It’s March. We’re nearing what should’ve been the twins’ gender reveal party.
I had several dreams that they were a boy and girl. I had dreams about tandem nursing them. Tandem wearing them. Washing their tiny cloth diapers. And even dreams about homeschooling them. On the last Thursday in January, I had my final dream about them. I had a nightmare that I lost them. That they died. Then, my nightmare came true. Less than a week later.
But I had already bought the most precious sleepers for their Darling, Dapper, or Both? party.
My Pinterest board was full of foxes, monocles, skunks, hairbows, bunnies, bowties, and deer. Their woodland creatures gender reveal party had been coming together splendidly. We had contacted a college friend (former neighbor and all-around sweetest person in the world) to make desserts. One of my best friends was going to help decorate. It was going to be a lovely party with our family and friends.
But I packed up the sleepers the first Thursday in February. Along with all their tiny diapers. And my nursing tops. And anything that would’ve been used by them. I’ve no idea if we will ever open these containers again or pass them on.
And I haven’t been brave enough to delete that idea board. Or any Pinterest board about my 4th pregnancy.
It’s March, and I’ve decided that I’m still going to celebrate Laurence and Flannery’s milestones. It’s part of my healing. This is the most grief I have ever known. But I need to keep moving through it.
No matter what we would’ve learned from that ultrasound, girls or boys or one of each, we live in a place that is safe for both genders to attend school. It’s not a matter of if our kids will attend school, just where. My children can learn at home, at one of our local public schools, at a local private school, or a combination of the three. We get to choose how our boys and girls are educated. Much of the world doesn’t get that choice. And girls have the least options. Many times, girls are not able to attend school at all.
Many more girls would be able to attend school if walking was replaced with a quicker, less dangerous option. Or if the roundtrip travel time didn’t cut so much into other obligations: work, childcare, chores.
This bike will provide safety on the way to and from classes. She can also better manage her time, which means more opportunities. And more education, safety, and opportunities decrease her chances of becoming a sex slave.
I couldn’t think of a better way to memorialize our children’s gender celebration than to love on somebody with a bicycle. Two wheels. In honor of two babies.