The Green Eyed Monster rears it’s ugly head. Every once in awhile when I see a clearly I’m-ready-to-birth-this-child-right-now Mama in all her pregnant glory, I get jealous. I get jealous. Jealous and pissed. And it isn’t the I-want-a-baby type jealousy either. Nope. It is the man-I-would-have-given-anything-to-carry-my-babies to term type jealousy.
As most of you know, my twin boys, Hayden and Logan were born 12 weeks early in June 2008. They were teeny tiny little turkeys weighing just over 2 pounds. Although, next to those beautiful micropreemies, they might as well have been giants in the NICU. While we had been repeatedly warned that it was highly unlikely we would make it to 40 weeks, it never even occurred to me that they would be born any earlier than 37 weeks. I thought for sure that my babies would want to hang out as long as possible in their cozy little spot in my nice cushy uterus, just to drive me bonkers.
I fully expected to get big and uncomfortable. I expected to require my husband to give me nightly foot and back rubs to ease my discomfort. I expected to take the birthing classes. I expected to actually be pregnant during my baby shower. I expected the weekly ultrasound appointments and the non-stress tests. I expected to waddle around during week 36 and be told repeatedly, “Wow, you are huge. Are you having twins?” Which, in my imagination, I would be grinning wildly, while exclaiming, “Why, yes, yes I am!” I expected my best friend who was due three months before I was to give me the nitty gritty on the whole hospital birthing experience. I never expected it to be the other way around. I expected the opportunity to make the decision as to whether we were going to try for a vaginal birth first, before going the C-section route. I expected to be awake to hear my child’s first cry. I expected to leave the hospital no more than 3 days after giving birth with my babies in tow.
So, yes, given all these I expectations, I suppose it is understandable that I am jealous of full term or close to term pregnant chicks. I wanted to be you. I wanted it more than anything.
I desperately wanted to get big, especially since I struggled with weight gain the first trimester. I wanted my husband to spoil me rotten with back rubs and foot massages. I wanted all the expectations to become my reality. Desperately. Completely. Fully.
But jealousy doesn’t hang around too long though, don’t you worry. It generally is quickly replaced with guilt and anger, even healthier emotions. I am pissed at my body. Pissed that my flipping liver couldn’t handle being pregnant with twins and decided to try and kill me. Haha, liver! I showed you, didn’t I? I made it and my boys defeated the odds too! So, there! Eff You, Liver! We won!
That’s when it happens. The peaceful acceptance. I hear the words, “we won” repeating over and over in my head and all the negative emotions cease. We did win. We made it.
I didn’t die.
My boys toughed out a 71 day NICU stay without any lasting complications.
Love and peace