As I stand in the kitchen, preparing yet another bottle of formula for our twins, I’m hit by a wave of nostalgia. The can of formula sits open, its contents dwindling with each scoop. This routine has been a steadfast part of our daily lives since the twins arrived. Now, as they’ve crossed the one-year milestone, we’re preparing to say goodbye to this stage. It’s a farewell to the ritual of mixing powdered milk with warm water, the ritual that nourished them from infancy.
When we first started, the task felt daunting. Ensuring the perfect temperature, the precise measurements—it was a science and art intertwined, a dance of parenthood I had yet to learn. I recall the early days, the kitchen lights dimmed in the late hours, the world silent but for the sound of the bottle warmer’s gentle hum. There was a sense of solitude in those moments, a quiet bond forming in the stillness of the night.
As I became more adept, the process evolved into a familiar rhythm. The soft thud of the scoop against the can, the powder sifting into the bottle, the liquid turning from clear to cloudy—all became second nature. I found an unexpected comfort in the precision, the reliability of the routine. It was a small, yet significant, part of their growth that I could control, could perfect.
Now, as I prepare to pack away the bottle warmer, I’m reminded of all the milestones we’ve celebrated. Each one has been a mixture of pride and a subtle sorrow for the phase that’s passed. Our twins are growing, thriving on more than just formula, their appetites for life expanding. It’s a natural progression, one that every parent knows, yet it’s hard not to feel a pang for the intimate moments that formula feeding provided us.
As parents, we witness a series of “lasts” that often go unmarked until they’re memories. The last time we rock them to sleep, the last time they crawl before they walk, the last time they reach for our hand before running off to play. This last can of formula represents one of those unspoken goodbyes.
Yet, with this goodbye comes a new hello. Hello to the world of solid foods, to self-feeding, to the messy, joyous exploration of taste and texture. As our twins take this next step, they do so with the eagerness that marks all of their discoveries.
In these moments of transition, I find myself grateful. Grateful for the journey, for the growth, and for the memories—each scoop of formula, each middle-of-the-night cuddle. Time may move swiftly, but it’s filled with these tiny, beautiful chapters of their lives—and ours.
So, as we move on from the formula days, I embrace the change with a full heart. It’s not just our twins who have grown; we have too. We’ve become more patient, more resilient, more filled with wonder at the little miracles we call our children.
The kitchen counter will soon be cleared of bottles and formula cans, but it will be filled with new adventures, new messes, and new memories. And I look forward to every single one.
Atsushi's Life in Korea 