Belated Week 20 Update

Growing up, I had a bit of a tomboy streak. Sure, I had girly phases, but I spent several years in denial that I was actually a real girl. I hung out mostly with boys. My personal grooming consisted of the occasional swipe of the razor under my arms and sometimes my legs. I wore boys’ clothes, wouldn’t wear makeup and swore to myself I’d never carry a purse.

Well, eventually, the purse was bought, the makeup was worn and the shopping took place in the ladies’ section. Little by little, I gave in to being a girl. (I never did learn to embrace the shaving bit, but I do it anyway.)

Basically, I’ve never felt a real connection to being a girl. Or a woman. It just sort of happened. And while I learned to not want to be a guy, I haven’t exactly felt the joy of being a woman either. It’s been more like, “Well, I guess I’m a woman now.”

But over the past week, I’ve discovered why it’s all worth it. Why I’ve endured hormones and weight struggles and battles with my self-esteem. Why I’ve strapped in the boobs, plucked out the brows and waxed off the ‘stache.

There is life inside of me. Life. Hay vida. And not just one, but two lives. My little girls. My daughters. I can feel them inside of me. And that’s made every last moment of agony all worth it.

Every day, I feel the girls more and more. They’re doing freakin’ Russian hat dances in there. They’re little pugilists in training, tap dancers rehearsing, soccer players practicing. It’s absolutely, stunningly, breathtakingly beautiful. When they start their thwacking and thumping, my day stops for a second so I can place my hand over my burgeoning belly and smile. It’s a small moment, and it’s not always in private, but it’s amazing.

Today we bought a stroller. In fact, we bought a stroller from a young-looking couple with identical twin daughters. Trip. First thing the guy says to Chris: “You can survive.”

My mom is supposed to come visit in mid to late August, for which I am thrilled and so grateful (thanks, Ama). It’s shocking just how much I feel a deep need for my friends and family now. And not just because I need help painting. Sure sucks that everyone’s so damned far away….

In other news, my belly button’s going to the birds. The linea negra has darkened from the belly button down, and the line above the belly button is now appearing. And guess what? It’s not just any line. It’s a crooked line. Because my body just can’t do anything normal. First a right-leaning uterus, then twins, now a crooked line. What’s next? Oh god, you didn’t hear me ask that. I don’t want to know.

Oh, and I saw my belly button in the daylight the other day. That was a mistake. You know what I saw? My belly button is rimmed in that brown that the line is colored. So can you imagine what that looks like? An asshole. My belly button looks just like an asshole. Thanks. Thanks a lot, god.