PART 1 – I Thought the Hardest Part of Having Twins Would Be Raising Them Alone While My Husband Was Somewhere Across the Ocean

I used to believe that distance was the biggest problem a marriage could have.

I was wrong.

When Ryan left for his cruise ship assignment, I was seven months pregnant with our daughters.

We had talked about that departure for weeks.

His job meant spending long stretches away from home, sometimes several months without being able to return.

I knew that when I married him.

I knew it when we decided to have children, too.

But knowing something and living through it were two different things.

The morning he left, I stood near the door with one hand resting against my stomach.

Ryan was checking his luggage.

He seemed to be in a hurry, although his departure wasn't something unexpected.

His work clothes were packed.

His travel documents were ready.

Everything had been arranged.

Except, perhaps, my feelings.

I wanted him to stay.

I also knew I couldn't ask him to abandon his job simply because I was frightened about becoming a mother.

Especially not when we were expecting two babies.

He came over and placed his hand against my stomach.

"They're going to be here before we know it."

I smiled.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

He laughed and kissed my forehead.

Then he crouched slightly and spoke toward my belly.

"Be good to your mother until I get back."

I remember that sentence because I repeated it to myself later.

Be good to your mother.

As if two unborn babies could understand the arrangement.

As if their father had made a promise they could hold him to.

Ryan stood and kissed me again.

He told me he would call whenever he could.

He said he hated the idea of missing the birth.

I told him not to worry.

At the time, I meant it.

I watched him leave with his suitcase.

The door closed.

And suddenly the house felt much bigger.

I walked back inside slowly.

There were two little outfits folded on the sofa.

A pair of tiny socks sat beside them.

I picked them up and held them in my hand.

Two babies.

Two daughters.

And a husband who would be thousands of miles away when they arrived.

I tried not to think too much about that.

The first few weeks passed with the usual appointments and preparations.

There were things I still needed to buy.

There were things I had already bought but somehow kept checking.

I spent time looking at the two baby beds and wondering how such small people could require so much preparation.

Sometimes I caught myself imagining Ryan standing beside me.

He would look at the girls.

He would probably laugh at how small they were.

He would complain about how much space their things occupied.

Those little imaginary moments made the waiting easier.

Then the pregnancy became more difficult.

Carrying twins was not comfortable.

My body felt heavier every week, and ordinary tasks took more effort than I expected.

I moved slowly.

I rested whenever I could.

And I learned that there was a difference between being alone and feeling alone.

I wasn't completely without support.

But there were certain moments when I wanted my husband.

Not somebody else.

Ryan.

The person who had helped create the family we were waiting for.

When he called, I always tried to sound cheerful.

He asked how I was feeling.

He asked whether the girls were moving.

He wanted to know what the doctor had said.

I answered everything.

Sometimes I put the phone near my stomach so he could speak to them.

"Your daddy misses you."

That was what I told the babies.

Ryan would laugh on the other end.

"I miss all three of you."

All three.

I liked hearing that.

It made the distance seem temporary.

It made me feel that we were still doing this together.

Even though he couldn't be there physically, he was still part of our daily conversations.

At least, that was how I understood things then.

As the weeks passed, the girls became more active.

There were nights when I couldn't sleep because one would move just as I was getting comfortable.

Then the other would move.

I sometimes laughed at the timing.

I imagined them already arguing over space.

Ryan enjoyed hearing those stories.

He always asked me to describe what was happening.

I told him about the little movements.

I told him how tired I was.

I told him I was getting nervous about delivery.

He reassured me.

He said everything would be fine.

He said he couldn't wait to come home and hold his daughters.

That sentence became something I looked forward to.

Not the expensive things.

Not a special celebration.

Just Ryan holding the girls.

I wanted to see his face when he finally met them.

I wanted him to understand that the two little people we had discussed for months were real.

They were almost here.

And he was going to be their father.

I also wanted to believe that our marriage would feel complete again once he returned.

Looking back, I realize how much I had placed on that reunion.

I thought his return would make the difficult months feel worthwhile.

I thought the waiting would end with a happy family standing together.

I had no reason to imagine anything else.

Then, two months after Ryan had left, my daughters arrived.

And everything changed.

Click here to continue reading: PART 2: Two Tiny Girls Finally Made Me a Mother, and Every Promise Their Father Made Became More Important