Going out with a double baby trolley for the first time was not easy at all. On top of this, it was December and it was cold. We had borrowed a trolley and it was one of those where one baby sits in front of the other one. The babies don’t sit next to each other. We’ll eventually get one of these, but not yet. Buying a double trolley also requires a Master’s Degree. The problem is that there are no classnotes or teachers, and the McLaren trend is also setting. And I certainly didn’t want to let them impose the new trend on me. Sales people try to target you to sell anything they can (and even more!).
At first, I didn’t have to buy a trolley because, as I have just said, my “twin fairy” lent me one. It was practical because it was narrow enough to fit on the pavement. It had a steering wheel (yeah, yeah, I’m not kidding), so it was very easy to maneuver, even with just one hand. However, of course it was long, very long, and it weighed a ton. In the lift, we had to “half-fold it up” to fit inside. Besides, it took up all the car boot space. Having all the logistics ahead of us (don’t think that we got the hang of this straightaway) and after spending half an hour deciding how to dress the girls, we went out onto the street. It was not easy for me because I still had the C-section stitches but I had the vital need to go out onto the street and breathe. I must have been locked at home for two or three days, in a spiral of sensations and new feelings, so I wanted to go outdoors. I knew that we wouldn’t be able to go far, because I couldn’t force myself too much, but going for a walk represented a small victory.
We go outside onto the streets. We get to the corner, on our way to the bakery. It starts to rain. Back up. We’re back in our doorway. Our first walk has lasted for exactly 3 and a half minutes.
After three rainy days, the sun comes out again. Today is the day. All ready. We’re a bit more used to the whole thing and we go out, the girls well wrapped up, and I try to take it easier. It’s our first and proud walk as a family. After a while, however, my husband looks nervous. Uncomfortable. “What’s the matter?”, I ask. And he worriedly replies: “Everybody is looking at us. Everybody turns around to look at the trolley and the girls.” It’s true. This will become constant from now on. I haven’t noticed. Perhaps during my pregnancy, especially in the last three months, I got used to having all eyes on that huge bump that got everywhere before I did.