Chapter 31
“Two?!” When Roseanne Peters registered what the doctor was telling her that day, she cried. Right there in his examination room, twenty-six years ago, tears flooded down her face at the news. There were two.
Twins.
She couldn’t believe it. She looked at Jeff and almost screamed when she saw that he was grinning. Beaming, really. The happiest she’d ever seen him in the twelve years that she’d known him. The five years that they’d been married.
“Twins!” Jeff marveled. “Can you believe it, Rosie? Two of them. Two babies. Two of everything.”
“Two of everything,” she whimpered. And then she started to sob. Two childbirths, two mouths to feed, two bodies to clothe. Two beds, two college tuitions.
Two of every risk, of every fight, of every fear.
Roseanne’s tears had finally dried up by the time she held the tiny babies in her arms. They were early, in the NICU for three weeks, but they’d be healthy.
They were hers.
She named them Cameron, her father’s name, and MacIntosh, after the farm where she and Jeff had gotten married.
“You can’t name them Cam and Mac! C-A-M? M-A-C? They’re palindromes!” Her mother, Peach, had shrieked at the idea.
“Technically, they’re anagrams,” Roseanne had replied. “But I think that’s perfect. A perfect pair, just like them.”
When they were babies, she tried to keep them on a schedule. Sleep at the same time, nurse at the same time. But they were so identical, and Roseanne was so tired, that once she mixed them up. She had to bring them back to the hospital, mortified, admitting that she’d forgotten which twin was which. The doctor laughed good-naturedly as he compared the footprints on file—This happens more than you’d think—but Roseanne didn’t quite see the humor.
From then on, she held tightly. She wouldn’t lose track of any more details. She’d never take her eye off the ball. Once the boys started walking, it somehow got worse and better all at the same time. They were so brilliant and so handsome, tiny people with entire worlds inside their brains. But they were also everywhere, like high-speed bumper cars, with only one of her to protect them from any danger. Jeff was back at work, so it was up to Roseanne to keep an eye on their endless wanderings. Even the most basic household items became a new danger. Everything scared Roseanne. She just wanted to keep them safe. Had to keep them safe.
Because what would happen if she dared let go?
From then on, she vowed to stay focused, to do her best. Carefully orchestrating and executing plans became her love language. Control, the most reliable solution for her worries. She gave them everything, every piece of her brain. But even as the boys grew older and became more independent, even when Cam was officially engaged, her mind still raced with fears. What if she’d taught him something wrong? What if she forgot something crucial about life? What if he was making a mistake?
What if he never came back to her again?
She tried to help through the planning, utilizing the tools she knew best, but she could sense Cam slipping, even still.
As Roseanne watched her son walk down the aisle, as she felt the crowd of family and friends give way to the unplanned wonder and love and cheer, she had a small moment of realization.
Perhaps she had come on a bit too strong.
Mac and Cam had grown to be hard on themselves, too. Like mother, like sons.
Motherhood was doing your best every day. It was getting up and trying to be a little more patient. A little kinder. A little more forgiving, of the kids and of yourself. Even if at the end of the day, your mind raced with regrets, if you made some mistakes, if you cried in the shower, you promised that tomorrow you’d do better.
Roseanne was still a little terrified, but she would never stop showing up for her family. For the people she loved.
Maybe she’d try to let go a bit. To let others take over some of the reins.
She could try to soften, in doses, in certain scenarios.
Like weddings, maybe. Or with grandchildren, God willing.
At the brunch restaurant in Ocean Beach, she looked at her sons. She’d done good. They were good. Look no further than the beautiful friend group they’d held on to. Such shining forces, such good people. Faces she adored to champion, cheer on.
She would hold all their hands and smile. Maybe she’d loosen the grip ever so slightly. Love with a little more ease. See where a looser plan might lead them. She promised to lighten her squeeze.