I was special

If I haven't gotten petty and unlikeable yet, this is where it happens.

There's nothing particularly interesting about me.  I'm not especially good at anything, my career is in the toilet, I'm not the nicest or most interesting person.  On a good day, I'd call myself pretty darned average.  And that's on a good day.

But for a short time, I was special.  Part of an exclusive club.  Superior.  I was pregnant with twins.  Not just pregnant, but twins!  Now that's unique! 

And don't think I didn't take every opportunity to make sure everyone knew I was special.  Preggie brain at the cash register, tell the clerk that it's the twins stealing my IQ points and coordination.  Oh you're pregnant with one?  Isn't that wonderful!  I've got 2! 

And this isn't an admission after the fact, K and I joked during the pregnancy how I felt superior to all those singleton mothers.  How having just one at a time seemed so inefficient and easy now that I know I'm going to be mothering two.

And after the mama drama, I was using that specialness to try to rebuild my social life.  I'm not a joiner, but K was worried about me being so alone and having no social support, so I started seeking out other twin mom's to get to know.  I went to a local Moms of Multiples meeting and liked the people there.  I emailed one of the women from my labor for multiples class and asked if we could get coffee or hang out some time before she's due in Feb.

I've not only lost my own momminess, but I've also lost all of the social opportunities that it presented.  I'd love to still try to be friends with the woman from class, but there's no way I can see her very huge belly, and meet her little boys in February without just wanting to kill myself.

And one of the things talked about at the Mom of Multiples meetings was how to get through the day when you don't want to be a celebrity.  That having twins in the stroller would cause people to cross the street to meet you and catch a glimpse.  I wasn't necessarily looking forward to being the center of attention all the time, but I was looking forward to people wanting me to be.  And to be oh so put out by how everyone wants to talk to me when I just want to do my grocery shopping, oh poor me being noticeable like a celebrity!

So I've lost my family and my social life and the only thing that made me unique.  And I don't have a career to turn to.  I have nothing.  No longer special.  Nothing to do all day.  I'm nothing more than failed housewife who can't even cook or keep her house clean.