I was going through some old pictures today. Pictures from when I was pregnant and from when they were really small. Every time I look at those pictures I’m thinking “I wouldn’t wanna go back there”.
It is a magical moment, so they say, but I remember not having enough time even to cry. I was not allowed to break down and I certainly couldn’t rest. I wanted to cry from lack of sleep. Seriously.
I remember sleeping for a whole 20 minutes on the day my girls were born and thinking “Oh, God! I fell asleep! I CAN’T fall asleep”.
I watch movies where you see a sister, a mom or a friend holding a newborn so that the mom can rest from the labour. Well, that never happened to me. Main reason being because only my husband were allowed to enter the hospital and we had two babies and a mom with no milk. Do your math.
I also remember being trapped inside the house. I couldn’t go anywhere. I had to breastfeed a baby every hour. They’d spend 25 minutes in my breast to stimulate the milk, then I’d switch to the bottle, then I’d change the diaper, rest for 10 minutes and pick up the other baby. That was the routine, including in the middle of the night.
Seven days after the girls were born, I actually left the house for a couple minutes. I felt so free! I could walk again and I didn’t look like THIS anymore:
I remember one day, they were 2 months old precisely and my husband and I had to take the IELTS exam… so, we left the babies with our parents and went out alone for the first time. We felt SO guilty, we finished the test and even though we wanted to take a walk and grab something to eat, we couldn’t do it! We HAD to hurry back to them, even though they consumed every last sign of strength in our bodies.
We couldn’t go anywhere with them really, because any small excitement would cause endless cramps and suffering, so we avoided leaving the house with them because we desperately wanted to sleep for more then one hour straight in the night. I’m not sure if it solved the problem, but the few times we ignored our own rule I WAS HELL. So, we pretty much stuck by our rule and waited for the 100-ish crampy days to go by. Slowly, very slowly.
So, for five months they cried and cried and cried and the only moment they’d stop crying was when they were sleeping. ‘Til one day… they started crying for 3 hours straight instead of 5. Next thing I knew, they were crying for 10 minutes. It was magical!
They actually woke up crying every day until they were about 16 months BUT it was nothing compared to the first 5 months. We wanted to go out, like normal un-encacerated people but we could never take them (harly ever, I mean) and it sucked. It really sucked leaving the house without our babies… our minds were never really there.
I kept imagining what it would be like when they were a bit bigger, when the cramping days would be over, when we could take them to the mall with us and have a good time…
So, one day…
See my point here? Having a newborn beats being pregnant with twins at anytime. Having a 6 months old baby beats having a newborn and having a one year old is a lot less complicated than having a 6 months old baby. I can barely wait to have a baby I can actually talk to and who’ll tell me WHY they’re crying!
Things are always changing. For better!
moving update: 2 and a half weeks to go, people!