I teased a few days ago in an angry/sad/hopeless text to a friend that I was changing my 2016 word from ‘hope’ to ‘hops’ and would most likely become an alcoholic. When I’m not pregnant or breastfeeding, I enjoy the occasional beer or hard apple (or pear) cider. My 2016 wasn’t supposed to have any alcohol in it. Because I was supposed to be pregnant and then nursing. Nursing twins. But, here I am, about to be cleared by my obgyn to drink caffeine and alcohol. And boy, I can’t wait. Not sure if I’ll start with a Guinness. Or a Magner’s pear. Dave’s previous work family dropped off wine. Don’t worry. I only tease about how much I’ll drink. I usually stick to 6 slow ounces. But 2016 changed on me. And maybe I’ll do some changing, too. Not tiny diapers. I packed all those up. And not reusable nursing pads. Packed those up, too. I did change my planner. I’ve used the same planner since before Adelaide’s first MRI. One of my best friends sent me vinyl monograms. I picked up a new planner on Monday, right after a little girl ran up and asked when my baby was due. She was so excited. I answered that the twins were due this Summer. She ran back to her mom beaming. I bawled. I thought I had covered my postpartum belly well enough with my coat, but that wasn’t the case. I’ve left the house twice since losing my children. And since 2016 decided this wouldn’t be my year to learn how to tandem wear twins, then I’m going to drink. Cheers.
My New Word For 2016