Chapter 17 - These babies are beyond anything I've seen

Our birthdays this year once again go by uneventfully. We have a nice dinner at home, but I don’t want to go out or do much. Time passes slowly yet quickly when you’re stuck at home all day. Mikhail has groceries delivered or does curbside pickup most weeks so I don’t have to be on my feet to shop.

One evening, though, I’m in need of more tomato sauce for a recipe. Mikhail says that I should stay home while he runs to the store but I argue I need to get out of the house for a second and feel like a normal human being, even though I’m exhausted and round. He tells me I need to use one of the motorized carts so I don’t exert myself, which I agree to. I slip on some shoes since anything with laces have been long avoided, slide my car seat back slightly since it’s been awhile since I’ve driven, and pull the seat belt wide over my 24-week belly. I get to the store, waddle in, ride a cart down to the pasta sauce, grab what I need, and checkout without much issue. I stand to grab the receipt from the old woman cashier on the other side of the counter who says, “my, my, you poor thing. You must be overdue.”

“I’m actually 6 months…with triplets.”

“Oh dear! That explains it then! I hope I don’t sound rude!”

“No, I’m used to people staring and whispering. This is my second set of triplets so it’s nothing new.”

“Bless your heart. You’re such a small young woman for such a feat! You should go home and relax, dear.”

When I get back inside the house, I hand Mikhail the jar, cradle my belly in my hands a little out of breath from the most walking I’ve done in weeks, and say, “you’re going to have to finish dinner. I’m done for the day.” I sit in the living room and play with the girls for a bit until dinner is ready. I get the girls into their highchairs with bibs on so they can enjoy solid foods with us. I sit at the dining room table next to them, spreading my legs to make room for my belly, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my growling gut. “Oh hush, you guys are fine.”

Mikhail puts down a plate loaded with a heaping portion of pasta, meatballs, and garlic bread. I don’t like being rude by eating before anyone else, so I wait until the girls have their own little helpings and Mikhail is ready. My eyes are bigger than my hungry stomach and I lean forward to inhale my food the moment Mikhail picks up his fork. The flavor of sauce I picked is perfect for this dish, and it all disappears from my plate. Mikhail scoops more onto my plate as I eat the last bite. We started putting the serving dishes on the table a few months ago to make getting more easier, which has also aided in me overeating every night the last few months.

Halfway through my second large helping, I feel the skin along the sides of my stomach painfully stretching tight, which puts the thought into my head that I’m thankful we didn’t buy dining room chairs with armrests. After the third large plate, I lean back, feeling my belly press into the edge of the wooden table for the first time tonight. I push myself back to make some room and rub my belly. I quickly realize my shirt has stretched itself upwards and the hem now sits just above my belly button, and the panel on my maternity leggings is painfully tight, stretched to its max just below my belly button. I feel a little embarrassed, but I push my leggings panel down under my belly, which causes it to jet forward and slosh its contents around. I groan and cannot pull my maternity t-shirt down any further, but continue to rub my gluttony into comfort, head leaning back, belly touching the table once again, too full to move. I’m so short that most of my exposed belly is covered by the table so Mikhail cannot see.

Mikhail finishes his own large plate and brings over cheesecake. He gives 2 of the girls small little pieces so they can try as well. Baby girl #3 has a slight dairy allergy, which has caused me to switch over to eating dairy free alternatives since their birth. Mikhail gives me 2 large slices of the dairy free cheesecake and baby girl #3 some as well.

“You’re going to have to help me up after this,” I say, placing the plate on top of my belly so I can stay leaning back, my breathing getting more shallow.

“Of course,” Mikhail smiles, knowing damn well he’s enjoying watching me balloon up and not fight him as much. My shirt rides up more as the cheesecake gets added and my belly expands from digesting all those carbs. I ask him to help me up so I can help and he tells me to relax. I helplessly sit while Mikhail cleans up the babies and plates. He gets them changed while I feel bad watching. I attempt to get up myself but bump into the table too much and wince in pain from pressing on my overstuffed stomach and being painfully full. I push my chair back but only have the stamina for half an inch at a time. After a minute, I give up just as Mikhail comes around the corner. “What are you doing? I told you to relax.”

“I can’t just sit here and not take care of my babies.”

“You’re taking care of the other 3 babies. You’re fine. Don’t need you hurting yourself trying to get up. You can’t reach over the cribs or the changing table with your belly, anyway. Let me handle this.”

He’s not wrong. When he’s done, Mikhail comes and helps push my chair back enough to get me up. I’m thankful he’s so strong as my weight seems to be climbing rapidly. He chuckles as he playfully tugs on the hem of my shirt, him now seeing my leggings pulled down, emphasizing how short my shirt has become. “Shut up,” I say embarrassed.

“It’s cute. Means our babies are healthy.”

“A little too healthy.”

“You’re having a c-section anyway so don’t worry about them being big, babe.”

“Well you’re helping me put on lotion tonight because my arms aren’t making it around all this again sooner rather than later.”

Mikhail continues being an amazing father and husband. He’s so attentive to me and the babies, always making sure I have enough to eat and drink and putting lotion on my ever growing belly. Shortly after the realization of my weight at my 21.5 week gender reveal, I stopped worrying as much about the number and allowed myself to just order 2XL multiples maternity dresses, shirts, and shorts with little more than just a sigh in response. I didn’t start wearing them until after outgrowing my last XL shirt during the 24 week pasta over stuffing session, though.

June 5th marks our 30 week appointment. I put on my recently purchased shorts and t-shirt which are already starting to feel a little tight. I amaze myself each passing week, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My 38G-cup bra, full with my udders probably ready for yet another upsizing, both cup and band. My hips wide, carrying my every growing weight. My butt round and protruding from my body, stretching my athletic shorts in the opposite direction of what was truly a site, my belly. With still another 6 weeks to make it to the goal, my belly stretched far out in front of my body, round, heavy, slightly dropping but still impressively defying gravity, one massive sphere from below my breasts to between my hips. I stopped being able to reach around my own body at least 2 weeks ago, another thing Mikhail would come to the rescue for. I am able to pull my shorts up enough to stretch them around my belly and pull my shirt down to cover.

Sarah came over with Matt and Matty Jr to help watch the girls for us. I walk out into the living room, waddling slowly over to Sarah. Two fat ladies trying to give each other a side hug because a regular hug was out of the question is a site. At this point, Sarah looks massive. The weight has had enough time to settle on her body, cellulite and more rolls forming by the day, easing into its permanent home.

“Oh, I wanted you to be the first to know,” Sarah said, lowering herself on the couch and hearing a slight creak. Even post movement her whole body seems to wobble continuously. “I’m finally pregnant!”

“Congrats, Sarah!” Mikhail and I look at each other after saying that.
“How exciting,” I continue. “How far along are you?”

“12 weeks now. I got it confirmed at your new doctor last week. I’m due December 15th but she’s afraid that with my weight I could deliver sooner. I’m sure you’re curious so I’ll just tell you now that I was 360. I’ve had some morning sickness this time so I might not gain as much at the beginning. I didn’t wind up starting my period after your gender reveal like I thought. Guess I wanted that cake because I was actually pregnant,” Sarah laughs. “Oh, and you’re probably going to need some new clothes soon. Your shirt is looking a bit…tight. I’ll bring some of my old clothes for you. I won’t be wearing them anymore.”

“Thanks, Sarah. That will help. I don’t want to keep buying new clothes the bigger I get. Thanks again for watching the girls, guys. We’ll be back soon.”

I breathe heavier leaving the house for every appointment, which has become weekly. Mikhail called ahead to get a wheelchair to help me get from the car to the appointment. I stand up slowly and step backwards onto the scale. My belly sticks out to where it hits the display bar so I’ve had to adjust. “276” came as a bit of a shock in all honesty, but explains the tightness of my clothes and quicker shortness of breath. I try to think that at least I’m 84 lbs less than Sarah.

Mikhail helps me get up on the exam table. I lay slightly reclined back, my belly obscuring my view, a massive bulbous sphere on top of my body and resting on my thighs. I’ve grown used to the feeling of being crushed by my own weight, but it doesn’t make breathing any easier. After the doctor’s exam, she says I’m obviously measuring well ahead, my fluid level is fairly high, my weight has been climbing rapidly, yet there is nothing physically wrong with my bloodwork, heart rate, blood pressure, and I’m not showing signs of preterm labor or complications. “These babies, however,” she continues, “are beyond anything I’ve yet to see. They are massive yet healthy for triplets, and I’d like your consent to document and ultrasound you from here until birth.”

We agree, and find out during the subsequent ultrasound that they’re each measuring approximately 4 lbs each already, which normally they’d only be about 3 each. It doesn’t sound like much, but as I learned last time, that small amount is tripled, and will only grow as they have excess room from the excess fluid and aren’t constricted like most multiples are. During the ultrasound, I can feel the doctor’s free hand rubbing my belly, much more than she’s done in the past. Her excitement and awe seem to be showing, and over the next couple of weeks, she doesn’t mention my weight as something to be ashamed of. She really hasn’t aside from around the middle of this pregnancy when I realized just how much I really have been packing on. As a medical professional, I can see how this would be cause for concern, though.

I mean, by my 32 week appointment, I am now 282, a 6 pound gain in just 2 weeks. As Mikhail helps me get up on the exam table, I place his hand on my belly, knowing it's what he wanted to do anyway, and whisper, “I can see how much you’re enjoying watching that number climb each week, especially when I know you purposefully stuff me beyond full the night before.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Mikhail tries to innocently say with a smirk telling me differently.

“So lavish feasts and making sure I eat until I’m comatose every Tuesday night before Wednesday appointments is just a coincidence?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” He has a terrible poker face, but I love him.

“Okay. I’ll remember that tonight when you overfeed me.”

The doctor says the same as the last 2 weeks before telling me to stay on bedrest as much as possible and stay off my feet being that I’m so front heavy and a fall risk. She hooks me up to a monitor I need to wear all day every day except when I shower to monitor the babies. When we get back home, Sarah is sitting on our couch, holding one of the triplets and eating an ice cream cone with her free hand. “How’d it go, guys?” she asks with her mouth full.

“They’re still cozy,” I huff, carrying my stomach underneath before lowering onto the couch next to her. I am wearing one of her old 2XL dresses today, which wasn’t a multiple maternity but she definitely stretched it out enough it might as well have been one.

“I’d be too if I lived in a mansion like this,” Sarah says, patting my belly with the bottom of her ice cream cone holding hand.

“Don’t put that too close to my mouth or I might take a bite.”

“Hey, get your own. I have my own baby to feed.”

Mikhail enters the room holding another cone, not even a second after Sarah says that, and hands it to me. “How’d you know?” I ask with a smirk.

“Post appointment treats for my babies. As per usual.” Mikhail gives my stomach a few rubs before sitting on the floor to play with the other 3 babies in the house crawling around. Matty Jr has been walking, but sometimes crawls anyway when he’s around our almost 10 month old triplets. They will walk assisted, but they’re not independent yet.

“I don’t know how you’ve managed to carry all your weight these last few months almost completely in your belly, yet stay so round and not fat,” Sarah gawks.

“Well, I’m still plenty fat,” I say after swallowing some ice cream, rubbing what parts of my belly I can still reach. “My arms, hips, thighs, everything is expanding.”

“Compared to your belly, you’re not. Your belly just looks like it’s made for carrying babies. I don’t know how you defy gravity and physics and all that science stuff.”

“I still have a few more weeks so we’ll see how much more my body can take. I’m already nearing the point of immobility by the day.”

We have dinner together at an all-you-can-eat buffet per Sarah’s cravings request. We sit at a large table in the corner as she gorges herself on endless plates as if this is her last meal. Matt continues to fill them for her and bring her multiple desserts she inhales without even tasting. I don’t hold back in the midst of Sarah’s display of gluttony, but she definitely puts me to shame. I eat my 32-week pregnant ass into a state of comatose about halfway through Sarah’s feast. I lean back, belly firm and full, pressing into the table in front of me post-filling with fried foods, fries, meatloaf, chicken wings, mashed potatoes, green beans, mac and cheese, mozzarella sticks, numerous casseroles, and a vast variety of desserts to satisfy my sweet tooth. This thankfully gives me time to digest while waiting on her to finish.

Afterwards, we coordinate for Sarah and Matt to keep watching the babies at the same time every week until the new triplets make their arrival. When we’re not eating out, Mikhail continues ordering out often as we near our due date, getting more tired himself with the babies being more physically active as they approach their first birthday and try learning to walk.