My husband and I would always joke about having twins again. But there was no way that we thought it would be our reality.
We always loved the idea of going back for 'one' more and making us a family of five. I mean, how easy would one baby be after having two, right?
Raising children goes by so quickly. Especially when you're raising twins.
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You’re never really in the moment. There’s always another to feed, to settle, to change and cuddle.
Soon enough, they are three years old, toilet trained, and you’re looking at kindergartens for next year.
When I went to the doctor after falling pregnant, I requested a dating scan and joked that I needed to know ASAP if I was having twins again. (Ha!)
On the morning of our eight-week ultrasound, my husband Ben joked: "It’s going to be twins again." I laughed it off. But in that moment, I felt my stomach turn. Instead of excitement, I was feeling incredibly nervous about our scan. It was almost like an instinct.
I laid down on the table, chatting away to the sonographer. And there it was. Or there THEY were.
Before the sonographer even told us, we saw them. Two little foetuses.
The sonographer confirmed the news with excitement: "Wow, you guys are having another set of twins!"
My whole body went numb. I don’t remember much after that. Ben was happy, smiling, and having a laugh. But I don’t think I even spoke during the rest of the appointment.
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When we got back to the car, I cried.
Now, looking back, I know how horrible that sounds and I carry so much guilt for how I reacted initially. But I was having so many thoughts and questions in my head.
"How am I going to cope with another set of twins?"
"How am I going to cope with four children?"
"Four under four, sh*t."
"Will we need a new car?"
"Will the boys feel left out?"