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“I didn’t ask for twins,” I admitted to my best friend on the phone as I cried myself to exhaustion.
This came on the heels of a silly ranting Facebook post that my husband put up (and quickly deleted) about not having any time nor energy these days. Someone commented #lifechoices.
It was a dumb thing to even acknowledge, nonetheless have an emotional response to, but we did and I was angry.
The truth was, I wanted three kids. I actually wanted four, but my husband and I had settled on three and I felt good about that, like I could handle it with ease.
I figured I had three to four years to make this happen since my husband is 10 years older than me and we wanted to be young, cool parents. (Clearly, I had it all figured out).
We were really on a roll after my daughter, Summer, was born in October 2013. She was easy breezy.
Watch: Five things you need to know about pregnancy – that no one ever tells you. (Post continues after video.)
We continued bragging about how easy she was, what a good eater she was, what a good sleeper she was, how we just thought parenting was the easiest and most fulfilling job in the world.