6 weeks postpartum I celebrated in the gym. I surprised myself braving the weather and running there pushing my double-Bob full of 70 pounds of babies. The twins got so much bigger ever since Tavish was born, I probably shouldn't call them 'babies' anymore. I had a rough start, I'm so out of shape, so I had to walk up every hill the first mile. The second mile my heart got into the rhythm with my feet and running against the gusty winds felt glorious.
The boys were happy to finally play at the gym. More so, to see their favorite kid-size potties at the kids' place bathroom. Some of the gym staff (mostly childcare workers) were glad to see us back and were asking about our new baby.
The free weights, on the other hand, looked like they didn't recognize me at all. I had to lift much less than what I did at 37 weeks pregnant. I was tempted to stay for the strength class, but I ran out of time quick, Tavish was not going to sleep through his meal, and my family would not forgive me for banning baby formula at our house.
The best part of the day was night. I haven't had such a deep, good sleep for months and months. I had hard time sleeping when pregnant, and even worse time with Tavish (no need to explain, right?) Last night I woke up at 4 am and I could not even remember, did I have a baby, and, if yes, where that baby was. I was terrified to find my small sweaty butterball right next to me - oh, my! - I could have squished him! I didn't remember taking him out of the bassinet and feeding him. It's like when I was breastfeeding Ethan and Levi sitting on a couch and snoozing away, only to wake up an hour later to be horrified at the thought that they could have slipped out of my arms and fallen on the floor. But then, you are too tired to chastise yourself, you just go back to sleep, and it. feels. good.
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