"You're having twins," he said, handing me a paper bag to breathe into.

March, 2011

Five years ago this week I found out that the third child I was carrying was actually a third AND a fourth. It was the second time I found myself unexpectedly pregnant with no fucking clue how I would cope -- how WE would cope. And while, this time around, I was a mother, already -- excited to bring another life into our world, I was just as unprepared, if not more so, than I was when I found out I was pregnant the first time at 23. With no experience. No commitments. No clue.

Because this time. At 29. With six years of parenting experience. Two children. One marriage.... I realized, I still didn't have a clue. (At all.) And perhaps, I never would.

I have never felt so humbled as I did in that chair, with my head between my knees trying to breathe -- the phone against my ear, trying to break the news to Hal between spurts and sobs...

What are we going to do now? I asked.

What are we going to do now? 

I didn't know. But I did have a vision that I wrote about during my pregnancy and was kindly reminded of by a reader, later on... a vision of two girls. One blonde, one brunette, with long hair coming down their backs on graduation day.

And in between panic attacks, between calling Hal from the doctor's office and calling my parents... and asking myself that same question, what are we going to do now, my mind fast forwarded -- maybe as a defense mechanism, a survival technique. All at once, in .03 seconds, I was out the other side -- a nudge to say, "Hey, this will happen before you even know it."

Over the next five years I would ask this question a thousand more times. Because every day since I have lived with this moment -- a reminder that sometimes even when we think we have it all sorted, we don't. That sometimes it takes being blind-sighted in order to see...

I was up all night last night, and yesterday, after my doctor's appointment I got lost. I got lost in the elevator on my way to the garage, and then again, on my way to the lab to get my blood work done. I sat in the waiting room shaking until finally I left. Because I couldn't be there. Because everywhere seemed to be strangling me. Because this can't possibly be happening.But it was. It is. This is happening. I've spent the last 24 hours chanting, breathing, reminding myself: This is happening. When the picture showed up on the Ultrasound machine I started to cry. I knew what I was looking at before the doctor said a word.

"Two healthy heartbeats," he said. "They look beautiful. Lots of movement."

I don't remember a lot about my pregnancy, which is why I'm so grateful for this blog -- in all its TMI-glory. I'm grateful that I have a record of every week I carried my girls in my person. I'm grateful for the birth videos and the subsequent posts about those first few months and years... with twins. I'm grateful for all of the stories that have been shared with me from fellow twin moms over the years... the "it gets easier" and the... hang in there, Mama, you got this! 

Because they were right.

YOU were right. 

We are out the other side, these days. Bo and Revi have three more months of preschool and in the Fall they start TK at the same school as their big sister. They sleep through the night these days. In their big girl beds. In their big girl pajamas. With their big girl dreams...

And while it will never be easy -- physically, emotionally, financially to raise four children, specifically twins, which, I mean, the preschool tuition alone has been... a challenge, I am going to take this moment to stand here, five years later and say:

WE DID IT. WE FUCKING MADE IT. AND LOOK AT HOW AMAZING THESE GIRLS ARE? LOOK AT HOW MIRACULOUS AND INTERESTING AND SMART AND FUNNY AND WILD AND BRILLIANT THESE BABES BE!? AND SOME DAYS ARE REALLY FUCKING HARD. AND SOME DAYS ARE REALLY FUCKING BEAUTIFUL. AND ALL OF THE DAYS... EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM ARE WORTH IT. THEY HAVE ALWAYS BEEN WORTH IT.

I am so grateful for them. And for every moment -- the terrifying -- the tumultuous -- the all of the above.

Thank you for being with me all of those years ago. And for still being here. Thank you for telling me that I could do it and thank you for being here with me as I, for better and for worse, figured out how.

March, 2011

March, 2016