Life has already become hectic and the little dudes have yet to show up.
I’m seven months along now and I long for the singleton pregnancy. I spent half of my second trimester thinking I was already in my third. When one of my pregnancy apps told me that I was almost in my third trimester, all I could think was, great.
Let me put it in the simplest terms. I grew and I grew fast. Gaining 40lbs in less than 7 months is no easy feat. It hurts. I feel old, out of shape, constantly out of breath and I can’t walk more than a mile without loosing my breath or getting several (Braxton Hicks) contractions. I convince myself that this is not my body.
Being pregnant with twins is extremely glamorous. Some even say that it’s a blessing.
Two weeks ago, at 26 weeks we had pregnancy scare (I am now convinced that I can’t make it through a pregnancy without one). It ended up being nothing. But for about 30 hours I was stressed out and miserable because my back up doctor and nurse told me I needed to go on bed rest and to stop all activity for risk of preterm labor.
It all worked out, but it ended up taking me nearly a week to recover from that stress and now I’m back to my twin pregnancy “normal.”
Still, with all the ache and pains, and ups and downs, I feel thankful. Thankful that I have Mark and Thad already in my life. Thankful for our amazing families. Thankful that I have two more little men to add to it and it wasn’t that difficult to get here. Sure, I “married late” by yesterday’s standards, and I dated my share of go-nowheres, but once I got here everything seemed to work out.
And everything will work out. While the fourth trimester with these little guys is scaring me to death, I know I can do it. I know I will make it through. It will be the hardest thing ever, but we will survive and suddenly they’ll be toddlers. And then they will be waving goodbye as they’re off to school and I’ll hope that I did a good enough job for them.