This is what 7 kids in 5 years has turned you into.
During that time you’ve spent maybe 6 weeks of it total without a baby inside you. Pregnancy is now your default state, and if anyone ever asked you to describe yourself you’d probably lead with “that pregnant girl.”
It’s hard to imagine back to what you were before you realized your life’s purpose as a gestating machine. Now you don’t even remember what it was like not to have a gravid dome for a midsection, a familiar weight you now carry happily and gracefully. Thinking back, you recall all the time wasted on trying to get on some unrealistically flat stomach and how it wasn’t until halfway through your first child the joys of having the extra curve only pregnant women can achieve. Now you love your bump, regardless of whether you’re just beginning to show or you’re just hours away from delivering, because now you know it’s how you’re supposed to look.
You’ve been pregnant for so long, you can’t remember what it was like not to have the feeling of milk sloshing around in your engorged, veiny breasts. With each successive pregnancy they’ve swelled further and further, as if your body knew you would need an ever-increasing supply of milk to feed your growing brood. Every once in a while you’ll find an old bra in an unused drawer, and you’ll try it on and marvel about how you can’t even get your enormous mammaries into the cups anymore. Absentmindedly stroking your thick brown areolae, you try in vain to remember what shade of pink your nipples used to be. It doesn’t really matter, but they weren’t nearly as sensitive as they are now. In fact, those rare few moments in-between one baby and the next are the only times when you feel empty and unsatisfied. The incompletion you feel when you’re not with child make you beg me to re-impregnate you long before the doctor gives medical approval. Having carried so many in the past few years (3 singles, 2 sets of twins), you’ve can’t imagine how any woman could possibly go years, or even never, without a swelling womb and ripening body.
As for me, I love that you’ve turned into my own personal permanently-pregnant milk and baby-making factory. My favorite thing to do is sneak up behind you while you’re doing housework (which you always carry out willingly, no matter how far along), quickly unbutton your blouse, and spray the milk out of your engorged breasts and down onto your taut belly and feel you writhe while I rub it in. My second favorite thing is that, since you’ve been carrying surrogate children in between our own kids, is that keeping you pregnant actually makes us richer. Finally, you’ve found a profitable area for your strongest talents.
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