Twin Pop

I remember seeing this on a license plate before having my babies. It conjured images of the perfect nuclear family, with the parents happily engaged in all aspects of the children's upbringing.

The year that followed my daughters' births was not one of perfect images, by any stretch of the imagination. And instead of being engaged (which implies a certain eagerness), my husband and I extracted every ounce of energy into survival.

Still, I found such strength in this man that, before having his own children was reluctant to hold a baby. But, from the moment my (first) water broke, he transformed. He captured the first moments of his daughters' lives with the videocamera, and meticulously instructed visiting friends and family the proper way to bottle feed a preemie.

When they arrived home from the NICU, he made feeding two babies simultaneously in the obscene hours of the morning look easy. He connected a string to their cradle and tied it around his foot from the couch so he could multitask while rocking them. He could prepare dinner with a baby strapped to his chest. He could do the grocery shopping, singlehandedly, with two infants - one in the cart and one in the Baby Bjorn.

To watch a man become a father is priceless. To observe him raise twins is incomparable.