Here we are-- 36 hours before our lives are forever changed. My follow-up appointments on Tuesday were uneventful, which is good. Still set for surgery Friday morning.
I started off this week in a FUNK. Sunday was Mother's Day- it was also Mike's birthday (on which he was working a 12 hour shift), my cousin Millicent's graduation party, and the rainiest day in recent memory. Jeremiah and I went to church and prepared for a busy day. **I should add here that my church ensemble required the use of Spanx. I am currently eleventy months pregnant. It goes without saying that I started my day by emerging from my closet sweaty, cursing, and foul.**
Church was great. The party was great. We met Mike at work for some birthday Starbucks, and that was great. I came home, laid Jeremiah down for a nap, and went to bed to read. Somewhere in the middle of that very busy day, I put myself in an ugly place. I was missing my own mother, to be sure. I was suddenly struck by all sorts of self-pity that this was our last week of "normal" before being overtaken by the exceptionally abnormal. Hand in hand with that was a general grouchiness at not being able to FEEL normal. Well-meaning and good-hearted people ask me at least 10 times a day, "Are you okay?" "You need anything?" "How are you holding up?" "Are you SURE you're okay?"
One of my greatest faults, to which my dear sister can attest, is an uncanny ability to take on whatever emotional state someone else projects on me. Growing up, Sister would say, "Why are you in a bad mood?" I would reply that I wasn't, and she would say, "Yes you are." We would go round and round, and eventually, I MOST DEFINITELY was in a bad mood. For some reason, all of the well-intentioned and good-hearted inquiries as to whether or not I was okay suddenly had me feeling like maybe I wasn't supposed to be okay.
My goal throughout this entire pregnancy has been to avoid going down into the dark holes as much as possible. I can usually see them coming, and can head them off for the most part. I made a choice on Sunday-- if there were only 7 days of "normal" to be had before Parker gets here, then they were going to be as normal as humanly possible.
Since then, we have done a whole lot of NOTHING. (By nothing, I of course mean laundry, packing, getting the car washed and oil changed, running 8000 errands, etc.) We have grilled out every night and played in the jumpy house. We have watched movies. Today, I let Jeremiah pick whatever he wanted to do (go to the carwash and the toy section at Target). We haven't talked TOO much about Friday, and I am doing my very best to just be a pregnant lady, not a high-risk scary pregnant lady. We are doing our best to just be excited about Baby Day, and to enjoy these last few days of relaxation.
As much as I have giggled at myself and my nesting, it has really worked out to our benefit. The house is spotless, we are packed and ready, Jeremiah Care is squared away, our puppy Maggie is all set for a visit with her brother Glacier, and the freezer full of food stands ready. All we have to do is wait for Friday morning and enjoy ourselves in the meantime.
We've shut off the anxiety valve this week, and it has been glorious. We have put our little family in a box, which might look a lot like denial of our circumstances to some. Believe me, we know there is a storm a-brewin'. There are dark clouds on the horizon. Other various scary weather metaphors. We have 36 more hours of blissful ignorance, and we intend to spend them in the happiest possible ways. Do you think they will let us move in to Menchie's? :-)