Throughout my life, I’ve been known for my perfectionist tendencies. Growing up as the eldest of three in a rather chaotic household, I found myself bearing a lot of responsibility. While I didn’t always appreciate the weight of that burden, I naturally gravitated toward keeping everything in order. Without my constant vigilance, our home would have been a mess, and my siblings would have undoubtedly gotten into more trouble.
My perfectionism extended beyond just my home environment. It was ingrained in me—something I couldn’t shake off. During school breaks, I often redecorated my room for fun. When tasked with writing journal entries, I’d go above and beyond, submitting far more than required. This behavior might not have made me the most enjoyable child, but it laid the groundwork for my life as a responsible adult and, eventually, a devoted mother.
You know those individuals who can tackle several loads of laundry in one go or maintain Instagram-worthy living spaces? I was once one of those people, but everything changed when I became pregnant with twins.
During my first pregnancy, I maintained my perfectionist streak, balancing responsibilities with relative ease. My home was always immaculate, and I couldn’t fathom why others struggled with tasks like staging their homes. I viewed their challenges with curiosity, not judgment, as I prided myself on my own organized life.
However, this changed dramatically with my twin pregnancy. From the very beginning, I sensed that things were different. While I managed to get through my first pregnancy with the aid of medication for severe morning sickness, this time I felt utterly incapacitated. We shared the news of our impending twins with our families much earlier than we had with our first child due to the overwhelming challenges I was facing.
At just seven weeks pregnant, I reached out to my sister, expressing that I felt as if I were fading away. Days would pass where I could barely muster the energy to eat or even open my eyes. Unlike my first pregnancy, where I could still drive to work despite the nausea, this time I was too weak to trust myself behind the wheel.
When we discovered we were expecting twins at eight weeks, everything made sense. Thankfully, the nausea subsided sooner than it did with my son, but the challenges of carrying twins hit hard and fast. By twenty-two weeks, I was attending physical therapy and felt worse than I did at full term with my first pregnancy. My husband did his best to keep up with household tasks, but our home quickly fell into disarray. Suddenly, I was the one with mountains of unfolded laundry and scattered toys.
Activities we used to enjoy with our son were temporarily shelved, and we shifted towards more screen time and microwave meals. I was simply too fatigued and in too much pain to maintain my previous level of involvement.
As a perfectionist, it was difficult for me to adjust to this new reality. I fought to keep up but ultimately had to accept that “less than perfect” was my new normal. Surprisingly, this acceptance brought me immense joy. The struggles I faced during my pregnancy provided a soft landing into the chaos of life with twins.
While I can’t say I’ve completely transformed, I have been able to find a balance post-pregnancy. We’ve resumed our activities, I’ve started cooking actual meals, and I even managed to complete a load of laundry in one day. Yet, I recognize my life will never be perfectly organized again, and that’s perfectly fine. My twin pregnancy taught me to embrace the unexpected, and sometimes that means being okay with imperfection.
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In summary, my experience with twin pregnancy shifted my perspective on perfectionism and motherhood. Embracing the chaos has brought me a newfound happiness I never anticipated.