The leftovers

When you're pregnant with quadruplets, the only thing you really care about is getting those babies here safely. For me, that meant doing everything my maternal-fetal specialists recommended, including gaining a grand total of 80 pounds over the course of my 33-week-plus pregnancy. From the start, the doctors worried that my 63-inch-tall frame would not be able to accommodate the babies for as long as it needed to, but—as we all know—the Fab Four ignored conventional wisdom and made room. The five of us grew and grew and grew, and on the day I delivered, my waist measured 57 inches around:

More than ready for my C-section!

After the babies were born, my body did its best to remember what it used to look like. Indeed, on my very first day as a mother, I lost a whopping 35 pounds—fully half of which was babies! Within 5 months of the birth, I'd dropped another 35 pounds without even trying (call it the no-time-to-eat-or-sleep-because-I have-quadruplets diet). Now, 13 months after losing the first 70 pounds, I am actually back to my pre-pregnancy weight—but you certainly can't tell by looking!

On the day after I found out I was pregnant (left), and
at the same weight exactly 2 years later—pinching
and lifting my extra skin (center) and not (right)

Yep, carrying that much baby does a number on your midsection. The pregnancy twisted and rotated my pelvis (a condition that took 6 weeks of thrice-weekly chiropractor visits to fix), and my belly button is herniated. On top of that, my abdominal wall no longer connects in the center, which makes my belly protrude as if I were still pregnant. As for my skin, it looks like a big, deflated balloon—and I suppose that's exactly what it is. The stretch marks extend all the way up to my ribcage and around my sides, but they're nothing compared to the handfuls of wrinkly skin that hang from my belly.

What's really frustrating is that no amount of sit-ups can repair the damage to my muscles, and the more weight I lose, the more excess skin I have. In fact, I've been told by several doctors that, if I ever want to look "normal" again, I have only one option: a tummy tuck.

I never thought I'd consider plastic surgery, but I also never imagined that my body would be asked to do what it's done. And after nearly a year and a half of watching my post-quad body take shape, I know without a doubt that I do want to look normal again. Not just that—I want to feel like myself again.

So I've decided to take the plunge: On Wednesday morning, I am scheduled to undergo a circumferential abdominoplasty (look it up if you want to know how this is different from a regular tummy tuck). My mom is staying with us to help with the kids while I recover, Ted is taking some time off work to take care of me and help my mom, and a few friends and family members are graciously volunteering their time to fill in the gaps. If all goes well, I should be back on my feet after a week, and back in the trenches a week or two after that.

I'm a little (okay, very!) nervous about both the surgery and the recovery period, but I'm also getting more and more excited about the fact that I am so close to having something resembling my old body back again. After all, I already have four beautiful reminders of my extreme pregnancy—why hang on to the not-so-lovely leftovers?

Mi bella familia: Ted and I with
(l to r) Lucia, Isaac, Jude, and Dahlia