On Having Twins

Six years ago today, we found out that we were expecting twins. I was 6 weeks pregnant at the time, and we went in for an ultrasound because I was convinced that there was more than one baby inside me. I remember the exact moment when I sort of "knew" that I was going to have twins. It was a premonition, really, that happened a whole year before we even ordered our first shipment of sperm. I was reading a book about lesbian pregnancy, and in the section about "difficulty conceiving" there was a blurb about the fertility drug, clomid. I had never heard of the drug before. It stimulates the ovaries to ovulate in otherwise annovulatory women. One of the potential side effects, according to the book, was a 5-10% increase in the chance of having twins. While it was never my intention to take the drug, and for all I knew at the time I was ovulating perfectly on my own, reading that sentence gave me a very strong feeling that I was going to have twins. The first OB who we went to when we were getting ready to start the process of getting pregnant recommended that I take clomid off the bat, because my cycles weren't regular. We left the practice immediately and sought out a different opinion. But when the next OB did bloodwork on me and then also suggested that I take clomid, we reconsidered the possibility. I was not ovulating. I wanted to get pregnant. Why not take it? The odds for getting pregnant each cycle were about 20%, the odds for only having one baby were about 90% . . . the chance we'd get pregnant with twins didn't seem that significant.

Clomid made me feel crazy even though I was only taking the lowest dose. But it also made me ovulate, and that was pretty thrilling. The night after the first insemination, I was convinced that I was already pregnant. The feeling grew stronger in the coming days, and it seemed that I felt too pregnant, too early to only be having one baby. Nine days after my first encounter with sperm, I peed on a stick and two lines appeared. I was pregnant. Because I felt so strongly that I was pregnant with twins, I went into the clinic for bloodwork and was not surprised at all to hear that my hormone levels were 8 times higher than average for a single pregnancy. The nurse on the phone said that this didn't necessarily mean anything, but I knew that it did. The only way to diagnose twins with certainty is by ultrasound, which is why we found ourselves in the little dark room on that fateful day, July 11, 2002.

The ultrasound technician moved the wand around inside me and I watched as a little circle with a blinking dot in the middle of it popped up on the computer screen. I had not yet become proficient at viewing ultrasounds, but it was obvious enough that this was the baby, and that there was only one.

"Where's the other one?" I asked, feeling surprisingly broken-hearted (it wasn't so much that I wanted to have twins, just that I thought I was having twins).

The ultrasound technician gave me a look like I was crazy, and Lena explained, "she thinks she's having twins." The technician shrugged this off (like yeah, everyone thinks that), and then moved the wand a little and said, surprised, "oh, she is." It took her a little while to get both babies to show up on the screen at the same time, but when she did, Lena's jaw dropped open and stayed that way for about 20 minutes. We left the office in a daze. The next day Lena left for 6 weeks to work as a sea kayak guide in Alaska, and I started throwing up.

When I think back on it now, I can't believe how crazy it was that we, at the ages of 22 and 24, 3 years into our relationship, were going to suddenly add twin babies to the mix. We had two dogs and a cat, so we'd had some practice in responsibility and caring for other living beings, but we didn't really have anything planned out for the future. We didn't have any money, for instance, or any idea of how we'd survive without me working, or pay for childcare if I did go back to work. But it all felt pretty fine at the time, and we were so excited by my rapidly expanding uterus. We got married that October, when I was 16 weeks pregnant, and it really felt like all of my dreams were coming true.

After our Civil Union in Vermont, Lena and my 16-week belly

Everyone would exclaim over how perfect it was that we were having twins. "One for each of you!" They'd say, and we'd shake our heads and correct them, "No, two for both of us." But the truth was that it was pretty perfect to imagine us both walking down the sidewalk, each with a baby in a sling. I was glad we were having two babies at once.

35 weeks pregnant

After my belly got so large that it really appeared it might split open on its own, I went into the hospital and the doctor used a knife to cut it open instead. The c-section devastated me more than I ever thought it could, but we became the mamas of two healthy baby boys who together weighed nearly 15 pounds.

Lena holding the babies for the first time, while they sewed me up


Me holding the babies for the first time, on my way to recovery

Our early days with twins passed in a milky blur. Lena had 4 weeks of maternity leave, and we spent the time watching several seasons of television shows on dvd (Queer As Folk, 24, and Six Feet Under), nursing babies (me), changing diapers (Lena), and learning how to live on very small amounts of sleep. On my first day home alone with the babies (they were 4 weeks old), I started the day by vacuuming the house (and was so pleased with myself that I made a video about it . . . please pardon the ill-fitting pajamas and the poor camera skills).



My wife would probably appreciate my mentioning that this vacuuming did not turn out to be the start of a pattern, and I quickly learned to let the housework slide and focused all of my attention on taking care of Lukas and Jasper. Lena would get home from work (she was teaching high school) around 2:40 every day, and if she was so much as 10 minutes late, I'd be in a state of panic.

"Where were you?!"
"I had to get gas on my way home."
"Today?! You had to get gas today?! On the way home? Isn't that what your 10-minute break between classes is for?!"

Naked 3-month-olds (Jaz on the left, Luke on the right)

By the time Luke and Jaz were 3 months old, things were a lot calmer. That's when I really started to have fun with them. It no longer seemed that I spent my days sitting on the couch, nursing babies. Each day brought with it new developments in the babies, and we became more and more adept at meeting their needs without too much struggle. The first year with Luke and Jaz wasn't exactly easy, but it was a very happy time. I certainly enjoyed being a mother of twins and all of the challenges that it presented.

Jasper (left) and Lukas on their first birthday

Things were going amazingly well when the kids turned one, but by the time they were 18 months old, life was fairly miserable. Our previously sweet, loving twins had all at once discovered the joys of fighting, whining, and being irrational. I think I've blanked out some of the horrors of that time period. What made it all the more difficult was the fact that we'd thought we'd already survived the worst of it. I mean, doesn't everyone know that the first 3 months is the hardest time? But I would have happily traded my two 18-month-olds in for a pair of newborns and a little peace (well, not really, but you get my point).

Jaz and Luke in a rare moment of matchiness at age 2

There was nothing particularly terrible about having two-year-old twins, and it was definitely a huge improvement over having one-year-old twins. With the advent of advanced language skills, we finally got to hear a bit about what the kids were thinking. And they made us laugh a lot. Hearing them profess their love for each other was certainly heart warming. There were, of course, also plenty of instances of less-than-friendly brotherly behavior. I remember Jaz popping off my breat after nursing and saying, "mom, now close my nursing so that Lukas can't have any!" Each of our kids went through a phase of being covered with bruised bite marks given to him by his brother. We absolutely had to have two of every toy and label everything and there was still enough competition and jealousy between the kids to keep us feeling like we'd failed them somehow.

Luke (left) and Jaz showing their true selves at age 3

Three-year-old twins were definitely easier to live with than two-year-old twins. At 3, the kids started really playing together without interruption for long periods of time. They began to enjoy having separate time from each other (and were always superbly well behaved during these "dates," as we call them). They still fought frequently, but we also got to see how their relationship could be an asset when they started preschool together. Their teachers were amazed by how they supported each other in the classroom without being overly dependent on one another. Little shows of affection between them were enough to bring tears to our eyes.

Jaz (left) and Luke on the beach at age 4

I had such high hopes for the four-year-old year. "4" is just such a nice, calm, even number. It sounds rational and kind. From when they were little babies, I'd often think ahead to all the amazing things we'd be able to do when the kids were four and we no longer had to work so hard to keep them in harmony. I was wrong. It could have had something to do with the new baby and the fact that we moved during this time, but we found "4" to be incredibly challenging. The kids really learned how to be mean. They were mean to each other in new ways (their fights became mostly verbally-induced rather than toy-induced), and they were mean to us in new ways. It was harder and harder to see them as the babies they had once been. And likewise, we, the mothers, were no longer always enough of a comfort just in ourselves as we had been when they were younger.

Jaz (left) and Luke being Red Sox fans at age 4

Another trickiness of age 4 was our difficulty in finding separate activities for the kids to excel at. With all of the same interests, but differing approaches and abilities, every single thing in Luke and Jasper's life was a competition for them. Drawing, block buildings, puzzles, bike riding . . . there was always room for one kid to be perceived as "better" in his or his brother's eyes. We outlawed board games (even the "cooperative" kind) because they always ended in tears. It also became increasingly difficult for the kids to have a friend over to play and share his or her attention. Perhaps the hardest thing for me about age 4 was making the realization that the fact of the boys' twin status wasn't just going to become a non-issue now that they were independent little people. It would be a factor for their entire lives.

I was so looking forward to the twins' fifth birthday if only to be done with having four-year-olds. And so far, the experience of "5" has in many ways been the break I was hoping for. Having learned a good deal about conflict resolution, the kids are much less likely to need us to manage their relationship on an hourly basis. We occasionally have whole days without needing to intervene at all. In exchange, we've been given the challenge of controlling this crazy ball of energy that is two five-year-old boys together in a room. Things that might prove taxing for parents of a single five-year-old boy (bathroom talk, lack of listening, sneakiness, defiant behavior) can really escalate to extreme levels. Sometimes it feels like a never-ending playdate.
I'm so glad that the kids can play together so swimmingly, but sometimes I almost wish they'd get along a little less well (like when they won't stop talking at bedtime, or when they run around the house in a giggling, mess-making riot, or when they insist that "majority rules" and they are the majority). Sometimes I'm jealous of both of them for getting to know each other in a way that I will never be able to know either of them. They spend every moment together, and their relationship is so hugely important to both of them. I wish my opinion could matter to them as much as either of theirs does. I wish I could remain part of the trio that we were when they were inside me.

Six years ago today, I lay in bed staring at the ultrasound photo of the two little blobs who would become my babies. I had so many hopes for them. That they'd survive the first trimester. That they'd be born healthy. That they'd love each other. That they'd be glad that we chose to bring them into this world. I had no idea what was in store for us, what the next 6 years would look like, what it would really mean to have twins. And today, I am feeling grateful to them for choosing us. For defying the odds and being twins, for teaching us all that they have taught us. About patience and love and strength and forgiveness. May the next six years be just as fulfilling, but hopefully a little less challenging.