Separation Anxiety 

  

I’m sitting in the departure lounge at Heathrow, waiting to board my flight to New York. I’m on my own, there are no sticky hands or snotty noses. And while I know that those hands and noses will still need wiping when I get back, I can’t help but worry… About everything. 

The babies are nearly one. No doubt I’ll find some time (ha!) to express my thoughts about this momentous occasion, but at the moment I’m firmly focused on the past. 

A year ago, they weren’t here yet. A year ago I was about to go into the hospital with worryingly high blood pressure and be effectively on bed rest for the next couple weeks.

But also 15 years ago I was graduating from Barnard College in New York, with a degree in Urban Studies, wedding plans in July and a Masters course to start in September in London. I also had vague plans of coming back to the states to live. That never materialised. 

The life I have now is unimaginable to the  22 year old that left Barnard. No doubt the next 15 years will leave me in a similarly unrecognisable state. A mother of 16 year old twins… 

Perhaps it’s the run up to Reunion but the past couple of weeks have been ones of reflection for me: both on the past and on the future.

The night before the twins were born I wrote about imagining a life without children. Turns out I took my advice too well… And I’ve come to realise that during the many years of trying for a baby I didn’t really think about what my life would be like if we had one (let alone two at once). 

That makes sense, of all the possible futures having twins was the least likely. But here we all are. Safe and happy and well and ready for whatever adventures await us. 

  

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