I am terrified.
I could have been happy with one. I am happy with one. I never saw myself as “mother of two.”
Mother of two. Oh my God, what have I done.
It was early in my second pregnancy. So early that I was wondering about my magic ovaries and whether I was deserving of them, when so many women in my life who wanted babies yet were struggling. I was simply scared of whether I was up to the task. Whether I could get through it again. Whether I could love the second one as fiercely as I loved the first one.
One of the things I feared when I know that I am pregnant for the second time, was that I am having a baby for my baby. I am enduring another 40 weeks as human incubator to provide Nabil Rafeef with a sibling.
What I never realized at the time for some reason, was that I am giving them each other.
Now I can imagine it no other way.
When they call each other best friends; when they draw pictures at school, never one without the other; when I tuck them in together at night, side-by-side under the same quilt, wondering why the heck we got a bunk bed anyway, I can now answer my pregnant self’s oh my God, what have I done? question.
The answer makes me smile.
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