I always wanted four kids. My husband wanted three.

So naturally, we compromised and had four.

See? Marriage is all about meeting in the middle.

We already had two boys when we found out we were expecting twins. I was thrilled. My husband was surprised, although we’d already had some bloodwork suggesting twins might be a possibility.

And just like that, our family of four was about to become a family of six.

Now, I’d already experienced motherhood twice. I knew about the sleepless nights, the diapers, the crying, and the general exhaustion that comes with keeping tiny humans alive.

What I didn’t know was that having twins was going to introduce me to an entirely new level of chaos.

And apparently, I was about to discover that the human brain can erase entire years of your life when you’re sufficiently exhausted.

Pregnancy Wasn’t So Bad. Until My Legs Got Involved.

I was actually pretty fortunate when it came to my twin pregnancy.

For the most part, it was surprisingly easy. Well, except for gaining a considerable amount of weight and having absolutely horrible leg pain.

But other than that? Fantastic.

My twins were born via scheduled C-section. The actual delivery was painless, and I remember thinking things were going pretty well.

Then the pain medication wore off.

And suddenly, things weren’t going quite so well anymore.

I remember lying in the hospital hurting, exhausted, and desperately wanting to sleep.

Having already had two children, I knew something very important: this was probably my last opportunity for a decent stretch of sleep for a very long time.

So I asked the nurse if she could take the babies to the nursery for a little while so I could rest.

Apparently, that was the wrong question to ask.

The nurse made me feel so guilty for wanting a break from my newborns that I ended up crying. And instead of getting the rest I desperately needed after major abdominal surgery, I kept both babies with me.

Looking back, I wish I could tell that exhausted version of myself that needing sleep didn’t make me a bad mother.

But motherhood has a funny way of introducing guilt into situations where it has absolutely no business being.

The First “Oh Shit” Moment

Here’s something nobody can fully prepare you for when you’re expecting twins.

They can both cry at the exact same time.

And they will.

Suddenly, you’re trying to figure out which baby to pick up first.

Who needs me more? Who should I comfort? How do I make one baby wait when they’re both crying for their mom?

You only have two hands, and somehow, even those don’t feel like nearly enough.

The guilt was overwhelming.

Even now, nine years later, just remembering those moments brings back feelings of anxiety.

I loved those babies more than anything. I’d wanted four children. I was excited about having twins.

But I also remember thinking:

Oh shit. I don’t know if I can do this.

And I think that’s something we need to talk about more.

You can love your children beyond words and still feel completely overwhelmed by motherhood. You can be grateful for your family and still desperately need a break.

Both things can be true.

Breastfeeding Two Babies: The Most Demanding Job I’ve Ever Had

Breastfeeding was another adventure entirely.

One of my twins initially struggled to latch.

Because apparently feeding two newborns wasn’t complicated enough already.

Thankfully, we eventually figured it out. Both babies successfully latched, and I went on to exclusively breastfeed them for over a year.

Yes. Both of them.

For over a year.

And I’m still pretty proud of that accomplishment.

Now, let me tell you one unexpected benefit I personally experienced.

Breastfeeding two babies turned out to be a remarkably effective way to lose the baby weight.

Forget going to the gym. I had two very demanding little customers requiring around-the-clock service.

Neither one cared about my operating hours, my sleep schedule, or whether I had anything else to accomplish that day.

Of course, breastfeeding and weight loss are different for everyone. But for me, feeding two babies certainly helped.

Would I recommend twins as a weight-loss strategy?

Absolutely not.

The startup costs are outrageous, and the customers have absolutely no respect for personal boundaries.

Four Kids Under Six and the Zombie Apocalypse

Now here’s a little detail that made our situation particularly interesting.

When the twins were born, our oldest son was five, and our second son was almost two.

So we had four children, all five years old or younger.

And my husband?

He’s a pilot.

Which means he’s gone for several days at a time.

Don’t get me wrong. My husband is a very involved dad. When he’s home, he jumps straight into the chaos with me.

But when he’s away working, it’s just me.

And back then, I had no help.

Four little kids, including two newborns, a toddler, and a five-year-old.

And practically no sleep.

People sometimes ask what those first couple of years were like.

I wish I could tell you.

Seriously. I remember very little.

I was in survival mode.

Think zombie apocalypse, but harder.

At least during a zombie apocalypse, nobody expects you to keep four children fed, reasonably clean, and emotionally supported while functioning on practically no sleep.

Actually, now that I think about it, that sounds suspiciously similar to what I was doing.

Except the zombies probably wouldn’t have expected me to breastfeed them.

Those years were hard. Really hard.

I sometimes hear people say, “Enjoy every minute. They grow up so fast.”

And I understand the sentiment. I really do.

But can we please acknowledge that some minutes of motherhood are just plain awful?

Some minutes involve two screaming babies, a toddler who needs you, a five-year-old who also deserves your attention, and a mother who can’t remember the last time she slept through the night.

I loved my children.

But I was tired. So incredibly tired.

And apparently, my brain decided that storing memories wasn’t nearly as important as making it through another day.

Because Moving Across the Country Seemed Like a Great Idea

As if life wasn’t already chaotic enough, we decided to move from Texas to Colorado.

About a week after the twins turned one.

Because apparently, surviving the first year with twins and two older boys wasn’t quite enough of an accomplishment. We needed to pack up our entire lives and move across the country.

We celebrated the twins’ first birthday in Texas, and about a week later, we were off to Colorado.

Nothing says we’ve completely lost our minds quite like moving across the country with four small children.

Looking back, I sometimes wonder what exactly we were thinking.

Then I remember I was operating on practically no sleep.

Which probably explains a lot.

Honestly, it’s a miracle we remembered to pack the kids.

The Years I Wish I Could Remember

One thing I genuinely regret about those early years is not taking more pictures.

Because when I say I don’t remember much of those first couple of years, I’m not exaggerating.

I was so exhausted and overwhelmed that entire stretches of time feel like they’re missing from my memory.

And that’s why pictures have become so important to me.

They give me little glimpses of moments I might otherwise have forgotten. A smile, a silly expression, the kids playing together, or just an ordinary day that didn’t seem particularly special at the time.

I wish I’d taken more.

Not necessarily the perfectly posed family pictures where everyone is smiling and pretending we have our lives together.

I mean the everyday pictures. The messy house, the sleepy babies, the little moments that seemed so ordinary back then.

Because those are the moments I can’t get back.

It’s strange to think that I spent so much of those early years just trying to make it through each day, and now I wish I could go back and remember more of them.

Of course, I don’t necessarily want to relive the sleepless nights, the endless diapers, or the feeling of being completely overwhelmed.

I’d just like to remember more of the good stuff in between.

But hey, I kept everyone alive.

And that has to count for something.

I still think I deserve a medal for making it through those years.

Or at least a photo album documenting my survival.

Same Birthday. Completely Different Humans.

One of the most fascinating things about having boy/girl twins has been watching their development side by side.

Same birthday. Same parents. Same household.

Completely different little people.

Vail started talking first.

And boy, did she have things to say.

River, on the other hand, was more observant. He seemed content to take everything in.

Until he figured out how to move.

And then he never stopped.

As they got older, their differences became even more obvious.

River has always been naturally athletic. Sports seemed to come easily to him, and soccer quickly became his passion.

His personal philosophy?

“Soccer is life.”

And he means it.

Vail, meanwhile, had an entirely different calling.

Show business.

That child has been a performer practically since birth.

She would stand on our living room table and sing at the top of her lungs, apparently convinced that our furniture was a legitimate stage and the rest of us were her adoring audience.

She didn’t need a microphone, a spotlight, or an invitation to perform.

She had a table, a voice, and absolutely no intention of keeping that voice to herself.

So there I was, raising two children born on the exact same day.

One convinced life revolved around a soccer ball.

The other convinced life was a musical.

And honestly, watching their personalities develop has been one of my favorite parts of raising twins.

It’s also taught me that children don’t all develop at the same pace or in the same ways, even when they’re growing up together.

While I’ve certainly noticed differences between my son and daughter, I also know that every child is an individual. Watching these two grow side by side has made that especially clear.

My Own Little Bonnie and Clyde

Despite their completely different personalities, River and Vail have always played off each other.

From the time they were little, they reminded me of Bonnie and Clyde.

Two different personalities somehow figuring out how to work together.

And now that they’re nine, that connection is still there.

They have a special bond, and they usually have each other’s backs.

But before you start imagining two sweet little angels who hold hands, finish each other’s sentences, and live in perfect harmony, let me clarify something.

They fight.

A lot.

One minute they’re united against the world. The next minute, they’re arguing like two people who’ve been forced to spend nine years together.

Which, technically, they have.

But underneath all the bickering, there’s something special about their relationship.

They’re different people with different interests, but they’ve grown up alongside someone who has literally been there since the very beginning.

And while they might drive each other crazy, they usually show up for one another when it matters.

Unless, of course, we’re talking about my attention.

Then all bets are off.

Apparently, River Is My Favorite

Now that the twins are nine, life has definitely gotten easier.

They’re more independent. They can do more things themselves. And thankfully, nobody needs me to change their diaper anymore.

Progress, people. Progress.

But just because they’re more independent doesn’t mean they’ve stopped fighting for my attention.

If I spend more time with River and Vail gets upset, she has one very specific accusation.

“River’s your favorite!”

And just like that, I’m on trial.

No evidence necessary.

No opportunity to defend myself.

The verdict has already been delivered.

And for the record, River doesn’t accuse me of favoring Vail.

Apparently, this particular courtroom only accepts complaints from one plaintiff.

The funny part is that they usually have each other’s backs. They’re Bonnie and Clyde until someone decides Mom isn’t distributing her attention fairly.

Then the alliance dissolves immediately.

And don’t even get me started on bedtime.

Nine Years Later, and I Still Don’t Have My Own Bed

You’d think that after surviving the newborn years, I’d finally be able to crawl into my own bed at night and enjoy some peace and quiet.

That’s adorable.

River and Vail actually fight over whose bed I’m going to sleep in.

Not which child gets to sleep in my bed.

Whose bed I get to sleep in.

Apparently, as a mother, sleeping in your own bed is an optional privilege that I somehow failed to negotiate into my contract.

Instead, I’m the grand prize in an ongoing custody battle between two nine-year-olds.

And these two take their negotiations seriously.

Somewhere along the way, I apparently became a traveling bedtime companion.

I know there will come a day when neither one wants their mother anywhere near their bedroom.

And I’m sure I’ll miss being wanted this much.

But I’d also really appreciate spending an entire night in my own bed before I turn eighty.

Is that really too much to ask?

The Babies Grew Up. The Chaos Just Got a Driver’s License.

Life with four children looks a little different these days.

We now have four kids involved in three different competitive sports, and every single one of them plays an instrument.

Every. Single. One.

My husband is still a pilot, which means there are plenty of days when I’m handling the family schedule while he’s away.

And apparently, my primary occupation has become taxi driver.

Between sports, practices, competitions, music, and everything else on the calendar, I spend an impressive amount of time sitting behind a steering wheel.

I should probably start forwarding my mail to my car.

When my husband is home, he jumps straight into the chaos with us. There’s certainly no shortage of places to be or things to do.

And then, after a day of driving everyone all over creation, we arrive at my absolute least favorite part of the day.

Dinner.

Seriously, why do these people insist on eating every single night?

Didn’t we just do this yesterday?

By the time dinner rolls around, I’ve spent half my life in the car, managed four kids’ schedules, and exhausted whatever patience I started the day with.

And now I’m supposed to cook?

Some people find cooking relaxing.

I am not those people.

If someone could invent a robot that makes dinner every night, that would be great.

And while you’re at it, could you make sure it cleans up afterward?

I’m not asking for much. Just a robot that cooks, cleans, and doesn’t complain about what’s for dinner.

I’d pay good money for that.

I love watching my kids pursue their passions. I love seeing them work hard and discover what they’re capable of.

But there are definitely evenings when I’d give just about anything for a quiet house, nowhere to drive, and a dinner that magically appears without my involvement.

Preferably followed by a full night’s sleep.

In my own bed.

I know. I’m asking a lot.

Would I Do It All Again?

Absolutely.

Despite the exhaustion, the guilt, the sleepless nights, the forgotten years, and the fact that I apparently run an unpaid transportation company, I wouldn’t trade my family.

Having boy/girl twins has been especially fascinating because I’ve had the chance to watch two children the exact same age grow into completely different people.

Vail found her voice early.

River found his love of movement and sports.

One has always loved performing.

The other has always believed soccer is life.

And somehow, despite their differences and the occasional accusations of favoritism, they’ve maintained a bond that I hope lasts their entire lives.

Looking back, I wish I could remember more of those early years.

I wish I’d been less exhausted, less overwhelmed, and a little easier on myself when everything felt impossible.

And I really wish I’d taken more pictures.

But motherhood isn’t always the perfectly organized, beautifully photographed experience people like to portray.

Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it’s overwhelming. Sometimes you’re doing everything you can just to make it through the day.

And sometimes, nine years later, you look at those two little babies who once made you wonder whether you could handle motherhood and realize how much they’ve grown.

Of course, they’re probably arguing about something while you’re having that sentimental moment.

Because motherhood.

I wanted four children. My husband wanted three.

We compromised, and somehow, I got exactly what I wanted.

Four amazing kids, a house full of activity, a calendar that looks like a complicated military operation, and a complete inability to sleep in my own bed.

Those first years may be a blur, but I wouldn’t trade the family we built for anything.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I apparently have a bedtime custody hearing to attend.

And I still don’t know whose bed I’m sleeping in tonight.