Well. Breathe in. Breathe out. Take another sip of (pink) champagne. We've done it. We've survived the first year (and the birthday party).
A and S are one.
Things I remember from this time last year:
The utter strangeness of leaving the house while it was still dark knowing that when we came back we'd have two babies with us; kissing L goodbye as we left, and looking at her, fast asleep and oblivious of how much her world was going to change; the extraordinary speed and calmness of an elective c-s (complete contrast to the first (natural) time); the relief of hearing the cries (that was the same as the first time, only this time there were two); the amazement of holding my baby, and then looking at B and realising that he was holding one too; just how tiny babies (even perfectly formed, and perfectly healthy babies) born at 36 weeks really are...
And as I look back on the last 365 days I think that despite the tough bits (the morning, 10 days in, when we'd had them, we'd breastfed them, we'd got them to Edinburgh, we'd survived (nay, enjoyed) my brother-in-law's wedding, and then the adrenaline wore off...; the few weeks at about four months when I really, really thought I wasn't going to cope; the first month or so of being back at work; the last few days), we've had a wonderful time, and we have, in the spirit of counting my blessings, been blessed.
We've been blessed by the moments, not so few and far between, when all three of our beautiful girls are happy and giggling together; by the times we leave their room to put them down for a sleep and hear more giggles from behind the door (I'm sure they get up to all sorts in there once the lights go off); by the amazement of watching them learn about themselves and each other;by the S-faces (will post a picture one day); by the fact that A can shake her head but not nod and S can nod but not shake hers; by the cuddles (L wasn't a cuddly baby, S and A more than make up for it); by the coos, and oohs, and "oh, haven't you got your hands full?"s that I claim to hate, but actually give me an enormous glow of pride - such that when I'm out on my own and people don't stop me in the street to tell me how lucky/brave/stupid I am I feel as though something's missing (because it is); by watching A learn to walk (while pushing a trolley, but still); by the (more) pride of having exclusively breast fed them for six months; by getting to know these two amazingly identical and astonishingly different people, and by knowing that there is so much more to learn.
Darling A, and Gorgeous S, we are so lucky to have you. Happy birthday, my beautiful girls.