the one about time

You all know the story by now. On July 30, at just over 25 weeks through this pregnancy, my world was rocked when an ultrasound revealed that my body may not be able to carry this baby to term.

This day was the beginning of weekly progesterone injections, daily medications to swallow, and very restricted activities. 

For the past 8-ish weeks, I have probably spent 80% of my waking hours sitting or lying down. It hasn't been fun, and it hasn't been easy. Prior to pregnancy and parenthood, "bed rest" sounded like Heaven. Hours a day of cozying up in bed with a good book or Lifetime movie, people waiting on me constantly, not having any responsibilities to tend to or tasks to complete. 

Yeah, right. 

The whole term "bed rest" is laughable to me because, at the end of the day, my husband still has to go to work, my girls cannot be in the care of others all day everyday, and things still have to get done. Trash needs taken out if my husband forgets. Laundry needs done or we won't have clothes to wear. Floors need cleaned or CPS is going to come and take my children away. When we are out of milk and it's a billion hours until my husband can pick some up, well…I go and get it. My girls still need driven to preschool, and it is just easier if I do it. Some weeks, I have 2-3 appointments with the doctor(s). I have to get myself there. 

Yes, we have had countless offers from people who want to help us. And we have taken them up on a lot of them. We have had 2-3 meals delivered to us weekly since the beginning of August. This has been such a huge burden to have taken off my shoulders. Friends and family have taken our daughters on outings for hours at a time to provide some relief to both them and me. But I cannot, and will not, rely on others for everything, so we just do the best we can. 

I'm still not working. I'm still not doing photo sessions. I'm still not exercising. I'm still not taking my girls to the park or going on walks or taking a day to go to Indy for shopping or a nice dinner. We aren't using our zoo or museum memberships. We haven't been to the library in too long. I'm not on my feet for longer than 30-40 minutes at a time…because it is exhausting and painful and not what's best for me or Baby Shiloh. 

I've missed out on weddings, birthday parties, family gatherings, and countless opportunities to make memories with my husband and children. 

Tired. Depressed. Sad. Anxious. The absence of life's simple pleasures has brought me down. 

So, yesterday, we took an hour to do what families do in September.

We went to an apple orchard. 

Why?

Because time waits for nothing, and time could care less about bed rest. 

I've watched 8 weeks of sunny Summer days pass by without enjoying any of them, and in another 8 weeks, the leaves will be gone and the trees will be bare and Shiloh will surely be here, which means I will be a new mom again…learning how to balance parenting my toddlers and tending to a newborn. 

I need to make memories with my girls now. I need to see them smile and play and experience now.

Because it will never be just the four of us again. 


Time wouldn't have cared if I missed her climbing to the top of this straw mountain.


And it wouldn't have cared if I missed this smile.


Time wouldn't have cared if I missed the enjoyment of her first apple cinnamon donut.


Complete with cinnamon sugar. Everywhere.



Time wouldn't have allowed me a redo of this moment.


Or this one.


Or this one.


Time is going to pass anyway. 


I can't slow it down. I can't stop it. I can't do anything about it.


 I can't afford to miss another thing.



One hour of "Mama, look!"

One hour of "I did it, Mama!"

One hour of "Mama, come with us!"

One hour of normal.

One hour of time we will never get back.



1 comment

  1. Praying for you sister! Hope the days get easier! I love reading your blog!

    ReplyDelete