Sunday, December 2, 2012

Part 2: December 6, 2008

Continuing my story of why I will be calling the children from November 23 - February 17 for the rest of their lives, rather than on their actual birthday...

I got home from Thanksgiving and begin to work on my bedrest. 

It took a few days for connectivity to be complete - deliveries of homework from my coworker - protein bars from my friends (which I thank God every day for, as hubby was stuffing me with steak, pot roast, and meatloaf...not understanding that the doctors' orders for more protein could be achieved with more than red meat...) - chat board friends updated (we shared a dx and every other detail after that) - magazines read.

I don't remember exactly why this particular day sticks in my mind.

Perhaps because it is the next sonogram that followed the one where I was put on bedrest. 

Perhaps because it is the day we had scheduled for ourselves to move out of our first home [purchased] together. It was our fabulous condo in the sky, overlooking Rock Creek Park (route of my first tri rides) and walking distance to our friends in the nearby townhomes and the metro to D.C.. The place where I got carpel tunnel painting every inch of trim and was rewarded with a custom-to-me newly finished-by-hubby kitchen and extra bedroom that was carefully refinished and painted in a color we thought we'd bring our first baby home to.

Perhaps because it is the day I begged my mom to pull over on the way home from the sono to go to Five Guys, where I promptly unhooked my tightening bra to let myself hang on my bloated belly, and wept while stuffing my face with a double cheeseburger.  I wept because I was overwhelmed with the news that Baby A was not growing any better. I wept because I was about to leave my home. I wept because I had a lot to do, and I didn't know what to do. And I wept because I had to give up control. again. No choice when to get pregnant. No choice how to get pregnant. No choice when to give birth. No choice where to give birth. No choice when to move. 

No choice but no choice. 

I looked at my mom.

My mom looked at me. 

She spoke.
"You are still challenging me. You've always ended up doing things I had no clue how to help you with. And now, you're becoming a mom. But it's twins. I wish I could do it for you, but I can't. I'm taking over the rest."
I had to agree to let my mom station me in my husband's company's temporary apartment while she coordinated the packing and moving of my entire life into a netherworld of corporate storage. 

Poor lady. I don't think we even had any Gin to offer her at the end of that long day.

But what I learned, again, is that we never really have control over these things. 

What they say women learn upon getting pregnant, and takes men until they see the baby to feel, is that lack of control. 

That understanding, that you don't want to control this moment. You want it to control you

For the rest of your life. 



To be continued, some more, if you'll indulge me... 




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