The twins are almost seven months old. They are harder and yet more rewarding than I ever would have imagined. This may all sound sappy and cliche, but it is true.
When we were building our house I thought daily how the house was too nice and someone coming from my background could never live in such a nice place. I kept waiting for the house to burn down or the bank to change their minds. It is pessimistic, but it's also a force field set in place years ago to shield me from disappointment. Even after we moved in I would walk around in what I can only term disbelief, that we actually lived in this house. And now, two years later, that feeling is a little gone now that the trim is scratched and the furniture worn, but I still think that this house is more than I would have ever imagined living in.
The only reason I bring all of that up is that I feel the same way about the twins. After several years of infertility, not having children became the norm. When I finally became pregnant I felt like I was in a dream state, like I should pinch myself hourly (could that explain the lack of sleep looking back?) to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I just couldn't imagine having any children, I couldn't picture it. As my belly grew (and boy did it) and they babies started to kick and squirm I became slightly more convinced that I was going to become a mother. I started wondering what the babies would look like.
The first few weeks of the twins life, I was tired and stressed but I was also in disbelief. I think that the post partum period would have been tougher if it weren't for the fact that I felt like I was in a fairytale, (as corny as it sounds) with the husband, the house and the children. What more could I ask for. I couldn't be negative, this was what I had begged and pleaded and prayed for, this was the miracle ending. I would look at them sometimes amazed that there were now people where there weren't people before. That however broken our reproductive systems were, that with a little (lot) of coercing we could make a child.
Since the twins were about six weeks old Ward and I have joked about having triplets next. Now that the twins are reaching for us and crawling, we have upped it to quads. We are only half way joking. Both of us know how much we love the twins and yet we know that where as being pregnant seems to go OK, getting pregnant is much more challenging. We know that we may never get pregnant again, or have any more children. But we would both like to and we would both be content with another set of multiples. We have even started talking about when to try (as soon as January) and what we will do for extra bedrooms if the need arises.
People on the outside probably think we are nuts. Or that we don't appreciate the two that we already have. Being nuts is probably not far off but we appreciate our children more than I will ever be able to find the words to convey. I don't feel that wanting more children suggests a lack of love of interest in the ones we already have. I have wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember, long before the trying and the tests.
I told Bailey yesterday that I couldn't believe she had been in my life for almost 7 months (I guess longer if you count the pregnancy but I meant in my arms). If only the five years of struggle had past so quickly. They can hold their bottles now but last night I decided to hold Bailey and feed her because I know that before long bottles will be gone and she will be too big for my arms.
Is it really so bad to want more children? I am not looking to be the next Duggar's or Gosselin's, but what is wrong with wanting more than two? I am very fortunate that we have twins and that my pregnancy went so well the first time but sometimes I am really frustrated with my PCOS diagnosis and annovulatory cycles. I was foolishly hoping that pregnancy and childbirth would have regulated my cycles. If it weren't so hard, there would be no questions, we would have more. But with it being so hard I have to wonder...