Twins at Nineteen

This is a re-post from May 2010. I felt it really needed to be re-posted, as it deserves two rounds of props. ONE for surviving twins at the ripe old age of 19; and TWO, because when I first had the idea to start this blog, she submitted her story almost immediately. I originally thought this blog was going to function more like a women's collective, but as it turns out, "good intentions" don't produce posts, (even with my closest friends) and I sure experienced a whole lot of good intentions last year. To be honest, I didn't think I'd be sharing THIS many of my own stories, but after about 40 personal posts, I thought "Holy shit, maybe I do have a lot to say!" But this post, this story, it's one that came to my mind as one that I really wanted to have told even before I started blogging; one of the reasons I started in the first place. This is not a blog about being a mom, but rather how we, as women, got there - THE JOURNEY; the crazy, hysterical, bizarre, heart-breaking and often fucked up journey! When I first posted it, I think I had 2 readers, one being myself. From one twin mama to another, I sincerely thank you for actually following through and sharing your story with me and with my readers - which should hopefully be more than 2 this time around. :)

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Looking back, I never thought my life was very interesting…it was tough but I think everyone has their own set of issues to deal with. Mine started at the ripe old age of 16; high school, grade 10. In walked the new kid, handsome and mysterious… and lots of girls I knew thought so too. I introduced myself and 2 weeks later, we were dating. I remember that he asked me to marry him when I was 17 he was 19. It was sweet and we always knew we’d be together forever, so that was never a concern, but who knew our lives were about to change dramatically.

We had been together for 3 years and guess what…. I got pregnant. I was 19, and scared shitless. I think the moment where I had to tell him was the most frightening (at the time). We talked about it and realized that there was no possible way we could have a child. We were just too young and immature; we had nothing. I remember I must have gotten pregnant sometime in February, because I was about 10 weeks along when I went to the ultrasound…by myself. Sounds depressing right? My theory on that was I didn’t want anyone else to have to see the baby that I was going to abort.

So sometime in May I headed out to the ultrasound, got suited up and the technician put the “goo” on my belly. I remember that moment like it was yesterday; it’s etched in my brain so clearly that I can still feel the tears pour down my face as the technician very clearly said, “OH MY GOD, IT’S TWINS!”

It is amazing how 5 simple words in the English dictionary seem so harmless on their own, but when they are put together to form that one sentence, they can change your life so dramatically. It felt like a thousand knives stabbing me all over at once, and then I felt empty. Countless different scenarios went through my brain within about 5 seconds, but it always went back to the same one, “How am I going to raise twins?”

The technician printed off three pictures of the babies for me. As I drove over to my boyfriend’s house, still crying, I held onto the photos. I actually remember that he was in the upstairs bathroom and as I walked through the door I could see him at the top of the stairs. He saw that I was crying and asked me what was wrong. I opened my mouth to speak but absolutely nothing came out. Still clutching the photos, I walked up the stairs and handed them to him. If you’ve ever seen a twin ultrasound, it very clearly says “Twin A” and “Twin B”. If I could have paused and relived a moment in my life, it would have been this one. It’s truly amazing how two people can look at one another and know exactly what the other is thinking without saying a word.

And so began the rest of our lives. That was May; we were married in July, and the twins were born in September. (By the way, we’ve never called them “the twins”) My husband started college the month the babies were born– you want to talk stress??? Holy crap! I was 19 years old, in a two bedroom apartment, raising twins (and nursing them) while my 21 year old husband was in school. Nightmare! We had so much help from family and friends to make it through the tough times… and we sure had our share of them. I like to think of our story as rags to riches (we aren’t rich), but we definitely worked hard to get where we are today. Mostly thanks to my husband; he worked so very hard all of those years to make our lives better. I am now a thirty two year old mom of 12 year old twins and I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone’s.

I’ve been asked this question before: “If you had a chance to do things differently, would you?” And here’s the answer, “Hell no.” Why? Because if you have ever experienced the incredible feeling you get when you look into your children’s eyes and say to yourself, “What was I doing before I had you? I can’t remember what my life was like when you weren’t in it.” To me, that means they were always supposed to be here; that’s just the way it was meant to be.

Questions & Answers

My boyfriend and I were sitting in the sterilized doctor’s room, waiting for answers. The doctor finally arrived, fully equipped with a judgemental frown on his face. He sat down across from us and let out a big exhale through his hairy nostrils while looking at the two of us. “So, you are pregnant. Do you have any plans?” His tone was a perfect blend of sarcasm and superiority.

“How did this happen?”

His eyebrows and ears shifted back on his face. He looked annoyed, but then quickly realized that we were very serious. This was a time before they had compulsorily sexual education in school and it wasn’t exactly a topic that was ever discussed at home. To make things more complicated, I had been abused by my older brothers for as long as I could remember, and this never happened with them. I genuinely didn’t know why it had happened this time. The abuse was so extensive that it was engrained in my understanding of what boys and girls did with each other; like it was normal.

My boyfriend’s excuse was very different, but equally naive. He was from a very strict Catholic family and he was taught from an early age that if a married couple wanted to have a baby, God would give them one. Period. Well, he sure didn’t ask God, so he was stumped. He had heard guys make sexual innuendoes and jokes at school, but he just laughed along and pretended that he understood.

Doctors have come a long way since that day, although I still maintain that we were especially unlucky to get that asshole. After a few long pauses of him glancing between us and the chart, he cleared his throat and replied, “If you REALLY do not understand how you two have gotten into this predicament, I suggest you take a trip to the library. I am not a public health nurse!” He gave us some family planning pamphlets and left us there in the room, still confused.

So, off we went– directly to the public library.

Ahhhhhh... So THAT’S how it happens! Oh crap! Once we were more ‘informed’ about the birds and bees, I had made an appointment with the family planning unit at the hospital. Apart from our families going absolutely ballistic if they found out, I didn’t have any second thoughts about what had to be done... Never! Yes, we loved each other, but at 17, we were too young, too broke, and not ready in the least bit to bring a child into the world.

After our unpleasant experience with the doctor, I was a bit reserved, but the people at the clinic were wonderful. They were kind, understanding and very gentle. My boyfriend was with me throughout the entire ordeal, which made it a lot less stressful. It’s been a lifetime since that day, and although I will never forget what happened, I have never regretted my decision for a single moment.

Quick Dips

It was my first year of University, first semester; I was 19. I was hot and heavy in the middle of some foreplay with my “then-boyfriend”. We would often do some “quick dips” (as I liked to call them) during the pre-game warm up. If it isn’t self-explanatory to everyone, basically, it is when he would start intercourse for literally one second, without the condom on yet, and then pull out. It felt good and was a fun part of our routine...until that day. After the second or third “quick dip”, he kept kissing me, but his dick went limp.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing; I finished,” he said, nonchalantly.

“You fucking did WHAT? ...WHERE? ...INSIDE ME?”

In the same unconcerned tone, he replied, “Oops, sorry.”

HOLY SHIT! What the hell?! My mind was racing. Now, even though I knew him pretty well, I wasn’t too concerned with the STD factor, but not completely 100% sure. Then there’s the whole PREGNANCY factor, as I wasn’t on the pill at the time. And finally, let me bring up the fact that I didn’t give him fucking permission to do that! I felt pretty violated; especially when he didn’t seem to care, or think it was a big deal. IT WAS TO ME! Even though I was far from abstinent, I liked to think I was at least saving THAT aspect of sex for a more serious partner, perhaps the guy that was going to end up being my husband. Well, I guess I can scrap that idea now... thanks, Asshole! I was super pissed off.

We pretty much broke up after that. The entire next week, I didn’t sleep at all. I was brought up to believe that if could happen to you, it probably will. Fan-fucking-tastic! When my period was about 10 minutes late, I was off to the school nurse in a mad dash. I couldn’t even wait to go to the store to get a test. Luckily, they did them there instantly, and it was free!

NOT pregnant and no STDs. PHEW! A wave of relief came over my whole body. I was super lucky and I sure learned my lesson. I saw my freshly-ex-boyfriend that afternoon and told him that I took the test. He actually had the nerve to accuse me of lying about the pregnancy scare to make him feel bad...like it was all about him. I said it before, and I’ll say it again... ASSHOLE!

I peed on a stick.

Looking back, I never thought my life was very interesting…it was tough but I think everyone has their own set of issues to deal with. Mine started at the ripe old age of 16; high school, grade 10. In walked the new kid, handsome and mysterious… and lots of girls I knew thought so too. I introduced myself and 2 weeks later, we were dating. I remember that he asked me to marry him when I was 17 he was 19. It was sweet and we always knew we’d be together forever, so that was never a concern, but who knew our lives were about to change dramatically.

We had been together for 3 years and guess what…. I got pregnant. I was 19, and scared shitless. I think the moment where I had to tell him was the most frightening (at the time). We talked about it and realized that there was no possible way we could have a child. We were just too young and immature; we had nothing. I remember I must have gotten pregnant sometime in February, because I was about 10 weeks along when I went to the ultrasound…by myself. Sounds depressing right? My theory on that was I didn’t want anyone else to have to see the baby that I was going to abort.

So sometime in May I headed out to the ultrasound, got suited up and the technician put the “goo” on my belly. I remember that moment like it was yesterday; it’s etched in my brain so clearly that I can still feel the tears pour down my face as the technician very clearly said, “OH MY GOD IT’S TWINS!”

It is amazing how 5 simple words in the English dictionary seem so harmless on their own, but when they are put together to form that one sentence, they can change your life so dramatically. It felt like a thousand knives stabbing me all over at once, and then I felt empty. Countless different scenarios went through my brain within about 5 seconds, but it always went back to the same one, “How am I going to raise twins?”

The technician printed off three pictures of the babies for me. As I drove over to my boyfriend’s house, still crying, I held onto the photos. I actually remember that he was in the upstairs bathroom and as I walked through the door I could see him at the top of the stairs. He saw that I was crying and asked me what was wrong. I opened my mouth to speak but absolutely nothing came out. Still clutching the photos, I walked up the stairs and handed them to him. If you’ve ever seen a twin ultrasound, it very clearly says “Twin A” and “Twin B”. If I could have paused and relived a moment in my life, it would have been this one. It’s truly amazing how two people can look at one another and know exactly what the other is thinking without saying a word.

And so began the rest of our lives. That was May; we were married in July, and the twins were born in September. (By the way, we’ve never called them “the twins”) My husband started college the month the babies were born– you want to talk stress??? Holy crap! I was 19 years old, in a two bedroom apartment, raising twins (and nursing them) while my 21 year old husband was in school. Nightmare! We had so much help from family and friends to make it through the tough times… and we sure had our share of them. I like to think of our story as rags to riches (we aren’t rich), but we definitely worked hard to get where we are today. Mostly thanks to my husband; he worked so very hard all of those years to make our lives better. I am now a thirty two year old mom of 12 year old twins and I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone’s.

I’ve been asked this question before: “If you had a chance to do things differently, would you?” And here’s the answer, “Hell no.” Why? Because if you have ever experienced the incredible feeling you get when you look into your children’s eyes and say to yourself, “What was I doing before I had you? I can’t remember what my life was like when you weren’t in it.” To me, that means they were always supposed to be here; that’s just the way it was meant to be.

A Near Miss

The morning after a party I had been at, I was feeling rough. I wasn’t a big drinker, but that night I went all out, mainly due to some issues that I was having with my boyfriend; we had been arguing a lot recently but I still really loved him. Even though I had drunk a lot that night, I still was surprised when I suddenly needed to throw up after I attempted an English muffin for breakfast. About an hour later, I took another visit to the toilet, but it was just an awful dry heave. After that, I felt OK for the rest of the day – just a little tired.

The next day, I had another not-so-pleasant afternoon with my boyfriend. He had been overly moody and distant the last few weeks and it was complete torture. My mind would race all the time with possible scenarios; usually during classes. Needles to say, my school work was taking a beating over this situation as well. I went out drinking the next Saturday night as well, even though I made a promise to myself that I wasn’t going to make a habit of drowning my sorrows. I wasn’t sick that next morning, just a stifling headache that time.

Just after lunch I started getting the worst cramps of my life. I never really kept track of my period, so I wasn’t sure if I was due, but I assumed that was it – but I had NEVER experienced pain like that. I curled up on my bed and although it didn’t help much, I stayed there for a while... until I really had to go to the bathroom. I was still cramping and I stayed on the toilet for an eternity. It was disgusting – like the worst period of my life. There was so much blood, but it was a little chunky and really dark. I didn’t feel like I was dying or anything, so I just let it all come out. Luckily, there wasn’t anyone else home all afternoon, so I just stayed in the bathroom for a couple hours. It seemed pointless trying to contain this flow with a pad or tampon. It got under control later in the afternoon and I was OK by the time dinner time came around, but I was still concerned as to what the hell happened.

The next day, I told my friend what happened. She said it sounded like I had a miscarriage. WHAT? I was pregnant? OH MY GOD! She took the afternoon off school with me and went to a free clinic that she knew about in the city. They took me fairly quickly; we barely had enough time to joke about all the flavoured condoms that were in a giant bowl in the tiny waiting room. She took a urine sample from me and asked me a few questions about what I experienced. When she came back, she confirmed that my HCG levels were slightly elevated. She then took an ultrasound and it sealed the deal. I had been pregnant, but wasn’t anymore. There wasn’t really anything that I needed to do – just to keep a close eye on the heavy bleeding and if it continued for much longer that I should come back or go to the hospital. I was totally fine after a couple days. The bleeding had lightened to a normal period flow and then by the weekend, it was done.

I didn’t really mourn the loss of my baby much – mainly because I didn’t even know I was pregnant until it was too late. It was like nature had made the decision for me; a decision that would not have been too difficult to make, but still much easier this way. I was only 17 and not ready to have a baby, no way! The only heart string that pulled a little was the fact that it was my boyfriend’s child. Although we weren’t on the best of terms, I really did love him deeply and I took comfort in that. I don’t think he could have handled it if I had to ask him to contribute to a decision about a pregnancy to which he was 50% responsible for. He probably would have blown a circuit or two. Men can be so damn fragile, seriously! I never did end up telling him what happened; I didn’t see any point. I sure as hell was A LOT more diligent with my birth control habits after that experience– that is for sure!