My Faith and Joy… and Boys!

Rebecca (on left): “I’m helping to dry my sister off after her bath.”

Susanna (on right): “I’m pretending to be Casper the Ghost.”

Here’s a video of what happened immediately after this photo was taken.  Who knew I had bowling pins for daughters?

I find myself at a loss as to how to articulate what this Mother’s Day means to me.  I feel blessed beyond words that the Lord has granted me the privilege of having children.  Two healthy, beautiful daughters.  The fact that their arrival, to say nothing of their safe arrival, was uncertain for a time gives me an even greater appreciation of their presence in my life.  I believe that every life is a miracle from conception, and I am thrilled to be the mother of these two miracles. 

One of the (many) things I worried about while I was on bedrest was how I would mother these miracles.  How would I know what they needed?  How would I know how to give them what they needed?  Many people promised me that I would be infused with a maternal instinct that would help me navigate this new terrain.  When the girls finally arrived, although I was awe-struck and terrified to hold such tiny babies in my clumsy arms, I did indeed feel a certain amount of calm assurance.  Especially in the following weeks and months, I was amazed that I felt fairly confident about how to spend my days with my daughters.  Of course, I spent many an hour picking the brain of my sister-in-law, who patiently relayed her twin-techniques and encouraged me that it was possible to care for two infants with only my two arms.  But beyond the techniques, I was happy that it felt natural to sing to the girls, to cuddle and play with them.  I didn’t second-guess many of the mothering behaviors that filled my days. 

But I have come to realize that it wasn’t just instinct that guided my actions.  I wasn’t solely relying on an inborn, maternal urge.  I was doing what I was doing…because it had been done to me. 

I was a natural mother because my mother was a natural mother.  I know how to love my girls because my mother lavished unending love on me.  That’s why I so often find myself saying the same things she said to me.  That’s why I sing “All the Pretty Little Horses” to them.  That’s why it feels so familiar when I stroke my daughter’s face and smile – because I can remember my mother tucking me into bed, smiling down at me and stroking my face gently as she said goodnight.

On this, my first Mother’s Day, I am blessed to be a mother.  But I am also blessed to have a wonderful mother who not only gave me life…she gave me love.

Rebecca: “Who me?  Hold my sister back? Never!”

Susanna: “Let go!  You may be bigger than me, but I’m faster!”

I noticed today that the girls like to stick together when they’re playing.  Even when they have a large area to explore, they tend to cluster in the same corner.  I suppose that their comfort in close quarters makes sense, given that they were nose-to-nose (or head-to-rear or foot-to-forehead) for over 7 months.  I sometimes wish I still had sleeping in the same crib, just so I could see them snuggle.  But then I remember why I separated them in the first place: nose-to-nose positioning turns into finger-to-eyeball, head-to-rear turns into knee-to-mouth, and foot-to-forehead turns into, well, kicking foot-to-bruised forehead…which all turns into unhappy, sleepless babies, which turns into unhappy, sleepless mama.  So, separate beds it is.  And although I can’t see them snuggle in their sleep, their joint playtime kind of resembles cuddling, don’t you think?

Here’s a video clip of the girls playing in the corner of their playzone.  I’ll warn you, it’s not very exciting viewing, but it gives you an idea of how well (and how noisily!) the girls play.

Rebecca

Susanna