The Weeks Between • HS

Week 1 • Nola

The sun is coming up. An orange light weaves its way through the tall buildings that line the streets of the city and peeks though the sheer curtains covering the corner window in the overly-posh hotel room we stayed in last night. Hattie nursed an hour ago, so she is still happily dozing in the bassinet next to me, mindlessly sucking on her pale pink pacifier. As much as I would like to get a few more minutes of sleep, now is probably my only chance to get a few minutes to myself, so I better take them while I can.

I tiptoe from the room, carefully closing the door behind me while saying a silent prayer that she stays sleeping for a while. Further down the hallway, I look in on the twins, spying them in the center of the large bed sleeping in a pile. Lottie and Mia have always slept as close as humanly possible when they're put in the same bed. Like they remember the feeling of being twisted together in the womb for eight months. Until recently, they'd been in their own cribs, but with the craziness of the last seven months, they have learned to sleep almost anywhere, as long as they have each other.

We flew to New York yesterday in an effort to make the trip from California to London less traumatic for all of us, but mostly for me. I'm traveling alone with the girls for the first time since Luke. Three kids under three is no picnic on a normal day, but today we get to be trapped on an airplane for most of it. I whole-heartedly believe that flying internationally during a pandemic with three small kids is the stuff that nightmares are made of. The twins have been practicing wearing masks for over a month, since we were told they would have to wear them to fly. Ugh. Why did I decide to make this trip by myself? Dropping a new pod into the coffee maker, I push the button to brew the liquid that will carry me through the morning. Once it finishes, I take my coffee and my phone (set to show me the girls rooms) out onto the balcony.

The New York City streets, many floors below our room, are just starting to wake up. The noises from garbage trucks and taxi's grow louder as I sit sipping the black liquid. Between sips, I inhale deep breaths, trying to prepare for not only the day ahead, but the new life awaiting the four of us in England. All too soon, I'm brought out of my moment of solitude by a crying Hattie.

I rush and try to get to her, so the twins will sleep a bit longer. "Oh, Hattie girl, you couldn't give mama another ten minutes?" I ask, lifting her from the bassinet. "Alright, shhh," I quietly plea. "Let's get things ready before your sisters wake up, huh?" I slip her into a high sling and carry her around the bedroom while she nurses. I continue packing up the travel bed and overnight supplies and setting out clothes for everyone before I lift her to my shoulder to burp and help her switch sides. Having twins first taught me to multitask, so on my good days I am the queen of that. On my bad days, it's a three ring circus and I often feel like a failed lion tamer. Truthfully, I've been a failed lion tamer a lot lately.

Once back in the living room, I order pancakes and strawberries for me and the girls from room service, hoping that they'll eat a good breakfast before boarding the plane. Just in case, I also order two PBJ sandwiches to add to my stash of snacks for the seven-hour flight. I opted for first class tickets when my grandma offered to pay the difference, knowing that with the the airlines only filling half of the seats on each flight, the four of us would take up half of first class. When traveling to England opened up, I figured we'd better take the opportunity before it is taken away again. Covid is a concern, but not being able to get there is a bigger one.

While we wait for our breakfast, Hattie and I post a photo that Luke's parents took of us before leaving Sacramento yesterday.