North State Parent magazine

It seems like such a little thing. The double stroller for my children, 3-year old twins, is sitting in our family room in the basement, the place where my wife and I escape to every night to watch some TV together after our kids have finally fallen asleep. While it is taking up valuable space there, I just don't know what to do with it. It has been in our family for over three years now and somehow shoving it in the garage doesn't seem a just ending for this device that has been with us for so long. It used to live in the back of our Outback and was there when we needed it. It has been to four states and even South America with us, not to mention the mall, the park and hundreds of other places.

I can remember shopping for double strollers, still shocked that we were having two babies instead of one. When we registered for items, I went along with my wife, but deferred to her most of the time; I did use the UPC gun, which they obviously developed solely to get us fathers involved. But when it came to a stroller, I felt like I wanted to contribute a bigger input into our final purchase and became actively involved. I remember checking ours out, comparing it to other double strollers, calculating their strengths and weaknesses in order to figure out the best one to buy. I even remember the act of buying this one, because I actually had to do it myself since my wife was on bed rest at the time.

After our kids were born, it was too cold and they were too small to take outside for anything except doctor's appointments. After the weather warmed a bit, we bundled them up and for the first time took them to the park in the double stroller. Jordyn slept the entire time, but Elijah was wide awake-- one of the best pictures we have of him is from that day, with an incredible smirk on his face. We knew then he was going to be a pretty good-looking child.

I remember that anytime we went somewhere together I always wanted to push the stroller, partly to give my wife a break, but also because there was something about pushing it that helped me feel like I was doing something important for the twins, that I was doing something father-like. That was a big deal for me, because I didn't feel much like a father in those early days and thought that meant there was something wrong with me.

The best part of the stroller experience for me was the incredible sense of pride I felt when I was out with them- especially when I was by myself, and people stopped us to admire how cute the twins were. "Yup, I'm their Daddy." In the beginning those were some of the best feelings I associated with being a father.

When we moved to the suburbs, we put the stroller in the back of our car. We never took it out---that double stroller sat in the back of our car day in and day out for over a year.

Once our children started walking, my wife and I would periodically ask each other if we should bring the stroller on our outings. Ironically, she often wanted to and I often didn't. I felt it was cumbersome, a burden. Let's let our children run free now that they can, I believed. I also felt the stroller made it hard to relate to them, because we couldn't see their faces or hear them talk when we pushed them from behind.

One day, in the past few months, one of us took the stroller out of the back of the car, and it never got put back. I don't know when we last used it, or even thought about using it. Its days of use in our family are over, and now it sits like an old racehorse put out to pasture with nothing to do, no longer serving its purpose, no longer doing what it was built to do.

Considering how much I wanted to stop using the stroller, I find myself particularly surprised at my sentimental reaction. Shouldn't I be happy it is no longer an issue? But to me the stroller symbolizes my children's babyhood, a difficult time in my life as a father, yet also a time that will never return. Our children are growing older every day, and there are moments we really notice. For my wife it's every time a piece of clothing is outgrown. For myself, it's no longer needing or even being able to use the double stroller, which was the first real twin purchase we made, the first real admission that we were getting two instead of one. Now the stroller sits where my wife and I spend our time together after our children have gone to sleep, intruding on our time, reminding me of how it is all moving so fast.
Where does the time go? How can I make it slow down? 

Jeremy G. Schneider, MFT is a fatherhood expert, family therapist, and a father of twins. Email him at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it .