Twin-a-thon

Very good friends of ours are expecting their first baby in February.   As with most first pregnancies, “mom” is experiencing early contractions, that friendly reminder that life as you know it is about to change- forever.   As excited as I am about their new arrival, part of me is a little sad and jealous that we didn’t have the opportunity to experience new parenthood on the same “turf” that our friends will.

I try not to pull my twin card too much, but there does seem to be a distinct difference between managing “one” as compared to managing “two.”  The reality of being a parent of multiples hits you full-force a few weeks after you bring your babies home from the hospital.  We really had no idea what to expect, despite the fact that I had dragged us to every new parenting class I could find.  Around the time that we had our twins, we knew several other couples with newborns.  All of them had singletons.  All of them appeared to be reasonably well rested.  Each couple was totally enthralled with their baby, as if sleepless nights and the constant fire drill of feeding, burping, rocking, soothing, and changing was exactly what they had been put on this earth to do.  I was a tad mystified, to say the least.  I felt like we were just scraping by, with no real sense of how we were doing.  I wanted to know when the circus in our house was going to feel “natural,” or just plain get easier.  I often found myself wondering when taking a shower or going to the grocery store would become somewhat frequent activities.

When the boys were infants, Larry and I opted for the “on/off” strategy.  This meant you were either “on-duty” or “off-duty.”  Basically, whenever you were “on” you had both little guys at once, with no backup.  The strategy here was the other person could catch a few hours of uninterrupted sleep while the other one “worked.”  On the whole, the strategy was pretty effective, with one exception.  The whole process just broke down when you had two cranky, hungry babies, one set of breasts (or bottles, in Larry’s case), and just two arms.  I remember many nights putting myself to bed around 8pm and leaving Larry in the living room with two screaming little guys (and some very irritated pets).  Larry would be sitting on the sofa with a wailing baby on either side of him.  One would be face up fighting a pacifier (our kids never accepted pacifiers as a “soothing” technique).  The other baby would be face down on the sofa, getting burped.  Most nights there’d be bottles steaming in the warmers, half- mixed formula on the counter, something beeping in the microwave, and Mad Money blaring from the TV.  The ambiance was killer.  I’d usually go off to bed feeling guilty….for the 2 seconds it took me to zonk-out.  In about three hours, I’d be “on,” and it would be my turn to look like a half-crazed lunatic caring for two infants in the dead of the night.  

One of the unique things about twins is their inept ability to collaborate at a very early age.  Nearly from birth, Austin and Bassem have been on the same schedule.  Now, most parents think this is an absolute dream.  Wow, your kids eat at the same time?  Sleep at the same time?  How wonderful!  Well, no, actually, not so cool.  Have you ever tried to breastfeed two screaming babies at the same time?  Ever broke into a sweat trying to change two soggy diapers in record time so you don’t have to put on a new crib sheet for the third time in one night?  Managing infant twins is much like training for marathon.  Except you “train” every day, day after day, week after week, and month after month with no end in sight!  Maybe that’s why I took over a two-year hiatus from serious running.

Despite the struggle of learning to mother multiples, I still look back with a smile.  My most cherished memories from the early days was the twins 5am feedings.  I’d drag myself out of bed around 4:45am and quickly grab a cup of coffee.  Then I’d wake Bassem and let him nurse in peace while his brother slept.  Sitting in the rocker in their room, I’d look out the window and watch the sunrise.  It was a beautiful view, with the mist rising off the lake, and the pink-red sky rising up behind the trees.  Around 5:15am the first commuter train would roll by, headed to Boston.  I’d feel peaceful and warm, cuddling a nursing baby and indulging in his sweet baby scent while his brother slept quietly just across the room.  It was so opposite the total insanity I felt during most of my waking hours, managing two babies.  For a brief, wonderful, moment, I’d grasp what it was like to be completely and utterly enthralled with my baby, and feel like the luckiest mom in the world.