Where I Was Last Weekend

Last weekend I got put on bed rest. I had just read about two other people being on bed rest, so apparently I was just following the trend. Saturday and Sunday, I only got out of bed to use the bathroom. Some time around Sunday evening I finally broke down and showered. My hair tends towards greasy way too easily, and 48 hours without a shower was beyond disgusting (even Craig was starting to be impressed with how gross it was, although he was pretty nice about it, all things considered).

Craig worked his tail off those two days. He took care of the kids, made all the meals, even "made" the bed while I was still in it. He redboxed Young Victoria just for me (and slept through most of it) and even made peanut butter cookies for us to eat while we watched. For dinner, he brought the kids' high chairs up to my room so we could all eat together. He was exhausted after it all. (My favorite quote was when he said that he felt like he'd been running around busy all day, and yet hadn't actually done anything. Yup, that sounds like a pretty accurate description of motherhood!) While he did this I laid in bed and read, messed around with the laptop, and tried to keep the kids from jumping on top of me too much. Bentley enjoyed pretending to give me shots, and then gave me a tiny bouncy ball of his for being so brave. That made me laugh. And whenever her feelings got hurt (approximately every five minutes), Kendra would climb into bed and snuggle with me through her sobs. I surprised myself by being able to sleep peacefully through both nights of bed rest-- you'd think I would have been so sick of being in bed that sleep would have eluded me, but no, my capacity for rest seems to be endless.*

Meanwhile, my body managed to walk the dramatic line between completely freaking me out and easing my mind that everything was going to be all right: just enough badness to have me really worried without ever convincing me that I'd actually lost the baby.** By the time I finally could go see a doctor late Monday morning, I was so sick of not knowing what was going on, I just wanted answers so I could deal with whatever was happening.

Naturally, this meant sitting in a paper gown for thirty minutes while I waited. But in the doctor's defense, her patients had been double-booked, so I'm sure she was doing the best she could. I was more glad that they were willing to squeeze me in at all than I was annoyed with the wait. And I had Craig and Kendra to keep me company. (Bentley had gone to a wonderful friend's house who called that morning and asked what she could do to help.) The doctor finally arrived and quickly performed an ultrasound. And within a moment, we heard the rapid thumping of Lucky's little heart beating away. Such relief. It's amazing how I can tell myself that I'll be just fine whatever happens, and then as soon as I know that everything is okay, how startled I am to realize that I was lying to myself and I really really really wanted everything to be fine.

And it is.

Lucky has been appropriately named.

And I am tremendously thankful for that.



*Tip: That's something that probably wouldn't look good on a resume...
**Yes, I'm talking about blood here.