I left my job to care for our newborn twins because my husband and I had agreed it made sense. But when Carl started treating one baby like an extra expense, I realized love was not the problem. Respect was. So I agreed to go back to work, but only after one condition.
That morning, I’d already been awake since 3:12 a.m. with Abby on my chest and Talia kicking against my thigh like she had a tiny personal grudge against sleep.
By seven, I was writing our grocery list on the back of a pediatrician handout.
I underlined coffee twice.
My husband, Carl, walked in buttoning his shirt, clean and rested.
“Do we really need all that?” he asked.
I looked at the list. “Unless you taught the girls to stop drinking and using diapers overnight, yes.”
He frowned. “You always joke when I talk about money, Carina. I’m being serious.”
“No, Carl. I joke when I’m trying not to scream into the sink. I’m exhausted to my bones.”
Abby squeaked from her bouncer. Talia answered with a full-body grunt.
Carl sighed like our daughters had interrupted a meeting. “Expenses are getting out of hand.”
“They’re just babies.”
“They’re very expensive babies.”
I turned slowly. “Careful.”
“What?”
“Finish that sentence in your head before you say it out loud. I mean it.”
He rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys.
***
When Carl and I planned for a child, we agreed I would leave my job for a while. I loved my job at a dental practice, but daycare for one baby would have eaten half my paycheck.
Then the ultrasound tech smiled and said, “Well, there are two heartbeats. You’re about to be parents to twins.”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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