the hardest, but best part about two babies

 

  

 

When people ask what the hardest part about twins is, I often laugh, sit in silence for a sec, and respond with something along the lines of it’s all hard, but we don’t know any different. And it’s fun! Truthfully, the emotional tug and pull of two has been much harder on me than the physical. I mean, I am tired, and beat. every. single. day. But I can always recover. Where the emotional part is just ongoing.

Mom guilt is something I’ve struggled with since the night we left the babies in the NICU (a whole separate topic I might post on for my NICU parents!). The night after that it was something else. And then something else. Like you other mamas can relate, the guilt changes, evolves and lives on. But dividing my attention between the two has so far been the most constant form of guilt, and one of the biggest challenges of mine. I remember when the Buns were newborns, family or friends would come over and say, “I don’t know which one i should look at.” Or they’d ask “which one should i play with?” I’d shrug my shoulders and think, welcome to my life. And welcome to the questions that never end in this little mama head of mine.

The first night Hunter was away was one I’ll never forget. The babies were little and it was just before bedtime. They were screaming. Nothing out of the ordinary as this was typical in the evening but I felt particularly nervous and weak that night. I didn’t have the double feed down yet and like every other day, I just had to choose a baby.  I choose all day every day still. Which one to change first, bath first, put in the car seat first, spoon breakfast to first or whatever, but this choice this night felt especially heavy. I had to choose which one to feed. In the moment where both of my babies were small, starving, and truly relied on me to be nourished. They didn’t know me like they do now and I was still building their trust. It was scary. I loved them both. I hated feeling the pressure to “pick.” I ended up feeding Zoe. She was the more fragile one at the time. While Slater lay next to us and screamed his heart out. While my little boy lay next to me and I just watched him sob of hunger and what felt like, neglect. Especially because we were still getting to know one another. He didn’t know I was going to come for him. And that in itself hurt. Man, my heart aches thinking about this moment right now! But I also remember very vividly, sitting there, thinking about what other mamas had told me to tell myself in what feel like moments of despair. That this too shall pass. And it did.

I jump back to that moment I described all the time. It’s one of hundreds, but one that just sticks out. Perhaps because it was the first time I addressed the chaos with calm. And instead of melting down myself, I paused to relish in the fact that they depend on me. That I will take care of them. Because I am their mother. And what honor I carry in that.

Now that the twins are moving around, my main issue is one tugging at my feet to be picked up while the other is in my arms. My heart is constantly all over the place, and my body restricted to one. It’s hard, but when it gets real tough I try to reflect on that first night alone with them and my state of mind. I try to step back. And think. How lucky am I?  That the reason for these hardest moments is the best thing of all. Because two babies want me. Because two babies need me. And that’s good stuff right there.

It hasn’t gotten easier since these babies are constantly growing and changing but we are learning. And as a team! Because that is what we’ve become. I’ve learned to tell Slater I need to focus on his sister and I’ll be right there. And I’ve learned to tell Zoe that Slater just needs some cuddling and she will be next. As I write this I am realizing my kids are learning patience early. A value and virtue I’ve found so essential to life. I think it all must be working. I (along with my hubbie!) must be doing something right. Because in the end they are always fine. In the end, I’m pretty sure they still love me. In the end, they crawl to me with the biggest, heartwarming fuzzy Bun smiles I have ever seen.

I really loved sharing this little bit of peace I’ve found in what feels like an everlasting struggle of mine and I hope it helps you find yours too. Someone once told me that even on your worst day, you will still be the best part of their day. So mamas, whether you’re juggling one, two or twenty kiddos, I hope you remember that.