Why I Love Having Twins

They remind me everyday that each of us is unique.  Born within minutes of one another, raised at the same time by the same parents, my two year olds are incredibly different from one another and have been since they were womb-mates.  Hazel is whimsical and light, Ezra is solid and physical.  She likes to meet people and try new things, he likes to step back and observe until he understands and feels comfortable.  It makes sense that Hazel was Baby A (the twin closest to the exit in utero) at every ultrasound.

I love pondering the nature v. nurture debate.  I have to wonder if Aristotle or John Locke, two proponents of tabula rasa or the blank slate philosophy, ever actually met two newborns at once.  It's obvious we're wired to some extent.  But, of course, our personalities are by no means developed at the onset, as personality is built over time through our experiences and environment.

When did you become yourself?
When you were born?
When you discovered your passion?
When you matured enough to understand yourself?
All of the above?
Between genetics, social construction, and personality traits, do we even have a say in who we really are?

I'm currently reading The Child Whisperer by Carol Tuttle, and I've never found a better resolution to the issue.  She suggests that we are born with an innate nature, an energy that characterizes us, which we can choose to honor or not, but which will always be there to access.  This is separate from personality and genetics.  It is not a label or a limitation, but a truly positive and illuminating distinction between each of us.  I appreciate the language Tuttle uses to describe each energy type: none are worse than the others, simply unique, and thus should be handled, directed and nurtured in unique ways.  It turns out that out of the 4 main energy types, I have 3 children who each embody a separate type.  It makes sense that each responds differently to the same parenting tactics.

I am grateful for the strong individuals I have been blessed with.  I am grateful that they need different things from me.  How perfect that Hazel is content to dance and sing around the room, assured of my love for her while I watch and smile, so that I have my arms free to cuddle Ezra, who is assured of my love for him through physical contact.  If we all speak our own love languages, then parents of multiples learn to be bilingual at the very least.

They complete our family.  I have to admit that twins are a challenge.  I entered into parenthood relatively confident about my ability to care for children, and eager to do so.  The truth about having two at once, plus my firstborn, is that I have been stretched, in every sense of the word.

My nurturing capacity is fully satisfied, my desire for challenge sufficiently met, my lingering baby hunger: nil.  It's a great feeling to know that my family is complete, without any whispering desires for another addition.  It's one "what if" that no one is asking, which means we can fully focus on the beautiful souls we have brought to this earth, getting to know each of them, supporting and sharing their life experiences.  I imagine that, had I given birth to a singleton after Lincoln, and we only had two children, both my husband and I would occasionally wonder about having a third.  Most likely, I would have ended up with three children anyway, but this way I only had to be pregnant twice.  Score!  It's not that we wouldn't consider welcoming a child into our home who needed it in the future, but I certainly won't ever plan on getting pregnant again.

They have taught me to love my body.  The havoc wreaked on my tummy skin by a twin pregnancy has truly been an eye opener.  I have always viewed my slender waist as my most fortunate and attractive feature.  Initially, I was quite devastated that not only is my midriff covered in stretch marks, but the skin itself is so stretched that it hangs in subtle folds from my navel to pelvis.  Not so attractive anymore!  But, you know what?  I've been forced to broaden my perception of my own body.  I am not a jewel in a case, waiting to be appraised for perfection.  What I look like matters much less than what I am capable of, which, by the way, includes growing TWO fetuses simultaneously.

My body is an incredible instrument, which I am blessed to use as I navigate through life.  As of this writing, I can run, play, digest and stretch without too much complaining from my stomach.  And if I ever forget that my skin is a living organ, not inorganic plastic, if I get shallow and juvenile, wallowing in self pity, I simply imagine my daughter in this same situation.  What would I hope she feels, thinks, acknowledges?  I pray she wouldn't waste time or energy in embarrassment over a natural change in her body.  I hope she would honor herself.  And then it's easier for me to do so.

I'll be forever grateful to the twins for helping me reach this transformation.

They have each other.  (Here's the best one.  So much cuteness I could have you watching videos and looking at photos for days.)  

When I was still carting Hazel and Ezra around in their infant car seats, it was more obvious that I have twins, and so people would often stop to comment in the grocery store.  (Which was really the only public place I mustered energy to frequent, as it was a necessary outing.)  Newer to the whole multiples thing, I was also on the lookout for other parents with twins, if only to give them hugs.  Every mom or dad with twins older than mine would inevitably say at some point, even if I hadn't admitted to any troubles, "It gets easier."  I wondered at the motivation behind and the validity of this statement.  Now that I have twin toddlers, I understand completely, and would say the same thing to any harried, puffy, and scrambled looking individual touting around multiple infants.  It's just the simplest way to say the absolute truth.  

Someone also told me once that she wishes all her children had a twin.  Considering she had eight kids, I questioned the sanity of her statement, but now I get it.

Once a baby grows aware of its surroundings, starts to interact, and then masters the challenges of mobility, he's ready for some playmates.  Hazel and Ezra happen to have one at hand, all the time.  I cleaned all three bathrooms the other day while Lincoln was at preschool and I just had the twins, and not once did somebody whine for a snack, ask when I'll be done, or complain of boredom.  Instead, footsteps pounded happily throughout the whole house.  

I overheard conversations like, "Hey, Ezra, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I just tired."
"Oh.  You want to rest?"
"Yeah."
"Okay."
.....
"Mission accomplished, Ezra?"

And,
"Where's Mommy?"
"I don't know, want to see?"
"Yeah, lets go!"
"Okay, fast!"
"Yeah, run fast!  Fly!"

When things got quiet, I peeked out of the master bath, and I saw them lying on my bed, forehead to forehead, thumbs in their mouths, Hazel's hand on Ezra's shoulder, murmuring gently, "It's okay, Ezra.  Everything is okay."  The next moment they were jumping, hand in hand:



They ride color coordinated bikes together,

test out Costco couches together,

 and hold hands in the peaceful moments.

I mean, seriously, how could you not love having twins?

"They're so fun together!"