If—

By S. Faith, © 2013
Words: 53,952 (in 10 chapters and an epilogue)
Rating: M / R
Summary, Credits, Warning, etc.: See Chapter 1.

Have been dealing with RL stuff and so haven't been as attentive to comments as usual. Know they are all read and appreciated. Thank you xx

Epilogue

Tuesday, 2 May

9st 2 (slow and steady wins race); calories: 2250 (must keep babies in milk and all); circumference of waist: 37 inches (huge improvement over largest measurement); days since family doubled in size: 8

12 pm. Is a universal truth: being a new mother is exhausting. Think this is first day in a week have slept past 7 am, thanks to wonderful new father (to babies, not to me, obvs.). Babies are pink and wrinkly, do nothing but cry a lot and soil their nappies, and… are an absolute joy. Feel like pod person or similar to think such thought. But at least have not resorted to taking photos of poo.

Mark was great in hospital, stayed by side entire time and held my hand, doing all the breathing exercises we'd learnt (though nearly caused himself to hyperventilate). He's got leave to help for the whole of my maternity period. Feels like dream come true.

Perhaps is a blessing that did not record apex (nadir?) of weight and girth—believe have blocked out memory as self-defence mechanism. Mark insists was not as huge as I thought I was. Told him it was his job to tell such pretty lies.

Mum, Dad, Elaine and Malcolm all came up over the weekend to meet the twins. Reactions exactly as expected: Mum, gibbering with wet, snotty bawling; Dad, in tears but a bit more reserved about it; Elaine, beaming and proud but obviously emotional; and Malcolm, laughing and joking about looking forward to bouncing them on his knee in tandem.

Jamie and Becca came down to visit, as well, as first time as uncle and all. They look great; happy, at ease, and Becca not quite so militant about foodstuffs, etc. Jamie was adorable—sort of like Mark first time ever saw him hold baby (Rusty)—and Becca, to my astonishment, was a natural with the twins. Turns out she has three siblings younger than she is. Never knew!

Obviously Peter and his wife could not come to visit from Hong Kong (they hope to be able to in the autumn, hurrah!) but we felt his presence most acutely in gift of child-sized pair of stuffed-animal-shaped chairs for when they're a bit older. V. soft and cosy.

Friends were giddy when came to visit. Jude asked all the questions she'd been asked when she'd first had Rusty, about weight, length, Apgar, etc. Sharon looked a bit… well, don't want to say jealous, but could tell her maternal instincts were flaring. "Oh, Bridgeline," said Tom, "you're looking so thin!" Then made some comment about being so fashionable as to have a matched set. Love him. (Though in actual fact, they are not a matched set. One's blonde like her mum, the other dark like his dad.) Magda brought the children; they were adorable, tentative, in awe, as if viewing weird new animal at zoo. Had to chuckle a bit when Constance asked when she might be able to play with—

Ooh, Mark calling.

2.25 pm. Turns out feeding was needed. Not a service their father could have done.

2.30 pm. Compromise obviously reached on babies' names, since we are not in fact calling them 'the girl' and 'the boy'. Mark was pretty unwavering in wanting to stick to something traditional, and had to admit the naming advice from friends who are parents—"Don't name them something you'll get sick of yelling when you call them down for dinner" (Magda) and "Imagine the name but then say 'Member of Parliament' afterwards" (Nigel, apparently)—was starting to wear self down.

However, was not ready to just settle for something like St John or, ha, Lavinia.

So, in honour of background in literature, the twins are thus named William and Elizabeth, and only because giving a child the first name 'Fitzwilliam' in modern times is cruel and unusual (as family name, though, is quite all right, obvs.). Will and Lizzie for short. Though Jude made point to say she thought it a bit odd to name siblings after famous romantic couple. After a beat, told her had to go and to give Rusty a kiss from Auntie / Godmother Bridget. (She hates Tom's nickname for her son. Ha.)

2.40 pm. Ow. Not looking forward to the pair of them acquiring teeth.

2.45 pm. Mark has offered to rub soothing balm on soreness. Feel must take him up on such a generous offer.

9 pm. Too hard to write with babes in arms, and as they get bigger fear will not write nearly as often. (Hardly wrote at all after honeymoon; then again, was honeymoon followed by self steadily growing as large as Hindenburg.)

Day was sunny and bright (though cool), so after all and sundry had naps (including the half that does already communicate verbally), dressed babies into warm things, put them in the pram, then took quick walk around Holland Park. Was so nice to get outside, though walk was v. short as self is still a bit, er, sore. When got home put babies down for nap, then cooked dinner together and ate before babies needed feeding again. Watched a little telly, and now getting ready to go to sleep (certainly cuddling before sleep). Is my turn for night-time duty tonight; love/hate relationship with breast milk pump as it is torture device, but allows me to sleep through night some nights. Not too much to ask, surely, that babies be sleep prodigies and go through night without waking after only one week?

11.55 pm. No such luck. Both babies went off at once so did dual feeding—one in each arm, v. impressed with self even if they are tiny—before putting them back down. Now cannot fall back asleep. Perhaps should do laundry.

Oh dear. Am turning into… not sure what am turning into. Actually, feel a bit strange in admitting that it is not half bad, whatever 'it' is.

Later. Awoke to find self alone in giant bed. Felt slight panic, as Mark's side of bed was not only empty but pulled flat as if he'd never been sleeping there at all.

Pushed back my side and quietly made way to nursery. Mind went through scenarios of what would do if that room too was empty. Was it possible could have slept through triple kidnapping (during which Mark made the bed)? Need not have worried though, as there, nestled in the corner of the huge padded recliner with babes securely cradled in crook of his left arm (and secured against arm of recliner with right), was Mark, fast asleep. Will and Lizzie looked up to me in silence, eyes huge and dark in the dim light, but were (amazingly) not crying.

Quietly took seat on glider rocking chair beside them and merely looked on in silent happiness. He must have come in after they'd awakened again, determined to get them to sleep, and fell asleep instead. Wished had thought to bring in mobile to snap photo as was v. sweet scene to see (and one which certainly did not violate the No Poo Photo Agreement).

Slowly, Mark's lids lifted and were, to my surprise, fixed directly on me. He smiled in a really gorgeous, sleepy, sexy way. "What are you doing?" he asked, sotto voce.

Durr. Answer was all too obvious: "Waking you with thought vibes."

The end.