The Big Melt.

I knew it was coming. I could feel the agitation in my bones as day after day turned into week after week of bed rest. On Thursday it happened. It was not pretty. Mount meltdown started to spew its freak out lava.


Generally speaking things have been going pretty well. Since September (gulp) I have been on restricted activity, and since December 6th I have only been on my feet long enough to take a quick shower, use the bathroom, or go to a doctors appointment. The lack of stimulation was catching up with me. The cloud of frustration was starting to build, and by mid week last week all emotions ran amuck and the storm began to brew.


It was the accumulation of a lot of things, actually. The helpless feeling of watching Craig go to work all day, come home tired and knowing he just wanted to relax, but instead starting in on a pan of spaghetti for dinner. The reality of the distance between my family and I being far apart as my grandma moved out of her home and into a care center...of hearing the stress in mom's voice as she was forced to face another of life's difficult choices. Not having had a doctor's appointment for 2 weeks, keeping me completely home bound and without fresh air (well, unless you count the short time I spent in front of the open patio door.) Missing seeing what goes on in the "real" world except through the eyes of the TV, Internet, or what others have told me. Lack of sleep because the very same night that baby quit punching my bladder it began thrusting up on my diaphragm, leaving me without enough air, an overly full stomach, and reflux like I have never dreamed of. And speaking of dreams, lots of them...everything from my grandma playing in a harmonica band while I was trying to teach a class on PICC line placement to a bunch of ladies at my mom's church to fairly vivid dreams about my dad. The bottom line was exhaustion. Beyond tired of limitations. So with that the tears started. And didn't stop. Not for nearly two days. Not even watching YouTube videos of babies born too early were helping me keep my motivation as they usually do.


Yet, I remained thankful that we are at a point in our lives where we can do this. I'm not laying here all wrapped up in this blanket of confusion for nothing. I am doing this for something so much more than myself. I'm doing this for our future, for our baby that is growing and kicking and thriving under my inactivity. The thought makes me smile, yet doesn't erase the frustration. It is an odd place to find ones self in when you don't want to be where you're at for one second longer, yet wouldn't do a single thing to change it. That's where I was.


On day 2 of the funk, Craig gently approached me.
"Honey, we have to do something different." and then he stepped back (and quite possibly assumed a defensive posture...I think he is scared of me.)
"What? What can I do different?"
"This weekend we're getting you out of this house."
"I can't"
"There comes a time when the health of your mind is just as important as everything else."
"Where would we go?"
"Wherever you want. You need a break."
"Target? With pizza and bread sticks from the Pizza Hut snack bar inside? Really, do you think it is ok?"
"31 weeks. There's always a risk, but we'll get you a wheelchair and just stay for a little bit."


And with that the hormonal pendulum swung 180 degrees to the other end of the spectrum. The tears were gone and I was ecstatic. The only other person who really understands and shares the reality of our situation had given me the go ahead. I had a date. With a little nervousness but even more excitement Saturday finally came. We took it very very slow and easy. I humbly rode slightly reclined in a wheelchair and warded off the stares of those who in my mind were thinking "Why does SHE need that?" We rolled through the aisles of baby stuff. Stopped and shared a small cheese pizza and 3 piece order of bread sticks. Above all, I found my smile. I was not just an incubation machine for our baby, but a real person. It felt so incredibly good.


Despite my determination not to overdo, I had just enough in me for a quick peek at Wal-Mart's baby stuff. I perused the baby section from a motorized wheelchair (there were no other ones available) while Craig chased me. Yes, it was embarrassing, but my goal was to take a break from the mundane, not to have a baby that day. We picked up a few things and some groceries. Within 2 hours from the time we left I was back on the couch fairly tired but not having felt better in a very long time.


This will not be the norm. I only have a few more weeks and have no intention of breaking the rules again. I was just at that place where the benefit outweighed the risk. I'm glad I did it, and now am back at home on the couch where I need to be until my doctor gives the green light to be up. At last week's appointment he said that as long as the next three ultrasounds looked good I can be on my feet again in about 3 weeks. THREE WEEKS people!! That is better than I had hoped for. It won't be much longer...I can do this! It is about time to reap the reward of our persistence.


I hesitate to post this because I don't want it to sound like I am complaining about our situation or that I would not do anything in the world to keep this baby safe. I am trusting that you know where my heart is in all of this without further explanation. After all, I have always claimed that it is not easy being me!