That's What Families Do
Days go by.... The weeks have turned into 8 months of pregnancy and if the wear and tear is not showing, I certainly am feeling the effects all around. Not just the physical strain on my body, but time is wearing on the emotional state of all invested in this journey.
Reaching 32 weeks is a major milestone. I prayed to make it to this day because it means even if the babies are born now, 8 weeks premature, they have a very good chance at survival with minimal complications. I am surprised, estatic, scared to have made it this long without any major comlications. Scared because it also means the end of this pregnancy is near and then a whole new adventure begins. How do you ever truly prepare for the arrival of a new life to the world, let alone two at once?
My stomach and uterus measure at 41 weeks pregnant, which means my body thinks (and more importantly feels) a week over due. The physical pressure and pain is unbelievable. I am simply unable to walk some of the time and need help doing ordinary things like make it out of bed and down the hall to a frequent bathroom visit without assistance. I practically have to crawl up the stairs like my one year old, who thinks its hilarious to see Mommy attempt that task.
The hardest part is not being able to do much of anything myself while being forced to watch everyone around me pick up so much of my slack. It's a heavy load and is stressing everyone out. But my family does what needs to be done with little complaints and helps tremdously because as my Dad famously likes to say, 'That's what families do.' How blessed I am to have people around me who feel that way.
Another difficult thing for me is not being able to be the mother I was before and want to be now for my son. There's so much I can't do for him right now, like just pick him up an carry him across the room, or put him into the crib at night, or roll around on the floor to play, or chase him when he's got something he's not supposed to. I can't keep up with a 1 year old and that makes me sad.
I feel sorry for him because his life is about to change forever. His time with me, so much cuddling, taking our three hour naps during the day, just being me and him, is about to be drastically reduced. The only small consolation as my husband reminds me is he's too small to remember any of this and by the time his long term memory develops in early childhood, he will not know a life other than being the big brother to his two sisters.
I also get down watching everyone else do the smallest of things I should be doing, like wrestle him during a dirty diaper change, fix him a snack or pick up his toys after he demolishes my parent's living room. I know they are tired of us invading their space and are counting down the days until our living area is remodeled and ready for the invasion to be over.
My husband and Dad have been working so hard on building their nursery and finishing our kitchen. I am amazed by the stokes of luck we've come across to get things accomplished so fast. A perfectly timed snow storm that allowed time to complete the framework and hang drywall. My brother recruiting a team of out of work handymen to knock out sanding the walls in two days. My Dad's longtime friend setting up camp for a week of cheap labor to install carpet, cabinet, tile flooring, closet doors and countless other small blessing that have been bestowed on us at just the right time.
On nights like this when I can't sleep from watching my husband struggle with being up all night changing diarhea diapers and soiled sheets when he has to be up in two hours, it makes me believe everythting is going to be alright.
