Category Archives: Twins’ Stories

Pop! Pop! Pop!

I decided to work from home today because I am writing a proposal for an RFP that is due early next week. It’s Friday. It’s raining. Good day to work from home, I say. I’ve recently gone back to work, starting a new job with my business partner of many years. We’ve gone in-house at an advertising agency running their design firm. It’s my dream job. Working with people I like and respect, working on meaningful projects, and making a contribution that matters. I couldn’t be happier — both on the work-front and on the home-front.

I’m sitting in front of my computer waiting for the words to spill out of my brain and onto the virtual page. My fingers are poised and at the ready. But the cutest little voices in the whole world are pulling my attention away. I know my little people are cute. They are smart and funny and sweet and bossy and so much more. But today I feel an ache in my heart at the sound of Willow’s voice. She’s in the playroom looking out the window trying to communicate with a neighbourhood doggie on the sidewalk down below. “Woof, woof”, she says in her little voice. And her brother, ever the maniac when surrounded by objects that have the potential to be air-born if he so chooses, is standing on the chair beside her taken it all in. At 18 months old they are on the cusp of communicating with real words.

I fell in love with the idea of these two little people the moment Sara and I knew we were expecting twins. Their names came to us quite quickly and easily. From early on Willow and Theo became a part of our family, even before Willow made her first Pterodactyl-like yelp and Theo gave us his first sweet smile.

The ache in my heart today makes me happy. I can feel my eyes water when I glance over at them, running around with their little pop pop pop push toys. One blue, one pink. Sharing doesn’t come until the age of 3 we’ve been told.

Love sick on a warm rainy Friday in the first week of October. Not such a bad way to welcome the weekend.

Remembering Our Premie Spa

The Sunnybrook NICU offered our twins the best care imaginable, care that far exceeded their needs since they were born perhaps small but otherwise completely healthy.  John Theodore weighed in at 6lbs and seemed enormous in the NICU where the staff work with newborns as small as 500g. Willow Alma was alarmingly little; she weighed a mere 4.5lbs.  Willow, however, was fastest to the breast; loudest in letting us know what she needed; and quickest to trap us with her gaze.  She simply needed to grow bigger.  Theo was born a cross between a sumo wrestler and a Buddha-baby.  He was extracted by c-section before he had a chance to expel the amniotic fluid from his lungs; at least a pound of his weight was simply birthing fluid.  Once he began to lose his puffiness, his eyes rounded out from slits to almonds, his neck emerged from the folds of his chin and shoulders, and his personality began to shine through the sluggishness of a difficult start.  He continues to remain calm, his legs sometimes resuming the comforting and familiar pose of his eight months in the womb — the lotus pose with ankles crossed over his belly.  A position very different from his sister who resists diaper changes by planking and straight-legging it.  The twins from the beginning showed their distinctive stripes.

At Sunnybrook we were given time and support to explore our children’s differing personalities.  We managed to finagle a private room.  The nursing staff created personalized mementos, which they hung around each child’s room.  Kate Robson, in charge of family care, hosted a series of events to bolster the community of anxious parents.  We sat with pharmacy students as they led us through a taste test of our children’s meds.  Tea and biscuits another afternoon.  Pizza night.  Manis and pedis.  If we nudge our imaginations only a little, we can exchange these workshops for resort activities, our hospital gowns for bathrobes, institutional food for cucumber water.  Our children had seemingly been checked into the Preemie Spa. The quality of care we received made our worries fade to the background while we enjoyed the beginnings of our family under the tutelage and warm care of a nursing team who can at once place an IV line in our tiny baby’s foot, congratulate me on a successful breastfeed (because, yes, Willow had licked and explored again) and draw our children certificates for their first “Kangaroo Cuddles.”  They celebrated with us in those first days when we would innocently appear in the NICU, cradling fervently a syringe with a tiny droplet of colostrum. They knew what we didn’t know; that in the shortest of times, droplets of real milk would be spraying our babies faces as they tried to latch on before the geyser opened fire.  But, for us, everything was fresh, and we were awe-struck.

I have begun to see our new life with the twins in chapters. We started out at at the Preemie Spa.  It wasn’t long before we were transferred to East General – Breastfeeding Boot Camp.  Later came the chapter of Firsts – first “big kid” crib after the isolette, first bath at the hospital and then at home, first doctor’s appointment, the first time I heard someone say, “Your daughter”.  Then there was the chapter where we entertained an endless stream of visitors – friends who wanted to welcome Willow and Theo into the world.  Leaving a wake of gifts and meals. And, soon after, the chapter when we wanted to keep the whole world at bay.  Wanted to forge family quiet time, wanted to get to know one another.  We learned that Willow needs to have someone in her sightline, and might scream like a pterodactyl if left on her own.  Theo could lay on the floor contentedly endlessly observing the swaying branches of our oak tree overhead.  We slept together for a few weeks in our big bed, and finally moved the kids to their shared cradle.  We developed a rolling rhythm of sleep, play, eat and rest.  And, finally, we found ourselves wanting to explore, to take the kids out, to show them the world and to show them off to the world.

 

How Paella Made the Difference

paella babiesIt’s been 15 months since the twins came into our lives and yet, in many ways, I feel as though I experienced today one of the first moments of family-time for the Porter-Gardners.  I know that isn’t entirely true.  That we have been a family from the moment Willow and Theo emerged from my belly, ever since Suzanne cut their umbilical cords and they stopped being extensions of me.  I know that when we paddled through the rain dragging extra canoes ladened with our gear to get to the island on Joeperry Lake for our wedding, our first camping trip together, we were on our first familial adventure.  That our weekend on Georgian Bay with the Hatchers was our first family cottage weekend.  That our time in Spain is only the first of our family holidays on this side of the ocean.  I understand that we have been a family now since the evening of April 2, 2012. But, today there was something different over the lunch table as we sat down to eat.  Paella.

It’s been months of challenging Theo with new foods, which he accepts readily — even greedily.  And months of trying to get Willow to eat a satisfying variety of foods.  She likes to do it herself — cheerios work well for that, as does cheese…until she rules cheese out for some reason.  Toast is usually good unless feeding herself porridge seems like a better option, or rather spreading porridge all over her pyjamas and tray as she tries to forge the gap between spoon and mouth.  She is becoming more coordinated, definitely and quickly.  But, feeding these two is full-time work.  For two people. One has to keep pace with Theo. The other has to do sprints between the kitchen and table as she searches for what might entice Willow.  Today was different.  We sat together to eat paella — the four of us enjoying our meal at once.  Likely Theo ate twice as much as anyone else, but that’s okay.  Likely it’s how it will go.

I’m sure we could have done this sooner.  We’ve known it’s important to eat together, that there are the soft benefits of eating as a family that build foundations for quality time together and the concrete benefits of modelling good eating habits.  But, eating together would imply a level of preparation that has been elusive.  When the kids go down for their morning naps — yes, they still nap twice a day, phewf — lunch should be prepped so it’s ready upon their awakening.  Usually, however, Suzanne and I busy ourselves cleaning up from the morning breakfast, play session and perhaps finish laundry etc. after which point we collapse and decide to rest as well.  Nap when they nap.  Perhaps it’s the Spanish influence — promoting the siesta.  And, if we don’t nap, we enjoying doing other things — communicating with family and friends, reading, organizing photos, all those selfish passtimes that have somehow become luxuries.  Today, however, I decided to cook.

Paella is easy and is a one-shot deal.  One pan — one pan to clean.  One serving — scoop and eat.  From the pan to the mouth.  One meal time — finally the four of us around the table together.  After our paella out on the terrace this afternoon, I’m converted.  I like how it feels to be a family  around the table in our own home — not only the family on adventure, on tour, out visiting, on the camino — but a family that can sit still.

Too bad we’ll soon have to relinquish morning naps.  Uh oh.

Recovering in Bilbao

I’m now sitting on the terrace in La Herradura, back in the south – safe from the physical challenges of the trail and from the lure of more strenuous tourism.  Safe in my lounge chair watching the sun set over the Mediterranean and behind the Cerro Gordo, comfortably acknowledging that the twins have settled quietly for the night.  Phewf.

After five, six days on the trail – I’m not even sure how many since it was a blur – Bilbao presented itself as a refuge for recovery after the immediate but short-lived respite San Sebastian had offered us.  We are extremely grateful to our new friend, Amaya, who offered us her flat in the very heart of the city.  While we weren’t able to get out and about as much as we would have liked, the apartment became home and a safe place for Willow and Theo to explore and recuperate.

Unfortunately, the twins both came down with colds; Willow first sported the fever but Theo quickly followed.  Their little heads held more snot than we imagined possible.  One morning, I ran across the house to the sound of sixteen miniature sneezes, which came in quick succession one after the other.  Willow had practically blown herself backwards the length of the rather long hallway. Of course, she found it funny.

Despite the colds we were able to get out and see a little of the city.  For the first time in their lives, our little people were authentic tourists as much as we were.  They enjoyed the unexpected pleasure and excitement of stumbling across a hidden gem – a children’s park – in the downtown of an old European city.  Willow and Theo held onto our fingers and staggered drunkenly – or so it seemed — from attraction to attraction.  We tried to make sure that they didn’t get run over by the swarm of children.  Next, a long walk along the water after which we settled into an evening aperativo outside the Guggenheim where another few hundred tourists and a jazz trio accompanied us.   Willow and Theo, however, had their best adventures in the apartment – from their fifth storey window they watched the residents and their pets go by down on the street and they each bravely took their first steps.

After a week, we left Bilbao anxious to get home – back to the coast on the south.  (Of course we did make time for a quick visit to the new Decathlon outside San Sebastian, a store much like MEC which offered us the opportunity to shop and the twins a chance to challenge themselves on a bouldering wall and a textured shoe-testing ramp.) We were, however, so psyched to get back and to get our kids back to their own environment that we did the fifteen hours of driving in one stretch.  And, now, here I sit after the exhausting push of travelling with twins, finally ready to contemplate what was an exciting adventure in the north.   Next time I shall write about the camino itself where I finally was able to walk again with my father.

Tourists in San Sebastián

We have stories from the trail we would like to share —  stories about the places we visited,  the people we walked with, the Mexican surprise, the twins on the trail. Lots of stories. Unfortunately, we are lacking the requisite energy to share these stories in appropriate detail at the moment. Instead we are posting a few photos from our days in San Sebastián as regular tourists.  Willow and Theo discovered sand and fish, and the joys of hotel. They ended each day zonked.

Beauty, injuries and a beer

Our walk’s start date signalled an auspicious beginning to our camino. May 1 St is the Day of the Worker, a labour day,  except that here it is truly a celebration of people and not a day of shopping. The state of the economy this year has seen many protests gathering,  asking the governments for greater aid. The owner of our excellent hotel in Hendaye, the Bellevue, explained that the day is also hoped to bring luck for the rest of the year.  We hoped it would at least bring luck for our walk.

image
Starting out, all nine of us!

Our rather large collection of pilgrims encompassed individuals at both ends of a spectrum of experience — Roger and my dad both having oodles of experience while Willow and Theo were clearly setting out for the first time.  The rest of the group offered in enthusiasm what the first two brought with their many kilometers underfoot. Suzanne has decided that walking will be a regular component of the PG health regimen, of our lives.

The day was great, despite my sprained ankle, John Ricketts damaged toes (from the terribly steep and relentless downhill), clouds which accompanied us but barely rained down on us, and our forgotten lunches. The twins seemed oblivious to all these small hindrances; they were happy with their singalongs, their new friends, their food breaks and their close-ups of the forests and the trail.

image
Lunchtime

After a beautiful walk at a high level we descended — too quickly — into Pasaia where we enjoyed our celebratory drink.
image

“I See You!”

I’ve been enjoying Theo’s kisses for about a month now.  He’s been getting better and better at it even though the smooch of his lips is more a clucking of his tongue.  In any case, his kisses are gentle and loving, and arrive most often just before bedtime when he’s letting us know he’s tired.  He’ll pull himself up beside me, and plant one right on my mouth.  Then, I know it’s time to settle him for the night.  Recently, however, I’ve caught Theo and Willow leaning in towards each other to plant a juicy kiss on one another’s lips. Unfortunately, too often it ends in a loud head-butt.  It’s always just a momentary and peaceful pause in a bustle of activity as they rove through their toys strewn about the floor.

They are finally becoming friends…or rivals, or at the very least, are beginning to acknowledge each other.  I wanted to think that from the beginning they have shared a special connection because of their first nine — or in their case — eight months together in the womb.  I’m sure they must.  I remember my excitement the first time I watched them, during one of their early feedings, reach across my then immense breast-scape to find each others fingers.  But it’s only now, a year later, that they are beginning to show regular evidence of their connection.  At mealtime we might catch them holding hands while they wait for their food.  Or, they each alternately tap their heads, enticing the other to do the same.  Perhaps the very earliest game of Simon Says.  Recently, chase has become their favourite together game.  They’ll careen down the hall and around the corner, one on the other’s tail, only to get to a dead end and the chaser then becomes the chased as they turn the game around.  Sometimes, and sadly already too often, they also acknowledge each other as rivals.  They might challenge each other for their favourite toy, a stray spoon or a piece of ribbon.  Theo’s starting to exhibit his tendencies as a provoker — grabbing a toy from Willow and placing it carefully on the far side of his body out of her reach.  Willow, on the other hand, readily exercises her vocal cords — voicing her displeasure for us, and all the neighbours, to hear.  But, the best of times are when Theo makes Willow giggle — a giggle, which at times can turn into a belly-aching chortle.  The first time we caught him acting as her clown was by accident when a couple of months ago we overheard them on the monitor during naptime.  He was throwing himself onto his blankets much to the pleasure of his audience of one.  Willow, sitting in her own crib, was holding her tummy as she laughed and laughed.  

We’re a family of four, but already there are also two teams of two.  I’m already looking forward to games’ nights.

http://youtu.be/uuaf5pFQRxs