A Letter To My Baby Twins

September 17, 2015

You’re three months old already, officially you’re not newborns anymore. How fast did that go? Even though at the time the days and nights were a blur of changing, napping, feeding and winding, now you’re both heavy to lift and no longer want to sleep all day. 

Just like that the newborn phase is over and now I’m becoming an ever more experienced mummy. Now I can tell other new mums what to do or advise on what it’s like to have newborns or what will help. Strange how fast the tables turn. Just a few months ago you were waiting patiently in my belly getting big and strong enough to meet me and now you’re here, you’ve kept on growing and amazing me everyday.

Although you’re only babies, you’ve both taught me so much already. How to be patient – the meaning of the word is tested to the very limits with twins! And you’ve taught me how to find the fun in every moment, how to stay calm to keep you calm, how to multitask beyond the realms of my imagination and how to love without limits. 

You’re so small for such a short time. I already wish I had more videos of you both, I wish I could have pressed pause on those early days, despite the exhaustion and emotion, they were some of the most precious times. But time thrusts us forward so fast and all three of us are living feed to feed, nap to nap, playtime to downtime.  

Already the memories of the hardest times, seem to have become family stories, ones that I know I will tell you when you’re older. Like the night I slept a maximum of ten minutes, in the first week of your life, after trying to attend to both of your needs all night. The horror of that completely sleepless night and the complete exhaustion the next day – I have to say you scared me! I’m glad things got better – they literally couldn’t have gotten worse. 

Then there was that other night at the hospital when you both cried and cried so much that the whole ward was willing for you to stop, where I was filled with frustration at not being able to move in the hospital bed, consumed with love and desperation – wanting you both to be happy but helpless to be able to feed you until my milk came in. 

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Taking you home from the hospital, two tiny people in the car seats that completely dwarfed you both. The wonderful feeling of relief at leaving the air conditioned, false lighting of the maternity ward and finally having daylight on our skin and the sound of the birds twittering outside. The sunshine pouring through the window, a perfect green garden view to look at while feeding you both. 

It all seems like a lifetime ago.

Even having you inside me seems like a fairytale. How could it be possible that I had these two beautiful babies packed tightly in my womb? I miss that too – the feeling of you both adjusting your position inside me. Safe and with me always.

Everyday you get stronger and your personalities develop more and more. You’re such little people already with individual temperaments and wants and wishes. You’re already more independent too. You don’t need me to rock you to sleep. You prefer to fall asleep in your Moses baskets which are already looking like they won’t last much longer. You don’t need me to hold your heads up and you don’t need me to remind you to eat or wake.

For weeks everyone said to me that I just need to get through to the three month stage and things will become easier, and that’s starting to ring true. You don’t need night time feeds so often. You don’t cry as much. You want to play more and more, and now you both reward me with huge smiles and exclamations. Now you both light up when you see me, Your eyes follow me across the room. You laugh at my silly songs. It’s pure joy – for all three of us. 

Everyone told me how hard it would be having twins. How difficult the nights would be. How long the days and while it isn’t a walk in the park, it’s also the most absorbing, rewarding and all consuming job I’ve ever taken on. I don’t resent any of it. Throughout every achingly tiring night, every small hour feed or those moments holding you while you cried and cried, I’ve never forgotten that phrase, ‘this too shall pass’. And it does, all too quickly. 

I guess this is is how life is from now on. Me, watching you both grow and flourish, overcome problems, surmount challenges, develop and surprise me. From now on, you’re on the stage and I’m in the audience and I’m in the wings waiting to help you with the next scene change. 

From now on I’ll be letting you go little by little. From now on I’ll be trying to hold on a little tighter to every day. 

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