check your complaints at the door

When you walk into a reproductive endocrinologist's office for the first time, they take your insurance card, your medical history, and your right to complain about being a parent. If they forget at that initial visit, it's inevitable that at some point over the course of your treatment, you will promise the powers that be that if you are ever able to have a child, you will be thankful for each moment and never, ever complain.

I love Barnes and Frances. I am thankful for them each day, and I feel incredibly blessed to be experiencing the unique miracle of twins. But...raising multiples is hard. Really hard. Tonight, for instance, Andrew was at a wedding and the twins decided to stage a revolt. From 3:00 until bedtime, Frances cried. Her crying agitated Barnes, and the only thing that soothed them was if I held them both and walked around. I consider myself to be moderately strong, but I cannot bounce two babies for over three hours. Thus, they cried. And over and over I had to choose a twin to soothe. Then came their bedtime bottle. Barnes wanted to eat, and Frances wanted to scream. Again, I had to choose whether to let Barnes eat and let Frances cry, or soothe Frances and make Barnes cry. That's the hardest part...feeling like I'm constantly choosing a baby.

It's difficult for me to admit how hard twins can sometimes be. Like other infertiles, I worry that if I complain, I will somehow jinx myself and never have another child. Even more so, I think about the couples who would give anything to have a child to "complain" about. But as I record my memories, trying to capture both the milestones and the mundane, I strive to be honest. Honest about it all...the picture perfect moments as well as the meltdowns. And today was a meltdown kind of day.