I have always known the time would come when you’d need my advice.
You didn’t feel the need to consult me when you decided to break away from the other Destiny’s Children? Totally Fine.
My soothing Lady-Vandross contralto wasn’t “right” for the “B’Day” sessions? No hard feelings. (But we both know it’s because I pronounced it “bidet.”)
What’s that? You want to drop a visual album named after a kid’s drink sold on the street for 50 cents without even running it by me? Risky. But you’ve never been one to play it safe, Bey. And I respect that.
But now? You’ve done gone and got yourself twin pregnant.
There are very few things I can do to help a super megastar better herself. Until recently, I thought Wagyu and Kobe were both basketball players. I tried to spell “yacht” in a text message four times yesterday before I even got close enough to give auto-correct a chance. A deep well of knowledge on life’s finer things, I’m not.
But Mrs. Carter and other twin pregnant friends? If you want to know what it feels like to have two human beings come barreling out the ol’ love tunnel? I can serve you up some knowledge. Here’s what to expect on your magical journey:
Expect to Anger Your Inner Fire Marshall.
Right now, things are pretty cute. You’ve got your best purple bra and your pitcher-takin’ veil on, and you’re showing off your ‘lil bump in front of a floral display at Hobby Lobby. We’ve all been there. The blissful, early moments of the second trimester: You look good. You feel good. You can breathe. Drink it in.
Because it’s about to come crashing down.
To put it in international icon’s terms? You’re used to flying LearJet. And you’re about to experience economy from the inside. Boarding group C. Prepare to be crowded.
The human body isn’t exactly configured for carrying multiples. Soon those precious miracles will be using your duodenum as a jump rope and your vital organs (which are probably made of diamonds) will soon be balled up and hanging from your vertebrae like a bunch of sad little cherry tomatoes in a tiny urban garden. Basically, after about 24 weeks? You can’t eat. And you can’t sing. You can’t move. And you can’t poop. Speaking of . . .
I can’t even believe this word processor let me put the word “Hemorrhoids” on the same page as the word “Beyoncé.” But I guess it’s a good thing because, girl, are things ever about to get strange up in that bum!
In a singleton pregnancy (One baby. So pedestrian.), 20-50% of women experience hemorrhoids (or “piles” if you’re looking for a truly visually stirring way to say “varicose veins of the rectum”). In a twin pregnancy, your body has even less room to operate properly, so be sure to stay active and add some Fiber One and FIJI to your Coachella rider. It’ll keep things Bootylicious back there.
Expect to be Huge. Really. Plan on it.
Okay, so you’re already the “dominant world figure” type of huge. So hopefully, becoming the “needs a lot of new pants” type of huge won’t be too much of a transition. Trust me. There is no possible way to prepare yourself for this jelly.
I don’t tell you this because being huge is a bad thing. The more Beyoncé, the merrier the universe. I tell you this because you’re going to want to run all of your pre-beybey errands while you’re small enough to fit inside Nordstrom and still have some moxie left in ya. This whole twins thing is mighty unpredictable, so get everything in formation now!
Expect An Audience.
Your 2016 run at Soldier Field sold 89,270 tickets. SO. MANY. PEOPLE.
Good news! Your labor is going to be just like that. Except instead of strutting down a catwalk into a sea of people who worship you, whipping your hair around like some untamed galloping mustang in a TV commercial, you’ll be laying on an operating room table with your vagina out in front of 89,270 medical personnel who don’t have any idea what you look like from the belly button up. Practically the same thing.
There are going to be a lot of people there. You’re a high-risk delivery. And that means they need to be prepared for things to get real. Sure, its not exactly sunning yourself in St. Tropez. (It is sunny there, right?) But all of those folks? The doctors, anesthetists, nurses, neonatologists, interns, and the guy who makes balloon animals (kidding about the last one, but don’t you think the babies would love that?) are there to ensure that you and your boos get the absolute best care.
Expect to be Upstaged.
The sooner you get used to it the better.
Lemonade. Never. Happened.
Sasha Fierce? Completely forgotten.
Your greatest artistic contribution to this world will be the instagram video you post of your kids eating sweet potatoes for the first time. It will be on CNN. The Queen will watch it eight times. There will be a ceasefire in Crimea. They will just agree to annex Crimea to your babies because they’re so cute. Everybody will like the twins better than you, and you kind of just have to roll with it.
Beyoncé? Other doubly preggo friends? Congratulations! You are now members of a really exclusive club. No, sorry, not the one Jay-Z owns. It’s the twin mom club—which is also too loud and expensive. Easy to mix those up.