In the Same Vein

Twenty-six weeks pregnant with triplets is not comfortable. Nor attractive. The first time I felt one of the boys’ kicks, I was beyond excited. The first time a kick was strong enough for Liam to feel one, he was overjoyed. Now, they’re just in there like the Karate Kids, with an affinity for tapdancing on my bladder. I can barely sleep. Getting out of a chair takes effort rivaling an Olympic decathlon, and I’m seriously considering painting over our bathroom mirror.

I’m living in Liam’s clothes now. Once he complained about me stretching out his t-shirts. Once. Now he knows better.

Safe to say, I’m freaking miserable. If I’m not asleep, I’m tired; no, I’m exhausted. If I’m not keeping my mind occupied with something, I’m sitting around doubting my mothering abilities, and fearing for the future my children will face. It’s probably uncommon for anyone to go into parenthood with great confidence, but I have zero.

Not to mention, after a long discussion with Liam, we agreed it was best I take a leave of absence from work and prioritize the babies’ safety, so I’ve been bored out of my mind. If I’m being totally honest though, I was too tired to be efficient at work.

There have been no major issues with my pregnancy since our scare at sixteen weeks, but that doesn’t mean it’s been easy. The travel back and forth for appointments is exhausting, and while I’m grateful Dola has been available to take me, I am feeling a little resentful of Liam’s job because he hasn’t been able to be present. At times, it’s as if I’m going through this process alone, and it’s wearing on me, worried that raising our kids will be the same. His work obligations won’t change just because our children vacate my body. How is Liam going to cope with work and home demands? He might be a great man, but he’s not Superman.

I’m lying on the sofa with the TV on, but not watching it. Reading was a lost cause because I couldn’t focus. I just keep spiralling down the “I know I’m going to be a terrible mother” train of thought.

Ding Dong.

No one called to say they were coming, so the doorbell catches me by surprise. I’m tempted to ignore it in hopes whoever it is will go away, but I know no one would show up here without good reason.

I waddle to the door to find the woman who was the first person to love me. The first person whom I loved in return.

“Hi, Sweetheart. Sorry to just drop by, but I was driving home and had this overwhelming feeling to stop in.” She peeks her head past me through the door. “Are you busy?”

I look down at myself—braless, wearing Liam’s stretched t-shirt with a grease stain on my left boob, and track pants. Nailing this hot-mess-mom business. “No, I’m not busy. Just being a lazy blob. Same as yesterday.”

Zara’s eyes drop, scanning my ever-growing midsection. “Do you want to go for a little walk? The weather is beautiful. Some fresh air might feel good.”

I immediately want to dismiss her proposal but decide a little outside time might help. I’ve been staring at the same four walls for days, and aside from appointments haven’t been out of the house much for weeks.

“Okay. I doubt I’ll make it further than the end of the driveway, but a short walk might be nice. Just let me change.” I gesture with my head for her to come inside while I go put on something more presentable.

When I return from my bedroom, sweaty from the effort of putting a different pair of pants on, I find Zara doing my dishes. As pathetic as it is, even bending to put dishes in the dishwasher is a challenge, and my belly interferes too much to reach the sink to wash things by hand. So, that’s another task that has been added to Liam’s growing list of responsibilities.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Chels. I know I don’t have to do it. I want to do it. It looks like you could use a little help. Why haven’t you called?”

Why haven’t I? Because I’ve been nothing but a burden for my entire life and asking for assistance is not something I do easily. I’ve learned the hard way that resisting help is dangerous mindset to get into, but my inability to rely on others has been a harder habit to break than my cocaine addiction.

“You know I don’t like to bother anyone. Liam and I are managing.”

“You are not a bother. You’re forgetting that we love you and these babies. I know Dola has been helping get you to appointments, so the least I can do is some housework.” She sets down the sponge and walks around the island. “I’m going to come on Mondays and Thursdays. Those are my slow days, and I could use some time out of the house.” Zara works out of their home as a counsellor, so she is familiar with the feeling of seeing your own four walls too much.

“I don’t want you spending your time off cleaning our house. Liam said we could hire a cleaning service to come a few times a week until after the babies are born, but we’ve just been putting off any unnecessary expenses.”

Zara appears to have a ‘lightbulb’ moment. “Well, consider me your cleaning service. Free of charge. If I come and you don’t need anything done, we can do something else. Meal prep, back massage. Whatever you need. Count on me.”

I chuckle at her determination. Zara, despite her own struggles with anxiety and depression, is a force to be reckoned with. Nothing short of a herd of wild horses would stop her from accomplishing something she sets her mind to, so I don’t argue.

“Okay. Let’s see if I can make it to the mailbox and back.” I laugh at the truth in that statement, because 400 metres round trip shouldn’t be a challenge, but when your body is sustaining a third of a baseball team, walking to the toilet is an accomplishment.

We’re mere feet from the front door when Zara gets to the serious stuff. “So, how are you feeling otherwise? I know physically you must be uncomfortable…” She watches me waddle as the side of her mouth turns up, and I can only imagine how amusing it looks to everyone else. “But I want to know how you’re doing emotionally. Mentally.”

Forever in counsellor mode. I can’t bring myself to look at her because I’m not prepared to be honest right now. “I’m fine. It’s normal for new parents to have fears and worries.”

“Well, yes and no. It’s normal to have some fears and worries, yes, but there are healthy and unhealthy levels of each. What do you worry about specifically?”

I didn’t know this was going to turn into an exercise and therapy session, but I can’t deny that Zara has always had my best interests at heart, even when I didn’t see it.

“I guess the biggest thing is the fear that I’ll fail as a mom. One child is hard enough, but three? Just trying to figure out how to balance my time between them equally, treating them fairly, and making sure they all feel loved.”

A few steps later, Zara responds, “I think the important distinction there, Chels, is that fair doesn’t always mean equal. Each child, even with triplets, will come with their own personalities and needs. What one child needs won’t be the same as what the others need. So, focus on being fair, not equal.”

“I suppose. But I want them all to know they’re loved. You know that’s something I struggled with, and I never want them to feel that way.”

She stops walking and scrutinizes my face. “The fact you’ve even thought about that tells me they’ll always know they’re loved. People who fail to show their children love—people like your biological father—they don’t consider how their child feels. You are not your father.”

I nod, choking down the lump in my throat.

“When Zach and I adopted you and Isla, I was terrified. I had no idea what I was doing, and I had the same fears. I worried you both wouldn’t feel loved, or I would screw you up. Quinn went through the same feelings when Leo was born. Parenting doesn’t come with a manual.”

This is news to me. She never let on that she had any of those fears. “You have been a great mom. Right from the start, and even during the times when I couldn’t see it at the moment. Looking back, you were always exactly what we needed.”

Zara’s lips curl into a smile. “Thank you for saying that. My point is, I was told very early on, ‘if you spend your life trying to be perfect, you’re just going to miss out on all the good.’ The best thing you can do is to keep loving them. Love them through the hard times and struggles. Love them when you don’t feel worthy of it yourself. Love is the goal, and it’s the one thing that will matter in the long run.”

Just keep loving them. I think I can do that.