Brandon and I had dreamed about becoming parents for years.
When we finally learned we were expecting, we were overwhelmed with happiness.
Then we discovered we were having twins.
Two girls.
Ivy and Lila.
We celebrated everything.
Two cribs.
Two tiny wardrobes.
Two car seats.
Two names we repeated constantly before they were even born.
We talked about the kind of parents we wanted to be.
We imagined family vacations.
First birthdays.
School photographs.
Christmas mornings.
All those ordinary moments people sometimes take for granted.
When the girls were born, however, our carefully imagined version of parenthood disappeared almost immediately.
Reality was much harder.
The girls were only six months old.
I hadn’t slept through the night in months.
Feedings came every few hours.
There were diapers.
Laundry.
Bottles.
