Double Permission

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double-permissionThere are many difficult things about having twins. The pregnancy and birth are automatically scarier, and frequently more complicated (I got off easy, but for the worry). The sleep deprivation is really so epic that, frankly, you truly can’t describe it. You just can’t. And the destructive power of two toddlers? Like, whoa.

There are many amazing things about having twins, too. They’re more than twice as cute, because in addition to the epic individual cuteness of any single baby, there’s also the cute stuff they do together. You get an entire extra child, complete with the infinite amount of love she brings to the family.

But one of the things that shines brightest, among the advantages of having a double dose is: PERMISSION.

That’s right. Permission. It was like a giant trump card that I could wave, and it let me do things that frankly, I really needed. For example:

I had permission to get HUGE.

At five months pregnant, I was already full-term size. “DANG girl,” said the office mail guy. “There twins in there?” It’s famously the worst thing anyone, especially a dude, can say to a pregnant woman. Instead, I high-fived him. “Yup. Two girls!” I say. “BAM.”

I celebrated my magnitude, and was freed entirely from the nonsense that floated through my head about when it was appropriate to switch to maternity pants. Because I worried, every day, about pregnancy complications and pre-term birth, I wanted to get big. BIG.  With every pound, I breathed a little easier (and harder).

I had permission to advocate for myself.

At six months pregnant, I began conversations with my boss. “I’m having TWINS,” I said. “I’m going to need to do something different for their first year.” Together, we set up a temporary part-time schedule, until their first birthday. I took 12 full weeks off, and then worked 20 hours per week for another nine months. I advocated for myself and sailed through the approval process. It felt almost Canadian, and made a lot of other things – like not dying of sleep deprivation – far easier.

I had permission to negotiate.

Once I went back to work full-time, I talked to our daycare provider. “TWINS,” I said. “With my two year-old, I’ll have three kids there. What can you do for me?” We negotiated a modest discount and we ended up with a tuition rate that I could afford, which meant I could keep working.

I had permission to let go of the “plan.”

When we found out that we were suddenly tripling the quantity of children in our family, we had to go through several phases of WHOA before we relinquished and resized the plans we’d had for the next few years of our lives. We took deep breaths. We Let. It. Go.

I had permission to accept help.

The biggest piece of wisdom that comes to new twin moms from veteran twin moms is this: accept help. I heard it dozens of times during my pregnancy, and…I did. When people offered, I started taking them up on it. I wasn’t trying to be supermom because… twins.

I had permission to just… survive survival mode.

Did I look like I’d gotten dressed in a hurricane? Did I have gigantic bags under my eyes? Did I always remember to put my boobs back in my bra? WHO KNOWS and honestly, who cares? I was surviving, and that was really the standard I was holding myself to. I was just trying to get this done, not get it done looking good.

And here’s the kicker. None of these should require twins. Not only do all moms deserve them, so do all PEOPLE. Maybe you need help and someone is offering. Maybe you need an alternate work arrangement. Maybe you need some ice cream. Maybe you’re stressed out, scared, at your brink. Please, please, please, have a trump card. This is your permission. Take it. Twice.

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Maddie Forrester
Maddie is a recent transplant to the Northern Kentucky Area, where she moved last spring after a decade in Columbus, OH. She’s the mom of three kids: A son, born in 2009, and twin girls, born in 2011. This is as exhausting as it sounds. Luckily, she thrives on chaos. She balances the glamour of working full time with the rigors of first grade homework, playing dress-up, and moving mountains (both metaphorical mountains, and mountains of laundry). She had hobbies once, but doesn’t quite remember what they were. Now, when she gets a moment of free time, she uses it to catch up on her wine and/or sleep, usually in that order. She also loves to cooking, running, singing badly while playing her guitar even worse, and reading.

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