Story telling

After years of trying to conceive and multiple miscarriages I developed a story that my body cannot support a full-term pregnancy. There has always been a tiny voice that would softly whisper that this story was not true and I focused quite a bit of healing work trusting that voice. I slowly soothed my sadness. I worked on healing my physical self, the entire time working from the assumption that the tiny whisper was my truth and opting to ignore the story being shouted at me. The words "I cannot be pregnant" would resonate louder with each pregnancy loss but I clasped on to the whisper of "yes, I can" like a life line.

The story of not being able to carry a full-term pregnancy ran as deep in my body as my desire to be a mom.  It was not until the beginning of last week that I was able to exhale and release the story. Yes. It took 36 weeks of carrying twins before I was able to release and let go. Up until last week I had been holding my breath, wondering when the loss would occur. I hyper-analyzed every movement from the babies, every change in symptom in a fear-driven desire to prevent impending catastrophe. The story of "the body that cannot" was kept smoldering with various complications like the hemorrhage early in the pregnancy and the bleeding/pre-term labor at week 32.

I remember being in the hospital at week 32, bleeding and overcome by fear. I remember thinking this was going to be the moment of my body letting me down, delivering my babies too early, and that we would be facing incredible loss and sadness. I also remember Pete standing next to me, holding my hand and stroking my hair, telling me that I was okay. That the babies were okay. We set goals together and as we hit each of them, he kept the focus on how my body was doing exactly what we needed it to do for the babies to stay in for a while longer.  With his help I was able to start confronting the conflict between the story and my truth. The babies were thriving. I did not deliver them early. I was released from the hospital despite the initial prognosis of emergency c-section and then possibly staying there for weeks.  I did it.

In the USA, over half of twin pregnancies are delivered before week 36 and weigh around 5 pounds on average. I am sitting here at 37 weeks, with my laptop balanced on my 47+ cm belly, typing this blog. When the babies were measured for growth 5 weeks ago they were 5 lbs and today we find out how big they are (we're betting 6 to 6.5 lbs). Last week my cervix was still high, closed, and without pressure behind it. And two weeks ago, when they were evaluating the health of the babies with ultrasound, each baby had more fluid than what they usually see for a singleton at the same gestational age. All of this information is what it took to finally let go of the story of impending pregnancy loss. Not only have I carried my twins to full-term, but they have thrived in my womb. I have listened to my body and the advice of my care providers and here I am, days away from meeting my babies.

I sit here, newly released from the burden of that story, facing the next phase of motherhood. The babies will be here before I can comprehend. With these two littles I will be working through the story that I am not good enough to be the mom that I desire to be. I will be breaking family cycles and discovering how to be best version of myself as wife and mother. While I am at times terrified that I will not be successful, I keep coming to the knowledge that I am able to change and let go of stories that are not working for me. I have the resources to educate and take care of myself. I have an amazing husband that will be here with me. I have an amazing circle of friends, family, and community to support me. I am not alone.