I am now completing my second full week of "modified" bedrest--meaning, my days mostly consist of moving from our bedroom, to the couch, to the kitchen table, or to a chair in the backyard. My saving grace is that I am able to work from home, which provides a distraction for most of the day. It's a bummer that I still have 24 hours of vacation time I have to use before August 4th before they are lost, but it makes Tom happy that it forces me to work less than 40 hours each week this month.
I am struggling with the whole "bedrest situation." I am supposed to limit the amount of time I am on my feet as much as possible. I cannot drive. I can't cook/bake (again, the whole on your feet thing). I can't help with the housework, other than what can be done sedentary. I can't go shopping.
Before this experience was thrust upon us, I probably would have generally agreed with the thought that it would be nice to sit on my duff and be waited on hand and foot. Today, I can't say that I agree with that sentiment--it's actually a little maddening. If I were physically incapable or wasn't feeling well, I think it may be easier for me to handle, but given that I feel able bodied, I feel like I'm constantly telling myself, "Yes, you could, but no, you won't."
This must be my lesson in patience and letting go. I recognize I have "control issues," which definitely made themselves apparent when we found out we were pregnant and having twins. I found myself nervous before each doctor's appointment and each ultrasound--simply for the fact I have no direct control over what is going on inside of me. The best explanation I've found is that, if I have a plant, I can water it, monitor its growth, give it fertilizer--I can fulfill the needs of the plant based on direct observation. I can't do that with the babies. Never was this more apparent to me than on June 20th. Hearing the doctor tell us that my cervix was open was devastating to me. For the next two days I found myself asking,"Why?" a lot. I needed a concrete reason why this was happening to us. I think I needed it to absolve myself of guilt. I thought I had done everything right--I erred on the side of caution with everything. Based on all the information we had up to that point, the boys were healthy--the only roadblock to them staying that way was the incompetency of my body. After having gone through fertility treatments to get pregnant in the first place, the cervical incompetency seemed to be another reminder that it was something wrong with me.
I've had to learn that there is no answer to any of my questions. None of the doctors could tell me why this was happening--and I am sure they were sick of me asking them,"Could that be why this happened?" I had to learn to refocus myself and look at life through proverbial "baby steps." I have usually been a person to look at a long-term plan, but I found couldn't do that with this pregnancy. I have to look at the little goals--taking it day by day, week by week. Each day closer to 37 weeks is a little celebration. We high-fived at the 24 week mark, knowing that after this point the boys have a fighting chance of suvival if born early. Every punch in the ribs and flop on my bladder is a reminder that everyone is okay.
Needless to say, being relieved of most of my daily activities has given me ample time to reflect on myself and to recognize how lucky I am to have Tom as my husband. I've had to learn to let go of being particular about how things are done, and instead appreciate the effort. In our household, we've divided chores pretty evenly, and together make a pretty efficient machine. I have had to learn to be patient with Tom, reminding myself, that he really hasn't had to do laundry in six years--and barely knows how to use the washer/dryer we bought when we moved into our house three years ago. What has made this situation easier, is seeing the empathetic look on Tom's face when he knows I am struggling with frustration and how he always seems to know when it is best to offer to take me out to eat just to break the monotony.
