Queen B or Queen Me?

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To celebrities having or who have been blessed with twins or multiples in general,

This is what being a mother of multiples really looks like. Even mothers with multiple children. No makeup, no retouching on my belly, booty or my baggy under-eyes. I have yesterday’s spit up on my wrinkled sweats and today’s regurgitated sweet potatoes running down my shoulder. I have this beanie basically glued to my head because what I refer to as “hair” is a mashed down matted mess (say that 5 times fast)
I tell myself that it’s an “earthy” look to feel better. My glasses have the cutest, greasiest little fingerprints on them that are (what seems like) impossible to remove. I’m wearing a sports bra because I don’t even own anymore real bras that fit my weirdly shaped postpartum “boobs” if that’s what I’d call them. Did I mention that I stink? Or that I only managed to shave one leg this week because I was too tried to even bother with the other one? I hear ghost cries when I shower, when I go to the bathroom, even when I sleep. I don’t have a nanny to run to them when I’m doing basic everyday things.

Please…I am not hating on you Beyoncé. Queen B. Your maternity photos were beautiful. They made me wish I hadn’t been on strict bed and pelvic rest when I was pregnant with my identical twin sons. I dreamt of being in that iconic whimsical long gown with my bare belly exposed. In a forest of natural beauty behind me. I would have looked down that camera lens with a stare of longing…longing to be that mother I’d always imagined. Longing to show the real beauty of what it truly is to carry a child within our wombs. The only background I saw for eight months was the blue wall that my 55 inch TV sat in front of. Laying in bed watching Netflix in my two bedroom apartment that felt like a padded cell or what I would assume solitary confinement feels like.

If you’ve made it this far, it sounds like I am complaining. Sounds sad and pitiful doesn’t it? In reality everything I am describing is typically how a twin or multiple pregnancy goes. None of it…not only single minute of that experience mattered once my sons were born prematurely at 34 weeks gestation. I’d have laid in that bed for years longer if it meant that I got to physically hold those two tiny babies in my arms at the end of it all. Because missing out on those gorgeous maternity photos didn’t end up mattering. No one around to see my “pregnant glow” didn’t throw me off of the goal. The goal to make sure those boys made it.

The internet broke when Yoncè announced she was having twins. A week later Madonna adopted twin girls and George Clooney just announced he will be the father of twins this summer as well. The internet is exploding with pictures of these celebs. Yet my worst nightmare is someone taking a picture of me walking into Walmart with my puked on sweats, mismatched slippers and oversized jacket on. People stare at me. They seem apprehensive with me walking behind them….trudging on a mission to get to the baby isle for more formula and back out before I see someone I know. They probably think I am some vagrant or a shoplifter with the way I look and how hastily I try to get in and out of grocery stores. The dark sunglasses probably don’t help this matter much but c’mon I’m trying to hide the planet size half-moon bags under my eyes.

When a celebrity, announces a pregnancy let alone a multiple pregnancy…the world does freak out. Though for every one “like” on E News’s article showcasing B’s beautiful belly…their is a mom out there just trying to make sure everyone is still breathing at the end of the day. There is a sleep deprived, coffee pounding gremlin with stale vomit on her clothing dreaming of “sleeping in” just one more time. For all of the mothers and moms of multiples out there who dream of putting their makeup on everyday and being “Becky with the Good Hair” we welcome you to this weird kind of amazing group you’re about to enter, Beyoncé.

Disclaimer: This is a blog about twin/multiple pregnancy BUT to the mothers who have just one child or two children of different ages or more (Look at me. Feel me) you are nonetheless absolutely amazing! You’re doing this too! You’re breastfeeding a newborn whilst also telling your toddler to take that penny out of his mouth. You’re a goddess too and you are included here.

I don’t know if my butt will ever look like Kim Kardashians again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be confident enough to wear a two piece bikini showing these stretch marks. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the patience to let my hair grow out and be long and whimsical. I don’t know if I’ll ever shower regularly again and “slay”. You know what I do know though? I am slaying…I am doing the absolute best that I can to make sure I’m raising good human beings. I may be “B The Diaper Demon Slayer” but I’m still slaying. WE ARE. All of us little people. All of us who struggle to eat sleep and poop in peace.

So far I’ve found that motherhood isn’t about getting that perfect Instagram photo of your baby. It isn’t about mommy groups and judging each other over parenting styles. It isn’t about who still takes the best selfies and can wing their eyeliner like a pro. It’s about being absolutely overwhelmed and sticky and gross and tried and mentally exhausted, sore, and grumpy…and that little person…those little people that you made, they look up at you before bed every night and you have that moment like nothing bad mattered. They matter.

If unconditional love had a look…that look from your children is it. And you know what? You f*$&@ing slay mama, you’re the women Beyoncé writes about. The women Madonna’s career stands on empowering. You are.

-B