Dear Beyonce

Dear Beyonce,

The internet just told me that you’re pregnant again. With twins! There you are on Instagram looking like a total goddess; a gorgeous display of flowers as your backdrop, your perfectly coiffed curls draped in netting all arty-like, cradling your growing belly with lovely manicured mama hands:

Here is how I told the world about my twin pregnancy:

Hard not to be jealous of my handiwork, I know, but don’t let it get to you Bey – you don’t have The Warehouse in the US so I’m guessing you don’t have access to those particular $2 foam craft letters. That’s cool because I actually think the flowers/netting/megababeness thing works quite well for you anyway. You do you girl.

Firstly, I want to say congratulations. Being a twin mum is a very blessed journey indeed.

Secondly, I want to say – OMG Bey, pull your hair back into a pony and buckle up tight cos shit’s about to get real. You’ve got a kid already, so you probably think you have an idea of what’s ahead, but no. No you don’t. Because, contrary to popular belief, twins are not like kid plus kid, they’re like kid to the power of kid.

Let me preface what I’m about to say with this: there are lots of great things about having twins, and you’re probably daydreaming about all that stuff already so I don’t need to fill you in on Double The Joy and All The Cuddles and the Twin Bond etc. What you do need to know is the stuff that you’re not daydreaming about, and I warn you, it can be the stuff of nightmares.

Everything about having two kids the exact same age at the exact same time is a total mindfuck.

To start with, twin pregnancy is nutso. Stop and think about this for just a moment: you have two humans inside your belly. Two humans. Have you seen the cross-section pictures of what happens to your insides when you’re pregnant with one human? Your internal organs all get smooshed upwards, basically into your shoulders. I don’t even know where everything goes when you have twice as much baby all up in you, but I know from experience that it doesn’t feel all that natural and that breathing and eating become things you really have to concentrate on.

I don’t know if you’ve had morning sickness with your babies because your insta pic was frustratingly lacking in private detail. I thought morning sickness with my singleton was bad (oh yeah, now that you’re having twins Blue Ivy is officially a singleton – it’s a fancy word us multiple parents like to use to differentiate our twins from other kids) but it had nothing on my twin morning sickness. I actually can’t write any more about that because the memories are harrowing and make me look at my children funny.

Back to that belly. Oh Beyonce, that belly is going to stretch in ways you never thought possible. It is going to get truly massive, and you will have to physically lift it with your own manicured hands to roll over in bed. In fact, there will likely be times you want to roll over and you will lie there for ten minutes at a time, internally asking yourself if you really do need to roll over because you can’t be arsed with all that physical exertion. Then you will go numb down one side and realise that yes, you do really need to roll over so you’ll take a deep breath (which actually isn’t even possible anymore, but still you’ll try) and hoist that big ol’ belly into a more comfortable position. Then you’ll have an asthma attack because your lungs have been compressed by your other internal organs and all that heaving of the belly is like a cruel middle-of-the-night bootcamp session. The best bit is, about fifteen minutes later you’ll want to roll back again. And so it goes on till morning. Every damn night.

You may get to the point, like I did, that you’ll even consider hiring a hospital type bed so you can sleep in a semi-reclined sitting position. I was legitimately researching hire options when I went into labour early at 35 weeks. If my two had stayed put any longer I am pretty sure I would’ve been camped out on one of those suckers before long.

Here is my belly a couple of days before the babies arrived. Get excited.


As for birth, there’s a pretty high likelihood of needing a c-section (though plenty of twin mums push those suckers out, just don’t go getting your heart set on it) and there’s also a pretty high likelihood of a NICU stay – because it turns out the uterus is really only built for housing one bubbins at a time, so if you’re packing two it can get to the point where it’s like “screw this” and just starts to eject them early.

Feeding twins is a bloody pain in the ass. It takes twice as long to get them sorted, but they still need feeding as often as solo babies, so you get less downtime between feeds. Also you will probs have to pump after every feed to keep your supply up because feeding twins is like being an actual milking cow. The whole thing is a logistical nightmare – you only have two beautifully manicured hands, so what do you do with one twin when you’re burping the other one? Answer: put it on the floor and feel bad about your parenting skills.

Also, so many nappy changes. Seriously, so many.

That’s just the beginning, there’s heaps of other cool shit to deal with. Like a minivan. We are currently in the age of the massive carseat. Big eff-off rearfacing numbers that your kids can be harnessed in until they’re twenty-seven. Having three kids means three big eff-off carseats that are unlikely to fit across the back seat of your car in a convenient tidy row. You’ll need two rows to fit in everyone and their massive carseats, but don’t be fooled into thinking you can get away with any old two row’d vehicle. Most nice SUV type vehicles with two back rows have seriously compromised boot space to allow for that last row. You know what has all those rows and a double-pram capable boot? A minivan, that’s what. A people mover. A loser cruiser. This is your future. Or your driver’s future at least.

You also get to have Lots of Stuff. I know you’re thrifty so you probably have a bunch of Blue Ivy’s old baby gear that you thought you could just reuse for number two –  diamond studded high chair, gold plated cot, royal silk lined bouncer and so on. Except now you’re having number two and three at the same time so you need two of all that stuff. Time to record another album Queen B because twins don’t come cheap.

One of the really cool things about twins is that they go through their truly horrible phases at exactly the same time. Twice the fucking fun Bey! In fact sometimes, one of them isn’t even on track for a particular bad behaviour until they see their BFF kicking up a stink and they decide to join the party. For example, one twin might decide they’re not all that keen on getting in their carseat and they’d rather run around the minivan avoiding your manicured clutches. The other twin might be generally cruisy about getting in their seat, but once they cotton on to all the fun that’s to be had pissing mum off, they want to get amongst it. Suddenly you’ve got two toddlers at opposite ends of a massive car and you can’t reach them because of all the fucking carseats in the way and you gave up your career for this shit and your boobs will never be the same again and is that poo in your hair? The bonus is you can cancel your gym membership because you’ll be getting sweaty and feeling defeated on the daily just from putting the kids in the car.

Twins have this wonderful way of egging one another on and bringing out each other’s shifty, sly, troublemaking side. They team up to pull each other out of cots. They help each other reach things they shouldn’t be reaching. They join in on each other’s whinging and whining in a combined effort to wear you down to the very last traces of sanity until you give in and throw marshmallows at them just to get them to stfu.

I could go on all day about the logistical challenges that are amplified when you have twins – who do you feed first? Who do you pick up when they’re both crying? Who do you chase after when they’re heading off in different directions? How do you fit two portacots, two high chairs, two bouncers, ten thousand nappies, and a double-pram around the massive eff-off carseats when you go to an Air BnB by the sea over the holiday weekend? Lol, that’s a trick question because you actually don’t leave the house for two years, so don’t even worry about it.

If you do manage to escape the house to the twin mum paradise that is The Mall, you should know that everyone will be enamoured with your twins – strangers will stop you to ask questions like “are they twins?” many times an outing. At first it will be annoying but before long you may find yourself replying “yes they are, would you like one?” and only be half joking. So yeah, people love twins, but I’m telling you this straight – no person wants to babysit them. They’re especially allergic if you have another kid, which you do, try not to forget that. Actually, that’s a whole other letter, one that starts “Dear Beyonce, your twins are about to fuck up Blue Ivy’s life as she knows it…”

This all sounds pretty scary. Probably because twins are pretty scary. But don’t worry, you’ll be fine – besides, there’s not much you can do about it now so just ride the wave Bey, just ride the wave. There will be other twin mums out there who make it look like a total breeze, but don’t pay too much attention because I think they’re lying. On the flipside, don’t go giving yourself too many pats on the back for all your great achievements as a twin mum because at the end of the day, there are people out there with triplets (Pharrell), and they’re the actual kings of the castle who deserve all the back pats and all the lorazepam.

Good luck Beyonce – from one twin mama to another, I am excited for you and fear for your manicure all at once.

Jane xx

PS: The good bits really are incredibly good and the photo ops are out of control


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3 thoughts on “Dear Beyonce

  1. 😂😂😂 all the things I wanted to say to a friend who said having a toddler and new born was just like having twins …. 😳😳😳 yeah ok crazy lady 😂😂😂
    (I had a toodler and twins lols)

  2. Father if twin lads and a toddler – that was an oustanding read! Although I spat out (laughing) some precious coffee reading that car scene. So good.

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