I didn’t know.

I didn’t know that I could cry over a photograph.

I didn’t know that it would feel like this.

I didn’t know that the people who pitied us could be so incredibly wrong, that I would want them to know how fortunate we really are.

I didn’t know that the skeptic in me would fade after they were born, that I would admit there really is something deeply special about a twin relationship.

I didn’t know that they could teach me more about myself than I will ever be able to teach them.

I didn’t know that a physical ache could actually manifest itself when watching them together.

I didn’t know that the moments I thought were big milestones would be replaced in greater importance by the little moments.

I didn’t know that it would be one of my greatest joys to watch them care for each other, comfort each other.

I didn’t know that they would be so different, yet so compatible. So trusting, and so aware, so compassionate to each other.

I didn’t know that watching them together would make me regret many of my childhood choices, and make me wish I had been a better sister.

I didn’t know the thrill it would give me to acknowledge that yes, I am their mother.

I didn’t know that I sometimes would feel a little adrift, not always belonging to their little partnership.

I didn’t know that being asked, “Are they twins?” would feel just as special and new at seven years as it did in the beginning.

I didn’t know that the promise I read seven years ago, before I knew we were having twins, would give me chills years later, every time I read it. Every time.

I didn’t know how unworthy I would feel, how overwhelmingly blessed we would be to parent these twins.

I didn’t know that it would feel like both a weighty responsibility and a wonderful, sobering gift.

I didn’t know that their times of quiet solace could give me my own sense of strength and peace during some very difficult days.

I didn’t know that one day I would serendipitously capture what I am so privileged to see in them every day; that in a small moment when they weren’t looking, the silence, the quality of their friendship would show in black and white.

I didn’t know that getting that one unplanned photo would make my throat hurt and my heart rejoice in one beat.

I didn’t know that it would feel like I had found a precious gift in that moment when I saw the picture for the first time.

I didn’t know that I could cry over a photograph.

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