Monday, June 09, 2014

the twins club

There's a manual for this....

Sebastian is 11 weeks old now. 

Everyone tells you the time will fly, but it's only really once your child starts to settle into himself that you notice.

I've been told by two people now - both professionals in their own right - that my boy's colic, clinginess, general grizzlyness is down to the fact that he misses his twin.
I never really thought it would be an issue for him. I know most babies miss being in the womb - I mean it's warm in there and they get food on tap - but I thought that was what he missed most.

The osteopath and a mother who also lost one twin during pregnancy told me that given Molly was alive for most of the time they were together, he was used to sharing a womb with someone else. He would also have heard her heartbeat.

Realising this breaks my heart. They did used to tussle in there, kicking each other.
My little boy hates being apart from me for more than two minutes, and cries like he is being abandoned.

He has got a lot better over the last few weeks, but it's been hard to do anything like make a meal or brush my teeth when he needs constant holding.

At least we understand now. And as a result I feel much more sensitive to what he needs from me. Before having them, I was adamant that our lives would be Gina Forded in routine; I'd run my household and schedule with an iron fist.

What a load of shit that was.

My baby, and all babies, are different and have different needs. Mine needs reassurance that he isn't alone. He likes his routine, but it is flexible. If I've learnt anything in the last 11 weeks it's this: try everything out, it is all trial and error.

Then throw away the baby books. Fuck the baby books.
Fuck my neighbour as well, but mostly fuck the baby books.

And don't compare your baby with Susan Perfect's baby.

The lady who spoke to me last week about her twin dying. She found me through the UK twins association, Tamba.
When we found out we were having twins, we joined a bunch of 'support' groups, including Tamba.

We met up with a bunch of new twin - parents - to - be. We felt exclusive as fuck; we had joined a people with whom we could all share our journey, anxieties and excitement.

I found the grief arm of Tamba when I found out Molly had died, and asked to be put in touch with someone who had also lost a twin.

For me, talking to counselors is fine and well but really I want to talk to someone who has gone through the exact ordeal as I have. Someone who knows. 

That person called me the other night. She lost one of her girl twins at 27 weeks. Her situation is slightly different to mine, she lost hers earlier on and within minutes of finding out she was having twins was told there were foreseeable problems with one of them.

One of the cruelest things with Molly was that everything looked fine and healthy right up until she died at 34-35 weeks.

Either way, she knew what I went through and she understood. She went on to have another set of twins the second time round!

Told her I was infinitely jealous and would love that to happen to us one day.

She wrote the above book, and I'm reading it.

Last week I also heard from my twins club wanting to meet up. I knew this day would come, but was secretly hoping if I ignored this problem long enough it would just go away by itself.

The email came through - 'Let's all meet with our double buggies, what are your twins names,etc etc.'

I had no idea what to say or if I'd even respond. Maybe I'd just disappear and no one would notice. I ended up replying and just telling the truth. 

Also reminding them to mever forget how blessed they are, even though I'm sure having two babies must be challenging as all hell at times.

They've been lovely, all coming back with supportive responses. I do just feel empty and cheated inside though. They all have their twins, why couldn't I have mine? Why am I robbed of this and no one else seems to be?

So I've finally dealt with the twins club.
It was the last patch of people that might've thought up until last week that I was grappling with a bonny pair of twin babies.


Cassey said...

Oh lady, what you're dealing with is utter shit. Poor Seb. Hugs for him, and you.

Kookalooks said...

Lots of love to you Peas, and your beautiful boy. Think of you often.

Paula Gruben said...

Oh Laurian, this is utterly heartbreaking. Thanks for sharing your journey. I have always loved your writing, & this is incredibly moving.