I was an only child for as long as I could remember. It was almost nine years of just me and my parents, living our quiet lives. I did not mind it that much, except lots of my friends often had fun younger sisters, or protective older brothers. A part of me longed for a relationship like that, but I was adored by my grandparents and I felt like the most special kid in the world.
The saddest part was that my mom was not physically capable of having any more kids, so my young self had coped with the fact that I would always be an only child. I managed just fine, often surrounded by adults or friends from school and my ballet studio. I never thought my life would change, and at this time my mom was having some odd health problems, so one day she took me to the doctors with her.
I remember it like yesterday. I had a Junie B. Jones book with me and I sat beside my mom in the hospital room. My name is Junie B. Jones... She was extremely tired, and given an ultrasound. The 'B' stands for Beatrice. Except I don't like Beatrice... I suddenly remember the nurse getting a giant smile on her face and gasping a little, interrupting my reading. I just like B and that's all. I closed my book and sat up in my chair.
“Wow. Wow. This is unbelievable. Congratulations!”
“What?” My mom said drowsily.
“There are two here.”
“Two what?” My mom’s eyes began to close.
“You’re pregnant with twins,” the nurse explained patiently.
I shot up out of my chair, “She’s what?”
“I’m what?” my mom sat up.
I was utterly shocked. My mom was not supposed to have any more children, let alone twins. It was some of the most amazing news I had ever heard.
The pregnancy took off. My mother had the weirdest cravings and would cook my father and I the most fattening food I had ever eaten. My grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, were all beyond themselves with happiness in anticipation for the arrival of my new siblings.
I remember hearing about their gender. I was at a friends house after school, and my parents had come to pick me up.
“Isabel, guess what?” My dad asked as I climbed in the car.
“I’m having two little sisters?!” I squealed, buckling myself into the back seat.
“No! You’re going to have two little brothers!” My mom smiled at me from the front seat, “Isn’t that exciting?”
I burst into tears, wailing and screaming. It was the worst news ever. Two brothers? Are you kidding me? I wanted younger sisters! I bawled for the rest of the evening, moping about how my life was officially over.
Once, during the pregnancy, I eavesdropped on my mom’s conversation with one of her friends. My mom was crying. They were discussing how one of the twins probably would not survive. The birth of twins is always more complicated, and usually one doesn't survive. I can remember sitting in my room in silence. Even though I was not excited about younger brothers, I could not imagine one of them dying.
But, as God would have it, my mom gave birth to two young boys late on the night of February 15, 2007. They were a few weeks premature, but they were alive and to me they were perfect. I can remember holding them in my arms for the first time, and at that moment I did not know how I had lived so long without them. I don’t know what changed in me when they were born, but I’ve never loved two people more than I love my little brothers, the miracle twins.
…the end…
Until next time xxx.
No comments:
Post a Comment