Many newspapers are running the story of what they’re calling the “twiblings”: two babies born days apart to the same parents via surrogacy.  In other words, the parents worked with two surrogates simultaneously in order to transfer embryos to both at the same time which resulted in each surrogate carrying a child, delivering them within days of each other.  So they have boy-girl twins … from separate wombs.

I don’t want to debate the ethics of this or talk about twins in general or the parenting of multiples (I mean, yes, all those things would be interesting to talk about, but they’re not what I want to focus on today).  What I want to talk about is the enormous amount of word coinage that goes on in the media when they discuss fertility stories and whether these terms even fit.

Twiblings makes perfect sense because the uniqueness of twinhood is partially nature and partially a social construct.  If people didn’t treat the ChickieNob and Wolvog as something special, they would not know that twinhood was something special.  But they have had a lifetime marked by others cooing over them and pointing out how they are different from singletons, and I think that has cemented the relationship just as much as spending time in the womb together.

Which is not to knock the time they spent together inside of me.  The way they interacted then is the way they still interact now.  We used to watch the Wolvog touch his sister’s head in the womb, and that is still his calming technique, his touchstone.  He just needs to hold her ponytail for a moment to be sure of her.  When they came out of the womb, one had bradycardia and one had tachycardia, but if we kept them together in the same isolette, they each regulated the other’s heart rate.  And when we moved them apart, they would return to their irregular heart rates.

I think most twin parents have a crazy story like that.

So, yes, those kids are twiblings, and I would count them as a type of twin because other people will mark them as a type of twin.  And that marking will define them just as much as the time they spend together at home or the time they could have spent together in the womb if they had been traditional twins.

Oh, in case you didn’t know, this story isn’t that unique.  We have our own triplings in the blogosphere: Uterus x 2 which became Finding Chaos had twins and a singleton within 4.5 months of each other.  The two mums are raising their kids as the trio.

The problem I have with the use of the word “twiblings” is when it is applied to children who come from the same batch of frozen embryos, yet are born years apart.  At the same time that newspapers were reporting on this set of twiblings, they were also talking about three kids they were deeming triplets, even though they were born 11 years apart.

But they aren’t triplets — not by nature such as being in the womb together nor by social construct such as having people point out their uniqueness or interact with them based on their triplethood.  The parents will not need to help those kids navigate the pitfalls and benefits of a multiples’ relationship.

I think it can be emotional for parents to think about batches of embryos — of creating two lives from the same batch of embryos — and I’ve certainly read blog posts about this when it comes to loss and creating a second life from the same set from which the first child came.  But in this case, it’s the thoughts and feelings of the parents that are being placed on the children, rather than the other way around.

With twinhood, even non-traditional twinhood such as the twiblings above, it’s the children navigating the relationship and all it brings and it’s the parents who are there merely to observe and guide.  In the case of the faux triplets born 11 years apart, it is the parent’s feelings about embryos from the same batch being placed on the children, telling them their relationship rather than having them organically experiencing it by going through milestones together.*

Which is not to knock the uniqueness of embryos from the same batch growing into children.  Life, in and of itself, is miracle enough.

I don’t know, where do you stand on the use of twiblings in the case of the two-surrogates-at-the-same-time (or two-mums-at-the-same-time too)?  What about in children born from the same batch of embryos years apart? (Which is so freakin’ common that I can’t believe this is newsworthy at this point.)

* I don’t actually know how this couple feels about this phenomenon, but I’m basing this on the fact that the parents are putting this story out there.

Within a comment, Texicali Girl asked an important question: why isn’t there a Creme-de-la-Creme-like post for best comments?  Especially when comments are obviously very important to me with IComLeavWe?

Introducing: The Grateful Said of 2010 — the best comments from the ALI blogosphere*.

Which means diving back into your posts from 2010 and finding a comment (because there were probably dozens) that changed the way you saw your own situation, brought you comfort, were the right words at the right time, or gave you food for thought.

In other words, this is your way of honouring someone who left a good comment on your post.  And it will hopefully encourage people to write great comments throughout the year knowing that they could end up on this list come the next January (oh yes, my friends, this will go hand-in-hand with the Creme in future years).

To Participate:

• Look at 2010 Posts: Go look through your 2010 archives and find a good comment to honour.  There are probably dozens of comments that fit the bill, but just choose one.  Make sure it was written in 2010 and that the post was from 2010.
• Fill Out the Form: Fill out this form which asks for the url of your post (please cut-and-paste it) as well as three lines or so from the comment.  If the comment is 4 lines total, round up.  But if it’s more than 4 lines, please just clip 3 lines from it for the sake of space.
• Make Sure You See This Screen: You will see a “congratulations” screen after filling out the form that lets you know that you’re on the list.
• Wait for the List to Go Up: Check back on February 1st when The Grateful Said of 2010 goes up.  The list will remain open until February 28th.
• Spread the Word: If you want to help spread the word, I’d be eternally grateful.  You can grab the icon, write about it on Twitter or Facebook, blog it, or gently nudge friends by pointing out a rockin’ comment you left back in 2010 on their blog.

* I bet you’re wondering how this project got its name.  Well that, my friends, is a funny story about my own mondegreen.  The suggestion came from Texicali Girl, and I was misremembering the Grateful Dead song Mexicali Blues as “Texicali Blues.”  So instead of the Grateful Dead, it’s the Grateful Said (because you’re grateful that someone said it).  So I set the name and made the icon and THEN I realized that it’s Mexicali and not Texicali.  So… there you go.

Want to win a copy of Life from Scratch?  Go over to Write Mind Open Heart where she’s giving three copies away if you answer this question: “what one thing you would get into if you had to rebuild your life after a major upset?”

Oh, and join the book tour while you’re there…

I love delurking week.  I love seeing the people who crawl out of the woodwork and those who I knew were here but still take the time to wave.  Thank you for being here.  Thank you for letting me know about you.

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Wednesday night into Thursday was Befana Day.  I write about it every damn year.

What?  You don’t command a perfect memory of my blog and remember the story I told y’all last Befana Day (which I swear to haShem is a real holiday).

Fine, gather around and I’ll tell it again.

Many years ago, my friend and I were in Italy in the winter and we were staying at a fantastic 12th century palazzo overlooking the site where Dante’s wife was born. The tradition of this particular hotel was to have guests sign this huge guestbook with a small story about themselves and then you could read back who stayed in your room before you.  We were sitting in the living room with the Miranda, the hotel owner’s daughter, reading the book and discussing some other hotel-goers who had particularly noisy sex, when we mentioned that we were going to San Gimignano the next day.

Miranda told us that we wouldn’t be able to get there because the trains wouldn’t run.  It was January 6th, otherwise known as Befana Day.  What’s Befana Day, we asked, and this is the first version of the story:

Once there was a woman named Befana. She was cooking and cleaning and just trying to get through her day when three men came to her house and asked directions to Bethlehem. They told her that a baby had been born who was G-d in human form and they asked if she wanted to come with them to see the new baby. Befana said no because she thought she had already used up too much time giving them directions and she went back to her cleaning and cooking.

A little while later, she thought about how she had just missed this amazing opportunity because she had been so focused on this end goal of having the house clean and dinner cooked. She ran out of the house with her broom and apron and tried to find the three travelers (who were, of course, the three wise men). Befana still goes from house to house to this day, trying to find the baby and leaves gifts and candy at each house she visits.

But there’s a second version, one that might touch closer to home:

Befana was an old woman who was finally a mother after many many years of infertility. The king learned that a baby would be born who would be G-d in human form and he ordered all baby boys to be murdered. Her son was killed in front of her but in her grief, she refused to accept the loss. Instead, she piled together all the things she had made for him, all the hope she had infused into these tangible items while she waited for him, and went out wandering around the world with this sack on her back.

One night, she came to a manger and in her grief, she thought she had found her son who she believed to be lost rather than dead. She placed these items in the manger and the baby’s family saw how deeply this woman grieved from not having her child that they named her Befana, the giver of gifts and gave her a special blessing. One night out of the year, she is a mother to all of the children in the world. On that night, she travels from home to home, leaving presents for children, to remind them how much they are wanted.

I’m not sure how much I love this second version of the story which plays into all the stereotypes of crazy grieving mothers, but there is a part of me that connects with Befana and her grief; much in the same way Fertile Hope eloquently stated her new and strange relationship to Michelle Duggar.  Befana, as she says, is my people.

Befana brought the Wovlog a robot that he named Robo (which stands for Really Odorous Bat Orifices) which took Josh and the Wolvog forever to put together and now races around our kitchen.  And she brought the ChickieNob a Rapunzel doll.  And both kids got candy galore.  And a request from Befana (since one comes every year) that they always remain close.  All in all, it was a nice Befana Day.

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The Weekly What If: what would you want Befana to bring you this year.  Must be something inanimate that can fit in a shoe or on top of a picture of a shoe.

I am still bucking for an iPad, but the saucy minx didn’t bring me one.

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In case you didn’t hear about this yet, Susan Niebur at Toddler Planet (with help from Sue at Laundry for Six) has started a new project bringing lymphedema sleeves to people suffering from lymphedema after surgery (many women who have mastectomies experience lymphedema).  I just think it’s a great project that has very quickly exploded into enormousness.  Plus, Susan is this amazingly wonderful person, a provider of Enfamil coupons and lover of science.  If you haven’t gotten involved yet, run don’t walk.

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And now, the blogs…

Near the 5 year anniversary of trying to build her family, Waiting for a Baby Bump reflects on the journey to that moment.  She brilliant writes, “Infertility can only be a stranger for so long and then it comes back front and center like that damn PMS zit.”  But it’s a beloved children’s author who makes a surprise appearance in this post (as well as some of his immortal words) that should make you click over immediately.

On the Lanai has a post about a strange maybe-prophecy from a sister who was not only predicted into existence, but has also had an uncanny ability to foreshadow other things.  I hope her words come true.

Lastly, I really loved this post by My Rotten Eggs about the comments she has received as of late.  While I’ve gotten the first one, I’ve never actually had someone say the second one to me.  Go over and share your favourite thing that has been said to you recently.

The roundup to the Roundup: thank you for delurking.  It was Befana Day.  Answer the Weekly What If.  Susan Niebur’s new lymphedema sleeves project.  And lots of great blogs to read.

Still adding (a lot) to the Creme de la Creme, so check back this weekend.

For the second year running, I have managed to remember International Blog Delurking Week BEFORE International Blog Delurking Week was over.  Which, in my world, is a major feat.  You see, the first full week of January has traditionally been International Blog Delurking Week (I’m looking to see how many times I can use the full name in a sentence), and since I am always focused on the Creme de la Creme, I usually forget all other things.  Such as showering.  And packing pants.  And International Blog Delurking Week.

Except that I have remembered, and my reward is that you have to delurk.  I think it’s something like … a law.  By which I mean, what is like a law, but the police will not enforce it?

Okay, so if it’s not a law, then we can at least all admit that this is worldwide holiday up there with all the other worldwide holidays … such as International Harry Potter Reading Day.  And International Font Loving Week.

So happy International Blog Delurking Week and in honour of this worldwide holiday, please delurk because there is a huge discrepancy between the number of readers in actuality and the number of readers I actually know are reading. Or a tongue-twister like that.

It is fairly easy. Leave a comment in the comment section below admitting that you’re here. You can simply raise your hand and meekly admit that you’re here with a simple, one-word “here” comment; or you can proudly raise your hand and tell us all a bit about yourself (my preferred method); or you can tell me what type of cookie you’d be if you were a lump of cookie dough (see, I’m trying to make it easy for you by even providing a comment prompt). The point is that I want to know about the people who read me.

And that’s all you have to do to celebrate.

Oh!  And the first of what will be a few giveaways for Life from Scratch just went up in the blogosphere.  Click over to win your own copy…