Unike

Maria Montessori once said, "It was Christ who showed us what the child really is:   the adult's guide to the Kingdom of Heaven."

This past week my sweet daughters celebrated their eighth birthday.  I didn't know how emotional birthdays could be until I started celebrating my children's.  I think that's why we cook so much, to keep from crying.   I baked angel food cake and homemade pasta for their party, black-bottom cupcakes for their soccer game, and bought frosted cookies (enough baking already) for their class celebration and as my hands were busy my heart was full of gratitude for my girls.

I always knew I'd be a mother, but a mother of identical twin daughters?  Not so much. 10 weeks pregnant, after a month of wretched morning, afternoon, evening and middle of the night sickness I finally went to visit with an OB/GYN, telling Jeff, "you don't have to come to this appointment, we'll just be talking about how much I vomit."  I did feel justified when 30 seconds after the doctor walked into the examination room I was already hunched over a trash can.  I was not so prepared for the ultrasound that followed.

"It's twins,"  she said.  "No it's not," I replied, popping off of the table.  Though it was way to soon to detect any inkling of gender, I knew the minute I began bawling when "I Hope You Dance," came on the radio on my way home from the doctor's appointment that I would be having girls.

Conscientious of my impending debut as a twin-mom (and with a great deal of time on my hands due to several months of bed rest), I read everything I could find about carrying, birthing and parenting twins.  As babies we kept them close to each other except for when they cried at which point Jeff or I would grab the one who was beginning to wail and run in the opposite direction lest her sister start in as well out of sympathy.  There were a few times when this was impossible though, most memorable was in an elevator when they were 2-months old and their stereo howls led several people to decline to enter when our car stopped on their floor.

The first time  I experienced their special twin bond was when they were 13 months old.  As often happened at that age (when the laws of gravity and the desire for ambulation are in direct competition)  Ani fell off of the couch that she and Jess had climbed up on and landed on her head. While I rushed over to pick up Ani, Jeff hurried to grab Jess and haul her off, as per twin calming protocol.  He stopped though when Jess twisted in his arms to reach out for her sister.  Jeff brought her hesitantly over towards where Ani was crying into my neck.  Jess clambered to the floor, and scooted across to where Ani's favorite stuffed duck was lying in the corner.  Dragging it with one hand, she brought it back to the couch and handed it up into Ani's lap.

Now that A & J are verbal I find glimpses into their bond all over our house in discarded notes they've written to each other.  One of my favorites was from Ani to Jessica on the occasion of Jessica having a bad hair day.  She wrote, "Jessica, I think you're beautiful.  Love, Ani"

On the eve of their birthday this year the girls decided to give each other their presents early.  Sitting close to each other they first opened up the homemade cards.  Jessica proclaimed Ani "The Best Sister in the Whole World."

Ani wrote to Jessica, "You're unike."

"U-nike?"  I questioned.

"Yeah, Mom, unique," Ani replied.

In my girls I get another glimpse of the Kingdom of Heaven.

God knows every hair on our heads, and from one identical twin to another, she thinks you're beautiful and unike.