Wallowing No Longer

Yesterday sucked.
That's all there is to it.

I was up for 2 1/2 hours Saturday night with false labor--you know the kind. The kind where the contraction wakes you up, starts in your back and creeps to the front and comes back every five minutes or so. What? That sounds real to you? Hmmm. Funny. It seemed real to me, too. At 4:30 am, I decided that if it kept up until Brad's alarm went off at 5:15, then we might need to take it seriously. Then . . .

I went back to sleep.

Sunday morning I had more contractions as I got everyone ready for Church. In fact, I had a few during Church as well. A few people told me how awful I looked (and definitely felt), which deepened my dark mood.
Then we got home from Church, and nothing happened.
I took a long nap. And I cried. I bemoaned and complained. But mostly, I wallowed in self-pity.

Then, I got up and I made dinner. Because that's what moms do. And I took stock of the situation. Really? Is this false labor a surprise? Nope. Will it last forever? Nope. Will the baby come out? Inevitably.

And then I reflected on the almost perfect week we had last week. Aside from Lily being sick, it really was photo-perfect. No one else got sick--not even Hyrum who couldn't be dissuaded from drinking out of every cup Lily had. It was Fall Break, and we didn't do anything really exciting. We slept in until at least 8 every morning (when will I get a full week of that again?). We went to Barnes and Noble, each picking out one book (the hours Micah has spent with the Superhero I Spy book was worth the trip all by itself), then lunch at Paradise Bakery on Tuesday. And on Friday, we all hopped in the car to visit Tucker at work--Ned's Krazy Sub--and have lunch. But we also reorganized all the kid bookshelves in the library, cleared off my desk in the hobby room, cleaned out the games and puzzles in the family room (HUGE project), reorganized the toys in the basement, and cleaned the family room carpet. All with minimal to no complaining from my kids. All the big projects I wanted to complete before Baby came--all done.

And then I thought about what needed to be done this week: laundry, thank-you notes, spot-cleaning the family room furniture, visiting teaching, Halloween preparations, planting winter flowers in the back yard, parent-teacher conferences. I saw that I could use this week. And what about my last week with my buddy--Rum-diddy? Gotta enjoy that by painting, sharing, reading, play-doh-ing.

So I made a conscious decision to bag the attitude. Bag the self-pity. Bag the "wo-is-me" crap. And I vowed to enjoy the last part of the ride.

I straightened my bedroom before bed. I got in bed early. I was even kind and patient to Micah when he got in bed with us, scared from a bad dream ("Dad, there aren't any Jokers in Arizona, right?"). I got up at six, sorted and threw in the laundry. I made pancakes, got lunches made, helped kids find shoes and backpacks, read my scriptures, cleaned the kitchen, and visited with my visiting teachers. I folded and put away the six loads of laundry and shared an apple with Hyrum as we played with his newly washed kitty. I ironed my favorite maternity shirt to wear today (who knows how many days I have left?). I even spot-cleaned and Febrezed the family room furniture.

One thing left to do on my list today: pack my bag for the hospital. Because, even with this new-found positivity, Baby is still gonna come. And I might as well be all the way ready!
Right?

There's still time to register your guess for Gummy Bear's arrival. Go to my last post to enter!