The last spring of the Heisei era. My angel was there.

Height: 153 centimeters.
Abdominal circumference: 110 centimeters.

Can you imagine this abnormal body balance? ...No, actually, you don't have to imagine it...

These numbers are the final measurements from my twin pregnancy. By the way, I will refrain from mentioning my weight. Because it's embarrassing.

I have photographic evidence to prove these measurements.
But my body shape was so extreme that it almost felt grotesque. A feeling akin to terror washes over me at the thought of whether a human stomach can really stretch this far, so I still need courage to look back at them.

When I walked down the street,
sometimes people would ask, "Are you due soon?" but most of the time,
"Eh...?"
"Whoa."
"Huge."
I was looked at with surprised eyes, and there were times in public restrooms when my belly would get stuck and I couldn't close the door.

Even just walking a little, I couldn't bear the weight of my belly, and the base of my legs would ache and creak.
Even when standing, I could place a plate on top of my protruding belly.
I could even open a book and lay it there. It was very convenient.
No, wait, it wasn't convenient. My neck would get tired. My whole body was always stiff.
While I found my own body shape half-amusing, I had a strong desire to be freed from this weight as soon as possible.

When I found out I was pregnant with twins, I was filled with excitement and anxiety, and I searched for all sorts of information.
I saw information here and there saying that "morning sickness is twice as hard with twins," but
"No. I think I'll be fine."I kept a mysterious confidence in my heart.
Perhaps it was because I had almost no morning sickness with my first or second child.
Maybe I avoided complaining precisely because I was aware that my situation was rare and fortunate.
Anyway, as a result, I never felt morning sickness and was a pregnant woman who ate heartily until the very end.
Was I just lucky? Naturally, I don't know the truth about morning sickness.

My husband, my mom (my biological mother), and my mother-in-law all looked at my belly and said, "Well, there are twins in there, so that's to be expected."
As the youngest of three siblings, I am used to being spoiled, so I got thoroughly fat. And as expected, I gained weight,gaining over 20 kilograms.
As a result, I was scolded at every checkup in the latter half.
I am sorry about that. (Deep bow)

The new era name "Reiwa," which the then-Chief Cabinet Secretary Suga respectfully unveiled.
It was announced on the day the last April of the Heisei era began.
The twins' due date was in mid-May of the first year of Reiwa.

"So they'll be Reiwa first-year BOYS."

I said to my belly.

I was born in the first year of Heisei.
Those born in the first year of Heisei take pride in the sound of this "first year." (According to my research)
There is a colleague at my workplace who used to be a 'gal.' The moment we realized we were both born in the first year of Heisei, we shook hands firmly,
"The first year is the best, right?"and understood each other.
In other words, that's what it is. (What is?)

Surely these children will also...

"Eh, what year were you born? Well... the first year. Reiwa first year."

I imagined my yet-to-be-seen BOYS saying it with a bit of swagger... I felt that even if they were a bit cheeky, they would grow up to be good men.

While looking forward to those Reiwa BOYS, one night in April, while I was spending time taking a leisurely walk,
some kind of unpleasant pain started to keep rhythm in my belly.
Throb, throb, it poked at the right side of my belly.
It felt like prodromal labor, but somehow a little different...

"I feel like it hurts a bit today..."

I had a checkup the next day. And since I was hoping for a natural birth for the twins, I had been told that if labor started during the day, I could try for it. That hospital had particularly well-equipped facilities and excellent doctors in the prefecture,
and I had been told, "You can definitely do it!"
I was completely convinced and was fully prepared to have a natural birth, saying, "I'll do my best!"

Pain in the midst of all that.
However, naturally, we didn't hesitate.
"Let's call the hospital. I'll bring the bag."
My husband said. I contacted the hospital. I was told, "Please come immediately." I left my sleeping sisters, who were close in age, to my husband, had him contact my mom and mother-in-law, and jumped into a taxi.

"I'll come as soon as Mom arrives," my husband said as he left, watching the taxi pull away.

When they checked the heartbeats at the hospital, I was told that the heartbeat of the child on the lower right side of my belly—the one who would be the "older brother" once born—was dropping.

"Let's deliver them now. We'll prepare for a C-section. Could you sign the consent form?"

That's what they said. I think. Did my husband, who had rushed over, sign it, or did I sign it myself? I have no memory of it.

While lying down, I was changed into a surgical gown and taken to the operating room.
Before I was taken away, my husband, who had rushed to the hospital, placed his hand on my cheek. Hiding the look of deep concern, he smiled awkwardly and said, "You can do it. It's okay, it's okay..."

"I've decided on a name."

I said it, wanting to put him at ease. Among the candidates, I hadn't been able to decide. One was already chosen, but I had been agonizing over the other one for a long, long time.
What I thought in that moment was,"I want you to live strongly and resiliently."That is why I chose the name that I felt was the most dignified among the candidates.

"That's good. I think that's great."

My husband said.
Seeing his expression soften, I felt relieved and headed to the operating room.

For a twin birth, there must be many people to receive the babies. If it becomes a C-section, anesthesia is also necessary, which means more doctors in charge. There were many nurses as well.

"It's going to be okay. You'll meet them soon."

The nurse who greeted me at the hospital entrance held my hand tightly throughout the surgery.

There must have been about 8 to 10 people in total there.
Including the doctors, everyone in that operating room was a woman.

"The twins are coming into this harem, aren't they?"

The doctor who was making the incision in my belly said that and laughed.

"That's true. A harem the moment they're born, that's nice."

I laughed too.
Even with the spinal anesthesia, my consciousness was clear. The sensation of the scalpel entering my belly and my internal organs being probed. It seems some people feel nauseous just from this. I felt like I understood why. It is the kind of experience I would rather not have in my life if I could help it.
But at that moment, my heart was filled with the joy of being able to focus my consciousness on the moment of my children's birth, and with the warmth of the space.

"I'm going to press on your belly a little! The baby is coming out!"

The doctor said that, and I squeezed the nurse's hand tightly.

The child cried weakly. It was the older twin.
Immediately, my belly was pressed again for the next child.
The younger brother, who came into this world one minute later, cried more strongly than his brother. It was a high-pitched voice.

A ventilator was immediately attached to my older son. It was like a pump that pushes air by hand, repeatedly delivering oxygen. I watched the scene with a pounding heart.

“Your older son’s breathing is a little weak, so we are going to take him to the NICU. However, although his breathing is weak, he is doing it properly, so he will be fine. This is just as a precaution. We will also keep your younger son in the NICU overnight to monitor him.”

The nurse said gently, never losing her smile. As my consciousness began to fade slightly, I said, “Please do.”
Older son, 2410g. Younger son, 2222g.
“For twins, this is a very respectable weight.”
Encouraged by her words, I was finally able to cry just a little.

It was just one week until the Reiwa era began.

While the twins were in the NICU, my husband, along with my mother-in-law and my own mother, would go there to hold them and hold their hands.
I never once managed to go see the twins while they were in the NICU.

Shortly after I regained consciousness, I had been bedridden for over 24 hours.

I heard later that I had lost over 1.5 liters of blood. I felt strangely convinced, thinking, 'No wonder my head felt fuzzy for so long, and I felt dizzy just trying to sit up in bed.'
Even though I am basically made of sturdy stuff, I had no choice but to use painkillers after a cesarean section. The spinal anesthesia tube extending from my back was the most painful thing to have removed. The IV tube extending from the inside of my elbow was reinserted many times. There were many times when the IV ran out while I was sleeping, and my arm swelled up and hurt terribly.

Perhaps it was because it was April.
Perhaps it was because, being my third childbirth, I looked very energetic.
Many doctors and nurses who seemed to be in training visited the private room I had splurged on. A new nurse failed to find my vein, and in the end, blood was drawn from my thigh. It was incredibly painful, but I pretended to be fine.

Living and giving life are both such difficult things.
I thought, holding my swollen arm and aching thigh.

Even so, taking care of the children I had given birth to could not wait. As soon as they confirmed I could sit up, the midwife brought the twins over immediately.
My body hurt, but I was still happy to be able to hold the children who had been in my womb in my own hands.
Without rushing or panicking, I held them when I wanted to hold them, and rested when I wanted to rest. And when I was feeling well, I inhaled the scent of a newborn, which I hadn't smelled in a long time, to my heart's content.

The twins were brought in together in one incubator because they took up space. The fact that they were so cute was my salvation.

While I was staring at the tiny, tiny twins,
I thought, 'I want the whole family to be together soon.'

When I sent photos of the twins sleeping, which didn't change much, my husband would send me photos of our daughters.

“I went to the nearby green space today.”
“They say they want to see Mommy.”

The photos of my daughters that my husband sent were illuminated by the last light of April, shining divinely.

“They look like angels.”

That is what I sent back.

“They were picking flowers, saying they wanted to give them to Mommy.”

Girls picking flowers under the greenery where photosynthesis was thriving.
They were truly the light of the angels protecting our home.

May 1, 2019, the first year of Reiwa.
I returned home with the twins—the last boys of Heisei—in tow.

“It’s a baby!”

My eldest daughter, who was about to turn four, covered the twins with her favorite security blanket that she never let go of.
My second daughter, who was only two and a half, felt a bit bewildered and grumpy that two babies had suddenly arrived. Even so, when I hugged her, she smiled happily and said, “Mama!”
And then, she fell asleep, looking relieved.

The last spring of Heisei.
The first spring of Reiwa.
My precious angels have grown to four.

The angels cried, screamed, threw tantrums, and grew up big.
Before I knew it, there was one more angel.
The last boys of Heisei, born just in time that spring, turned six the other day.

Someday, the twins will surely be asked by someone,
“What year were you born?”
At that time, I want them to stand tall and answer.

“Me? April, Heisei 31. The last man of Heisei... you know.”

If they can manage a wink along with that, they’ll be doing great.
Acting all cool and cheeky. They probably won’t be popular with the girls.
Just like their dad. They might not be popular, but they’ll be good guys.
That’s fine.
That’s even more interesting.

My twins. My children.
Thank you for being my angels.
And from here on out,
become even more interesting people.

Because the older you get,

it would be a waste of life to just stay angels.