A few weeks ago I started a second blog. That’s the one I’m using to keep the family informed about doctor’s appointments; that’s the one I posted on Facebook so people I haven’t seen since high school can watch my belly expand. Over there, I am generally upbeat – realistic about the objective possibilities of complications, sure, and admitting some (not all) of my physical discomforts – but, you know, enthusiastic about the future and stuff. On that blog, I do not confess to wishing the conception efforts had ended up differently. The other blog is the one with my and Hubs’ real names and photos of our actual faces. But it’s still pretty Cleaver-esque where everything is wonderful and exactly like it’s supposed to be; in other words, it just feels fake. This blog remains the truer reality, even with the pseudonyms. I think it’s an interesting, if not totally unexpected evolution from the duality I felt the whole time we were trying to get pregnant. When that was the most singularly consumptive part of my life but few people had any clue about it.
I don’t mean to say that my outlook hasn’t improved any about having all these babies. Most of the time, I write a post on the other blog, and then copy it to this one, only changing or adding a few lines. I can do that and this blog remains true, because things have gotten better and a lot of the time I do feel pretty at peace with things. The thrill I felt seeing all that fetal movement on the ultrasounds was very much genuine. We’ve got a list of names being narrowed down, and we’ve started shopping a bit. I am knitting a blanket and when I finish it, I am going to knit at least 2 more. I bought these super adorable thank-you cards for baby gifts:
So things are better. But I am still having absolute freak out moments. Sometimes for decent reasons, like when I actually picture trying to breastfeed three infants around the clock every single day. Sometimes it’s for less obviously legitimate reasons. My mother-in-law got me a phone case for my birthday that says “Got Triplets?” on it and it made me cry for like an hour, because it reminded me that this is all I get to be from everyone else’s perspective from now on. Can’t I keep anything just for myself? Not even my cell phone?
My hope is that my honest feelings will keep moving toward the everything-is-wonderful-all-the-time blog, and I think that is slowly happening. Maybe there will even be a time when this one gets semi-retired. But my bipolar duality, coupled with the fear of having to deal with my relatives’ reactions to the complete story, prevents me from linking directly one to the other. You’re getting all the same info here anyway. Forgive me for wanting to keep whatever negativity slips out more or less anonymous. And if you happen to be one of the few who has the link to both, please don’t post the two links together anywhere, ok?