Between the fact that my sister-in-law is expecting their first and that I’ve been reading my blogs from when the twins were born, I remembered recently that having twins was just about the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Definitely top three, anyway.
Belly Shots
Our first response to the idea of two babies was shock. But the bigger question was “How am I going to do that?”
How was I, at 5 feet tall, going to carry two babies around for all that time? And how were we going to manage?
Not so Hard
Then we saw them for the first time. Little blobs on the ultrasound machine. A boy and a girl, healthy and strong. And my body was managing things surprisingly well. So we took a breath and kept on. It was hard, but we were making it.
The Hardest Thing
And then it got harder. I had gestational diabetes. So eating, which was already my job at this point, turned into a chore. And then I developed PUPPS, a pregnancy rash that covered me from armpits to the soles of my feet.
And of course, they still kept getting bigger. Eventually the belly stopped getting larger and started to sag. They drooped, and it hurt all the time. There was no getting comfortable or even standing for very long (although I did keep driving until the very end!).
And then, finally, they were here. Both breach so we had to have a c-section. We went to 38 weeks and they were born at 6 lbs and 6 lbs, 1 oz. As excited and happy as we were, relief was also a huge part of that day. We had done it!
At one point while Eric was taking that last picture (they were about two weeks old), I had them both on my lap, trying to imagine how they’d actually fit inside me. And all I could think was, “I’m so glad you are on this side of things now.”
Surviving the Hardest Thing
Carrying twins was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But we made it. And as I was looking at all these old pictures, I got to thinking about why.
- Support: We had the best people loving us, praying for us, giving advice and cheering us on. My blogging ladies listened to me whine and cried tears of joy when the babies were born. Our families gave and loved and gave and loved. There were people who had us and refused to let us go.
- A Timeline: I knew it couldn’t go on forever. Whether my body gave up or they made it until our final date (which they did), there would be an end. Knowing that didn’t make the pain less, but it did make it easier to try. The finish line was coming.
- Purpose: I had to eat 6 times a day and (for the third trimester) prick my finger for blood tests for 4. I had to deal with drive-you-nuts itching without the option of a steroid shot (Pine Tar Soap saved my sanity). I was down to about 5 shirts that “fit” and a few pants that had mostly enough elastic to go around the belly. But I dealt with all those things because a little boy and a little girl were depending on me. I knew why I was suffering through (admittedly with a few meltdowns along the way), and the purpose kept me going. It was more slogging along than anything else by the end, but we just kept on.
I Can Do the Hardest Things
I am happy I never had to repeat this particular hard thing. Neither of my single pregnancies were that hard. It was very little fun and a whole lot of hurt. But I’m glad I did it.
Not just because we have two lovely people as a result. Though we do.
It’s because I learned that I can do it. I can do even the hardest thing when I need to. It’ll be messy and whiny and hard, and I won’t enjoy every minute of it. But I can do it. I can do hard things.
And in a world that spends too much time criticizing, tearing down, and listing all the things I can’t do, for whatever reason, that is a powerful truth to own about myself.
How about you?
