I think that it would be fair to say that I have not always been a sympathetic friend to you. I haven’t always listened to you. At times I have intentionally harmed you. And true, I would probably need all of my limbs to count the number of times that I have taken you for a run, but I wouldn’t need to borrow a friend’s.
I had my doubts about how you would take to the business of growing children. After all, you were unproven. And I’ve read my fair share of horror stories about difficulties conceiving and carrying babies to term. But somehow you sailed through your first round of IVF – no symptoms! No pain! – and surprised me at the end of it with a positive pregnancy test.
The two tiny heartbeats at the seven-week scan was another surprise. Really, I had no idea that putting two embryos back in would result in a twin pregnancy. That seems silly now. Thank you, body, for making it easier than I had anticipated.
With the exception of some nausea, the first trimester was simple. Absent my usual multiple weeks of PMT, I felt so much happier and my relationship thrived. The second trimester was simpler. The third – well, it’s not been the nightmare that I had anticipated so far. Thank you, body, for being one of the lucky few that doesn’t seem to suffer with pregnancy.
You have given me thirty weeks of gestating these twins thus far, and you don’t seem to be giving up. Thank you. I remember counting down the days until viability. I remember researching likely outcomes if they were born during each gestational week and praying that we would never find out first-hand. Thank you for being able to hold on to these twins. Thank you for being able to give them a good start.
Right now I feel so happy and confident. None of my wobbly bits seem to matter. You, my weird, hobbit-shaped little body, are strong. I had never thought of you as strong before. I had never thought of you as being particularly womanly, but suddenly you both look and feel the part. You have made us a mother.
I wish that I could go back ten years in time to when I was treating you harshly, and say to myself, stop. Your body is not the enemy. One day, you and it will work together and you will be so happy that it will feel as though your heart will fly right out of your chest. But I can’t, and I can’t do anything but thank you for taking what I did to you, soldiering on, and bringing me to the place that I’m at now.
Oh, but let’s try to have a straight-forward birth too, shall we? No point in spoiling an excellent track record so far.
With fondness and esteem,