Things I Won't Miss About Being Pregnant. Not Listed: Not Being Able To See My Downstairs - I Just Like To Make Sure Its Still There Sometimes

I'd be a total liar if I said I was going to miss being pregnant.  The other two times I was pregnant I knew I wasn't done yet.  I knew there would (hopefully) be another time, but now that we're rounding out our family to a hearty size 6, I'm sure.  We're done.  And that doesn't make me sad the way I thought it would.  It's so weird because they say you know when your family is complete you feel it, and when we just had Addie we worshipped her, but knew we weren't finished yet.  And when we had Tula, again we were like - life is so amazing with her in it(!), but still a lingering ache for maybe one more.  And now that there's two coming, yeah.  That's good.  I feel it already.  We will be complete.  Even if they come out as alligators, like I keep dreaming they do, we will love those baby alligators and I will nurse their murdering little mouths until my boobs look like the end of a horror movie.

And yes, being pregnant is a wonderful miracle and I'm so happy I got to experience it, because it really is great.  But also, I'm not one of those women that glows when she's pregnant.  Instead I get excessively weird back sweat.  Also, have an insane urge to have the worst hair possible, in a time when my body is doing it's weirdest, and so I cut it all off despite a very strong remembrance of what I looked like in Jr. High.

Oh yeah. What up Alta Vista Elementary!

(I will post this whole picture later, but just so you know those heads right there are not some kids I was babysitting, but were in fact the heads of my best friends.  They didn't even reach my shoulders.  I was about 11 or 12 and six feet tall.  Here's my pants. . .)

  

I mean, they were like feet away from ending at my ankles.  Good thing big puffy socks were in.

21 weeks and the same hair as 6th grade.  *sigh*

It's like pregnancy makes me subconsciously want to look terrible so that I won't feel like a normal, attractive person in some sort of survival mechanism?  As if looking decent will inhibit my mothering?  Or being attractive to my lover is going to make me give the babies cigarettes for breakfast while he and I make out on the counter top?

Well, that actually could happen so it's a good thing I go to bed looking like this.

Also, I have to wear compression socks because of my painful varicose veins.  Like an 80 year old lady.  So, I'm not gonna miss that.  I'm looking forward to the day where I can wear sandals and shorts without looking like a pregnant hooker dressed as a Midwestern tourist in a European country.

Addie doing her best Chris Farley while I try desperately to get her to laugh.  Didn't work.  The woman is a brick wall sometimes.

I can smell everything.  Ever. Y. Thing.  This is great when I'm in a field of flowers, but when I'm not frolicking I'm gagging because I caught a whiff of baby puke Tula has been hiding under some teddy bears, or I'm considering getting a guest house for my baby daddy because he had chili for dinner.

I can't wear normal underwear because of the pressure of having two babies at once puts on my nether regions is akin to setting a bowling ball on your pelvis for months at a time, and undies cutting into my bikini line?  No thank you.  I'll be over here in the corner wearing Josh's boxer briefs like a normal person.  Anyone who says pregnancy brings the sexy back, clearly has NO IDEA WHAT THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT.  Either that or they are pregnant with a feather.

And my memory?  Well, I forgot what I was writing about about three times since I started this.  That and I continue to have no idea whether or not I've taken my pills seconds after I've taken them and sort of hold my throat to sense if something small has just been swallowed.  Like if I stay really still, and focus, I'll be in tune with my throat enough for it to reveal if I've just taken my prenatal or if I ate that chunk of Reese's Peanut Butter cups I found on my bathroom sink.

I could go on and on, but my point is - I love my babies.  I'm so excited and already in love with these two new ones, but am I excited about being a non-pregnant version of me again?

Hell to the yes.

Except I will miss these boobs.  I love me some pregnant boobs.

Not that they're getting any attention (see above picture of nighttime me), but they're still a nice perk.

Two boys will be great, but for now, sisters are sort of the best thing ever.

I mean.  They both want to be dressed as Elsa.  All.  The.  Time.  Gosh darn that's cute.

We never dressed the same, but love each other just as much.  Maybe more, we've had longer to love each other.