Today is the girls’ due date. Of course, we all know due dates are fictional. I remember going out shopping on P’s due date, and as people often do, a woman asked me when I was due. “Today!” I said. She looked at me a bit confused and then smiled widely. “Oh, are you going to the hospital later?” she asked.
Being twins, their due date is even more fictional than most, but there’s still something symbolic about it. If they’d been P, they wouldn’t have even been born yet. If they’d been singletons, they might still be in my belly. If everything hadn’t gone so crazy with the pregnancy, they’d be just a few weeks old instead of more than two months old. They might even look different. They would have little round heads instead of long skinny “preemie head.” C wouldn’t have her two little chest tube scars… or other more invisible ones.
I’m trying not to dwell on what could have been. What could have been is not. And could have been worse. But today I’ll let myself dwell for a moment or two. But not for long because I have two sweet girls who tend to be quite demanding between the hours of 8 and 10.