When acquaintances first find out that we are expecting twins, the response is usually, “Congratulations!” Or maybe something like, “It’s a double blessing!”
It is. I know that. I know that women everywhere are fighting with their entire beings to conceive a baby, have a baby, keep a baby, adopt a baby. We’re unbelievably, undeniably blessed.
Also, if you’re gonna have twins, you really couldn’t ask for a better set of circumstances than these. Both sets of grandparents have already offered sacrifices of their time and money that absolutely move me to tears. There’s no way we WON’T be OK — our families will make sure of that.
Still, I worry.
I’m worried that I am going to be too tired and careworn to appreciate my children’s babyhood.
I’m scared that I’ll go into labor prematurely, or that something will happen to one of the babies. (When I thought I was pregnant with just one baby, I could deal. Now, not so much.)
I am so, so afraid that Raisin will spend the rest of her toddler years playing third wheel.
It’s this last one that’s really keeping me up at night. (Well, it would be, if I could keep my eyes open EVER.) I was fretting about it anyway, as I’m sure any mom does when her precious, first-born, center-of-the-universe child is about to become “baby’s big sister.” Now, as well-meaning friends and family point out, Raisin’s world will be undergoing an even more drastic change. These assvicers pretty much have me convinced that I’ve spoiled Raisin horribly thus far, and that there is no question but that I will utterly ignore her once the twins arrive.
But hell, I can beat myself up over my awful parenting, and I can vow that I will do everything in my power to get some one-on-one time with Raisin to help her make the transition. The real question is, what do I do about the strangers who will, apparently, be gushing all over the twins while Raisin is shoved aside? (I don’t find this scenario hard to imagine. When Raisin was a baby, a stranger at Target asked me if it would be OK for her to lick Raisin’s toes. You can’t trust people around babies.)
I’m starting to think that I should wear a sandwich board when I’m out with all three kids. It could say:
TALK TO THE TODDLER, THEN TALK TO THE TWINS.
DOESN’T MY OLDEST HAVE BEAUTIFUL HAIR!?
Or, the less courteous but more honest
YES, THEY ARE TWINS. PLEASE LEAVE US THE HELL ALONE.
Life in the Fruit Salad household is:Crazy. Wonderful. Exhausting. Exhilarating. Chaotic. Full. Blessed.