Many years ago, before I had kids of my own, a co-worker with young twins told me, “I wouldn’t wish twins on my worst enemy.”
When I found out that I was having twins, alone at the ultrasound because my husband was at home with our two-year-old, I panicked. Everyone I told was “so excited!” But I remembered what my coworker had said. I was not excited.
I honestly don’t remember a lot of details about the first few years after my twins were born. My amazing mom moved close by and was my saving grace. Without my parents and my in-laws, we never would have survived those first years. I wasn’t unhappy, but I was constantly exhausted, worn out by the amount of work it took to juggle being a working mom with three kids under five.
When I told my co-worker with the twins that I was joining the club, he told me, “Mine just turned four and it’s finally getting easier.” And, he was right! Slowly, since they were about four, things have gotten easier. Whereas my husband or I were always my older son’s playmate, my twins have each other and play together nonstop. Thanks to quarantine living during the pandemic, they have become a close triad with their older brother, all three of them playing Legos or in the backyard for hours together and leaving me able to get things done.
Last year, when my cousin found out that she was (surprise!) having twins on top of having a one-year-old and a two-year-old, I cried for her. The uncertainty in her voice brought back a rush of emotions that I, too, had felt when the ultrasound technician had asked, “Do twins run in your family?” I felt flooded by the memory of total exhaustion and feeling completely drained when my twins were babies.
But tonight on our walk, I turned around and saw my twins walking hand-in-hand, whispering and giggling to each other, and my heart swelled. There aren’t many members in the mothers-of-twins club. I’m blessed to be one.