17. "That's my worst nightmare" 

This one was actually said to me the other day.  I was stood outside the cafe, in the sunshine, waiting for my take away (and now daily necessity) coffee, with my 3 smiling happy children, on our way to the swings for some fun. A mother was sat outside said cafe, with her one adoring cute daughter, and they were enjoying a little smackeral of something nice.

And so it started (some what predictably at first).

Her: "Are they twins?"

Me: "Yes, this one is Edwin, this one is Rufus." (I like to introduce them by name rather than 'the twins'.)

Her: "Are they identical?"

Me: "Yes, very much so."

Her: "Is that one yours too?" (points at curly mopped 3 year old)

Me: "Yes, this one is my daughter, Elspeth. She is 3"

Her: "Oh, that is my worst nightmare, that that might happen to me"

Me: silence

Her: "now that I have her (points to previously mentioned adoring cute daughter), I don't know what I would do if I had twins now!"

Me: silence

Her: "I don't know how you cope"

Me: silence

Her: (sensing she might have just said the wrong thing) "I suppose you just do?"

Me: "Yes, you just have to" (takes now arrived daily necessity also known as coffee, and walks off to the swings to enjoy someone else's idea of a nightmare, also known as my lovely children.)

To be honest, at times, it has been my worst nightmare too. But to actually tell another mother that her life, the one she is living quite well, and doing alright with all things considered, is your worst nightmare? Well, let us just say, it isn't the kindest nor most appropriate thing to be saying. I am just grateful my children aren't old enough to understand what she had just said about them. I am just grateful that my children and I enjoyed our day at the swings, helped my mummy's caffeine intake. 



You know you're a parent of twins when...

... you have heard 'you've got your hands full' more times than you care to mention.

... you open your wardrobe to find it stocked high with your latest bulk buy of nappies and wipes because they were on special offer so you had to buy the entire shelf.

... you can never (and from my experience I mean never) wing it. You have to be prepared for every eventuality, and you have to preempt their every need, and continuously plan ahead. There is no such thing as 'seeing how the day goes'. It is pretty much mapped out, minute by minute.

... you know of, and use, the word 'singleton'.

... you have owned at least two double buggies, and don't consider spending over £500 to take a step closer to the constant quest for 'the solution' excessive.

... you don't have carpets under, or anywhere remotely near, the dining table.

... there is no such thing as 'popping out' and instead even the smallest of ventures requires packing and taking a very full (at times overflowing) bag with you, containing many bottles, ludicrous amounts of nappies, a silly amount of wipes, and a large variety of snacks catering for diverse tastes.

... you consider a 'night out' to be a lager shandy and a burger and chips consumed within 1.5 hours in the local whilst nervously watching your mobile phone. (And that is on the nights you've actually fooled some poor mad soul into look after your offspring).

... you have mastered the art of holding a conversation without maintaining eye contact, simultaneously talking whilst doing a silent headcount, and taking regular breaks to go and rescue a child from the top of a climbing frame. 

... you can't remember the last time your life wasn't accompanied by the soundtrack of your washing machine permanently humming away.

... you have muscles in your arms that you previously didn't know existed.

... your local shop is all out of tunnocks teacakes.

... you have already rearranged your furniture 6 times since the twins came along, in a bid to find the optimum arrangement to keep your children safe, and are yet to admit that regardless of where you put the shelves, they will most definitely climb them.

... you find yourself saying 'we must....' several times a day, and despite feeling like you are constantly working through a list of things to be done, the 'to do' list never seems to get any shorter.

... your threshold for what you consider to pass as 'clean clothes' has gotten considerably lower than years gone by.

... your nice 'saved for sunday best' dresses are dusty. Your idea of 'dressing up' involves brushing your hair and perhaps, on a really good day, applying some mascara.

You know you're a parent of twins when you've most definitely, without a doubt, got your hands full...  





16. "You deserve a medal"


Oh yes I do. Indeed I do. For a long time I tried very hard to deny the fact that my life was different to any other parent who is blessed with (or decides to have, or ends up with) 3 children. The fact that two of them were born on the same day was neither here nor there. 

Just a detail really.

Oh more fool me. I even ranted about it on facebook at times. It wasn't always an agreed with position. I think I know now why. 

Having twins is blooming hard work. Don't get me wrong, kids are hard. I am not taking anything away from the daily battles that many of my comrades (other mothers) enter into, and at times even win. Babies, children, offspring, irrespective of how many you have, are somewhat a challenge.

However, there is something about having two of them, going through all of those stages together, that renders you, the parents, worthy of a gold medal!

Here are just some of the reasons why me, and any other parent of twins (and most certainly of triplets) deserves to take home the gold...

1.) newborn twins don't understand the simple concept of 'taking it in turns', especially when it comes to feeding. They both think they are the single most important need around, and boy they don't mind telling you about it either. 

2.) twins tend to teeth either (a) at the same time, or (b) one after the other. Either way, ouch. You either have twice the screaming going on simultaneously, or you have a prolonged period of sleepless nights and grouchy miserable babies for company.

3.) nappies. Lots of them. Day in. Day out. Nappies. I am so done with changing poo bottoms. At least if you have 3 children one after the other, you'd hope that one would be on his or her way out of nappies around the time the second or third child arrives. I know that toilet training isn't without its challenges (my daughter has recently accomplished this) as you need to be within arms length of a toilet (or a vestibule that could act as a toilet) at all times.

4.) wipes. Lots of them. See above. You seriously need to take out another mortgage.

5.) you can't even pop out for a pint of milk without being stopped and asked a silly question, or being reminded that you do indeed have your hands full.

6.) going to playgroup requires the ability to be in two places at one time (that is unless you are of course blessed with those really rare lesser spotted twins who stick to each other). Whilst one of my darling boys is not satisfied with playing nicely at the water station but rather is trying really hard to climb into the water station, the other has climbed up the climbing frame and of course instantly gravitated to the 'dangerous end' (you know, the end that has that drop with a metal pole in front of it just in case at some point a child might like to pretend to be a fireman but actually it just serves as a constant source of fear for anyone with children under 2 years of age). If you're sensible and have children at different ages you'll (hopefully) find that your new one doesn't come along until your first one has just about grasped a basic sense of danger.

7.) bathing them becomes a bit of a logistical nightmare. Do you opt for bathing them together which basically involves getting really very wet and most of the shampoo ending up all over you rather than their hair, or opt for bathing them one at a time which means leaving one unsupervised or at the very best loosely supervised by his bigger sister, which ultimately leaves to finding the unbathed twin sitting on the dining table having taken a bite out of every apple. Neither is great. I tend to go for the double bathe and just accept I am going to get wet. If you, unlike me, had your children one at a time, you could probably (hopefully) bathe the eldest, pop them in front of the tv and then safely bathe the second. (Ok, that one might be a bit optimistic, but hey...)

8.) dinner time becomes a daily battle. Rather than my younger child being positively influenced by my older child, and wanting desperately to emulate their older sibling being in a hurry to master the art of cutlery, instead my older child has regressed and returned to using only her fingers as instruments with which to eat, and throwing any unwanted food onto the floor, because why be in the minority? If two are doing it, I'm not going to be the only one who doesn't. 

9.) buggy buying becomes a nightmare... because the one question all parents expecting twins want the answer to is 'what buggy do I need?' In fact this was one of the first things I became fixated on following the news... I guess it was almost like, if I can solve the problem of the buggy then everything else will fall into place. The truth is a little more disappointing - there is no perfect solution to transporting twins about, especially if you have an older sibling to consider. We are now on double buggy 3 and have probably spent close to £2,000 pursuing the perfect solution. It is an expensive business. I've only met one couple so far who have bought and stuck to one buggy... 

10.) this one is simple - twins is a little bit like running a marathon each and every day... every day, come the children's bedtime, I am spent. I am physically exhausted, I am emotionally exhausted, even my clothes look tired by bedtime. So I don't know about you, but since I run a marathon each and every day, I think I deserve a medal for that. For perseverance, for stamina, for commitment, for dedication, and just for getting up each day, brushing my teeth, and doing it again.

(So far my gold medals have included a few pairs of shoes, a fair few boxes of praline chocolate, and the odd bunch of flowers). 

If you, like me, run that marathon each and every day, you too deserve a medal or two. Make sure you get some... it gives you a little more motivation to just run that little bit harder, knowing at the end of the race is a wonderful pair of shoes you've lusted over, or the perfect box of chocolates to indulge in.

If you know someone like me, someone who's running that marathon each and every day, pop in a medal next time you're passing. It doesn't have to be sparkly or expensive, it can be simple, but whatever medal you chose, I bet they will wear it with pride.


15. "I bet you wouldn't change a thing though?"


Yes. I would. 

I would change the fact that my daughter was still so young when we fell pregnant with twins.

I would change the fact that at 19 weeks I nearly went into labour, leaving me with a difficult decision as to whether to have a cervical stitch put in and risk causing a miscarriage, or not have it and risk delivering them before they were viable.

I would change the fact that my decision to have the stitch meant I was no longer able to lift my young daughter anymore.

I would change the fact that I then went on to develop pre-eclampsia, causing me to end up in hospital for large chunks of the pregnancy, meaning my daughter only got to see me for very short periods of time.

I would change the fact that my sons were born with hypospadias - meaning that shortly one of them will have to undergo an operation.

I would change the fact that despite recovering well from the c-section I had to be taken back into hospital due to unusual bleeding requiring IV antibiotics.

I would change the fact that at only a few weeks old I had to see one of my new babies blue and floppy and rushed into hospital*. 

I would change the fact that I then had to sit at his bedside watching a ventilator breathe for him, as he was too tired to breathe for himself. If I could have given him my breath, I would have done.

I would change the fact that 36 hours after my poorly son returned home, my other son also stopped breathing and had to be rushed into hospital, meaning yet again sitting at a bedside watching the wonders of modern technology and medicine.

I would change the fact that I now know and understand so much about ventilation, apnea, breathing alarms, and so on. All things that a mother shouldn't have to find out.

I would change the fact that they then spent several months getting wheezy chest after wheezy chest.

 

I wouldn't, however, change the fact that I had twins.


I also wouldn't change the vast amount of support we all received during those difficult times.

I wouldn't change the fact that my dad was holding my son when he stopped breathing, and that my mother was there to breathe life back into him.

I wouldn't change the endless playdates others have taken my daughter on in order to give us a bit of space or rest.

I wouldn't change the skill and expertise of the doctors and nurses who have cared for us over these times.

I wouldn't change how robust my daughter has become as a result of all of this.

I wouldn't change some of the friendships I have developed along the way, people I might not have otherwise known who have become very important people to me.



* I just wanted to reassure other parents of twins, my boys didn't randomly stop breathing. They both had acute bronchilitus which led to life threatening apnea. The doctors said it is very rare for bronchilitus to cause that and at worst baby's normally just need oxygen, not ventilation. By all means fret over your babies and watch them closely, poke them regularly to check they're ok. But don't do so more as a consequence of my experiences. My experiences were not the norm. They were the exception.