04 May, 2012

At 37 weeks,


I was having a hard time. Somehow, morning sickness caught up with me again and with all of the business of our lives, I was bugged. Now is not the time for illness! Maybe this is just a bug, I reasoned, maybe I just need to fight through the nausea and by tomorrow, I'll feel better and all will be well. OR this is that old wives tale pre-labor nausea and I'll have the baby any day now! 

Not so. 

The whole week was pretty rough. The baby obviously didn't come, so my sickness was just plain annoying rather than exciting. One day in particular (that was the day that I referenced in my Mercy! post). About halfway through the day, I called Steven. We weren't expecting him home until the late evening, and I was secretly hoping that if he heard the desperation/exhaustion in my voice, he'd find a way to come home for just a few minutes and baby me and run around with Gage. 

"You sound like you don't feel very good."
"Oh, I'm fine..." 
"You sure?"
"I guess..."
"Are you saying you want me to come home for a while?"
"No, of course not. You have so much to do..."
"Brooke."
"What?"
"Just tell me what you want."
"I'm really fine. I just wanted to talk for a second. We'll be fine."

I hung up, pouting. How passive-aggressive does a girl have to be to get her husband to realize that she wants the opposite of what she's saying she wants? I was about to pick up the phone and call him back, explain that I'd been throwing up all morning and that Gage was now riding on my back telling me to "Go faster, Horsie! Go faster!" And I was on the verge of emotional and physical collapse, when...

Steven came home! He took Gage and cleaned him up, helped me get ready, then asked me what I'd prefer: for him to take Gage out for a while and let me nap, or for us all to stay in and be together, or all of us go out for a little outing. I weighed the possibilities and decided to go with them on an outing - after all, how many more times will I be able to just be with my two boys?

We went out for milkshakes. I was pretty nauseated, but couldn't resist sneaking in a couple of bites. The boys were in heaven; they are milkshake (or "shick-shake" in the words of Gage) fanatics. 

I love my boys. Can I say that enough? I don't think so. They are both so energetic and enthusiastic about life. They remind me that everything and anything that is negative is temporary and all of the best, happiest things are eternal. 

I am the luckiest lady around.





P.S., I'm feeling a lot better. I really think it was just hormonal nausea and has since been replaced by intense cravings for... carpet. Don't worry, I'm not giving in.

P.P.S., I also called my mom that day and there was no shame to my whining. She made plans almost right away to come visit and take care of us... she will be here in about an hour and a half! I am a spoiled brat. 

2 comments:

  1. awesome! glad you guys are so good to each other!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Remember that argument that you and I got to listen to on one of our visits wherein I made the declaration of how much of a spoiled brat I am? I still smile when I think about it.

    Loved the last line. And, of course, "FASTER HORSIE!"

    XOXO

    ReplyDelete

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