Move-it Monday: An Eviction Notice

Dearest twin girlies,

Mama here.

I’m afraid I have a rather delicate and potentially unpleasant matter to discuss with you.

But first, lest you think me ungrateful or hasty, let me say a few things:

1) You’re both remarkable little girls.

After all, it only took one glimpse of your sweet faces (when I wasn’t exactly expecting there to be an “s” on that word) to change my dread of multiples into a reluctant, nervous half-anticipation/half-dread.

I know that might seem like faint praise, but the fact that I didn’t start weeping on the sonogram table is about the best compliment available from a woman who begged God to only give her one child at a time.

And not long after that first sonogram, the nervous half-anticipation/half-dread had morphed into a full-fledged, slightly giddy expectation of a truly, uniquely, exhilaratingly exhausting experience.

2) I’m not complaining about mistreatment.

I mean, sure, one of you is awfully keen to jam your heel into my relocated gallbladder at least 27 times a day, which makes sitting, lying, and, yes, sleeping a tad problematic.

And, granted, I think I might have gained a shoe size this time (always thought that was a myth). I keep half-expecting to see water oozing out from under my toenails, even though my midwife says the swelling’s not nearly as bad as it could be.

But you haven’t put me on bed-rest…which is good, since I’m pretty sure I’d be really rotten at it.

And you have given my skin that legendary pregnant-mama glow, which I really appreciate (and will keep right on appreciating until I reach about month 4 after your birth, when all these happy-skin hormones pull a switcheroo on me and are replaced by very angry-skin hormones indeed).

Plus, there’s nothing quite like getting to reply, “First baby? Nope. Fourth…and fifth, actually,” and then watch as whatever random person who’s just asked sputters around for the appropriate response (apologize? congratulate? laugh out loud?) and tries not to look too horrified.

And I can’t forget to mention the nightly entertainment that is watching you wrestle around in my belly. I would have never believed that my belly button could make that many different shapes if you hadn’t proved it to me.

Yup, those benefits alone make the “twin-waddle” and the perpetual inch of lower belly that’s constantly trying to protrude lately from the edge of even my longest exercise shirts a little less undignified.

3) I’m so glad you’re safe and sound.

Like, really, really glad.

You are very talented “stay-inners.”  And I’m guessing that you’re more than a little stubborn and that you like a good challenge…just like your mama.

Which means that you probably hunkered down a little tighter every time you heard someone predict that I wouldn’t make it past 35 weeks.

But here’s the thing, girls: you’ve made your point.

We get it.

You’re healthy, happy, and comfy.

A little too comfy.

So, here’s where the unpleasantness comes in—for you and for me.

It’s time vacate the premises.

That’s right.

I’m serving you an eviction notice, effective immediately. (Okay, so, technically, you’ve got one week and 4 days left to finish getting your affairs in order).

That may sound a bit harsh, coming from your mama and all, but really it’s for your own good.

(Because when mama ain’t happy, ain’t noboby happy).

It’s time to wow the world with your identical cuteness.

To give your big sister, Della, a run for the title of prettiest, most winsome little girl ever—dark hair, dimples, and all.

To give your big brothers, Ezra and Simon, some actual cheeks to kiss (since they’ve pretty much worn out a spot on either side of my belly practicing).

To give your daddy a chance to experience the joy of sleep-deprivation right alongside Mama (since there are two of you and all).

And, ultimately, to give your mama something to hold (besides her bladder when she’s in Lowes with all your siblings, and the mere thought of attempting a bathroom pit stop is more excruciating than the prospect of a vital organ exploding).

So, there it is. I’ve said it. You are no longer welcome in this body of mine, and I expect nothing less than immediate and unquestioning compliance forthwith.

Lovingly and with great anticipation,

Mama

P.S. I’m having Eggplant Parmigiana for dinner. Hope that sounds good to you.

 

 

 

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One thought on “Move-it Monday: An Eviction Notice

  1. Oh Abbie, how you made me laugh today! Though I only feel half your pain, your post made me giggle outloud! I’ve been having Braxton-hicks all weekend and hardly slept between potty breaks and leg/foot cramps. As much as I want my little guy to stay put as long as possible, I know he’d be perfectly healthy on the outside too. But, I’m not scheduled until 10/4, so barring the little guy breaking the “door” down, I will have to suffer a bit longer than you. I hope you keep that sense of humor when you have even more sleepless nights. :-) . You made my Monday! ~Sharrell

I love comments so much I'd actually consider making them my sixth kid if I could. Seriously. Love. And I read every single one and will do my darndest to respond, especially if you have a question. So, yeah. Comment away! I'm listening!