Just a quick update on this week's news and progress.
Monday: Ultrasound showed that both boys are very healthy and growing. Both are attempting to breathe, and are very active. Cervical length has not changed since I was admitted, which is wonderful! Doc said that sometimes it will shorten rapidly, then remain the same till the body goes into labor. That's what we're hoping for. If this continues, I'll be going home in a mere three weeks!
Tuesday:Doctor agrees to one monitoring session per day. This means I only have to be "strapped up" for roughly an hour a day. Babies are always healthy, never any contractions. Trying to monitor two moving babies for sixty minutes per session twice a day is very tiresome.
Wednesday: Nothing much to say....spent the day watching movies!
Thursday: Ultrasound once again showed two healhty boys. Got pictures of both faces. Tristan waved at us with his huge hand! Good way to start the day! Great nurses today!
That's about it. Not much happening, but all good news!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Another Weekend
What a dreary weekend outside! It makes the rocks, a/c unit and vents outside my room look more pronounced. At least when the sun is out there are other things to focus on. Not so much when it's cloudy. Everyone keeps telling me that the trees are blooming and everything looks so pretty. I've heard that the tulips in our backyard are blooming and I hate to miss that. Tulips are my favorite flower. Last fall was the first time we planted them and now I can't even see them bloom. At least Aunt Francie brought me some beautiful orange and yellow ones!
The past two days have been full of anxiety. It's hard to preoccupy your mind when you have worry taking over. It all began Friday night when the nurse came to "hook me up" to the heart rate monitors and contraction monitors. Just as background, this happens twice a day for an hour each time. It's not the highlight of my day by any means. They have to get 60 minutes of heart rate monitoring from each baby. The problem is that these are VERY active boys. They do not stay put for 60 minutes. In the eleven days I've been here (22 monitoring sessions), they have remained on the monitor for 60 minutes once! So after about ten to fifteen minutes that they are not being monitored the machine starts beeping/dinging.....whatever it does, it's loud and annoying. So I call the nurse, then it takes another ten to fifteen minutes for them to arrive. You can imagine how frustrating this gets. I swear I see the nurses more during times of monitoring than I do the whole day and night combined!
Back to my anxiety.... Friday night, the nurse was searching for Tristan, Baby A, the one closest to the nearest exit if you get my drift. His head us usually right on top of that exit, which in my situation is not a good thing. He's always easy to find, but tonight he was hiding. Finally after nearly pulling my pants off, they found him....low, low, low. I had been feeling some achiness and pressure during the day, but didn't think much of it. Now it made sense, and now the worry sets in. This can't be good. So my nurse says she'll call my doc and see what he wants to do, if anything. After the monitoring and a few hours later, a new nurse comes in and I ask about the call to my doc. Well, my doc is off this weekend and the on-call doc says that the babies will move around and at this stage of pregnancy it's normal for them to move further down. Gee that doesn't make me feel better! Does he understand the situation? Does he understand that moving further down is NOT a good thing??!! The nurse tells me I can get on my hands and knees to try to change the position of the baby. I look at her like she's an alien. So I go to sleep, upset and frustrated. In the morning I tell my new nurse about the continuing pressure. "Oh, those silly boys are moving around!" I guess nobody seems concerned about this, so I will wait until Monday and demand an ultrasound and a cervix measurement (which I haven't had since my arrival).
Yesterday afternoon brough more problems. I was having some severe stomach pains and just thought it was gas (since I don't move around at all!). By the time the night monitoring came around, it was to the point of having tears in my eyes. My nurse was looking at the monitoring machine and noticed each episode. I love how they classify this as "uterine irritability". Irritability? I would call it something different, but in fact it was making me irritable! So now they had to do a test to see if I was "leaking" amniotic fluid. Let me tell you, this was not pleasant. Then I had to give a urine sample to check for white blood cells. Urine samples are not pleasant when you're not pregnant, but when you are and your belly is so big that you can't see where the (*&$% cup is, it's just a messy pain! Then I'm brought some heavy duty pain killers with codeine. I sat here thinking something doesn't feel right and realize that I've been on three different antibiotics in ten days. Women probably know what that may mean! Enough worrying and by 11:30 off to sleepland I go.
So here I sit Sunday morning, feeling better but not wonderful. Knowing that everything is most likely okay, but still having some worry. Some highlights for today? I got a small carafe of coffee instead of a small cup! Kevin's going to bring Natalie over here and Mom's going to cut her hair. I started a good book last night so I have that to look forward to. I think I'll take Natalie for a wheelchair ride up to the pediatrics unit to look around (it's absolutely beautiful up there, like you're underwater with all sorts of sea creatures). But most of all, another day for these two rascals to grow! I don't know if it's just because there are two of them in there or they really are more active than Natalie, but they feel like the real Ringling Brothers doing a trapeze act! It's the strangest, yet most exciting, feeling you can imagine. When they're both going at it, my stomach looks as if I should have something popping out of it at any moment! I seriously don't know how they're going to get bigger in there.....they're already pushing it on rental space!
The past two days have been full of anxiety. It's hard to preoccupy your mind when you have worry taking over. It all began Friday night when the nurse came to "hook me up" to the heart rate monitors and contraction monitors. Just as background, this happens twice a day for an hour each time. It's not the highlight of my day by any means. They have to get 60 minutes of heart rate monitoring from each baby. The problem is that these are VERY active boys. They do not stay put for 60 minutes. In the eleven days I've been here (22 monitoring sessions), they have remained on the monitor for 60 minutes once! So after about ten to fifteen minutes that they are not being monitored the machine starts beeping/dinging.....whatever it does, it's loud and annoying. So I call the nurse, then it takes another ten to fifteen minutes for them to arrive. You can imagine how frustrating this gets. I swear I see the nurses more during times of monitoring than I do the whole day and night combined!
Back to my anxiety.... Friday night, the nurse was searching for Tristan, Baby A, the one closest to the nearest exit if you get my drift. His head us usually right on top of that exit, which in my situation is not a good thing. He's always easy to find, but tonight he was hiding. Finally after nearly pulling my pants off, they found him....low, low, low. I had been feeling some achiness and pressure during the day, but didn't think much of it. Now it made sense, and now the worry sets in. This can't be good. So my nurse says she'll call my doc and see what he wants to do, if anything. After the monitoring and a few hours later, a new nurse comes in and I ask about the call to my doc. Well, my doc is off this weekend and the on-call doc says that the babies will move around and at this stage of pregnancy it's normal for them to move further down. Gee that doesn't make me feel better! Does he understand the situation? Does he understand that moving further down is NOT a good thing??!! The nurse tells me I can get on my hands and knees to try to change the position of the baby. I look at her like she's an alien. So I go to sleep, upset and frustrated. In the morning I tell my new nurse about the continuing pressure. "Oh, those silly boys are moving around!" I guess nobody seems concerned about this, so I will wait until Monday and demand an ultrasound and a cervix measurement (which I haven't had since my arrival).
Yesterday afternoon brough more problems. I was having some severe stomach pains and just thought it was gas (since I don't move around at all!). By the time the night monitoring came around, it was to the point of having tears in my eyes. My nurse was looking at the monitoring machine and noticed each episode. I love how they classify this as "uterine irritability". Irritability? I would call it something different, but in fact it was making me irritable! So now they had to do a test to see if I was "leaking" amniotic fluid. Let me tell you, this was not pleasant. Then I had to give a urine sample to check for white blood cells. Urine samples are not pleasant when you're not pregnant, but when you are and your belly is so big that you can't see where the (*&$% cup is, it's just a messy pain! Then I'm brought some heavy duty pain killers with codeine. I sat here thinking something doesn't feel right and realize that I've been on three different antibiotics in ten days. Women probably know what that may mean! Enough worrying and by 11:30 off to sleepland I go.
So here I sit Sunday morning, feeling better but not wonderful. Knowing that everything is most likely okay, but still having some worry. Some highlights for today? I got a small carafe of coffee instead of a small cup! Kevin's going to bring Natalie over here and Mom's going to cut her hair. I started a good book last night so I have that to look forward to. I think I'll take Natalie for a wheelchair ride up to the pediatrics unit to look around (it's absolutely beautiful up there, like you're underwater with all sorts of sea creatures). But most of all, another day for these two rascals to grow! I don't know if it's just because there are two of them in there or they really are more active than Natalie, but they feel like the real Ringling Brothers doing a trapeze act! It's the strangest, yet most exciting, feeling you can imagine. When they're both going at it, my stomach looks as if I should have something popping out of it at any moment! I seriously don't know how they're going to get bigger in there.....they're already pushing it on rental space!
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
On the Seventh Day God Rested
Can you imagine creating a universe in seven days? Sometimes I can't even get laundry done in seven days! Toda
y is all about numbers. As many of you know, I'm a numbers person. My friend Stephanie bought me a Brain Games book full of puzzles. The point of it being to strengthen your mind in areas where it is weak. The area I struggle most with in the book is language. I fly through the logic, planning and computation. Numbers are good. Numbers are my friend. Numbers are logical and concrete. Does a piece of writing "grab the readers attention"? Does it have an appealing flow? These are questions that are much to vague for me (hence the reason I hated to teach writing!). Numbers on the other hand don't lie. There's always one right answer, although there may be many ways to determine that outcome. So on to a day of numbers! 
The number 7
Many of you know that God rested on the seventh day of creation. I would too if I had created a world so beautiful. How many of us travel somewhere beautiful or watch an amazing Tri-Cities sunset and just sit in awe of God's creation? I sit here and look out the window and watch the many phases of light throughout the day; from the bright blue crisp sky of the morning, to the rose colored glow of evening. I long to be outside enjoying it, but then have visitors come in saying how windy it is and am thankful I don't have to endure that! Today is my seventh day of watching this change of light from my hospital room. I would say it is my day to rest, but hey, I do that everyday! Day seven brings beautiful weather, a happy heart, and the knowledge that today I have made it to 28 weeks! I'm not out of the dark yet, but that is a huge milestone in the "creation" of these two boys. So on the seventh day I too shall rest and be thankful for the healthy boys who have managed to stay put for 28 weeks!
The number 28
What an odd number to discuss. But in the world of pregnancy, it is a magical number. At this stage of gestation, a baby's lungs have the capability to breathe. They'll still need assistance, but the capability to breathe is there. They are also able to dream, cough, and suck. I think both boys were having nightmares last night as they were squirling around the entire night. Sometimes I wish I could see in there to see exactly what they're doing. It's so bizarre to have two of them moving about!
The number 4
A glorious, glorious number! At the beginning of my stay, the number four indicated the number of times I was hooked up to the IV each day for my antibiotics. That was not pleasant. But after four days, I had the IV taken out.....much better four. Now I get four pills per day.....sufficient four. The best reason for the number four? In four more weeks, if I'm still here, if my cervix is somewhat okay, and if the fetal fibronectin test (determines premature labor) comes back negative......I CAN GO HOME!!!!! I should be talking about the number three since there are three "ifs" to consider! This is still a long time, but it is an end date, a goal....A NUMBER!!!! And you know how I like numbers! I could possibly be home for Easter, and a time very close to little Natalie's birthday. I would still be on bed rest, but I would be home. So, pray for the three "ifs" so that the number four becomes a lucky number.
The number 0
Is zero a number? If not, where do we begin? The number zero originated in Mesopotamia about five thousand years ago. (Yes, I'm a nerd) In teaching math, zero is a very important number. Do you remember when the year 2000 arrived? Intellects kept insisting that the "new millenium" would not begin until 2001. Why? There was no year zero. So does that mean for 2011 years, we've been miscounting? And if zero was introduced five thousand years ago, why didn't they realized this 2011 years ago when the AD calendar began. (Yes, I'm a really big nerd). On to the real reason for zero.....
Today, zero of my two babies have been born, zero contractions, zero blood clots, zero spotting, zero cramping, and zero pain. Zero is a fantastic number.
Now, if only zero were the number of times my neighbors dragged chairs across the room, number of times their other kids yell and scream in the room, the number of times they slam the door.....zero would be heavenly.
The number 1
Is one really the loneliest number? Not likely. There can be two, but still loneliness can occur. One is a number that indicates singularity, good or bad. I been out of my room once, with one wheel chair ride down to the ultrasound room. My legs were hurting, so they had to check for blood clots (a waste of time in my book, but glad they're taking care of me). I had and ultrasound done of both legs, which revealed nothing. Pain from laying in bed. See, it's hard work!
One represents my one child who brings joy to my heart each day. Her morning greetings, her goofy pictures, her undeniable love for her "babies", all bring a smile to my face. She is definitely one in a million (and will let you know, too!).
One is also the one whom I admire, am grateful for, and can't thank enough right now; my mom. My mom has shown me that no matter how old I am or what kind of situation I'm in, I belong to her. She is the one who knows how I'm doing before I have to say anything. The one who understands my feelings and challenges me to always look at another side of a situation. This use to bother me, but now I understand that she was teaching me selflessness; something I admire her for. How are you suppose to live up to that?!
Numbers. Good, bad, indifferent. They'll always be there; everywhere you look. I could put my day into numbers, and if I had time make graphs and charts; he he he. But instead I practice my "language" and write. My brain can only take so many tv shows, puzzles, and books. I should rather say my eyes can only take so much as well! So, today, my seventh day in the hospital, in my twenty-eighth week of pregnancy I am grateful for the time to reflect and the time God has given to these boys to become healthy and strong!
y is all about numbers. As many of you know, I'm a numbers person. My friend Stephanie bought me a Brain Games book full of puzzles. The point of it being to strengthen your mind in areas where it is weak. The area I struggle most with in the book is language. I fly through the logic, planning and computation. Numbers are good. Numbers are my friend. Numbers are logical and concrete. Does a piece of writing "grab the readers attention"? Does it have an appealing flow? These are questions that are much to vague for me (hence the reason I hated to teach writing!). Numbers on the other hand don't lie. There's always one right answer, although there may be many ways to determine that outcome. So on to a day of numbers! The number 7Many of you know that God rested on the seventh day of creation. I would too if I had created a world so beautiful. How many of us travel somewhere beautiful or watch an amazing Tri-Cities sunset and just sit in awe of God's creation? I sit here and look out the window and watch the many phases of light throughout the day; from the bright blue crisp sky of the morning, to the rose colored glow of evening. I long to be outside enjoying it, but then have visitors come in saying how windy it is and am thankful I don't have to endure that! Today is my seventh day of watching this change of light from my hospital room. I would say it is my day to rest, but hey, I do that everyday! Day seven brings beautiful weather, a happy heart, and the knowledge that today I have made it to 28 weeks! I'm not out of the dark yet, but that is a huge milestone in the "creation" of these two boys. So on the seventh day I too shall rest and be thankful for the healthy boys who have managed to stay put for 28 weeks!
The number 28What an odd number to discuss. But in the world of pregnancy, it is a magical number. At this stage of gestation, a baby's lungs have the capability to breathe. They'll still need assistance, but the capability to breathe is there. They are also able to dream, cough, and suck. I think both boys were having nightmares last night as they were squirling around the entire night. Sometimes I wish I could see in there to see exactly what they're doing. It's so bizarre to have two of them moving about!
The number 4
A glorious, glorious number! At the beginning of my stay, the number four indicated the number of times I was hooked up to the IV each day for my antibiotics. That was not pleasant. But after four days, I had the IV taken out.....much better four. Now I get four pills per day.....sufficient four. The best reason for the number four? In four more weeks, if I'm still here, if my cervix is somewhat okay, and if the fetal fibronectin test (determines premature labor) comes back negative......I CAN GO HOME!!!!! I should be talking about the number three since there are three "ifs" to consider! This is still a long time, but it is an end date, a goal....A NUMBER!!!! And you know how I like numbers! I could possibly be home for Easter, and a time very close to little Natalie's birthday. I would still be on bed rest, but I would be home. So, pray for the three "ifs" so that the number four becomes a lucky number.
The number 0Is zero a number? If not, where do we begin? The number zero originated in Mesopotamia about five thousand years ago. (Yes, I'm a nerd) In teaching math, zero is a very important number. Do you remember when the year 2000 arrived? Intellects kept insisting that the "new millenium" would not begin until 2001. Why? There was no year zero. So does that mean for 2011 years, we've been miscounting? And if zero was introduced five thousand years ago, why didn't they realized this 2011 years ago when the AD calendar began. (Yes, I'm a really big nerd). On to the real reason for zero.....
Today, zero of my two babies have been born, zero contractions, zero blood clots, zero spotting, zero cramping, and zero pain. Zero is a fantastic number.
Now, if only zero were the number of times my neighbors dragged chairs across the room, number of times their other kids yell and scream in the room, the number of times they slam the door.....zero would be heavenly.
The number 1
Is one really the loneliest number? Not likely. There can be two, but still loneliness can occur. One is a number that indicates singularity, good or bad. I been out of my room once, with one wheel chair ride down to the ultrasound room. My legs were hurting, so they had to check for blood clots (a waste of time in my book, but glad they're taking care of me). I had and ultrasound done of both legs, which revealed nothing. Pain from laying in bed. See, it's hard work!
One represents my one child who brings joy to my heart each day. Her morning greetings, her goofy pictures, her undeniable love for her "babies", all bring a smile to my face. She is definitely one in a million (and will let you know, too!).
One is also the one whom I admire, am grateful for, and can't thank enough right now; my mom. My mom has shown me that no matter how old I am or what kind of situation I'm in, I belong to her. She is the one who knows how I'm doing before I have to say anything. The one who understands my feelings and challenges me to always look at another side of a situation. This use to bother me, but now I understand that she was teaching me selflessness; something I admire her for. How are you suppose to live up to that?!Numbers. Good, bad, indifferent. They'll always be there; everywhere you look. I could put my day into numbers, and if I had time make graphs and charts; he he he. But instead I practice my "language" and write. My brain can only take so many tv shows, puzzles, and books. I should rather say my eyes can only take so much as well! So, today, my seventh day in the hospital, in my twenty-eighth week of pregnancy I am grateful for the time to reflect and the time God has given to these boys to become healthy and strong!
Saturday, March 19, 2011
And then there was Saturday
Aren't weekends grand? It's the time to relax, time to be with family, catch up on laundry (everyone's favorite) and most importantly not have to go through the hustle and bustle of the work week. Some get excited about the activities that weekends bring; sporting events, time with friends, movies, or going out to dinner. Weekends are indeed grand.
So, why is it that today of all days I feel as though it is the least grand day. Do you ever have those days where you think, "Can we just start over?" You're probably thinking "What could go wrong? You haven't done anything today." Indeed, I have done nothing today. Maybe that's part of the problem. I was awoken at 4:30 this morning to take cough medicine (thank goodness they woke me from a dead sleep to prevent me from coughing). I take the medicine and felt really shaky....probably effects of my potent Ambien! While I laid here trying to go back to sleep, I started feeling some wierd tightening. So I lay thinking, worrying. I don't want the nurses to think I'm going crazy...."this girl doesn't even know if she's having contractions?!" So I wait until 5:30 and call the nurse. Since I have to be hooked up to the monitor soon anyway, they hook me up and verify that yes, indeed, I'm having some contractions. But then that's it. No worried looks, no explanations, no questions. So I tell myself there's nothing to worry about. I order breakfast, but still don't feel well. Tired, upset stomach, headache, just kind of "there" without being present. Maybe I should take a shower. No, that would take way to much effort. So I put my earplugs back in, eye mask back on, sound machine on and veg for a few hours. Before I know it, Kevin and Natalie arrive.
Even that didn't bring me out of my zone. Sure I loved seeing them, but I didn't have anything to contribute. Mom, Aunt Ann and Aunt Rosie stopped by after their TCC walk. That brightened my spirits, but then made me sad when Mom sounded so sick. Off they went and I decided to pull myself out of bed and shower. So I get up, and get a bloody nose. Not just, hmmm, I think my nose is bleeding. But, dripping....on my pants.....which I didn't have more of. I then take a shower, in a 3 x 3 shower stall with almost no light. Attempted to shave my legs....lots of cuts. Natalie's at the door saying something to me, wanting to know when I'll be done. Sounds relaxing huh? As Kev and Natalie leave I feel alone and sad. By this time I can't hold back tears. "Get over it, Sarah! Pull yourself together!" After they leave, I dry my hair and figure I've had enough. Back to bed, back to sleep.
Julie and Karen took me on a virtual shopping trip, still not feeling better.
Evening time brought Aunt Mary and Uncle Jim. My spirits lifted a bit and as they left, Connie and Darcy came to visit. That brought more lifted spirits. Natalie and Kevin showed up and visited for awhile then went home to go to bed.
So that was my day. Nothing exciting. Nothing dramatic. Nothing special. Still feel out of it. Time to go to bed and end this day. Hopefully tomorrow will bring brighter spirits and a more positive outlook.
So, why is it that today of all days I feel as though it is the least grand day. Do you ever have those days where you think, "Can we just start over?" You're probably thinking "What could go wrong? You haven't done anything today." Indeed, I have done nothing today. Maybe that's part of the problem. I was awoken at 4:30 this morning to take cough medicine (thank goodness they woke me from a dead sleep to prevent me from coughing). I take the medicine and felt really shaky....probably effects of my potent Ambien! While I laid here trying to go back to sleep, I started feeling some wierd tightening. So I lay thinking, worrying. I don't want the nurses to think I'm going crazy...."this girl doesn't even know if she's having contractions?!" So I wait until 5:30 and call the nurse. Since I have to be hooked up to the monitor soon anyway, they hook me up and verify that yes, indeed, I'm having some contractions. But then that's it. No worried looks, no explanations, no questions. So I tell myself there's nothing to worry about. I order breakfast, but still don't feel well. Tired, upset stomach, headache, just kind of "there" without being present. Maybe I should take a shower. No, that would take way to much effort. So I put my earplugs back in, eye mask back on, sound machine on and veg for a few hours. Before I know it, Kevin and Natalie arrive.
Even that didn't bring me out of my zone. Sure I loved seeing them, but I didn't have anything to contribute. Mom, Aunt Ann and Aunt Rosie stopped by after their TCC walk. That brightened my spirits, but then made me sad when Mom sounded so sick. Off they went and I decided to pull myself out of bed and shower. So I get up, and get a bloody nose. Not just, hmmm, I think my nose is bleeding. But, dripping....on my pants.....which I didn't have more of. I then take a shower, in a 3 x 3 shower stall with almost no light. Attempted to shave my legs....lots of cuts. Natalie's at the door saying something to me, wanting to know when I'll be done. Sounds relaxing huh? As Kev and Natalie leave I feel alone and sad. By this time I can't hold back tears. "Get over it, Sarah! Pull yourself together!" After they leave, I dry my hair and figure I've had enough. Back to bed, back to sleep.
Julie and Karen took me on a virtual shopping trip, still not feeling better.
Evening time brought Aunt Mary and Uncle Jim. My spirits lifted a bit and as they left, Connie and Darcy came to visit. That brought more lifted spirits. Natalie and Kevin showed up and visited for awhile then went home to go to bed.
So that was my day. Nothing exciting. Nothing dramatic. Nothing special. Still feel out of it. Time to go to bed and end this day. Hopefully tomorrow will bring brighter spirits and a more positive outlook.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Home as I know it....
WARNING: These are my boring thoughts from a hospital bed. I do not intend to entertain, it's simply an outlet for me and if you care to read it, continue......but please stop before you fall asleep.
My house is 2190 square feet of belongings Kevin and I have purchased, created, and worked hard for. When I walk inside I know the green on the wall was a trial of colors that lasted months and now can't be happier with the outcome choice. The venetian plaster on the columns were my first attempt at "artistic" decorating. I admire them knowing that I created something that I'm proud of. Our crisp blue bedroom with crystal and black accents calm me every night. Natalie's pink and yellow bedroom speaks of a very happy little girl with much ahead of her. This is my house. This is what was created from materials. Is that what makes it my home?
Along with the decorating, our house is filled with something even more beautiful. There is a little (almost) three year old that runs through the house that brings life to the building we live in. She shows as much ownership of the "things" in our house as Kevin or I. I sometimes become frustrated with her definite knowledge of what is HERS and what is OURS, but in the end I am elated that she has the knowledge of so many "things", her eagerness to want to learn as much as she can, and the amazing ability to do so. I watch her around the house "going shopping", lining up her babies, going bug huntin' with my hand mirror, dance to her own songs that mean absolutely nothing, run to my side when Swiper the Fox appears on TV, always wanting to play the number game, the matching game, puzzles, "chalking", painting, coloring.....the list goes on and on. To me that's home. That's normal. That's my life.
As I sit in my hospital bed, I think about what home is. No, I don't miss my Venetian plaster columns, my perfect green walls, the fireplace, the stairs (definitely not the stairs!). I do not miss that all at. I'm perfectly content with outdated wallpaper, a never changing view, my mini-fridge, all the machines that beep and buzz and track and monitor..... None of that matters because here I feel safe, just as I do at home. I almost feel less stress here knowing that I'm being taken care of and I don't have to worry about what this pain is or what medication I can take or how much longer I'll be able to stay pregnant. I see nurses at least every couple of hours, my doctor comes by everyday, I get daily massages (nice perk!), and I can pick up the phone and food arrives within minutes. I am truly taken care of. How blessed am I?
When my doctor first told me that hospitalization was a possibility (two weeks ago), I thought that would be the absolute worst! Leaving my house? Leaving my daughter? Sitting for days on end with no definite end date in site? How in the world would I ever be able to do that. So I sat at home for two weeks, watching life happen around me. I couldn't be a "mom" to Natalie, I couldn't live my normal life. Instead I had to watch others come in, cook me dinner, take care of Natalie, clean my house, do my laundry, pick up after me, fetch me "things"....while I sat. Everytime I got up I was told to go sit down. Everytime I coughed I was told to stop. Everytime I got something to eat I was told that someone else could get it. I WANTED to take Natalie to the potty. I WANTED to play the matching game with her. I WANTED to make myself a cup of tea. Looking back now, it was actually very stressful to be home and watch life go on without me being able to be a part of it. Although I don't get to see my little girl all the time and I miss her tremendously, the stress of me constantly telling her that I can't do something is no longer hurting me. The stress of watching everyone hustle about around me to take care of me is gone. Granted, I know they're still there, but now I don't have constant reminders.
God has an interesting way of answering prayers. Although I wasn't praying to be in the hospital, or necessarily directly praying for anything in particular, I do believe that I needed to go through the past two weeks to prepare myself for this hospital stay. I believe God has put me in the right place at the right time and is looking out for these boys. Here's something about me: I don't pray (insert gasp here). Sure I say my Our Father and Hail Mary when it's convenient, but I don't pray. Even so, I do reflect on my life, my decisions, my wants for myself and others. So when I come to a place where I feel content, I feel as though God has heard me. There's a peace, and that's when I know I'm loved. So, as this journey continues and I'm shown what home and love truly means, I'm overjoyed with hope for Tristan and Everett, grateful to Mom and Dad, Karen and Dave, and Cristi for amazing care of Natalie, the security and love that Kevin brings to my life even though he's not always able to be physically present, and the knowledge that God has placed me in a position of safety and care.
My house is 2190 square feet of belongings Kevin and I have purchased, created, and worked hard for. When I walk inside I know the green on the wall was a trial of colors that lasted months and now can't be happier with the outcome choice. The venetian plaster on the columns were my first attempt at "artistic" decorating. I admire them knowing that I created something that I'm proud of. Our crisp blue bedroom with crystal and black accents calm me every night. Natalie's pink and yellow bedroom speaks of a very happy little girl with much ahead of her. This is my house. This is what was created from materials. Is that what makes it my home?
Along with the decorating, our house is filled with something even more beautiful. There is a little (almost) three year old that runs through the house that brings life to the building we live in. She shows as much ownership of the "things" in our house as Kevin or I. I sometimes become frustrated with her definite knowledge of what is HERS and what is OURS, but in the end I am elated that she has the knowledge of so many "things", her eagerness to want to learn as much as she can, and the amazing ability to do so. I watch her around the house "going shopping", lining up her babies, going bug huntin' with my hand mirror, dance to her own songs that mean absolutely nothing, run to my side when Swiper the Fox appears on TV, always wanting to play the number game, the matching game, puzzles, "chalking", painting, coloring.....the list goes on and on. To me that's home. That's normal. That's my life.
As I sit in my hospital bed, I think about what home is. No, I don't miss my Venetian plaster columns, my perfect green walls, the fireplace, the stairs (definitely not the stairs!). I do not miss that all at. I'm perfectly content with outdated wallpaper, a never changing view, my mini-fridge, all the machines that beep and buzz and track and monitor..... None of that matters because here I feel safe, just as I do at home. I almost feel less stress here knowing that I'm being taken care of and I don't have to worry about what this pain is or what medication I can take or how much longer I'll be able to stay pregnant. I see nurses at least every couple of hours, my doctor comes by everyday, I get daily massages (nice perk!), and I can pick up the phone and food arrives within minutes. I am truly taken care of. How blessed am I?
When my doctor first told me that hospitalization was a possibility (two weeks ago), I thought that would be the absolute worst! Leaving my house? Leaving my daughter? Sitting for days on end with no definite end date in site? How in the world would I ever be able to do that. So I sat at home for two weeks, watching life happen around me. I couldn't be a "mom" to Natalie, I couldn't live my normal life. Instead I had to watch others come in, cook me dinner, take care of Natalie, clean my house, do my laundry, pick up after me, fetch me "things"....while I sat. Everytime I got up I was told to go sit down. Everytime I coughed I was told to stop. Everytime I got something to eat I was told that someone else could get it. I WANTED to take Natalie to the potty. I WANTED to play the matching game with her. I WANTED to make myself a cup of tea. Looking back now, it was actually very stressful to be home and watch life go on without me being able to be a part of it. Although I don't get to see my little girl all the time and I miss her tremendously, the stress of me constantly telling her that I can't do something is no longer hurting me. The stress of watching everyone hustle about around me to take care of me is gone. Granted, I know they're still there, but now I don't have constant reminders.
God has an interesting way of answering prayers. Although I wasn't praying to be in the hospital, or necessarily directly praying for anything in particular, I do believe that I needed to go through the past two weeks to prepare myself for this hospital stay. I believe God has put me in the right place at the right time and is looking out for these boys. Here's something about me: I don't pray (insert gasp here). Sure I say my Our Father and Hail Mary when it's convenient, but I don't pray. Even so, I do reflect on my life, my decisions, my wants for myself and others. So when I come to a place where I feel content, I feel as though God has heard me. There's a peace, and that's when I know I'm loved. So, as this journey continues and I'm shown what home and love truly means, I'm overjoyed with hope for Tristan and Everett, grateful to Mom and Dad, Karen and Dave, and Cristi for amazing care of Natalie, the security and love that Kevin brings to my life even though he's not always able to be physically present, and the knowledge that God has placed me in a position of safety and care.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)