I’m feeling a lot of love for my boys today. I find myself frequently having thoughts of screaming babies, mountains of diapers and an unkempt house. But today, I have a sense of peace and joy looking forward to the arrival of my two little dudes.
I’m thinking a lot about the delivery. From the beginning, I’ve known I have preferred to go through the love tunnel (or more technically named, “the vagina”), but after a conversation with the doctor on Wednesday, I’m second guessing it. Obviously I want what is best for both me and babies, but I really am not looking forward to the possibility of having to recuperate from both vaginal birth and major surgery with a c-section. I would think one or the other would be preferable. I guess it’s just something I’ll have to let go how it goes. I don’t have a ton of control over the situation so there’s no sense in losing myself in the anxiety.
Speaking of the doctor, the appointment went really well. He took some measurements and said the babies are measuring about a week behind, but that is expected (since they’re low on space) and preferable (since we don’t want them to come too early) for twins. So sounds like we’re still on track. He has moved me to two week appointments, so I’ll be seeing him again near the end of the month, right before my baby shower. Although he tried to get some good ultrasound pictures for me, they just didn’t turn out very great. He said he saw one with its arm or wrist in its mouth, but I couldn’t see the screen so I didn’t get to see it.
I’ve become paranoid about strangers. I don’t really like walking around in public at the moment because I feel as if everyone is looking at me. It’s probably because I’m pregnant, but I can’t help but think it’s because of any combination of the following:
- I walk like I’m the 2011 limbo contest champion
- My legs are so white they’d make Ray Charles squint from the brightness
- I’m not wearing my wedding rings so they pity me because I’m “so brave” to do it on my own
- They first assume I’m just big boned or hefty until they see me from the side and realize how disproportionate all the extra weight is, THEN they figure out I’m pregnant
- I’m eating at a fast food restaurant and they wonder why anyone would want to poison their unborn baby with such toxic choices
- My outfit doesn’t match and/or I’m out of fashion because I had to throw a top and bottom together that still fits (or at least I can breathe in), resulting in pants that are too long, shirts that squeeze my boobs , shoes that are too small or some other item that makes me look like a large umbrella
- They can hear my grunts, heavy breathing and other uncontrollable noises that come with the inevitable task of walking, standing, sitting or bending
- They see me trying to bend over to pick something up and are amused at my obvious struggle (look at that fat lady who can’t even pick up that bottle of lotion she dropped! Let’s not offer to help her while we watch her struggle…and let’s tape it and put it on YouTube!)
See? Most of these are irrational reasons why people would glance at me (although, the glance feels like a 10 minute stare down), but I can’t help but wonder what people think. I know I’ve been guilty of a few of those thoughts listed above from time to time, so why wouldn’t others occasionally think that about me?