And then there were two ...

I'd never carried a newborn before. Usually I don't even visit babies when they're at the newborn stage; on the previous two occasions that I have, I peered appreciatively at the child and even babysat one briefly while his mom went to the bathroom (alas, he gave himself up to bawling within seconds), but always declined to actually carry the child lest I drop it on its head. Newborns are so, well, small. They fit within the crook of even my arm and while I love how soft their skin is, that also always reminds me of how fragile they are.

Yesterday, I carried a newborn for the first time. Two newborns, actually. First there was Jordan, who frowned and gave a small yawp when she was moved from the new dad Packrat's arms to mine, but quickly settled down and snoozed on. I whispered, "Be vewy, vewy quiet. Hello, Ah Hui."

("Hui" really is a part of her Chinese name, but since "Ah Hui" is a homophone for "ah huey" which is a none-too-complimentary Singlish reference to a woman with dubious fashion sense, I'm pretty sure new mom Ondine doesn't want me calling her that too often.)

Then there was Evan, who seemed a little more sanguine about being handed around. He has very "boy" features with a certain Zen-like cast. I didn't whisper anything to him besides his name because nothing clever came to mind.

I'm still surprised that they a) fit within the crook of my arm (yes, it bears repeating) and b) are lighter than my cat.

I'll leave it to the parents to tell you the story of how Jordan and Evan got here, but meanwhile there are (Family-only) photos on Flickr and, of course, the inevitable quote from The West Wing --- not just because it's about babies but because it's about twins and there was talk about using a "Huck and Molly" codename at one point:

Toby: I didn't realise babies come with hats. You guys crack me up. You don't have jobs. You can't walk or speak the language. You don't have a dollar in your pockets, but you got yourselves a hat. So, everything's fine. I don't wanna alarm you or anything but I'm dad. And for you, son, for you, this'll be the last time I pass the buck, but I think it should be clear from the get-go that it was Mom who named you Huckleberry. I guess she was feeling like life doesn't present enough challenges to overcome on its own. And, honey, you've got a name now too. Your mom and I named you after an incredibly brave, uh, an incredibly brave woman, really not all that much older than you. Your name is Molly. Huck and Molly. So, what do I do? Well, you're gonna need food and clothes and doctors and dentists, and there's that. And, should you have any questions along the way, I'm gonna be doin' stuff like this (grabs a tissue and wipes Huck's mouth), Huck, because you're leaking a little bit out of your mouth there. You're holding my finger, son? Hey, Molly. Your brother's holding my hand. Do you wanna hold my hand?

--- "25", The West Wing

Plenty of time for hand-holding as we go along.

Edited to add (Thu, 12:48 am): Packrat's posted snapshots of the twins on their first day of, well, life.

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