I really did like being pregnant for the first 16 weeks, mostly because I was still skinny and people would say, "I can't believe you're pregnant! You're so little!" I would smile and nod my head. But of course.. that whole skinny thing didn't last. At around 20 weeks, my aunt was staying with us, and I was walking around the house in sweats and a sports bra. My aunt chuckled and said, "Well I never thought I'd see the day when Destiny would have back fat!" It was all downhill from there. My face ballooned, my butt expanded, and my belly button popped out so far that my stepdaughter thought there was something wrong with me. Seriously, it was a little gross. I cut my hair in an attempt to boost confidence, but it just framed my new face and made it stand out even more. Don't cut your hair when you get pregnant.
On top of all that jazz, I was crazy emotional. My poor husband... he was a helpless little man and I was a massive woman with a loaded gun, metaphorically of course. He would come home and I would be locked in the bathroom crying because some lady on TLC had an eating disorder. My mother-in-law was incredible; I'd say I was a wee bit spoiled, but at the time, being so emotional, I felt like everything was wrong. Nobody loved me. I was ugly. I was fat. I was stupid. And people were mean to me ALL the time.
I worked at a hardware store at the time. Rough and tough construction men would come in and say, "Gee, you mus' be havin' triplets! I got a pregnant heifer that looks 'bout your size!" My first reaction was to bomb everyone in sight, but considering I didn't own any hand grenades and didn't like the idea of life in prison, I decided against it. Instead I would pretend it didn't bother me and then go to the break room and cry. In my last month of pregnancy I quit my job. That was the best thing I ever did. For 4 weeks I stayed at home and didn't feel like a freak at the circus. I worked on scrapbooks and watched Glee and walked 2 hours a day. That's a lie. I walked maybe 15 minutes a day.. 2 days a week at most. I didn't want to go outside where people could see me.
On January 31st, 2011, I went to my doctor for a checkup. We were hoping I was dilated and they would induce me that week. Instead, they discovered my precious little baby boy had played rollercoaster a few days before and had flipped--he was now breech. To top it off, there was a snow storm coming. It was about 65 degrees outside at the time, so a snowstorm coming that night seemed ridiculous. However, my doctor didn't agree, so they scheduled a C-section for later that afternoon. I was mortified! Long story short, it turned out to be a good thing. A major snow and ice storm hit that night, and luckily my little 18 inch baby boy and I were snug and comfy in a hospital bed with nurses to bring me Dr. Pepper whenever I wanted. We went home two days later, barely able to make it out of the hospital parking lot from all the snow. It was nice being home. Jordan was perfect. I'd get into more details about him, but I think I'll save that for another day. As of right now, he's almost three months old, and in those three months, I have experienced enough to fill a novel the size of Texas. God really does know what He's doing, ya know.
