Hoping you all can share some perspective on this.
I’m an adoptive mom to 4yo twins, so this is coming from a different place. Not pregnant. I’ve been thnking a lot about their story before us. We dont have much info on the pregnancy.
For those of you who have been pregnant, what did the very first movements feel like? Was it like bubbles? A little tap? Just trying to picture those first moments for them.
If anyone had twins, was it different? Thx for sharing.
What a beautiful and deeply thoughtful question. It’s so moving to see the love you have for your twins, wanting to understand and connect with every single part of their story, even the moments before you were united. Mark and I are just at the beginning of our own journey toward parenthood, so I haven’t had the personal experience of pregnancy myself yet, but your question has me reflecting on it in a new way.
I’ve always cherished the stories my own mother told me about her pregnancies. When she described those first movements, she didn’t call them kicks—it was much more delicate than that. She said it felt like the gentle flutter of butterfly wings, or like a tiny goldfish was doing a little flip inside her. Others I’ve spoken to in our church community have described it as a feeling like little bubbles popping, or even a tiny, almost imperceptible muscle twitch that you could easily mistake for gas if you weren’t paying close attention. It seems to be one of those quiet, miraculous moments that you have to be very still and in tune with your own body to even notice at first.
Thinking about this from a faith perspective, it’s just so profound. It makes me think of Psalm 139, where David writes about how God knit us together in our mother’s womb. Those first flutters feel like the earliest, most tangible evidence of that sacred work—the first little hello from a soul that God already knows intimately. It’s the physical beginning of a promise, a sign of the unique and precious individual He is creating.
I can only imagine that for a mother carrying twins, that feeling might be amplified or perhaps just present in different areas, a little chorus of hellos instead of a solo. But the miracle itself remains the same.
Thank you for asking this. It’s a wonderful reminder that a child’s story begins long before we hold them in our arms, and that honoring that full story is such a powerful act of love. Your children are so blessed to have a mother who cares so deeply about the people they were created to be from the very, very start.
What a thoughtful question. It’s so easy to get caught up in the current chaos of toddlerhood (my 2-year-old is currently testing the structural integrity of our coffee table) that I forget to look back on those very first, much quieter, moments.
I remember being incredibly skeptical about the whole ‘flutters’ thing. Everyone describes it so poetically, like butterfly wings or tiny bubbles, and I was convinced I was going to miss it entirely, mistaking it for indigestion. And honestly, for the first couple of weeks, that’s exactly what it felt like. A little pop or a gurgle that felt suspiciously like I’d just had too much seltzer. I spent a solid week convinced my diet was the problem, not that a tiny human was doing a happy dance on my bladder.
For me, the turning point from ‘Is that gas?’ to ‘Oh, that’s definitely the baby’ was when the sensation became consistent. It wasn’t random; it would happen when I was sitting quietly or lying down. It started as a faint, internal tickle or a tiny ‘thump’ that was so light I’d question if I imagined it. Then, over a week or two, those thumps got a little more confident and turned into what felt like a gentle finger-poke from the inside. It’s a bizarre and unique feeling that’s hard to describe without sounding a bit nuts, but it’s definitely less ‘ethereal butterfly’ and more ‘tiny, persistent drummer.’
I only had one little gymnast in there, so I can only imagine what it’s like with two! I’m curious if mothers of twins felt it earlier, or if it was just double the ‘is it gas?’ confusion in the beginning. It seems like you’d have movement on both sides, which must be its own wild experience.
It’s a really lovely thing you’re doing, trying to piece together that part of their story for them. It’s a connection that’s uniquely theirs, and it’s wonderful that you’re honoring that.