Thursday, November 10, 2011

These last few weeks until D-day


9 months ago, this word made me excited.  It meant there was a package coming to my door, disguised as something I bought off Amazon or a piping hot pizza.  Then I got pregnant, and it was a word that had a far-offness to it.  Oh sure, "delivery" of a baby would come sometime, but there was SO much time!  Then we found out we were having twins, and then "delivery" would be in an OR instead of the posh labor room with the nice pictures and the comfy beds.

Now we're looking at T minus 14 days, tops, until that day arrives, and I have mixed feelings.  Half of me says, "I'M READY!"  Every time I stand up, I feel like an iron wedge is pushing against my pelvis, the pain is so bad, especially at night, that a trip to the bathroom is reminiscent of my grandpa before his stroke, only I don't have the walker.  I can't even stand up.  I'm giving myself shots of blood thinner twice/day now, and my stomach is black and blue all over.  To kiss Jason, I have to suck in a gasp of air, because I can't kiss him and breathe at the same time anymore.  To get out of bed requires a 6-point maneuver, that half the time results in me kicking either Jason or Pancake in the face.  I'm done being pregnant.  I'm ready to exercise again and feel like my body is more than an incubator.  I'm SO over riding the motorized cart around the store.

But then, the other half of me is scared to death.  I'm scared of the day itself.  Do I get an epidural?  I have scoliosis- what if they miss and I am paralyzed?  What if they miss something in the blood count and I either develop blood clots that kill me from lack of a blood thinner, or I hemmorage to death because I have TOO much blood thinner in me?  And then- oh- sometimes life with Jason the way it is right now is perfect.  Two babies are going to muck all that up with their neediness of our time/energy (and those of you reading this, judging me for feeling this way- you are obviously the perfect woman.  I am not.  Don't rub it in).  We have a good life, my husband and I.  It's relatively easy and free of drama.  We come and go as we please.  Our biggest decisions tend to be about whether we'll have chicken or steak for dinner.

Oh, but then that first half rears its head again, and I feel these boys kicking me, and I see their little faces on the ultrasound monitor, and I get SO excited to meet the little men that God, for some reason, let us have 2 of.  I feel their kicks and am excited to see what kind of faces have been growing in me since March.  I'm excited to smell that baby smell and feel washed in that motherly love everyone raves so much about.  BUT-, just as quickly, I get overwhelmed thinking of how tired I'll be.  Of how tired Jason will be (and he can be a little cranky when he hasn't slept).  Breastfeeding scares me...even though we're determined to make it work...I'm scared of failing at it, or moreso, failing my boys (again, if you breastfed great....a round of applause for you.  If you want to tell me it's okay to use a formula, know that I appreciate the support, but we're saying "no thanks" to formula, so no need to share). 

For every excited thought I have about D-day, I have an equal and opposite moment of terror.  I will say hello to 2 new loves in my life and goodbye to life as I know it with Jason, forever.  We both will have multiple and countless opportunities to mess these kids up for life.  *sigh*  It's all changing in 14 days.

Or less.

Maybe until then I should order something off Amazon and have a large pepperoni from Papa Johns make its way over to our house.

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