Too Big for My Britches… Literally.

I’m pretty sure I know where all the pregnant mamas in Wisconsin go during the winter to have a good time. I saw most of them, with their little ones and husbands, splashing around and keeping careful eyes on their children. They go to the Dells, with their massive indoor waterparks.

Obviously I can be counted among their number, and I truly felt among friends as we all enjoyed the water therapy without the body shaming that summer brings with the skinny minny beach bods. Pretty sure this summer will be me wondering when all the water weight will depart, let alone any meaningful weight loss at all. If I can conjure a coherent thought altogether, which might take a full year….

Well, even with all the unspoken cameraderie among these expectant mothers, I felt like… like a fish out of water. Or a beached whale, more like. I am clearly, above all, larger than the others. Twins will do that to you.


Don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t bother me. I have been blessed with healthy pregnancies, and, for now, this is no exception. I don’t take that for granted and am incredibly thankful. I am aware that there are many moms out there who wish they were in my place. But that is another post for another time.

I look at myself and my life much like Lizzy and her father do in Pride and Prejudice.

“For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?

I have the gift of being able to not take myself seriously, and therefore can enjoy these funny moments without low self-image or insult. I mean, lines can be crossed, but it takes a lot.

So on with my story.

I’m starting to get used to the questions and responses to twins. I get it. It’s uncommon and interesting and emotion is difficult to conceal in the moment. The funny thing about this week, though, was that no one talked or asked questions. 

It was the looks that were amusing. The double-take was most common. I even got bulging eyes. Step asides, cause, you know, I take a lot of room up these days. Plus, it seemed to be contagious, with all the other expectant moms present. I did see some fear-as in afraid that I would give birth right then and there.


My favorite response was in a restaurant bathroom. 

This bathroom was not designed well at all. The sink was right next to the door. So, if you were washing your hands and another person wanted to leave, you had to either wait or ask permission from a perfect stranger to leave the facilities. 

An older woman noticed the poor layout while I was washing up and joked about how the owners must have been trying to save money. 

I laughed. Not a “hahaha” laugh, but a polite singular “ha”.

She jumped. “Are you going to be okay? Do I need to get someone?”

She mistook my demure chuckle for a labor groan.

“No, no, I’m fine.”

What’s the best way to laugh when you look like you are going to pop, but aren’t even close? I guess I’ll have to work on that. 

Some serious thought will have to be put into certain things I usually take for granted during gestation. The waddle came earlier. My love for tunics and comfortable clothes probably doesn’t help the big aspect. Maybe I need to reconsider the chair flop or foot prop. 

Or, perhaps, I will just sit back and enjoy the show… 

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