after months of pretending i was too busy with the present to write about the past year and my unresolved feelings, i have started writing. and writing.

i stop every once and a while to blog off on another vein, but reliving the triplet pregnancy is sucking a lot of my emotional energy right now. magnificent charles has been gone for just over 24 hours (yes i am counting…that’s 15 bottles, one sebastian tantrum and 10 nappies) and already i have called him three times to ask the pg related questions that i have forgotten the answers to.

but here is an anecdote i will share with you all:

a few weeks ago i was on the playground with sebastian and an acquaintance who also has a child came up to me and said, “if i didn’t know you were infertile, i would think you were pregnant!”

i guess there is something to be said for that statement. like: YOU CRUDE COW!!!

when pregnant with sebastian i gained 18 pounds (8.5 kilos) and lost it within days. over the next years my weight didn’t vary that much.

with the triplets, i gained 36 pounds in the first 24 weeks as instructed by nutritionists and the book WHEN YOU’RE EXPECTING TWINS, TRIPLETS AND QUADS. charles and i were quite proud of our team effort (he tempted me, i ate).

within weeks of the triplet’s birth, i had lost all the weight. my body, having not exercised for seven months was in terrible condition, but i was not heavy.

but then, my lifestyle shifted. three times a day i was visiting the NICU. i would wave sebastian off to playgroup, then hotfoot it over to the hospital. from 9.30-11.45 i would read, pray, laugh, despair, sing, try to read charts upside down, and interpret from the nurse’s faces what state the babies were in.

then home to be with sebastian, have lunch and then i would read, email or call people for support and to update them.

then i headed back to the hospital after sebastian was safely ensconsced on the playground (yes, scene of the insult) for the afternoon.

repeat morning NICU visit pasttimes. oh yes, did i mention i was also expressing eight times a day? and getting virtually nothing so i was increasing my calorie intake? i would reward myself with a salty or sweet treat on the walk home from the NICU, praying i wouldn’t run into people i didn’t have the strength to talk with.

after dinner, charles and i would head back to the NICU. it was great to have him there beside me, walking down those long corridors, waiting to get signed in, turning right into our babies rooms, knowing that ears other than mine were listening to the bleeping.

and then we would go home, and eat something. pump again, and watch something mindless. (i now watch reality tv!!)

i would finish off the day with a reward, a sausage, bag of crisps, piece of toast, etc. to mentally prepare myself for the next day. because waking up and coming to the slow realisation that it would be spent out of the sunshine and in the hospital was usually the toughest part of my day. remembering my reality.

and the pounds crept on, and i didn’t care.

then the babies came home and if i thought i was exhausted and eating at odd times before…

eating dinner at midnight was nothing unusual to us. and i was so tired and overwhelmed that the thought of eating a meal was too much. so i picked continually at all the wrong things.

“i’ll just have some parmesan cheese”

“i’ll just finish off that aloo gobi. oh there’s not much of that, might as well start on the masala. hmm. my plate looks almost full, that’s how tired i am..”

i’m aware of it now, but believe me, my weight is not a priority. i am walking in the mornings, but cannot commit to any times, or people. or myself. that will change, but for now, that is just the weigh it goes.