- I think I have discovered one of the pitfalls of having twins (or maybe it’s just a pitfall of having twins before having any other children. Or maybe it’s just my own particular brand of insanity, and no one else goes through this at all): comparison.
This Baby is so engaged and eager to interact. The Other Baby is so mellow. Is there something wrong with The Other Baby?
This Baby is all cream and pink. The Other Baby’s more yellow and red. Does The Other Baby have jaundice?
This Baby pooped three times today. The Other Baby hasn’t pooped since yesterday. Is The Other Baby constipated?
It all boils down to the fundamental question of Which baby is the normal baby, and which baby has something terribly wrong with it which requires drastic intervention, and how much more am I damaging that baby with every second I don’t run screaming to a pediatrician?
- My supply of breastmilk is still building, but slowly. Until I have enough milk for both of them (and I’m still working toward that goal, so please no discouraging comments), I have to supplement with formula. In my pre-birth vision of parenting there weren’t any bottles at all, so as you might imagine, formula gives me a major case of The Hates.
- Upon discharge from the NICU, we were handed one sheet of instructions per baby. Each item was basically phrased as “Do (or Do not do) X, or else YOUR BABY WILL DIE.” My previous placidity has been forever ruined by these little yellow pieces of paper, as every time I violate a precept (OMG baby slept on its side, not on its back!!1!), I have visions of the jury that will convict me of killing my children.
- Speaking of which, I’ve been having some really impressive nightmares. Every night it’s a cavalcade of baby-related horrors in my brain. I would detail them here, but it would probably give you nightmares too.
Despite all of these anxieties, I am actually loving every delirious, nipple-searing moment of motherhood.
Don’t even get me started on the nipple-searing, though.