Since we're still so new to parenthood - seven months out from the babies' actual birth date, and four from their due date - it is, far, far too soon to think about these things with any kind of legitimacy, but it doesn't mean it doesn't cross my mind. I think it's something you always think about in some way or another when you've decided you want to have a family - what will that look like? What might the timeline be? - and I know I always hoped to have more than two if it were a realistic possibility. I remember clearly when it started to feel like it was time to consider getting pregnant as an actual serious option - suddenly, it seemed like our little family of had someone missing (or two someones, as it turned out!). As unprepared as I felt to have twins, as much as an adjustment it was to become a mother, having Madeleine and Reid here with us now seems more natural than I could have ever expected. In fact, it's hard to believe they ever weren't here, that a little over a year ago, our family looked so different. I am so, so glad that we found each other.
When the babies were first born, I was adamant that I was done having children. My pregnancy was rough, I had serious complications, and my healthy, beautiful babies ended up coming out far too soon because of it. I never, ever wanted to go through anything like that again. Matt is very much still in that place - he is so, so, so done, and I can't say that I blame him. But there is much more to it than that for me. My dream of what my family would look like, my feelings of immense loss over my difficult pregnancy and the months we spent in the NICU, the incredible fear and sadness that accompanied the twins' birth. And the feeling that, maybe, there still might be someone missing, another member of our family we still have yet to meet.
Ultimately (and I know this is what really lies at the heart of Matt's resistance), I know I don't want to risk having more preemies. A second time around, and we'd know exactly what we'd be in for. We'd already know the sadness, the pain, the stress and heartache. The knowledge that things could have been so different if only we'd been able to make it an extra month or week or day. The big question marks surrounding what your baby's life will end up being like. The feeling that it just wasn't supposed to be like this.
We still have so much time to decide, time to weigh the pros and cons, to talk to doctors and specialists and figure out our options, to get a sense of how we feel, to change our minds or maybe change them back again. And I know that if we never try again, if I only ever get that one useless shot at pregnancy, if I never get to know what it's like to reach the third trimester or bring home a healthy newborn the day after they are born, if I only ever end up being a mom-of-two, it will be more than enough.
But it sure doesn't mean I don't still think about it.
I'm super jealous, by the way. Your babies are beautiful, and they're yours - meanwhile, I'm 27 and hemorrhaged my entire life's savings into immigration costs and flights, and can't seem to gather enough savings to make having another mouth to feed even a remote possibility.
ReplyDeleteAll that to say, your family is lovely and I'm jealous.
Isn't jealousy the worst? I fall into that too, all the time - when I see other ladies and their happy, third trimester bellies, hearing how much they love being pregnant, how excited they are at the prospect of giving birth. And all it does is get in the way of remembering how great my life still is, and all the things I still have...
ReplyDeleteBut thanks for your kind words, and also, as someone who is raising two babies on hardly any money in a teeny, tiny house, I'll say that you'd be surprised how much things tend to work out even though it seems impossible. (Besides, your hemorrhaged savings having clearly gone to good use getting that hubby of yours with you full time!)