My First Year with Irish Twins–Not What I Planned

Irish twins seem overwhelming, but it turned out to be the best way to round out our family!

We tried so hard for baby number three. We had multiple pregnancy losses. When we finally had Number 3, we were ecstatic to finally have her safely here. She was born with hip dysplasia (a condition where her hip joint was not formed completely right), so we were quickly sent to the orthopedic specialist to wear a Pavlik harness (more on that here). As a result of the harness, she couldn’t sleep comfortably in bed. I had to sleep in a weird, contorted position to support both her head and her legs to get her to sleep quietly at night. It was rare for my husband and I to get a moment to have a conversation alone with three young children, much less time for intimacy.

Surprise!

Imagine my surprise when I was about four months postpartum, and I became nauseated at the smell of someone’s food in the office. To prove one of my coworkers wrong, I took a pregnancy test. I’ve taken a lot of pregnancy tests in my time. I never had one come back positive so fast. I chugged a bottle of water and quickly took the rest of the tests in the box. All lightning-fast positive. I reached out to my doctor, wondering if maybe nursing might be making my hormones weird, or if the mini-pill sometimes caused positive pregnancy tests…Nope, we had to come in.

We went in for an ultrasound around 5 months postpartum due to holiday schedules. And when they turned the screen on for us to see, there was a baby! Not like a little black sac of the beginnings of a baby. A little nugget with arms and legs and a heartbeat and a two months-along face—a baby. I had been in denial up to that point, thinking it was just a hormonal anomaly. Once you see that wiggly little bean in there, it gets pretty real.

Then the doctor told me my due date. It was two weeks later than Number 3’s due date had been—and I’ve never delivered on time due to high risk complications. This means these babies could be born within a year of each other! I immediately jumped on Google and learned that babies born within a year of each other were sometimes called “Irish Twins.” It seems a faster way to describe the situation, but having a name for it didn’t make it less scary.

The Whirlwind of What’s Next

We told nobody at first. How could we explain this? Do we tell people they could be Irish Twins? Could we afford this? Could we do two babies at once? How could I help Number 3 learn to crawl and walk if I’m pregnant with another baby? What kind of mother would I be if I couldn’t give her that special infant time everyone else had gotten? What if Number 3 isn’t walking before Number 4 arrived? How do I carry two babies around with adequate head support for a newborn? Could I keep working? Should I keep working?

If you’re facing Irish twins, I’m sure you’ve wondered all these questions and many more. The truth is this: all children change your lives, and it is a learning curve no matter how spread out or close they are together. But you mom up! You will be able to do what you need to do to love and care for both of your babies because that’s what moms do. We find a way.

Hopefully my journey will help you.

The rude comments and stares directed toward a visibly pregnant woman holding a seven-month-old baby were not entirely surprising. People have been rude and stared during every one of my pregnancies. Not because I’m some crazy blimp while pregnant (although my small frame makes my belly look quite large), but because society generally is weird and stares at pregnant people. I developed some stock answers to the typical questions to be able to quickly move on without having to think on the spot:

The most hurtful comments were when people would insinuate that children were a “problem” or “accidents” in front of my other children. My kids understood it. My kids asked questions. And very few things are harder than answering kindly about a person who just told a four-year-old that his new baby sister in mommy’s tummy was a bad thing–some kind of problem that should have been prevented.

Surviving pregnancy with another baby to care for

I was tired. More tired than I’ve been during any other pregnancy. I’ve never carried multiples, but carrying the second half of a set of Irish twins has got to be about as tough. Nursing a baby at night while cooking another baby inside was more than my body could do without significant sleep. Except I had a full-time job and pre-school activities and a toddler, too. So I was tired. I looked tired, I felt tired, and I acted like a jerk. Not my finest year. Add to all that the comments from strangers and family and friends above, and I was often past my limits.

That was where faith, good friends, and the very best husband stepped in. Pregnancies are not meant to be done in isolation—I’m convinced of that. Families are not meant to be units on islands. God puts people in our lives to fill our gaps and make possible the impossible.

My husband was tremendously helpful with the kids and picked up huge slack. The sweet man got on the floor and crawled with Baby 3. He would set up the sprinkler with a lawn chair so I could sit in the water and watch the kids play without having to try to heave myself up off the ground in a hurry if somebody needed help. Our family got out of the house and got with friends because of his efforts. He cleaned the Roomba every morning so I could pretend like I was keeping the house clean by running it every night. He–without fail–got me ice cream when I needed it and would cook the raw meat so I didn’t have to feel sick smelling it start cooking (one of my pregnancy aversions).

Also during that time, my grocery store started doing grocery pickup, which changed our lives so much for the better. Why would I ever spend an hour wandering through the grocery store again if I could spend five minutes going and picking up an already-bagged up order? Now they deliver our groceries, and it’s everything!

My milk dried up shortly after we discovered I was pregnant, so I had to start Baby 3 on formula at 6 months. My initial goal had been to nurse at least for 12 months, but my body could only do so much. That pregnancy taught me more than any other to give my body grace to do what it could do, and accept what it couldn’t do. Number 3 is healthy and smart as a whip. So despite what many sources pressure us to believe, fed really is best.

Figuring out logistics

The biggest hurdle was financial. We were living in an area where the public schools were terrible. I mean TERRIBLE. The buildings were falling apart, the test scores were awful, teachers didn’t get fired for sleeping with students, there were frequent lockdowns due to threats, and other shenanigans that just gave a feeling that the schools were not a good, healthy environment to foster learning and life or college preparation. So we looked to private schools. Number one was going to start kindergarten shortly after number 4 arrived. One year of private kindergarten was $15,000 for the year. Fifteen grand for kindergarten! And we were about to have a FOURTH child! We couldn’t afford childcare for three children plus just one child going to private school. We certainly couldn’t afford to send four children to private school.

It was already impossible to find last-minute care for three children spread four years apart. We were confident we would never be able to find care for four children five years apart! My husband and I both have jobs which occasionally require overnight travel, and despite our best efforts, sometimes we both end up out of town overnight at the same time—and we were too far away from family to have any of them come overnight. I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to convince a person to come watch one baby, much less two, overnight. Add in preschool and another toddler, and babysitters don’t even name a price before turning you down!

We were able to approach our boss about our financial and childcare issues. He proposed a solution we hadn’t even thought of: what if we opened an office where family lives? We could move close to family, keep our jobs, and be in an area with great public schools which would cut down on the financial concern significantly. It was an absolute blessing! We took him up on the offer, but that meant that we had to get our house ready to sell, get it on the market, and be 100 months pregnant in the Texas summer while also looking at schools in our new city! It was a crazy, hectic time. We had friends and family support, which is the only reason it worked.

The Calm Didn’t Come Immediately After the Storm

We delivered Baby 4 successfully one year and ten days after Number 3 turned one. Not quite Irish Twins, but those 10 days certainly didn’t change the challenges of babies born 12 months apart, so I claim the label! Number 4 was beautiful and the sweetest baby we’d had yet. She almost never cried, and was so happy to be around a crowd—which is never in short supply in a family of six!

My mom came two weeks before delivery to help us pack up to move north closer to the town in which my parents lived. She stayed through delivery and came back a few weeks later to help with last-minute packing and moving. We drove to Number 4’s six-week checkup with the car fully loaded with suitcases and diapers. After the baby was cleared for travel, we added the two dogs to our car full of stuff, loaded all four kids, and then my mom and I crammed ourselves in for the long ride north (my husband had to stay behind for work). It was not a fun trip. Not even close. But we made it in time for Number 1 to start kindergarten in his new city two days later!

For a variety of reasons, we chose to stay with my parents upon first arriving in our new city. They graciously hosted and helped while my husband was wrapping things up in our old city. Having three adults in the house certainly made a difference! Number 3 started walking (at 12 months), so she was suddenly into everything. This is one challenge of Irish twins that moms of multiples have different: they aren’t both immobile at the same time.

Because there were so many grownups around at my parents’ house, I was able to nurse Number 4 without having to scramble over furniture with a baby attached to me every time I thought I heard a sound like somebody might be in imminent danger. My parents were around and watching the other three, and I knew nobody would get hurt.

I needed help

I think that’s one of the things any mom learns, but especially moms of multiples or Irish twins—accept help. Any help. All the help. Yes, I’d have loved to have been the person who picked up any child who was hurt, but sometimes I was nursing another baby who also needed me. Surrounding my kids with adults who loved them made it so they were always cared for by someone who loved them. I didn’t have to split myself four ways initially. I could let my body heal from birth (which took longer than previously) and nurse my baby without worry for a while.

Then we moved out. And my maternity leave ended. My husband had wrapped up matters and came to join us, but he still had to travel for work frequently. So there I am—in my own house with four kids, now also trying to balance getting back to work. One in kindergarten, one in preschool, and two babies who can’t talk but have lots of needs to cry about. Still, somehow I’m supposed to be a professional in the workplace. It often did not work right. I frequently sat and cried with the kids. We had a lot of messes and a lot of mess-ups at first.

I became so isolated

Candidly, the first year was the most lonely, difficult year I think I’ve had. Number 4 seemed to always be sick with something. I ended up with walking pneumonia. Work was slow to build back up, but when it did, I had to travel while sick–still waking up overnight to nurse. I had to carry around my nursing pump and encounter all the work annoyances that brings. I had to leave sick babies at home with their grandparents and care providers. The mom guilt stacked up on top of everything else.

Speaking of mom guilt, that was strong in the area of Number 3. Number 3 always seemed to need something the minute I sat down to nurse Number 4. It didn’t seem to matter how many snacks, sippy cups, toys, or entertainment was out, she’d need something else as soon as I sat down. I had to learn to anticipate better. I also had to learn that sometimes, it’s okay to let her be unhappy to learn patience.

It was so hard to get all the kids in the car at the same time that it was only worth doing solo for the most important things. I only went places if my husband was home, and often, even that didn’t seem worth it. We got lots of great bonding time with the kids, but we lost ourselves a little bit during that year. We had no awareness of the outside world at all beyond what was happening at school and at work. Anything else just didn’t matter.

It gets better–like it always does

Slowly, we got better. We got better as parents, as spouses, and as individuals. Everybody healed from our various illnesses. My husband and I started speaking kindly and spending time together because we liked each other—not just because we needed another grown up to help with the kids. Our kids grew in abilities and we grew in confidence as parents.

Number 3 learned to climb up into the car at close to two (she’s also small-statured, so it’s quite a heave up into the big three-row SUV). I’m a big fan of teaching useful skills. Climbing up into the car is one of those. It’s difficult to carry a baby carrier and a squirmy toddler at the same time. It is even harder to hold a baby carrier (because you don’t want to put that on the ground in a busy parking lot) while attempting buckle a toddler into a hot carseat in Texas summer. It’s also pretty impossible to hold a squirmy toddler while heaving a baby carrier up into the car to click into the base (small stature coming back to bite me again).

Around the time Number 3 learned to climb into the car, Number 1 learned to buckle and unbuckle his own buckles. Before I get the hateful comments that it’s dangerous for kids to be able to unbuckle themselves and each other, please hear this: a mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do. And it’s important to know your kids. Number 1 loves rules. When we told him that the police say the car can’t move unless everybody’s buckles are on, he took that as gospel. He still loudly corrects anyone who is not properly buckled—including adults! He was proud that he could use his skill to be helpful, and I was immensely thankful to eliminate the need to buckle in babies, and then climb up into the car to reach back to the third row—over the tops of rear-facing car seats—to buckle and unbuckle big kids.

As the kids got more capable, we went out more. We tried going to kid-friendly restaurants with grandparents along to help out. It worked. We tried going places with friends. It worked. As we tried things, we discovered ways to succeed, and then try more things. We used our double stroller for everything, although not in the way you’d think. We often used a baby carrier for Number 4, and then used the double-stroller for our one-year-old and three-year-old. It looked like chaos because it was, but it worked. 

Eventually, we got really good at going places just as our family of six. I learned how to get out the door with all four kids by myself. My arms got stronger, and the Irish twins grew able to support their own heads–making it possible to carry both at once. It’s not always pretty. I still evaluate whether we will attend something by how hard it will be to load everybody and their stuff to get there. But as we all continue to grow, we continue to improve. Although I will probably always get my groceries delivered because how can you improve on that!?

I don’t think trying to parent Irish twins is for everybody. If given the opportunity to plan the spacing, I think I’d still have preferred a little more time between pregnancies and babies. But I wouldn’t change our situation now for the world. My Irish twins are the perfect bookend to our family. Number 4 is the miracle we didn’t know we needed.

I’d love to hear your Irish twin tales or questions below!