Joining us at the ol’ salon today is Cheryl, of Twinfatuation, which is a fairly new blog for me, but has been a favorite since its discovery. What I have always thought is amazing about moms of multiples is that all of the stuff that I thought was so hard about becoming a new mom has been combined for them from the very start with all of the stuff I find so hard about being the new mom of two. I imagine there are also wonderful benefits though, and Cheryl writes about all of it with amazing insight and humor - I’m sure what she shares with us today will be enlightening. Over to you, Cheryl. [Thanks for the invite, Beth! —CRL]

Fear not. Despite the title, I’m not about to break every semblance of Guest Poster protocol by diving deeply into unsavory topics like pregnancy constipation, post-partum incontinence, or even potty training. The queried number two of which I speak is the pondered, the possible, the potential child. The secundo to your primo.  The pixie-dust imaginings of wistful, wonder-filled pillow talk between new parents*. The mocha latte-fueled moments of newborn nostalgia shared by fellow mothers-a-mono. [*Typically after the  first-born is sleeping through the night with some regularity.] Ready to give it another go? Revisit your recent regimen:

Maternity. Nine months – or as I found out when pregnant for the first time, 40 weeks – of time lazing forward at its most lugubrious pace. Marking expectancy in weeks (and in my viability-anxious, hyper-anticipatory state, days), it’s a practice comparable perhaps only to the childhood cheer-bringer/wait-minimizing/treat-doling Advent calendar. Then shockingly, whether your labor is an infamous “two-pusher” or an arduous weekend-long affair, within a scandalously short window, motherhood arrives like gangbusters.

All your expectations, your excitement, your energies are cross-haired – honed-in – on making that lovely little lump the focus of efforts extraordinary. Undoubtedly, the wee one revels in the reverence…wouldn’t you? But wait! If you elect to add to your brood, won’t that heir apparent, the apple of your eye, your raison d’etre, respond with therapy- inducing malaise, a sense of being jilted, or Heaven forbid, replaced?

Take heed, modern mommies. If your brain, heart and belly comply — multiply. Excess deliberation and hesitation merely confuse the family expansion muse.

From whence do I speak? Like you, once I too had a beloved first-born…a son. He was the sole object of my abject affection. He was my only child…

…for a whopping seven minutes. Then — as today — my love for him is unflagging, unflinching, unrelenting, unequalled — as it is for his “little” (twin) sister.

Contemplating procreation, Part Two? My advice: by all means, think; but don’t overthink. As Doris Day (possessor of fabulous Total Mom Hair) melodically reminded us all, whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see. Que sera, sera.