I’m pretty sure my boys are the best thing that ever happened. To anyone.
There. I said it. It’s what I’ve been thinking all these months and now you know. Every time I see someone and they DON’T ask me about the boys my mind is racing with all of the things I could be saying about them, right at that moment. Sometimes it’s all so unbearable I just start blurting out random facts about them.
I can’t help it.
That said, I don’t find anything particularly interesting (gasp!) about having twins. I don’t think it’s a big deal. Weird, I know. I have two kids…lots of people have two kids. Maybe because they are my first kids, I don’t know any different. Every so often I’ll think “Wow…these boys GREW in me!” but it has nothing to do with there being TWO of them. I’d have the same reaction if I had one.
I guess, as horrible as my pregnancy was on me, I got through it mostly unscathed. In the end I was very very lucky. I worked through 33 weeks although bed rest was threatened on more than one occasion. I gave birth at 36 weeks although they thought I’d be lucky to get to 34. I had two very healthy boys- only 24 hours spent in Special Care for the smaller of the two, not a minute in the NICU, not a single machine to assist either, with anything. I do get pretty impressed with myself and what my body did to get them here if I think about all of THAT.
It’s risky business being impressed with yourself.
Which brings me to the fact that while I am their mother, this doesn’t always come naturally to me. I mean, I tend to their every need. I fawn over them incessantly and I try to keep them as healthy and happy as possible by limiting the crap and exposing to the good, things a mom is supposed to do.
Sometimes though, I kind of feel like a fake. Like even though I GREW THEM IN ME, I’m not REALLY a Mom…
So, what’s that all about? When do you feel like a Mom?