Tormented by Twin-Sets (And I’m Not Referencing Sweaters)

As a room parent for my son’s preschool class, I helped organize a class picnic at a local park before school this afternoon.  I, who lost one of my twin boys in utero last week, had to spend this lunch outing with five sets of twins.  Yes, five sets.  Maybe God is messing with me, after all. 

As soon as my son and I arrived at the park, I recognized one little girl who is a twin.  She is 3 years old and in my son’s class, while her twin sister is in the other afternoon class at the same school.  I introduced myself to the girls’ au pair, who just moved here from Germany a couple of months ago.  I asked if these two are identical, because they look alike to me, but the au pair said that they are fraternal.

I was expecting these two, for I was attending a class picnic, but, at the same small table, there sat another nanny with her twin-girl charges, adorable, obviously fraternal darlings who looked about 2 years old.

A few minutes later, another set of twin girls ran over to the table next to ours.  They were about 4 years old and, physically, they reminded me of my son, with his pale, almost translucent skin and white-blonde hair.

And, I sat there, facing three sets of twin girls, thinking, “This is unbelievable.”  And I considered it so uncomprehensible because I knew what was to come—two sets of twin boys, one of each of whom is in my son’s class, while the other is in the other afternoon class, their parents’ strategies to have their twin children develop separate identities and friendships.

When the first set, identical boys, arrived with their mother, she asked how I’m doing.  I teased, “Well, there are now four sets of twins here.  Can you leave?”

Then the second twin mom arrived, with her fraternal boys. 

Each of these women has two older sons, the first ages 17 and 13 and the second ages 13 and 10, followed by twins who are now 5 and 4 ½ respectively.  With my stepsons ages 15 and 13, my son 4 ½ and twin boys to come, I had talked to these moms and their husbands extensively, at the first twins’ 5th birthday party and at the local recreation center while our sons took classes.  They had helped me form the vision of what our family life would be like with twins, the close bond that would develop among all of our sons, regardless of their age differences.  But now I’m no longer having twins, so I have to change my expectations.

I handled the impromptu twin-fest at the park well. 

I didn’t get emotional. 

Following the picnic, I hosted the class Parent Meeting at my house, the meeting that was supposed to take place last Friday, the meeting that I cancelled after my morning ultrasound in which Baby B’s lack of heartbeat was revealed.

I’ve been nauseated since Sunday, but I’m trying to keep busy, to return to normalcy, to mourn for Baby B without it overwhelming my family and my life.  But, as I venture back out into the world, I’m being haunted by twin sightings, by twin talk.

At the end of the Parent Meeting, two of the moms revealed that they are themselves twins, with one having an identical twin sister and the other having a brother. 

And, a few minutes ago, I picked my son up from school, and, on the way out of our neighborhood, I passed a completely new set of twin boys, both blondies, being pushed in a stroller.  Then, in the carpool line, the two cars in front of me picked up two of the twins from my son’s class—and their siblings, of course. 

I feel like I’m in the middle of a twin invasion.

But, I recognize that I note each and every twin-set right now because my loss is so new and raw.  Hopefully as time goes on, I will notice them less.  Or, even if I continue to register every set of twins that I see, hopefully doing so will hurt less because I will have fully processed my loss.

For today, I’m all twinned out.  I’ve locked the door, and I’m in for the rest of the night. 

It’s dangerous for me out there:  It seems like twins are overtaking the Earth.

Oh, how I wish my sons could have joined them…

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