Step by Step Parenting

This weekend, my brother is getting married in Utah, a good 1,700 miles away from our home in North Carolina. My, husband, my oldest daughter, and I fly out the day the twins turn five months old.

But the twins will be staying home, spending four nights with a friend, instead.

And yes, I’m looking forward to it. Sue me!!!!

When my brother picked out a date for his wedding, the first thing I did was text our co-parents to see which of our three big kids could come. It didn’t fall on a week we had all of the kids (because the world doesn’t revolve around us), so we would need the co-parents’ permission if we wanted to fly them out to Utah.

My husband’s ex-wife let us know immediately that unfortunately, she had already signed up the oldest for sleep-away camp that week. Ok, fair enough. It’s not our week anyways, and we knew that she would have fun. We decided in light of this, to also just let my stepson stay home, too.

My ex-husband, on the other hand, rearranged some things and we came up with a conglomerate, hodge-podge summer schedule to accommodate both of our summer plans. So my daughter was all set to come.

That just left the twins. Now, the twins weren’t actually born when all of this planning was happening. I hadn’t yet experienced a single day of twin parenting. Since bringing the twins would incur almost no extra cost — they were going to fly as lap babies and they wouldn’t take up any extra beds at a hotel — we decided to plan on them flying with us, too.

Honestly, a part of me was relieved that we weren’t going to be flying across the country with five kids. Can you imagine?! Compared to that, three kids seemed like a piece of cake, even if two of them were newborns.

As the weekend grew closer, though, my anxiety slowly started to rise. I was exclusively pumping for the twins, and I couldn’t even begin to wrap my mind around the logistics of pumping during a full day in the airport and flying, and several days out of state, andpotentially running out of milk. My twins were eating so much that we were starting to use my freezer supply, and they hadn’t yet started formula.

On top of that, I was supposed to be a bridesmaid in this wedding and my husband had been asked to be a groomsmen. I had no idea how I was going to show up, fully mentally present, but also peace out to pump every three hours, and also not have a mental breakdown every time one of the twins cried (overstimulation postpartum is one of my biggest struggles).

I was beginning to have what can only be described as panic attacks multiple times a week in the weeks leading up to this. I was explaining (read: venting) all of this to my friend who waxes my eyebrows during one of our sessions, when she said, “Well, if you want me to, and if it would help, you could always leave the twins with me.”

I thanked her for the offer but told her no, thanks, we would be fine, and then I continued to panic about our upcoming trip almost daily.

Then we took the twins to their four-month check-up, and their pediatrician mentioned that she was concerned about us bringing the twins to Utah, which was apparently experiencing a measles epidemic, when the twins were too young to receive any vaccines for that. I would just be aware of that, was how she worded it.

That was the cherry on top. My husband and I both agreed between that, and just the sheer difficulty of traveling with two newborns, on top of needing to be in the wedding, that it would be in all of our best interests to take my friend up on her offer. I texted her as we were driving home from the pediatrician’s office, and we began making arrangements.

I knew we had made the right decision because almost instantly, I felt so much better. Less stressed. Less anxious. More excited about the trip. I breathed a little easier knowing that when I needed to pump, I would be able to just step away and pump without worrying about who was watching the twins or if they were okay. I no longer had to worry about how my younger twin, who couldn’t even last more than thirty minutes in the car, would do on a 4+ hour flight.

My husband backed my decision 100%. My close friends were relieved I had figured something out, because they had seen first-hand how stressed I was. But outside of that, I was a little shocked — and extremely disappointed — in the pushback I received from everyone else. Family and strangers.

“The whole family will be so disappointed that you’re not bringing them.”

“So-and-so was really looking forward to getting to see the twins.”

“Now this person won’t get to meet them.”

“I could NEVER leave my babies, not even for a night.”

“How could you just leave your five-month-olds with some random person while you go on vacation?”

I was honestly, truly, beside myself. Appalled.

The comments that came from people that knew me bothered me because these were people that had witnessed, at least once, how difficult my day-to-day life was with twins. It took my husband and I sitting down and coordinating schedules for me to even get a chance to shower, or do our weekly grocery run. I didn’t leave the house with the twins by myself until they were four months old. Also, almost none of these people had texted me to check in on babies or me even once since they were born. Sit with that for a second.

I was grateful that my husband understood why we didn’t want to bring the twins with us, because he was living in the day-to-day with me, and understood how much we were struggling. But I was mad that no one else seemed to understand at all. To some extent, I get it. From the outside looking in, all one sees is my husband and I both taking turns going for runs, going to work, going to school. I took finals at law school a mere two weeks after giving birth. If we can do that, why not Utah?

What people didn’t see is that I rarely ever ventured more than ten minutes away from my house or my car with the twins. I needed an accessible escape route at all times. The few bigger outings I had done — a day at the zoo, a festival — were with friends who were sweet enough to, without me asking, look up places where I could pump, and they helped watched the twins the whole time. The day went at my pace, according to my needs.

That just can’t happen on a big family vacation. I had no idea what each day would look like, and the unknowns were too much to handle. My husband and I were confident that we were making the best decision for all of us, but I could have gone without people trying to guilt-trip me over my parenting choices.

The comments like “I could never leave my babies,” or ”How could you leave five-month-olds?” unlocked deeper insecurities within me.

I’ve never been attached to my kids the way some parents boast about. I don’t wear my inability to leave them, even for a second, like a badge of honor, perpetually the pariah in my own motherhood. The opposite is true, in fact.

I don’t bat an eye at leaving my kids with a sitter so my husband and I can go on a date. I had no second-thoughts about returning to work at five weeks postpartum. I hardly feel guilty for leaving the house to go spend all night with my girlfriends, and I don’t make my husband feel guilty when he gets to leave the house solo, either.

I have always been a firm believer that parents need time alone, as a couple and individually. Time to reconnect with friends. Time to recharge. Time to enjoy hobbies. Time to do nothing. A happy parent benefits everybody. I don’t think that’s selfish.

And yet, there are still people out there who construe the situation into just that. They will tell you you’re selfish if you take time to yourself, that you’re crazy for handing your babies off to a sitter, that they could never.

Truthfully, I feel sorry for the parents who feel like they can never, ever leave their kids’ side. But I refuse to feel sorry just because I can.

Ever since I became a mother at the age of twenty, I have wondered if something was wrong with me because I didn’t feel overwhelming guilt at the idea of doing something alone. But now, six years and five kids later, I see it for what it is: I know my limits. I’m firm with my boundaries. I value my identity outside of motherhood. I trust those who I ask to watch my kids. And I’m a better mother when I’ve had that time.

Obviously, I am not speaking to moms who struggle with extreme postpartum anxiety, where the thought of leaving their baby makes them physically ill. I can’t pretend to know what that experience is like.

And of course I will miss my babies A LOT when we’re out of town. I’m sure the first night, we’ll sleep great, but then the second day, already miss them so much it hurts.

But can we please, for the love of God, stop shaming and guilting moms who leave their babies? Or making them feel like they’re a crap mother?

Can I admit that I’m looking forward to taking an everything shower three days in a row, to not rushing through every single pump session, and to, oh my gosh, alone time with my husband for the first time in five months without being made to feel like something is wrong with me??

Not to mention, my oldest daughter, who’s almost six, will still be coming with us. She loves her baby sisters, but it has been a huge, oftentimes difficult transition for her, too. I am so looking forward to one-on-one time with her.

So yes, the twins turn five months old today, and yes, I’m about to board a plane to fly 1,700 miles away from them for the weekend.

I will be sad. My husband and I will miss them. But they will be okay. And so will I.