Wednesday, October 5, 2011

THE WAIT

Yesterday, Grant kicked me out of the house. This is different from him leaving me or needing a break after a horrible fight. He literally asked me to leave. And I wish I could blame him or make him feel like a jerk for making his 9 1/2 month pregnant wife get out of her comfy yoga pants, take a shower and go to an incredibly stressful and physically exhausting job, but it was self-preservation for him and salvation for me.

I have become my 92 year old grandmother. I love my grandmother and do not think this trait is unique to her- rather, I believe most elderly people when there is nothing on their schedule become this way. They wander around moving things from one place to another, rewashing clean dishes, reorganizing things already in order- I believe the term is putter. When you are so used to filling your time with things that need to be done, it is hard to justify simply sitting still and reading a book, watching a movie, taking a nap, etc. You feel like you should at the very least be in motion. This is me. The nursery is ready, the onesies are washed, Purslane's clothes have been organized by season and size for the next 6 months, my toenails are painted, my legs are shaved, the pantry is stocked with easy to grab food and snacks for whoever will be providing meals for Pursy while Grant and I are in labor, my bag is packed and in the car, the presents from Knox to Pursy are wrapped and ready to give- and thus I putter.

It isn't that there is nothing to do- my kitchen floor is dirty and Grant has asked me multiple times to call the company taking care of my retirement account to ask about transferring funds once I no longer work at the hospital. It is that I could care less about those things. My entire being is focused on the moment when I will go into labor and start the journey of being a family with two kids. I find it hard to care about anything else. I manage to do the obvious things staring me in the face- I pick up Pursy's books and toys so our house looks decent and I make dinner every night. So far as I am aware, Grant has not had to double day his underwear and Pursy has clean diapers. I am still showering daily. I personally think this is my new definition of success.

But yesterday Grant told me I either needed to go into labor or go to work- those were my choices. He made a rude comment about how many days in a row I had worn the same nebulous maroon pants (he calls them pajama pants, I call them "lounging" pants- which makes them legit to leave the house in) and told me I needed to call the hospital and pick up a shift. I made some pitiful comment about hoping I could get through a shift without taxing my body too much and he handed me the phone.

And I went to work. And it was an insanely crazy shift with busy patients and I ended up staying almost two hours overtime. But for a few hours I didn't obsess about how many Braxton-Hicks I was having or whether we were having our kids too close together. I was a productive member of society and made some money to boot. And once again, I had to admit my husband was right and thank him for knowing me better then I know myself. The wait at the end of a very long pregnancy is hard- but puttering doesn't do anyone any good and in my personal experience does nothing to convince this little freeloader to make his appearance. But just in case... if anyone wants their recipe cards re-organized, I'm your girl. Or maybe I will do mine again...

Pursy breaking in Knox's rocking chair...
 Baby kimono wrap outfit from Uncle Daniel...
 Saturday mornings with Dada...
 Rambo Pursy...
 My Kids...
 She kisses on request now-I love it. Although if she is feeling sassy, she responds to a request with "noooo..."

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