The last of the tape residue from my IV’s and EKG are long gone. IV scabs are picked off. The last remaining evidence of my pregnancy on my body is my pooch, which really just looks like early stages of pregnancy. I’m just waiting for that random stranger to ask me how far along I am, during the very few times I’m out and about. It’s quite frustrating to think about. But I’m also not going out of my way to hide it either, because its no one’s business.
May 16th, 2019:
My two week postpartum appointment with my local OBGYN was difficult in the sense that I was having one of my “bad” days. It was a day where I just felt sad, and on the verge of tears. Luckily I’m not like that every day. Physically I’m doing well. My doctor described my incision, which is right at my bikini line, as perfect. No bleeding or oozing of any kind. I removed the pieces of tape covering my incision as instructed a week prior, which was not painful, but freaky to say the least. She checked the position of my uterus and pressed on it, and everything was normal. She asked about my pain levels, and honestly its mostly been discomfort that I’ve been feeling, not real pain. Nothing I can’t handle. In the beginning it was real pain, and I had very little stamina and could hardly stand for any period of time. I told her about the skin on my belly, how it feels numb and yet sensitive to the touch at the same time. But its all normal. I also caught a cold from my daughter the first week in. Its really uncomfortable sneezing and coughing, making my lower organs shake and the incision on my uterus feels like its going to burst. I’m slowly getting over it. She also asked me how I was doing emotionally. That’s another story. I told her that I will seek professional help to make sure I’m ok, just not at this time. I am definitely not opposed to it, just not ready yet.
With all of the positives surrounding my recovery, there is this gnawing thought that the reason I physically feel good is because my girls are no longer inside of me. Which logically speaking yes that is the case. I was carrying around 3 Liters of fluids for Pete’s sake, and now it makes sense why I could never get comfortable. But emotionally, and as a mother, its a huge weight of guilt that I just can’t shake. It feels wrong and contradictory to let myself feel any sort of joy when I don’t have my babies to share it with. Despite these thoughts, I do laugh and I find myself cracking jokes. Slowly I’m getting back to myself again.
May 20th, 2019:
Today was supposed to be my scheduled 34 week delivery. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Originally my doctors wanted me to deliver at 32, but I thought to myself, whats another two more weeks? I wanted to give my girls the best shot at surviving. At that point I felt strong enough to wait a few more weeks. But my body progressively gave me signs that our time was coming to an end.
So where do we go from here… what I have discovered is that I’m not satisfied unless I have a goal or goals to look forward to and achieve. Some of my goals have changed, some are on hold, while others are completely up in the air. Life changing and traumatizing events make you see the world differently. Some tasks and ways of thinking are insignificant now, and I’ve been questioning what I really want as a career path. This in itself is frustrating, because I’ve been trying to figure out “what to do with my life” for a long time. Like I said, a lot of things are up in the air at this point. I just want to make my daughters proud and not settle.
All I know is that I’m kind of a wreck. I’m trying to handle everything, but life keeps throwing me curve balls. I always look at the positives, but times like this are different. When my heart completely aches for my twins, and now finding out my mom is sick again. Reality has a way of slapping you in the face. Since discovering my own mortality, and the mortality of the ones I love, anything seems possible. Both good and bad.
Our journey continues.