Shortly after my twins’ first birthday, Z took his first few steps into my arms, with Papa and T looking on. Parents erupted with joy. Just five minutes later, T took his first steps.
I am thrilled, of course. What parent doesn’t dream of the day that baby starts walking? It is such a milestone. I love their Frankenstein-like stumbling moves, with legs straight and arms outstretched for balance.
At the same time, as the mother of twin boys, I am a little bit terrified. Just when the proud parents felt we had conquered this last phase, crawling, the kids move onto the next phase. Walking means running soon, and that means two little fragile creatures sprinting off in opposite directions. What will this mean for our leisurely mornings at home, our daily trips to the park and the beach?
I guess it’s normal to feel this combination of emotions: Excitement and anxiety. They seem to be the hallmark of parenting. We want so much to see our children grow and evolve, but we also note, with each phase, how precious our little ones are and how little control we have over what happens to them. I want them to adventure and explore as much as possible; I fear the world will hurt them. I am confident and have faith in them; I know they haven’t evolved enough brain cells to be cautious. I am proud; I am jittery.
I am love. I am Mother.