Thursday, November 3, 2011

Two Babies is No Joke!

My brain has turned to mush, my arms are always full of babies, and my body is no longer my own.

When people call I can't answer because there are babbling little men that might let out a discontented cry at any moment. I can rarely text because it feels dangerous to juggle babies and a phone (plus i usually can't think straight long enough to type a sentence on those little buttons), forget emails, and at this point I can only "like" things on Facebook because it only requires the click of a button. It's a great achievement when I can just copy and paste something.

So now I am choosing to nap with babies during the day in hopes that I can put the babies to bed at night and get a solid hour of quiet uninterrupted alone time. The bedroom, which is usually the sunniest room in our house now stays dark all day long awaiting those precious naps that can occur anytime between the hours of 10am and 4pm.

The babies are always changing and I have yet to adapt to chameleon status. As soon as I become accustom to their new patterns they grow and become more human while I remain befuddled and delve deeper into motherhood.

A few days ago my mother stayed in the car with the babies while I ran into the grocery store to pick up a butternut squash. I felt light as a feather as I joyously floated through the isles, trying to think of more things to buy so I could stay in the store a little longer. As I cruised through the dairy isle looking at all the things I can't have, my eyes caught two pairs of little purple pants in a double stroller. (Since I found out I was having twins they seem to follow me whenever I leave the house.) High on my moment of babyless freedom, I stopped to commiserate; it is an unwritten law that any mother of twins who sees another mother of twins must stop and share words of encouragement. Her twins were 14 months old and seemed to be having a good day. I must have looked tired and buzzed on adrenaline as I told her about my babies because she just kind of smirked and reassuringly said "It will get loads easier at the 6 month and 9 month mark, you'll see, it will be amazing I promise.".  It was the best thing anyone had said to me in weeks.

For the past month or so I have slowly become overwhelmed mentally and physically. I wear and hold a baby all day long... all day long. Usually the biggest break I get is to just have one baby to take care of on and off in the evenings when Matthew comes home. It got to the point where I wasn't taking care of myself, not because I didn't care, but because I felt like I didn't have the luxury of doing anything for myself for more than 5 minutes. Luckily I have supportive good people in my life that I was able to talk to and trust to help me with the babies. Now I feel a lot better about things and I'm more vocal about asking for help. When I get some productive time to myself I am able to welcome with open arms the glorious full spectrum of parenthood. It's getting better every day but it's not perfect. I may be more vocal about asking for alone time but that doesn't mean I can always get it and I still feel guilty asking for it even though I know it makes a world of difference.

Putting the babies to bed tonight we had a moment between their goodnight feedings. I've never been looked at so contently before or felt so openly loved and adored. In that moment I knew for sure that the universe gave me two at once for a reason. It might be just for them or it might be for everyone, but I know this challenge that life has given me is the greatest thing I'll ever do. It makes me want to get it right, and that's a lot of pressure. What's "right" anyway?

Two babies is no freakin joke!

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