#hdydi

My daughter M is a pretty well-adjusted 7-year-old. She has faced and coped with her birth defect with more maturity than I think I could have mustered in her place. She has one fear, though, that we’ve struggled to overcome for years now. She has a fear of mascot costumes. Specifially, she is terrified, paralyzed almost, by people in costumes that hide their faces.

We have talked about her fear ad nauseam. M is very aware of it being irrational and is able to describe the parameters of her fear very clearly. She is afraid of mascots if the costume obscures the face and she doesn’t know who is inside. She was fine this Halloween because everyone she saw in a face-obscuring mask was with a family in which she could place their role. She was okay with the local production of The Little Shop of Horrors because we were able to meet the actors before the show and see how the costume fit. She’s okay with her school mascot because she knows which members of the school staff wear the costume.

My favourite grocery store, HEB, recently opened a new store wonderfully convenient to our house. We were out shopping for last minute Christmas dinner fixings on December 14 when I caught sight of the store mascot, H-E-Buddy® walking the aisles, giving kids high fives.

I didn’t stop to get a video myself. Instead, I positioned myself to ensure that M’s back would be to the costumed employee and quietly said to M, “Sweetie, there’s a mascot here. What do you want to do?”

I could see her try to steel herself, but her words still came out in a scream. “Get away, Mommy. Don’t let him see me.”

We ducked down the nearest aisle, M begging me to check out immediately. I reminded her that we still needed to pick up our Christmas ham and chicken. This would be our last chance to shop.

Grocery shopping took far far longer than usual, as we chose where to walk based on whether H-E-Buddy would see us. J and I took turns scouting out whether it was safe to go around the next corner. At one point, M squeezed into the space between an ATM and the adjacent wall while I stood in front of her, hiding her existence while her sister got a cheery high five.

“M,” I asked her, picking her up, “Don’t you know I won’t let anything bad happen to you?”

“You always protect me,” she said through her tears, burying her face in my shoulder.

That’s why I let our ice cream melt in our long convoluted journey through our grocery trip. I can only help my daughter overcome her fears as long as she trusts me. In the short term, it means treating our Christmas grocery quest like a game of Pac-Man.

We’ve already worked through many of M’s fears. We no longer have to drive by new performance venues days before we go to see a play or musical performance. We no longer need to cross the street to avoid small dogs; she asks owners permission to pet puppies now! She now willingly goes trick-or-treating with her sister instead of begging to stay home to avoid people in Halloween costumes. She even rode on a bicycle without stability wheels and was proud of how long she stayed on instead of screaming about falling off.

Eventually, I believe that M will meet enough of the people inside mascot costumes that she can push her fear aside. Until then, I’ll continue to seek out ways for her to meet costume-wearers in their everyday clothes and help her avoid her demons.

I’ll always protect her.

Sadia (rhymes with Nadia) has been coordinating How Do You Do It? since late 2012. She is the divorced mother of 7-year-old monozygotic twins, M and J. She lives with them and their 3 cats in the Austin, TX suburbs and works full time as a business analyst. She retired her personal blog, Double the Fun, when the girls entered elementary school and also blogs at Adoption.com and Multicultural Mothering.

I’ve come across a number of new mothers of multiples recently who need practical support. They’re overwhelmed and turning to the internet for help. I can provide all sorts of ideas and recommendations to them to ease the weight of new motherhood, but unless they live reasonably near me, I can’t feed a baby, help with laundry or offer a hug.

To each of them, I or others have recommended reaching out to their local Mother of Multiples club. Other MoMs just get it. We’re willing to help mothers we’ve never met before in the most unglamourous and useful of ways. Also, seeing other mothers who’ve survived the infant months is a ray of hope.

The question that many of these moms have asked is how to go about finding a MoM group in their area. Here’s a very incomplete list of resources for new MoMs to help locate a local club. I limited myself to countries where I know there to be an active mothers of multiples community where they speak a language I actually know!

The first place I’d recommend American mothers look is the Multiples of America (formerly National Organization of Mothers of Twins Clubs or NOMOTC) Locate a Club page. You just put in your zip code and get back a list of clubs.

If you’re in Canada, you can see a map of Multiple Births Canada’s local chapters on their website.

The Australian Multiple Birth Association also has a Club Finder on their website.

In the UK? The Twin & Multiple Birth Association (Tamba) has its own map of local clubs.

The Irish Multiple Births Association website isn’t the most usable, but they do tell you where on the site to find a list of local clubs.

The South African Multiple Birth Association is structured much more centrally. Once you register to join the national organization, you’ll get a phone call from a member and I assume you can find out more about what’s available locally from her.

In you’re in France, Jumeaux et Plus has a nice clickable map that takes you directly to your local club’s website, if it has one.

If there’s nothing nearby (my hunt in India turned up blank), ask your pediatrician or obstetrician to connect you with another mom of multiples. Two moms makes a club, in my mind! And if you still find no one nearby who understands what you’re going through, we hope you’ll consider the HDYDI community home.

How can we locate MoM clubs in your country?

Sadia (rhymes with Nadia) has been coordinating How Do You Do It? since late 2012. She is the divorced mother of 7-year-old monozygotic twins, M and J. She lives with them and their 3 cats in the Austin, TX suburbs and works full time as a business analyst. She retired her personal blog, Double the Fun, but now also blogs at Adoption.com and Multicultural Mothering.

July is National Cleft and Craniofacial Awareness and Prevention Month! Find more #cleftawareness photos and stories on Facebook!

Sweet Pea’s Story

On a beautiful Colorado day in June of 2012, my heart was racing with anticipation and excitement. Our long awaited second child was about to make his entry into the world! When he was born, he made no sound because his cord was wrapped around his neck…twice. They removed it and within moments, he was screaming his head off. It was like music to my ears! Moments later, the doctor informed me that our son, our Sweet Pea, was born with a cleft palate. While we knew that this was a possibility as I was born with one as well, it was still a blow. I had walked this road, and I knew of the struggles that he would face.

He was admitted to the NICU for observation due to his difficult delivery, but ended up staying for 3 days because he needed oxygen. He went home with oxygen, and remained on it for 13 weeks. During that time, feeding became a major issue. Our son was born without any of his soft palate, and was missing some of his hard palate as well. When people hear that we had cleft palates, they often say, “wow, you look so great!” While I appreciate the compliment, I realize that there is a lack of knowledge about clefts and choose to take these occurrences as a gift…an opportunity to raise awareness about clefts. For Sweet Pea and I, we do not have complete clefts, meaning our lips were not impacted by our cleft (see the bottom left picture in the chart below). While cosmetics were not an issue, feeding, breathing, speaking and orthodontics are.

Because his cleft eliminated his entire soft palate, he was never able to latch to breastfeed. This was a huge blow to me and contributed to my post-partum depression. At only 6 weeks old, Sweet Pea was diagnosed with failure to thrive. We tried several methods of feeding him before we found the Haberman feeder. It is now called the Medela Special Needs Feeder and just one costs about $30. Obviously, the ability to feed our son was priceless, but it was very challenging. If it weren’t for this awesome bottle, our little man would have gotten a peg tube to feed him.

Many children have their cleft palates closed around 6 months of age…unless they have a craniofacial anomaly that impacts their airway. Our son also has Crouzon Syndrome, which makes his midface small, therefore making his airway small. Because of this, we had to wait until he was 12 months old before closing his palate. It was a long, difficult road, but well worth it!

A cleft palate repair typically takes about 3 hours…P’s took 5.  It was the longest day of my life.  When the craniofacial surgeon came out, he told us it was the most difficult repair he has ever done, but he believed it was successful. Two years later, I can attest to that claim. So far, P has had three surgeries, and the only surgery on the horizon is replacing his ear tubes. Today his biggest challenge is speech, but he has an amazing speech therapist and he is a resilient guy. We will continue to have him monitored by his Cleft/Craniofacial Team on a yearly basis. While we cannot predict his future, we do have a good idea of what to expect from my own experiences.

My hope is that this post will raise awareness about clefts and craniofacial differences, and that it will encourage parents who are on this road too. As someone who was born with Crouzon Syndrome, Craniosynostosis, Chiari Malformation, and a cleft palate, I can say that I am thriving today. My son has taught me a lot about myself, how I deal with our birth defects and how I view myself and him as we walk this path.  He has taught me that I am his voice, his advocate and his cheerleader. Maybe he can teach others too?

UPDATE 7-1-19:

Since it has been a few years…four in fact…I thought it would be appropriate to catch you up. Our Sweet Pea just turned 7, has had a total of 7 surgeries, and is thriving! Both of us received a new diagnosis this year of Stickler Syndrome. It is a diagnosis that is closely related to our other diagnoses, but did bring up new considerations that he has taken on with the same strength that he has handled everything else with. He has faced bullies, scary hospital stays, and setbacks with bravery, grace, and forgiveness. We enrolled him…and our entire family…in taekwondo, which has improved his balance and coordination, boosted his confidence, and been a huge blessing to our entire family.

For 2019, P is an ambassador for Children’s Hospital Colorado. You can read his story here.

Some days, I still struggle with guilt for “giving” my son his conditions. But most days, I remember that I am uniquely qualified to be his mother. I am his advocate, I am sometimes (but less frequently) his voice, I am his mother. We are not defined by our diagnoses, and we refuse to let them hold us back.

Here are some links for further research and support:

Risk of Oral Clefts in Twins

CCA Guide to Understanding Cleft Lip and Palate

Cleft Palate Foundation

CCA Kids

Do you, or someone you love, have a cleft?

Would you like further information about cleft or craniofacial support and encouragement?

Comment below or send a message!

Sara is a mama of four children, two of them being surprise identical twin girls. She is currently pursuing her Masters in Mental Health Counseling, and works as an addiction counselor. Most of her writing is centered around raising awareness about Crouzon Syndrome and cleft palates, advocating for your child, wellness, and raising multiples. Find her at https://www.facebook.com/scwellnessjourney/

My daughters started middle school this year.

(Long-time readers will now join me in picking their jaws off the floor. How did they get so big?)

They’re taking almost all the same classes, but they’re in different sections. They see each other at lunch and in science class, but otherwise do their own thing during the school day. One of them wears her glasses all the time, while the other takes them out only to read the white board. They haven’t dressed alike in years.

The school hosted an open house for parents after the students had time to adjust to their schedules and get to know their teachers. As I introduced myself to their teachers, pointing out the kids I belonged to, I saw realization strike over and over again. Even their science teacher, who sees them side by side in her classroom, hadn’t realized that they were related to each, much less that they were identical. After all, Rodriguez is a rather common last name in Texas.

I’ve gone from a parent of identical twinfants who needed to help people learn to tell them apart to a parent of kids who just happen to be sisters. It’s been a long transition, sometimes bumpy, but mostly gentle. There’s part of me that misses the celebrity that came with being noticed as a mother of twins. The larger part, though, is so happy that each of my daughters has found her comfort zone.

They love being sisters, but they don’t feel the need to advertise it. Their friends see them as individuals first, but honor the primary role each plays in her sister’s life. I think that’s a healthy place to be.

When the children were picking band instruments at the end of last year, one of my girls waffled back and back between oboe and clarinet, occasionally feeling drawn toward the trombone. The band teacher let her take her time, talking her through the roles each played in the band. When she brought up feeling conflicted about playing the same instrument as her sister (oboe), the teacher handled it perfectly.

“Play what you want to play. It’s not about your sister. It’s about you.”

I’m in a healthy place myself. As the other teachers came to realize that these two kids in their classes were sisters, I didn’t even feel the urge to point out that they were identical. As fascinating as it continues to be to me that theirs was a mono-di gestation, it has nothing to do with how each child is doing at school nor with her relationship with her teachers. It’s interesting, but not instructional.

I’m growing up too. I’m a Mom first, these days. The Mom of Twins title is far less salient than it once was.

Imagine that a friend sends you a Youtube link to check out. You open it only to find that it features you… except that you never did what you see in the recording. There’s someone out there who looks and moves exactly like you. Could you possibly have a long-lost twin?

This is how Anaïs learned that she might have a biological sister. Samantha was adopted from South Korea when she was and raised across the Atlantic Ocean. The story of how Anaïs and Samantha learned of each other, connected, and eventually met is shared with us in intimate documentary form in Twinsters, currently streaming on Netflix in the US.

My 11-year-old identical twin daughters and I watched this movie together. We knew all along that the two young women would confirm through DNA testing that they were identical twins. Still, we were swept up in the suspense as they waited for answers.

As we got to know Samantha and Anaïs, one American, one French, both adopted, both artists, my daughters couldn’t help but reflect on their own relationship, a connection they hold sacred and special. In one of her frequent jaw-dropping insights, M wondered out loud whether twins raised apart might become more alike than those raised together. After all, she pointed out, they don’t have the same pressures on them to claim their unique identities. She’s well aware that both she and her sister sometimes make choices simply to be different from one another.

Although you might be tempted to head over to Netflix immediately to watch this movie with your young children, I offer a word of caution. Samantha has a foul mouth, and Anaïs’ isn’t much better. There is a lot of casual profanity in this movie, so if that is something that bothers you, save Twinsters for the grownups. My kids are mature enough to know that hearing F-bombs used by others doesn’t make using them acceptable in our family. They had already had exposure to these words at school. (In fact, the only profanity allowed in our home, by order of my daughter J, is “Brad Dingleman.” Jenny Lawson fans will get the reference.) Still, we discussed how uncomfortable her language made us feel and I reiterated that her swearing choices made it harder for us to connect with her.

Twin expert Nancy Segal, who has been kind enough to guest post for us in the past, plays a prominent role in helping Anaïs and Sam find answers. Her understanding of twin relationships, in all their guises, has literally filled books. Even more than her presence on the screen, her understanding of twin relationships and what can make them so wondrous is apparent throughout the film.

One huge thing we loved about this story is that it wasn’t just about discovering twin identity. The young women also explored their identities as adoptees, as South Korean in name only, as infants given up by a woman who still insists that they were never born to her. They reconnected with the Korean women who fostered them as infants. They don’t share a language with these women, but they do share love, compassion, and gratitude.

While not a primary focus of Twinsters, we also get some insight into how Sam and Anaïs’ families deal with the shock of discovering that they have another family member out there. Obviously, families with adopted children are already ready to open their hearts to atypical relationships. Nonetheless, my heart warmed at seeing the way in which Anaïs gained not only a sister, but all her sister’s brothers too. I can’t even imagine the feelings the parents had, realizing that there was another child out there that could have easily been theirs.

The thing about real life is that it doesn’t have neat endings. The circumstances of their birth and the reasons they were split up continue to be mysteries to Anaïs and Sam. Sam embraced the exploration of her history more easily than Anaïs, for whom adoption presented a greater trauma than it did for Sam. In each other, though, they both found healing and joy.

Take the time watch Twinsters (without the kids, please) and let us know what you think!

J was pulled out of my body a full 2 minutes before her sister M, because it was her amniotic sac that had ruptured while M’s remained intact.

I didn’t tell the girls their birth order for 6 years. When people asked them who was older–why is that no one ever asks who is younger?–they’d simply say, “We’re same age sisters. We’re twins. No one’s older.”

Not every curious stranger was satisfied with this answer, although it did stop the majority of them from pushing for a definitive response. Interrogated further, I had a canned answer for my inquisitors:

I’ve avoided telling the girls who was born first, because people automatically assign birth order stereotypes to children. They expect the older one to be more mature, more responsible, sometimes even smarter. That makes sense, I suppose, for kids born at different times. I know from my own experience that being an older sibling makes you grow up and take responsibility. My children are the same age as one another. The random order in which they were removed–by C-section, mind you–from my womb shouldn’t dictate how people see them. They’ve got enough stereotypes to contend with being identical twins.

One response to my spiel got my then-husband’s blood pounding. This friend of a friend said something along the lines of, “That’s stupid. Why would anyone assign birth order stereotypes to multiples?” The girls’ dad whispered in my ear, “I dunno. Why would anyone ask what order they were born in? That’s stupid too.”

For 6 years, cute innocent answers from little girls and canned responses from mommy kept me from needing to tell M and J who had been born first. They did refer to each other as “big sister” and “little sister,” based on height differences. My daughter M tells me that the trick to telling apart the 3 sets of identical twins split between her class and J’s is that, “the shorties are all in my class.”

One day, though, my Grand Plan for Birth Order Question Response stopped working. I was distracted, filling out paperwork in a waiting room, while several garrulous women pushed J and M for an answer on who was older. I heard J say, “She’s older,” and turned to see her pointing at M.

“No,” I told her firmly. “You’re the same age. J, you came out of my belly first.”

I thought this was the beginning of the end. All the birth order stereotypes of the universe were going to descend on my daughters and smother them.

Two days later, the question came again: “Who’s older?”

J’s answered floored me: “I came out first, but we’re the same age.”

As in most matters of parenting, I needn’t have worried so much.

Do your multiples know their birth order? Are their personalities typical of the older child/younger child dynamic?

  Sadia overthinks her parenting decisions in Austin, TX, where she takes a break from single mommyhood by going to her full time job in higher education information technology.

“My kids are totally different,” I tell anyone who will listen.

Identical twins aren’t identical people, after all. They’re siblings who happen to have matching DNA and several months as wombmates.

One of my girls gets anxious more easily than the other. One is loving her Orff ensemble, while the other has us scheduled to attend a sculpture demonstration this weekend. One is all about T-shirts and sweatpants, while the other can spend an hour matching a new top to the perfect skirt.

In celebrating my twin daughters as individuals, I forget, sometimes, how similar they are. Their shared DNA, the shared crucible of our single parent home, and being in the same school and extracurricular programs all contribute to similar interests and abilities.

Girls Scouts: The Reality Check

I’m a Girl Scout leader. Exhausting though it is, I love it. I get to have 9 extra daughters, in addition to a supportive community of other adults who mentor girls from age 5 to 18.

Girl Scout meetings, field trips, and cookie sales have made me realize that my daughters are far more alike than different. While my troop runs the gamut in mathematical ability from struggling with subtraction to bored with basic algebra, my daughters are the ones who see math in everything they do. I see all sorts of behavior when the troop is together, but my girls tend to have the narrow repertoire of hard work, silliness, and sulking. My daughters are among the most extroverted in the troop. They’re also the shortest.

One of the moms in my troop is leading the Geocaching badge. I usually plan out badge work myself or help one or two of the girls come up with the plan. I thought it would be nice to share some hard-earned wisdom with the mom on her first badge-leading escapade:

Don’t assume all the girls have the same background knowledge. You may need to cover basics like “the world is a sphere” when explaining latitude and longitude.

Then I remembered that she has two kids of different ages. She deals with different levels of knowledge and ability every single day. She doesn’t need my advice on handling differences in ability. I’m the one who needed that advice, because I’m the one wearing identical twin blinders.

Would I parent differently if I had kids of different ages with a greater variety of talents and interests? I would definitely spend more time marveling at how similar my identical twin daughters really are in contrast.

You have won yourself a copy of The Barefoot Book of Children! Please email us your address.