Seeing Double: Life with Oak and Ash
Some days, having identical twins feels like living inside a magic trick. You blink, and there they are—two tiny humans with matching eyes, matching giggles, and a bond so deep it seems to defy logic. Sometimes, even now, it feels surreal that there are two of them.
I never imagined I’d be a twin mom. Contrary to popular belief, identical twins don’t run in families—they’re a spontaneous twist of biology. In fact, at my first ultrasound, there was just one embryo. It wasn’t until the second scan that the technician paused, tilted her head, and said, “Wait… there are two.” I was simultaneously excited and terrified.
But here we are—nearly two years in—and I’m still marveling at the wonder of Oak and Ash.
The Tickle Phenomenon: One Laughs, Both Giggle
One of the first signs that Oak and Ash were wired uniquely came one afternoon when I tickled Oak’s belly, and Ash—who was across the room—burst into laughter. I paused and figured it was a coincidence. But I tried again. Same result. I tickled one, and the other one laughed.
It wasn’t a fluke. It kept happening. Even now, if one twin gets a belly raspberry, the other starts giggling like they’re feeling it too. Scientists call this “mirroring,” and while it’s not fully understood, it’s one of the many quirks that make identical twins so fascinating.
Identical, But Not the Same
Oak and Ash came from a single fertilized egg that split into two embryos. That means they share 100% of their DNA. They have the same blood type, eye color, and eerily similar fingerprints—but they’re not carbon copies.
Oak dives into new situations while Ash hangs back. Oak loves raspberries; Ash throws them like confetti. Their personalities are distinct, even if their faces make strangers do a double take.
I can tell them apart but even Mama makes the occasional mix-up in a hurry or when they’ve switched places on me.
Twin Trivia from the Front Lines of Parenthood
Along this wild and wonderful journey with Oak and Ash, I’ve picked up a few fascinating facts about twins—some surprising, some sweet, and all worth sharing:
Identical twins are always the same sex—they come from a single fertilized egg that splits, so they share the same genetic blueprint, including sex chromosomes.
Dogs can tell them apart, even when humans can’t. While we squint at photos and second-guess ourselves, research shows that dogs can distinguish identical twins by scent alone.
Twin bonding begins early. Studies show that twins reach for each other in the womb as early as 14 weeks gestation. Oak and Ash were already practicing their hand-holding before they were born. In my 13-week ultrasound, Oak was sleeping and Ash was dancing on top of him.
Some twins invent their own language. It’s called cryptophasia, and while Oak and Ash haven’t gone full secret code, they definitely have a way of communicating with synchronized squeals and giggles.
Fraternal twins are influenced by maternal genetics. The tendency to release multiple eggs—called hyper-ovulation—can run in families, but only on the mother’s side. Sorry, dads: twins don’t “run” through you.
Twins make up about 3% of all births. And of those, roughly one-third are identical twins—about 3 to 4 sets per 1,000 births worldwide.
Holding Hands
One of the most heartwarming moments of twin life happens in the backseat. I’ll glance in the rearview mirror and see Oak and Ash’s little hands clasped across the car seat divide. No prompting, no fuss—just two tiny people reaching for each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Their cribs are adjacent and often when I come into their rooms in the morning, they are standing next to each other, holding hands.
Sometimes one sits down and the other sits next to him and puts his arm around him.
It’s in these quiet gestures—hands reaching across car seats, cribs, and morning light—that I glimpse the depth of Oak and Ash’s bond. Their connection isn’t something I taught them; it’s something they arrived with, and as their mother, I get to witness it—this silent language of belonging—every single day.
The Twin Bond: More Than Just Proximity
People often ask if Oak and Ash are “best friends.” The truth is, their relationship is deeper than friendship. It’s like they’re tuned to the same frequency. They know when the other is upset. They comfort each other with pats and babbles.
But they also fight. Oh, do they fight. They squabble over blocks, books, and who gets the blue spoon. And yet, five minutes later, they’re back to giggling and holding hands.
What strikes me most is their awareness of each other. It’s not just proximity—it’s presence. They coordinate games without speaking, darting across the room in perfect sync. They sit side by side in silence, one draping an arm around the other like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And maybe, for them, it is.
The Challenges: Double the Chaos, Double the Growth
Let’s be honest—twin parenting isn’t all cuddles and matching outfits. It’s exhausting. You’re always outnumbered. Sleep schedules are a puzzle—especially when they share a room! Diaper changes feel like a relay race. And don’t get me started on the logistics of grocery shopping with two toddlers who think the cart is a jungle gym.
But here’s the thing: every challenge comes with a reward. You learn to multitask like a ninja. You develop a sixth sense for who needs what. And you get to witness a bond that’s so pure, it makes the chaos worth it.
Twin Identity: Navigating the World’s Reactions
People are fascinated by twins. We get stopped in parks, grocery stores, and restaurants. I want to buy a shirt that says: “Yes they are twins.” “Yes they are identical.” “Yes I have my hands full.”
But I also understand the curiosity. Identical twins are rare. They’re nature’s way of showing off. And as their mom, I get a front-row seat.
Still, I try to protect their individuality. They very deliberately have unique and non-rhyming names. I don’t refer to them as “the twins” in real life. I call them “the boys.” I love to dress them identically for now but as they grow and don’t want to anymore, I will respect that choice. I remind them—and the world—that they’re two whole people, not just halves of a set.
What I’ve Learned (So Far)
Raising Oak and Ash has taught me more than any parenting book ever could. I’ve learned:
That love multiplies, not divides.
That connection can be silent, subtle, and profound.
That even when life feels like a blur, there are moments of clarity and profound connection.
I’ve also learned that I’m stronger than I thought. More patient than I believed. And infinitely grateful for the gift of seeing double.