I am halfway through this pregnancy, if I were going for the full 40–which I’m not, so I guess I reached my halfway mark uneventfully a week and a half ago.
I’m no longer nauseous 24/7 but I am dizzy and achy and breathless as junk. I crave no foods and want no things, and have the energy to do no activities (including physical movement of any sort.)
Also: pounding headaches and crying. Lord I am crying. It won’t stop. I cry for good reasons and no reasons. I cry in public and in the shower. I’ve never seen myself so ridiculous. I’m out of my dadgum mind.
Pregnancy y’all: never predictable.
I’m having a scheduled c-section at 37 weeks. I admit this with mixed feelings: 1)Relief because it’s scheduled and there’s no guesswork on delivery date, which is hard enough when you’re only expecting 1 baby. 2) Guilt because I’m totally fine with not tryna be a hero and have that regular old birth, 3) Disappointment because my body was so perfectly capable of pushing five other 9lb + babies out the old fashioned way in five minutes flat each without so much as one stitch, just fine–should I not just go to two more? (Short answer: nah.)
And 4) Fear. So much fear. I’m having my abdomen hacked into. I’m scared of the anesthesia. I’m scared of all the blue hospital caps and gowns and drapes and shiny scissors on shiny tables. I’m scared I’ll throw up like I always do, except this time I won’t even be able to aim because I’ll be numb. I’m freaking out about the recovery. I’m freaking out about how I’m going to take care of my other children if I can’t even carry more than the weight of ONE newborn baby, let alone two.
Surgery? To get two babies yanked out of a bloody hole in my stomach? Can I just be knocked unconscious for the day and wake up later to happy healthy twins ready to nurse?
Twins! I crushed those postpartum weeks with sweet and easy Lucy, but I can already tell that this round of newborns won’t be quite as cakewalk-y. What about Arbor? She’s a boiling hot mess fresh off the surface of the sun. It’s been a full-time job keeping her in check (“in check” being used incredibly loosely since I mainly mean I’ve got her down to a maximum of 30 tantrums per day).
I can’t deal. I don’t know where to begin to deal. I don’t even know if dealing is an option.
Update: you should know it’s taken me over a week to finish this post. My terror has lessened somewhat since I began writing, but my energy levels have plummeted, and I have bled a teensy bit here and there, usually after a string of particularly busy days, most likely out of sheer exhaustion. (Getting dressed, grocery shopping, AND a softball game? What am I, a triathlete?!)
Mia and Merrick have been awesome beyond belief with pitching in around the house and helping out with the littles. We’ve also done quite a bit of twin-prep via Amazon:
(Any guesses as to who picked out the Wonder Woman car seat cover for baby Indie?)
I don’t feel so overwhelmed when I know progress is being made towards our “readiness”, readiness meaning we have material objects waiting the arrival of newborn twins while we ourselves are just as mentally unprepared and exhausted as we have been since Caleb and I began our parenting journey together in 2004.
Here’s something about me that I’ve learned: I freak out all the time over almost everything. And that pretty much sums up everything about me being pregnant or even alive period.