Here’s a tip for people expecting triplets. Don’t google “tips for triplets” as I did. One of the first websites that comes up is a very tragic blog written by a father whose triplet boys were born prematurely and did not survive. Unbeknownst to me, Matt had stumbled upon the exact same site on his own and had kept his fingers crossed that I wouldn’t find it. We were both looking for information to help us plan for triplets, but end up reading, horrified, about the worst thing that can happen in our situation.

I feel awful for the couple, and scared for us. So much has to go right to bring a baby into the world, let alone three babies. But playing the “what if” game is a surefire way to give yourself an ulcer, so I try to focus on happier things, like the fact that it’s Christmastime and we’re having a parrrrrtttyyyyy (said in Oprah voice). 

Our friends from New York have made the trip down for the big event, and we get to surprise them with the triplet news. “Yeah, right” seems to be the prevailing response to our announcement. But, I’m already showing, which makes our story a little more credible. The dress I’m wearing accentuates every curve … of my gut. It’s actually kind of shocking how big it is already. Shocking, but awesome.

During the party I parade my belly around the room, encouraging people to touch it and marvel at its size. I grind it on people on the dance floor and gesticulate at it more than is cool. In other words, I am obnoxious.

Now I need to pause to point out that constipation is a very common symptom of pregnancy. After a couple days of an uncomfortable situation, I’m finally able to use the bathroom the morning after the party. But lo and behold, as soon as I do, my baby bump disappears.

Then it hits me. I wasn’t showing. I was constipated. AND I MADE PEOPLE TOUCH MY POOP BABY.

Merry Christmas, friends!

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