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 I'm perfectly content with outdated wallpaper, a never changing view, my mini-fridge, all the machines that beep and buzz and track and monitor.....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.