The girls spent all summer watching Sing. There’s a line that I’m hearing as I write this, “Do you know what’s good about hitting rock bottom? There’s only one way left to go, and that’s up.” So there I went, carried by a bushel of balloons, just like in the movie Up. (Can you tell we let our kids watch a lot of TV?)

I decided to submerge myself in the head faith that had been cemented so deeply, and let my heart follow, no matter how slowly and far behind she chose to go. I decided to apply to grad school. I sat for hours talking to my dad about my longed-for-future-husband, and how finding someone as great as him was by far the hardest part of rising up. But in that talk, never did I think that nine years, I’d actually have found him.

I never imagined that together, we’d be soaking up the smells of baby spit-up, and her sweaty little palms.

Never did I think that I’d be braiding hair, over the taste of flat coke at 8 a.m. I couldn’t have imagined the smiles I’d see as my twin girls found their surprises from the back-to-school fairy. Hah. TWINS. Do you think I ever imagined that?? Never did I imagine that I’d get to have my mom by my side for all the great moments of this stage. I miss my dad terribly, but God, am I ever so thankful for your provision…

But here we are. And 35, is just the best most possible year yet.

I asked Trey on Sunday how old I was turning. I blame it on the mom brain because admitting how old I am (as evidenced by my memory loss) is too painful in the silliest of ways. That, and honestly, mom brain is something I never knew I always wanted. The loud screams, both theirs and mine, that make it so incredibly hard to focus on anything other than “Lord, I need you NOW.” The “hurry, hurry, we’re going to be late,” while juggling a pacifier, a water bottle, a pull-up, and a cheese stick while buckling two kids into the car seats– all things that also contribute to said mom brain daily. The “stop pulling her hair,” said with a baby on a boob while trying to break up a toddler catfight…yes, still possibly the best year yet.

It’s the year my dad rejoined our family in the form of our Robbie. The year the girls started dance. The year they started preschool. I couldn’t have asked for a better present either than the deafening silence in our home…once again contributing to my mom brain as I ask myself, “What do I do now…” to which I just looked at the clock and said to Trey… “oh no, I forgot about Robbie!”

My father-in-law texted me birthday wishes today, to which I responded, “The best gift, by far, is the quiet home.” My sister-in-law and nephew called not long after, and the first thing she asked was how my emotions were handling today. It’s funny because most of my other friends have texted to check how Trey was doing. To be honest, there were almost no fallen tears… I’ll let you guess whose tears were the ones to fall.

For me, goodness gracious of course I had tears in my eyes. How, oh how, oh how did we arrive here? Those balloons haven’t stopped floating since the moment the girls were born. I joked at the silence, but in those quiet moments (after I remembered Robbie and started to feed her), I smiled pride. The same pride, I remember my dad smiling upon me, as he watched me rise back up. Because this is their time to rise. And oh my Lord, don’t they look so good doing it…

beholding these blessings and life and redemption and these moments that are fleeting so quickly.

The alarm goes off at 5am. My husband wakes with a gentle kiss on my forehead gently saying “give me five more minutes…” Like that’s up to me?!

5:05 am “are you going running today?” “No, Roxanne and I are walking..” because clearly I can’t walk and run on the same days…

In a conversation last week: “You get up at 5?!” “Yes! It’s my ‘me time!’ I know the girls will be sleeping for another couple of hours and I can do my own thing…completely uninterrupted.” Seriously. Who else does this? Because I don’t think I’ll ever go back. This is my real life and to be honest, I’m loving it. Conveniently leaving out the fact that all last week I chose to use the time laying in bed perusing the internet like a high school kid for funny gifs; perusing the internet like some instagram influencer looking for content to share when… wait…what’s that? I have two four months old?! Honey, you’ve got PLENTY of content….

So here we go.

The girls’ alarm goes off at 7:30 am. We are strict to our wake up time… even on the weekends. When people look at me like I’m crazy, I simply say, “Listen, it’s for my sanity..” Most days I walk into the girls’ room to find my Elsie munching on her fingers and Hannah still out like a light. She’s a really, REALLY good sleeper, a deep sleeper, also the happiest morning person I ever did see. And Elsie… oh, my sweet girl… she’s not. Where did she inherit the hangriness from?? We really have no idea!! Do you sense the sarcasm here?! It’s me. She gets it from me.

Our mornings though relaxed and intimate are weaved together through rigid routine. Routine that so easily can overlook the details of who my girls have already become and who they are becoming… like, when DID Elsie become such a hangry little girl…? I don’t know! Frankly, life with twins is too much of a blur to even try to remember. And Hannah, when did she start smacking her lips after every.single. finished bottle? I can’t remember! also p.s. We formula feed. Stop asking me about my boobs.

I joined a photography class last month to find some new creativity… Yes, I’m already a photographer. Yes, I needed creative insight. I like to look at it as continuing ed. “Take your ordinary mornings and turn them into art…When you look back on your photos of your kids, don’t miss the details of the bottle from the middle of the night sitting on your nightstand or the dirty burp cloth laying on the floor….” I took it and ran with it. It’s all in the details. Hannah’s eyelashes that I envy. Elsie’s finger toes that are just another piece of her Daddy. Their need to hold each other. Those morning stretches.

Adding to my list of questions to ask God when I die– “Why did You make the first year of motherhood such a blur?” However, I’m so thankful for Him giving us all the details that connect the dots between every gap of my blur…

…slowly bringing our treasured, intimate mornings into focus.

Who else was 150% nervous to cut those itty bitty fingernails? We made it to three months before I needed to. Currently at 4.5 months and I stand here proudly to say, NO CUTS YET! ….and, they let me do it while they are awake!

that golden skin has me mesmerized. the rolls. my sweet, healthy girl. Thank you, Jesus.

tongue discovery….

and baby yawns…

that pillow. a blog post in itself.

the little sausage fingers…

the “mommy, I need food NOW face” with hand gestures…

the calm and patient sister.

she’s actually a very calming sister. Details: Elsie calms when she sees Hannah or touches her… most times.

the lips. Elsie started babbling before Hannah… I want to say around this time… 3 months ish…

her constant milk-coma face…

the background noise of a rattle.

perspective of their giant world…

and my desire to keep the magic of their innocence alive forever.

their unyielding quest to find each other…

and EYELASHES.

the empties… they’re everywhere. bottles everywhere, in the home that I swore would never look like a daycare. Wouldn’t trade it for anything…most times.

I may be a month late, but I did it. I never wanted to be a mom that did what everyone else was doing, laying their sweet bottoms on those big number mats. I wanted to be different. I always want to be different. It just took me a little while to figure out how to do so. But I’ve found, it’s all in the details.

So I’ll continue…

3 months old and surviving their first colds.

Elsie and her phase of crying her way into our bed in the early morning hours. Hannah not complaining.. not even once.

and bubbles + that dried booger little nose.

a stuffy nose kind of snore.

and her stretches. LORD HELP ME when I look back on this in ten years grieving my babies and that precious stretch ritual of Hannah’s. OH BLESS!

My girls are growing too fast… My heart is yearning for my pregnancy; for the anticipation of these days that were so long and coming. My heart, craving those little five pounders and their squeeky cries… but oh how I am loving each stage more than the last…

and so I’ll hang to these details. The crib and that little Ellie.

our books and all things baby.

and especially the messes and left behind traces of their presence that has overtaken my entire world.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m in the midst of self-pity and disappointment—I’m just in this quest of a new self-discovery that goes something like “Nicole—the MOM?”  Don’t get me wrong as if I’m not loving every moment of this.. the moments where it’s become completely acceptable to place my face against another human’s butt, or the little white lies I communicated to my husband as I laid motionless in bed so convincingly pretending to be asleep just waiting to see if he heard the girls so that HE’D be the one to get them so that at some point that “white lie” would really be a definitive truth because this new me is working a 24-7 job with no rest for the weary and mama needs her sleep.  Holy run-on sentence!!

Last week, Elsie went through a “I-don’t-want-to-sleep-through-the-night-anymore-I-just-want-you-to-come-play-with-me-and-make-me-laugh” 2 a.m. phase. I swore I could hear my super sweet husband say “SHUT UP!!!” WE ALL KNOW he would NEVER do, but that sleep deprivation does some horrible things to the mind… still the experience forced us to have a heart to heart acknowledging once again that “the days are long and the years are short,” conveniently followed behind by a much needed and reiterated message at church that Sunday about the blessings we’re called to give to our children. 

…Somewhere in the midst of all THIS, I became the more patient one.  The one that CALMLY whispered to my husband… and by whispered I definitely don’t mean “whisper-yell”.. but an actual, kind, whisper… “Let’s be proud of her.  She’s talking!  She’s making coos into laughter!  And don’t you want to be the parent that celebrates her victories long before scoring her first soccer goal and dominating the writing section of her SAT?  Don’t you want to tell her we’re proud of her, before she knows what ‘I’m proud of you’ even means?

Behold friends: I’m self-loving the fact that I can now use my words.

Mom and I were at the mall on Tuesday with the girls screaming in the stroller.  I rolled up a blanket and propped a bottle for Hannah to which she willingly took.  I tried to do the same for Elsie—big surprise…in that tiny little body of hers is a much, MUCH larger personality that told me, “No, Mommy!  I want you to hold me instead.”  With one hand, I paid the guy at H&M.  With my other hand, I held a bottle and my wiggly girl against my hip.  My knee caught the bottle slipping off of Hannah, and somehow my other foot kept me balanced.  THIS is why God made women to be mothers.  And I suppose, THIS is why God chose me to be a twin mom.

Last month, my sister-friend (and mother of three) came to meet the girls.  My mom in her very “Mary-esque” way talked around me, yet in front of me… “unintentionally” mocking my unending devotion to Baby Wise not yet understanding that the whole idea of a predictable schedule that ensured sleeping through the night by 8-weeks and “happy” babies was blessing my sleep-deprived, half-way functioning, searching-for-sanity, person.  Like any other irrational person who had not yet learned to “use their words” I reacted in my only-child-like self with tears defensively yelling saying, “Mom- can you just tell me one thing, ONE THING that I AM doing right as a new mom?  I question myself every day and the least you could do is affirm me instead of sitting there talking around me…”

I felt badly later for reacting that way.. especially in front of Jess… Lord knows she saw much worse in my teenage days, but I was seriously hurt.  I try and make it a point to apologize to my mom (and I especially want my girls to grow up knowing that apologies are always a non-negotiable in seeking forgiveness—and especially in knowing how to show respect to your mother…) …only this time, it took me awhile.  I eventually did apologize, but I think God was working through not only my own self-discovery, but mom’s as well.  Behold, she’s now mothering me while grand-mothering too.  News flash- I’m not just any new mom, but her daughter… and I need her blessing, not a recounted story of “well when I was a new mom…”

After the survival of “World War Three” aka “I need to eat now or I will kill you with my WWE grip” at H&M, we sat down to finish feeding the girls.  I know not every new mom is lucky enough to have theirs with her for every second of this new self-discovery, and so in this moment, I really hoped and prayed that she would give me some sort of lesson turned blessing… “Mom, I know I’m not supposed to have favorites, but I think I’m more drawn to Hannah and that Elsie’s neediness is pushing me away…” Seriously, could I have been anymore real in that moment?!  Who knows me better than my mom (which by the way, I totally get now..)

“You don’t have favorites!  You saying this… you’re fearful.  You know that Elsie demands more attention and as her mom you have to give it to her.  But Hannah, you love the fact that she just snuggles up to you and does everything she’s supposed to be doing. You’re fearful that she’s not getting the same attention and so you try and make up for it in ways that appear as though she is your favorite…” Hold up!  Who is the one with that masters degree in counseling?  “You love them equally and I know you do because I see how you are with both of them. You don’t meet Elsie’s needs more than you do Hannah!  You meet them equally—and I don’t know how you do it, because there are two of them… at the same time.  Some women have problems doing it all with just one…”

Behold friends: I’m self-loving through this affirmation from my mom.  I’m telling myself that I’m doing a good job… if I’ve amazed my mom at the job I’m doing, I’ve made it. I’m doing okay and I’ve actually made it…

Our time was cut short by some mall spectators: “Are they twins? My wife said they weren’t but I knew they had to be… because they’re the same size and all… A girl and a boy?”  THEY WERE WEARING PINK!!!!!

Behold friends: I made it another day without laughing in a strangers face when answering the obvious questions.  Friends: let this be your lesson, do not approach a twin mom and say, “are they twins?!” I can’t tell you why, but just don’t.  While we’re at it, here’s a second forbidden comment, “My sons are fifteen months apart- it was like having twins…” No. No it wasn’t. No, actually, it’s not.  NOT AT ALL.  I can’t make promises but I don’t think I’d be able to stop the human in me from setting truth straight… I’ll go on and on about that in another post (someday). Mom says I’m doing okay though- apparently I’m more patient than I’ve ever been and maybe the something that I’ve always hated about myself… the impatient me, is loving this new “patient” me.

We sat in her living room later that evening, I think “hot-mess” is an understatement…at least that’s how I felt.  I got up, very tiredly, (surprise! … to go rock Elsie) and she said, “You know… I’m pleasantly surprised.  You’re doing more with these girls than I ever thought you could.  Your rigid-scheduling is paying off! I was worried about you…with your anxiety, but you’re hitting motherhood out of the park.”  If you don’t hear something like that from your own mother, come hear it from mine.  Us new moms and maybe even seasoned moms, we need that!!

I heeded her words with each sway back and forth as my first-born daughter nestled her head where collarbone meets neck listening to her pitiful, needy, cries.  I looked over where I saw my second-born staring at me with those big lonely eyes…

Hannah- I’m fearful that you will think I’ve loved Elsie more in this season. 

Elsie- I’m fearful that I let you cry-it-out for too long so that I can hold your sister every bit as long as I hold you if not more. 

I’m fearful that I’m giving you girls complexes about who is the favorite.  Complexes about being too needy or too compliant; about what is “right.”

Behold friends: I’m self-loving the fact that I’m a mom with fears.  What kind of mother would I be without them.  I’m holding these fears anxious-lessly with dreams of the mother I’m becoming.  Where IS that anxiety that followed me like an ugly nagging shadow for so many years?  Not that I’m inviting her back or anything…

This time last year, we received the heart-breaking news that our first embryo transfer had failed.  I didn’t have an anxiety attack as we all expected, I guess that was God saving me… again. This year, I’m counting down the days until next year when we will start the embryo transfer process again…anxious-lessly. Currently, I’m self-discovering and self-loving the fact that this life is better than I deserve… 

I have a friend who struggles badly with anxiety- specifically fears of infertility or the complete opposite of infertility.  Girl- I said it to you privately, but I want to say it here too for everyone else that needs to hear it; there is not one part of me that would trade any of it—or even any of THIS because of the way God has beckoned me on my knees to know Him more, to love Him more, and to love ME a little more too.

Self-love is a beautiful thing that I never knew before these long days.  It’s become my friend, and my real source of sanity (though Baby Wise is still a close second).  It’s not about the spa day (though thanks, Trey.. I do want to redeem that ASAP).  It’s not the quiet hours coveted within those sleepy eyes and gentle snores.  It’s the small victories, the teeny blessings that say, “Mama- you’re doing an okay job.”

Behold friends: I’m self-loving the fact that I’m doing okay.