For a long time it felt like twins were just a pregnancy condition…like gestational diabetes, or your feet swelling so much that you outgrew all your socks. (Yes, that happened.) It happens to you, but then you have THE baby and everything goes back to normal. But somewhere around my 9,893rd ultrasound (which was today) it started to sink in that both of these sweet rib-breaking, abdomen-overtaking, feet swelling, prolific stretch mark-makers will be coming home with me. Tomorrow.
I could write something profound here on the blog like this: An Open Letter to My Unborn Twins on the Eve of Your Birth/ The Slacker Parents’ Guide to Preparing for Twins
You are going to be born tomorrow and frankly at this point it can’t come soon enough. Either the two of you need to leave this body or I need to leave this body because we are out of room, patience, and money to keep paying babysitters so I can go to all of these medical appointments. Also, you seriously broke my rib from the inside while I was pregnant with you and that was not cool. Today’s hijinks and pain levels? Also uncool. And how about the fact that we’re going all the way to 38 weeks for the eviction? Not. Cool. I mean, yes, it’s great that your lungs and brains will be developed and you’ll be healthy and all that jazz, but some babies pull that off and they’re born like two weeks earlier than you. Just something to keep in mind over the next 18 years.
You are babies 4 & 5 for our family, which is amazing and terrifying and explains a lot of our confusion when people ask us if we’re “ready”. There is no ready for one baby, let alone two. But we’ve done our best. Here’s what we’ve got.
- You actually have the most decorated and coordinating room in the house.
- I need to get your dad to hang up those last two shelves.
- Nothing from Pottery Barn, sorry.
- Loads of clothes. Really, loads and loads of clothes. I may only have to do laundry twice before you’re three months old.
- Some diapers. I didn’t buy too many because since you’re the longest-gestating twins known to mankind it was hard to say how gigantic you’re going to be.
- A bassinet in our room until you don’t fit head to toe anymore.
- Two rock and plays from Auntie Cari, this may be the only item we have two of!
- Guess not, two carseats, but only one of them is currently installed. I might do the other one tomorrow, we’ll have to see if I can squish into the backseat of the van. Otherwise your dad knows how to install carseats at this point, we’ll get it done before we bring your home. (Legal requirement)
- Definitely should have done some freezer meals, but didn’t.
- We have a semi-developed plan of who will watch your brothers.
- I have an awesome diaper bag and stroller. I’ve been assured the not-so-small fortune is an investment in my sanity and in our ever leaving the house again before you’re four.
- Moscato. We don’t have any yet, but I swear I’m not coming home from the hospital until the house is well supplied because I have damn well earned it over this pregnancy.
- Netflix…I owe you an apology here. We’re going to bust you out of your cozy (abused) womb and bring you home and snuggle you up all night after your brothers are in bed while filling your head with our saved up seasons of Orange is the New Black and Game of Thrones. I can’t wait, but I also can’t help thinking there’s something a little twisted about that.
- That brings me to my last point about the rest of your life: We used to be Attachment Parents (APs), but now, we’ve grown and I like to think of us as NPHD Parents. No Permanent Harm Done Parents. This will explain most of our parenting decisions, standards and goals, your brothers, and your childhood.
We’ll see you tomorrow, sweet babies and I’m sure we’ll get this all figured out.