Exactly one year ago today, as I write this, I had just given birth to our two baby girls, and was holding a very slimy, Vernix-y little Clio in my arms. Elsa, who'd had a bit of a rough time getting out, was in the TCU getting a little TLC, so she'd join us a bit later. (Anyone--I'm thinking expectant twin moms in particular--who's curious to read the whole birth story can check out my old personal blog.) It was easily the strangest and most surreal thing I've ever experienced -- with the possible exception of "Smurfs on Ice," circa 1984 -- to suddenly have these two tiny little creatures who were (gasp!) my children. This is what they looked like:
Elsa yawning/sleeping below, Clio quite awake up top, just like in the womb...
They didn't feel like mine. I didn't feel instantly like a mother, nor did I fall instantly in love with them. I wish more people talked about the fact that bonding with your children isn't necessarily an immediate thing (as Oz does, in an excellent recent post). It's a relationship, like any other. It grows. And grows and grows and grows. Now, I love them so much I think I would literally, physically kill anyone who tried to do them harm. And I'm generally not a big fan of killing people. But enough talk of death. This is a birthday! Time for fun! So, how about a funny picture? Like, one in which the girls' binkies -- about 2 inches across -- look like dinner plates because the girls are so small! (Just over 5 pounds at birth, if you're curious.)
Amazing how much growing and changing and maturing happens in the first year. (And that goes for me, too.) Part of me feels like, yes, the time flew by. It seems like just yesterday they were nursing every 3 hours for 45 minutes at a time (aye ay ay) and wearing preemie diapers and sucking on binkies the size of dinner plates. On the other hand, it feels like it's taken exactly as long as it should have. Maybe it's because this past year, I have felt more present and centered and living-in-the-moment than at any other time in my life. With babies in the picture, you don't really have a choice. You just do and do and do. And while you may not love every minute of it, the overall, backdrop feeling (for me, anyway) is one of great satisfaction and joy. In fact, I'm so damned happy that I'm willing to post a picture of myself 48 hours post-partum, looking fat and tired and terrible, on the World Wide Web for everyone to see:
On a slightly different note, here's a birthday-related question that I've been thinking about lately: how will the girls react in a few years when they find out (because they presumably will ask) who was born first? Will Elsa lord it over Clio that she's nine minutes older? She already seems like the "big sister" in many ways, blazing trails and whatnot, but maybe we're projecting. Likewise, I have a tendency to think of Clio as the "baby." But she is smaller. I've heard of some parents not telling their twins what order they were born in, but that seems like a bit much. Especially if you're trying to help them develop a sense of individual identity.
Besides, it's right there in our girls' baby books and embroidered on the gift baby blankets in their cribs. Once they can read, they'll figure it out. Should we keep them in the dark until then? I don't know enough about the ways of the toddler mind to know what's best, but my instinct is to be honest. Then again, it might also be fun to keep changing it around, just to mess with them. Elsa could be all "Mommy, I should get to pick what game we play 'cuz I'm older!" and I'll say, "Did I tell you you were older? I'm sorry. I must have been confused. Clio was born first." And Clio will be all, "Yeah, step off bitch, you my bitch now!" and Elsa will be all, "Oh no you di'in't just disrespect me!" And I'll be all, "Stop talking like gangsta babies!" And they'll be all, "Bitch, go get us some apple juice."
I can't wait!
Big birthday party tomorrow at our place. Pony rides, clowns, juggling bears, ice sculptures, the works -- you're all invited. But please be advised, it's B.Y.O.P/C/JB/IS/etc. We will, however, provide the cake. And two awesome one-year-old girls.
