That is the title of an amazing song by Queensryche. You should go listen to it.
Rick had a meeting on Discord with the developers and volunteers working on a MMORPG/Kingdom simulator type of game he’s currently involved with, so instead of having him constantly excuse himself from the conversation, I told him I’d put the girls to bed tonight. I was pretty happy with that decision because they’re way too adorable and it was my one-on-one time with them for the day, so there we were – all three smiling and making noise downstairs. It was all fun and games until Lydia decided to shit herself up to her forearm.
I’m not kidding nor exaggerating – this girl had slimy, green-ish, stinky shit up to her tiny forearm, which she proudly held up as she smiled and squinted her already-squinty little eyes. I kept asking her how in the hell she had managed that, and she just laughed her little butt off. I said goodbye to the cute, new, star-filled PJs she had worn for the first time ever and threw it away. I can always buy another one.
“But I want her toy.”
After the girls started rubbing their little eyes (the “I’m sleepy” cue), I took them upstairs one at a time, and they fell asleep without a peep. It was eerily quiet – they were fast asleep, Rick was upstairs in our room, Zelda (our dog) was quietly snoring behind me on the couch. So I sat on the couch and started to reflect on my day. It was a weird day.
By weird, I mean I’m still feeling the low of depression. I have attempted to explain how it feels before, but words still don’t make it justice. It’s painfully awkward. There I am at work, having to focus on flights and delays and connections that might be affected by such delays, and yet there’s a film on my brain that makes things hazy and impossible to care for. I did my job, shoving aside as much of the blurriness as I could, but in between flights and customers, I found myself pitying this Camila. So many thoughts and concerns overcrowding my mind, so much confusion and the screaming, deafening desire to just go sit down and be completely still. I found it gets worse from the time I get up till about halfway through my 8.5 hour shift. Even when I do come home, it still lingers. For example, I had to go to the store a couple of nights after work this week, and I couldn’t do so without crying. I have no explanation for that. I’d just push my little cart while quietly humming and quickly wiping stupid tears away. Then, the numbness settled once I’d get home, and I’d go straight to sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. Everyday is exactly the same (yet another excellent song, by Nine Inch Nails). But I truck along and manage it day-by-day. I can’t wait until it ends, only for it to return again when I least expect it. Hooray.
The only thing that will get me to legitimately smile is if there are babies on my flights. I’ll smile at them, talk to them and their parents, mention the girls. How can I not mention the two sources of my joy in life? Then, the desire to go home intensifies and I usually suffer it quietly (except for today, I was very vocal about it). Another thing that catches me off guard is seeing pregnant women. Too often, I think of my pregnancy and how much fun I had with it. I traveled, I dressed up as the Death Star for Halloween, I loved feeling the babies move and kick. Hell, I even enjoyed the cravings. I miss being pregnant, and I miss it a lot. Even though we have our hands full with twins, we’ve already decided we’re going to have one more child in the next couple of years.
Part of me is very selfish – I want to be pregnant again to experience a full-term pregnancy. It’s like I’m looking for some redemption that I feel I owe myself. I want to be able to do a proper gender reveal, wear comfy maternity clothes again, take maternity pictures, be pregnant on my baby shower, have my water break, actually go through with a vaginal birth. I could’ve done it with River and Lydia, the doctors even gave me the option. But, because of Lydia’s size and position, it was a safer choice to just have a C-Section (or the lazy way out, according to Kate Hudson, apparently. What a shitty thing to say). But what if we end up having twins again? Then so be it. We’ve done it once, what’s to say we can’t do it again? We’ll have more experience if anything else. But I do want to be pregnant again. It was such a unique feeling. And I looked super cute waddling around work. I don’t miss having to pee every 20 minutes, though. I also already miss the newborn baby stage, one that we didn’t really get to have. The girls came home at almost 2 months old actual, and their adjusted age was still not even their due date yet. We didn’t get to do the adorable newborn pictures with them either, and though not a necessity, it kills me that we didn’t get a chance to do those.
So, here I am. Wearing my Star Wars pajama pants, a shirt with spit up on it (thank you, River), sitting on the couch, typing away whatever comes to mind, as I take little breaks to vape my s’mores flavored e-cigarette juice and feel like a dragon (sure as hell beats smoking), Rick’s voice chatting away in the background. Just a tired, hungry mom who finally has a chance to sit down and just be still for the first time today. It’s almost 10:30pm. Almost time for bed. I think I hear my Sun Dried Tomato and Basil Wheat Thins box yelling my name in the kitchen.
Oh, and how cool is this – I have a little bio section on Twiniversity now! That really makes me feel great about my writing and the purpose behind it. I aim to entertain, inform, and reach out to other parents and non-parents alike going through crazy times in their lives, and to let them know they’re not alone in this.
Ok, that Wheat Thins box is really screaming my name now.
**** post publishing update ****
I wasn’t kidding.