 6 months a few days after that.  Soon he’ll be a year old, the twins will be in high school, then they’ll all be gone.    And I’ll be stuck with Joe and his proficient farting skills.

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