“They fit!” I screamed as I buttoned pre-pregnancy jorts (jean shorts).
Last time I put these on, they sat loosely on my hips, almost looking baggy. I paired them with a tightly fitted tank top so the entire outfit showed off a pair of legs and arms (and a back!) that I had spent a life time in the pool + 2 years in the gym working for.
This time though, the jorts were NOT loose and they were paired with a conservative lularoe Irma that covered my arms and back (that have NOT been worked on in two years) and flowed out around the stomach area to hide the extreme muffin top that I’m still calling “baby weight”. Regardless, THE JORTS BUTTONED and I didn’t actually resemble a large amount of sausage pushed into a small casing, for the most part.
Ah, the days before babies. I remember when I was pregnant, thinking I’d fit into a bikini by this summer. Surely, that would be the case, right? HAHA. It’s been 15+ months since my little hell raising twins were pulled from my body yet here I am, still holding handfuls of skin that have no good reason for being here other than the fact that chips and cookies are easy and quick to eat. So are carrots, I guess, but that would require us to have time to go to the grocery store for fresh products on a regular basis. It’s survival of the fittest around here and I think I may be next on the extinction list.
The other day, I was remembering back to a time, when all of my help had gone back to work, when I was sitting in between two screaming babies in rock-n-plays, desperately begging them to stop crying because I didn’t know what else to do. How was it that I was supposed to keep two humans alive and thriving when I had never even done it for ONE before? Could I even keep myself alive? I was so tired, still in so much pain and so scared at the thought of being in charge of these lives with absolutely no idea how to do any of it. There was never a time that I had two babies sleeping and rarely a time that one wasn’t screaming or both didn’t want to eat. If someone came over to help, I was still in charge of at least one baby. It never stopped. It was 24/7. I secretly hated everyone who told me that “omg I want twins so bad!” or that “twins are so fun!” because I was drowning in babies and no one was sending help. I slowly came to realize that I would have to rest when I was dead. I was so envious of my friends who only had one baby that they could actually enjoy instead of just surviving, who got to sleep in (or sleep at all) or who thought they knew what being tired even was. I was missing my days of weekends away and not smelling like a diaper or projectile baby vomit. I love my boys more than I can even describe but going from none to two screaming babies was.so.freaking.hard.
Fast forward to 15 months and truthfully, it’s not much better. I’m still so damn tired. The only thing that has changed is my acceptance of all of this. I KNOW that I can semi-function at an extremely fatigued level. I KNOW that the temper tantrums will subside and they will go back to playing. I KNOW how to sweep food out of a little choking mouth and keep meal time moving. I KNOW that not everyday will be a good day, actually, most days will feel YEARS long but it’ll be far too soon before I’m looking back on pictures, trying to remember what they even looked like before the curls or before the steps and words. I KNOW that most days I’ll feel defeated and beat down but I’ll tell ya, those little baby hands reaching out for me still make my heart skip a beat every damn time and they are starting to be SO fun. Have you ever seen twins tickling each other? It’s heaven and I get to watch it everyday.
But, I also know that it’s never going to get easier and I’ve learned how to deal with that too. We went from “how do I get them to sleep?” to “how do I make sure they don’t lose an eye or a finger?”. Someday it’ll be how do I keep them safe from bullies, heartbreaking girls or other cars on the road and I’ll look back at memories of today and be like “damn girl, THAT was hard, THIS is hard but you’re still killin it!” (Hopefully).
For now, I am hoping that I’ll also be able to look back on my post-post-baby body and call it a “before” picture (and not like, ‘look how skinny I was after babies’) but for today, I’ll just count buttoning these jorts as my win.
Wish me luck..