Well, I’ve made it to 35 weeks, which is wonderful. The babies are big, which is also wonderful. And I am enormous, which is not so wonderful. In fact, despite having done the whole newborn thing twice before, I am actually praying for an early delivery. Tomorrow sounds about right.
Even though I know the first few weeks are going to be brutal beyond words, and the first few months won’t be a whole lot better, I’m so uncomfortable and heavy and sleep-deprived already that I can see glimmers of freedom in the postpartum period.
Here, then, in no particular order, are some of the things I’m looking forward to:
Not having this 55-pound beach ball protruding from my abdomen.
Sleeping on my back. Oh, I can hardly wait.
Having usable stomach muscles again.
Not having pain in my sacrum every time I change position.
Being able to pee sitting down. (It’s sad but true: I must squat over the toilet because one of the babies rests his head right on my bladder and nothing comes out if I’m sitting. Given how large my belly is, you can imagine the kind of aim I have. I pity the poor, blessed souls who come to clean my bathroom every week. Of course, they probably think it’s Jack’s mess, and I’m not about to set them straight.)
No more itching!
Being able to walk instead of waddle.
Being able to see my feet when I’m standing on them.
Hot, hot, hot showers.
Breastfeeding (oh please oh please oh please let us be able to breastfeed).
Wearing clothes that fit. (I’ve outgrown all my pregnancy clothes because, really, who is ever 10 months pregnant? They just don’t make them for women as big as I am.)
Calling the twins by real names instead of “Baby A” and “Baby B” (though Doug gets around this by calling them Brendan and Brandon or Sean and Shawn).
Seeing their faces for the first time.
Holding them skin-to-skin.
Being able to let other people hold them.
Watching Jack and Jane grow into their roles as older siblings.
And the thing I’m most looking forward to: simply not being pregnant anymore. Oh what a blessed relief that will be.
Of course, I may see all this a whole lot differently when I’m six days postpartum, bleary-eyed, sleep-deprived, and dealing with raging hormones and bleeding nipples. Then pregnancy might not look so bad after all.