Two years ago today, my girls came home for the very first time. Technically, eight days old, but really 80 days old, having been born a little over ten weeks early.
At the time, I had all kinds of questions floating through my head; Can I do this? Can I handle twins? Do I have any idea what I’m doing? Will Ella be ok? What’s going to happen? Will we be happy?
To be honest, most of those questions I continue to ask myself on a daily basis two years later. While grateful to be out of the newborn twin stage, and no longer as sleep deprived, I haven’t yet figured out how to get the “I got this attitude” that some mums just have seeping from their very core.
Looking at their pictures from their one year home party, and it’s shocking how babyish they were then and how far away from babies they are now, especially as Raegan tells me with a scrunched up grumpy face; “Raegan do it!” and then proceeds to actually do it. And having to put Ella’s hair up in a ponytail because it’s starting to grow into her eyes, and I’m thinking to those first few days when we didn’t even know if she would make it, and here I am doing her hair and listening to her sing Let It Go.
We’ve had a hell of a couple years, too many doctor’s visits and emergency runs to the hospital. Too many times telling the same story, hearing the same results. Too many times pushing for people to believe in Ella.
But, we were together and we’ve shared more laughter than tears and it seems impossible to reflect on at the time, but two years ago I left the hospital thinking nervously, now what? No more reinforcements or check in person, just me. Well me, and three majestic hooligans who bring a smile to even the grumpiest grump’s face, and I guess that’s all you really ever need to be sure of as a parent, the rest are just adventures.