The Art of Asking

Well it's week 28 for little Joel (almost 29!) and week 3 of bed rest for me. (Read why I'm on bed rest here) Everything has slowed way down. I'm so thankful that resting seems to be working its magic although it's becoming increasingly difficult to stay in a constant state of relaxation. (Who would've thought?!) My doctor's visits so far have been nothing but positive and that helps me keep sane.

I've had some rough moments, like a few days ago when the wires got crossed on who was picking the kids up from school. Turns out no one. After my daughter calls innocently asking who is bringing them home, I hung up and just started getting ready to go get them myself.  Even though my mind is telling me to call someone, my strangled independence is looking for the car keys. Luckily, I couldn't find them. So I called John at work and thanks to his sister  the problem was solved with relative ease. But for some reason that just really got to me. Maybe it's hormones, maybe its just feeling out the frustrations of not being able to do much. I finally convinced myself it wasn't a big deal and that my helplessness is only temporary. Soon a new baby will come and I'll have plenty to do and I'll be longing for the rest I am getting now. For the time being, I have this little reminder of why I have to keep still.

My daughter picked this out as a Christmas gift, how sweet is that?

It's such a weird feeling that I can go back to sleep after the kids leave for school if I want to. It's a little hard to walk away from a pile of dishes or toys or clothes that I'm used to putting away. It feels against my nature to let the kids watch hours of tv after school or not really have a plan for the week. Not to mention, having to re-prioritize my pre-baby to do list. "Re-prioritize" meaning these things are probably not going to happen before he comes.

So I just keep looking at this little figurine on my mantle and telling myself: "I'm doing what I need to be doing right now." Not only for me, but for the little boy depending on me to take care of myself. Bed rest or not, people prosper when we take care of our needs.

I think as mothers (or any type of role where we are primarily serving others in a high capacity) certain personalities take a backseat and tend to forget about self care. It's not intentional, it just kind of happens. We just keep pushing and somewhere we cross a line and if we do it for long enough it can be somewhat destructive or at best unhealthy. Being a young mom, I've experienced the downside of not taking proper care of myself more often than not.

For the better part of my 20's I was so thirsty. Literally. I would just forget to drink water or anything really. This sounds insane but it's true. I would experience fatigue and not understand why I was so tired until John started asking, "What have you had to drink today Jenn?" I would think about it and I couldn't remember anything. Now chances are I was not so busy that I didn't have time to grab a bottle of water, its just that it became a bad habit. I just got used to depriving myself of it. As I matured and became more in tune with my needs, I realized what should have been obvious and the huge difference staying hydrated makes in how you feel and your energy levels. As you can imagine this made me a much more pleasant person to be around and a better mom to my kids.

That started opening me up to looking at other things I could do to care for myself. Like eating right or exercising or taking down time. It was sort of a fascinating time for me as I learned more about my needs and how it made me a better caregiver when those needs were met. And yes I'm making this sound entirely too easy.

Since I'm not allowed off the couch all I do is take care of myself. Or ask other people to. If I need something upstairs someone has to get it for me. If I want a meal more complex than a bowl of cereal someone has to make it for me.  I'm barely allowed to refill my own ice water if someone else is around. "What do you need? I'll get it!" While I'm forever grateful to my helpers, its hard to always ask something of others. Guess my dream of living at Downton wouldn't be so fun after all.

Breakfast in bed anyone?

A hard slow lesson that I'm learning is that asking for help is an integral part of taking care of ourselves. It's not something that I'm used to doing or particularly like doing. It just so happens that this was one of the things I was working on with my mentor before all this happened.  She has to constantly remind me that communicating our needs and even our wants is a sign of mental health and wellness.  Apparently, somewhere along the path of motherhood I fell into the lie that I needed to be self sufficient and asking for help somehow meant that I was incapable or couldn't handle things on my own. Plus, I hated the thought of inconveniencing people.

Then I found out that maybe we're not supposed handle it all on our own and that sometimes people need to be "inconvenienced" with the problems of others. It reminds us that we're all finite and helps to get us outside of ourselves. Whether it be some kind of physical ailment or stress or emotional heaviness or even just a bad day, we weren't intended to shoulder the burden by ourselves. We thrive the most as individuals in connection and community and sharing life. That includes joyous times of celebration but also meeting everyday practical needs and then right down to holding someone's hand while they grieve.  So this practice of sharing life together isn't limited to birthday parties and baby showers but includes car pools and listening at the end of a hard day and funerals and depression and times where it feels like we need help to hold our heads above the water. 

But when we act like we don't need or want help when we really really do, we aren't doing anyone any favors. There are people who genuinely need to help for their own sake. It's a win win. Then in the future, we may get the blessing of returning the favor. Not because a return favor is expected but we all know we have certain people who we ask for help. It's usually people who we have a give and take relationship with, not someone who appears to have it all together and never ever needs help. That's no fun. Asking for help is just as much a spiritual act as giving is.

This is what I'm thinking about when I am lying around all day and being waited on. It's ironic how life throws us situations where we get to practice riding a wave that we usually prefer to observe from the shore. The sooner we learn to ride it out, the less chance of being caught in the undertow. Hope I still feel this way come week 6.

More to come,

Jenna

oh! and here are a few things from around the web that inspired me this week, happy reading!

"No You're Not a Real mom Because Your House is Messy"  By Lauren Hartman

"The Spiritual Discipline of Learning Nothing" over at Chatting at the Sky

This *free* ebook: "A Little Salty to Cut the Sweet"  by Sophie  Hudson has helped keep my mood light all week. She chronicles stories about her southern family with a witty style that will make you grin while you read. 

and last but not least...

How adorable is this nursery via Apartment Therapy? Someday soon I will be allowed to decorate again but this is how I will cope in the meantime

Update on Baby Joel

Its been a week officially since I was admitted to the hospital. I was unsure whether or not I should write about it and told myself I would take a week to process everything. If I still wanted to blog about it at the end of a week, then I would.

Two Sundays ago, I was having a normal 'prepping for the week and dreading it at the same time' kind of evening. I hadn't done anything particularly out of ordinary and, other than an achy back, felt ok for being 26 weeks along with baby number three. I'm rounding out that middle trimester where you usually feel as good as you can while you tote around another human the size of a butternut squash inside of you. Anyways, I am walking up the stairs to go to sleep and by the time I reach the top my back is shooting pain so badly I can barely make it over to bed so I can lie down. I call for John and he makes the executive decision to call the squad while I'm freaking out and wincing in pain. They were there in less than 2 minutes. They escort me down the icy steps and into the ambulance. On the way to the hospital, I'm panic stricken to say the least. The fear is probably worse than the pain at this point. The EMT tries to make conversation with me to keep me calm but  all I can do is brace myself and give short answers.

Once at the hospital, I'm taken straight to labor and delivery. "Say the word 'baby' around here and people jump." the EMT said as he wheeled me to check in. By the time I'm in an exam room, John is there and another wave of pain is washing over me. I see a nurse, my doctor comes in. They run tests and take blood and listen to Joel's quick little heart. Next thing I know I'm signing papers and they are starting an IV.

"Wait, wait." I'm thinking. "This is where you tell me these are normal pregnancy pains and I'm a hypochondriac. Give me some pain meds and send me home!"

"You're being admitted" the nurse explains. "It's possible you're at risk for preterm labor."

I'm still in shock. Denial even. She said 'possible.' My first pregnancies were smooth sailing and this one is supposed to be the same.

John and I don't talk really except with our eyes and the occasional hand squeeze. It's going to be ok, he's going to be ok. I'm glad we are here. Glad we are together.

He stays with me through the night as they start me on some medicine that will slow the contractions. Which I'm still doubting and hoping that's not what the pain is, but then another one comes the fourth or fifth since I've been here. When it finally dies down and the medicine kicks in its around 3 am. I think I slept. I don't remember. The side effects are taking over, nausea and drowsiness and double vision. A small price to pay if  it is contractions.

I do remember the nurse waking me. She is sticking me with needles and taking my blood pressure and moving the monitor around my tummy to hear Joel's tiny heartbeat echo through the room. That sound is like a lullaby that soothes my fears. Each kick I feel helps me relax. People are praying for me, I can tell. My mom is on her way to sit with me and possibly help with the kids for the next few days. I am always comforted by her presence conflicted with the idea that this is serious enough to call in reinforcements.

I stay here in this place of doubt, hope, denial, fighting to stay positive amidst all the questions and fear. I'm constantly trying to decode what the doctors and nurses are saying. I feel like I have the flu. My mouth is so dry I can't eat.  They give me steroids to develop Joel's lungs. I can't sleep. They give me sleeping pills. I have nightmares and hallucinate. I want the lights on but I can't see and when I close my eyes I see things I don't want to. Like dark clouds rolling over my head or something looming beside me. When I squint I know it's just the incubator that is set up in the room.

I peer through the glass to the empty little bed and hope and pray there will be no use for it. This is just a practice run. This is all just precaution. After all "Say the word 'baby' around here and people jump." Right?

Finally it's Wednesday and they have taken me off the medicine, they let me take a shower and I'm feeling slightly human again. Yesterday, they told me there is a 50/50 chance I will still make it to full term and talk like I can even go back to work soon. I'm thinking I might take the rest of the week off or something. The doctor who admitted me wants to run one more test before I leave. This test sounds like the only sure fire way to know whether or not I'm in preterm labor.

"Why are they just doing this now?"  I think as they are prodding me one more time. "I'm fairly sure the test will be negative."

The test takes an hour to come back and I'm expecting the doctor to pop in be delighted that it was negative and tell me to pack up and go home. That all this was overkill and you can never be to careful when it comes to preterm labor. I'll accept her apology for putting me through this and the next time I see her in a room like this she will be delivering my baby at 40 weeks. Maybe I'll stop for a green smoothie on the way home.

When she comes back a little over an hour later she wastes no time telling me the test was positive. I am in labor. She's going to send me home on bed rest and hopes I make it a few more weeks. The longer the better obviously. She says good job for coming and knowing my body and she's so glad they caught it early enough.

I am floored. I am still floored one week later. Things could be worse, yes things could be a lot worse. I'm not the first woman to be put on bed rest or go through a preterm labor scare. Not the first to wonder how things will go at home, wondering how our little family of four will work if I'm barely allowed off the couch. Not the first to want to call her doctor over every little pain or concern.

But it is my first time. I'm going to allow myself a certain amount of reasonable unease. Enough to keep me on this couch for 6 weeks or however long I make it. Beyond that, I have resolved to think positive and keep my mind busy. I'm going to write blogs and journals and read every book I've ever wanted to. I will craft and watch futile yet entertaining series on Netflix. As many as I want at the same time. And I'm not going to research preemies or preterm labor or really focus on anything pregnancy related. When all else fails, I will call one of the many people who have been supportive to me through this and I know I can count on them to remind me of my purpose.

This purpose is really in no way different than any other time in motherhood. I am protecting and nurturing a little life that I carry with me everywhere I go. Even mothers of grown children will tell you, this is still their purpose as a mom. Protect and nurture. This is a literal acting out of noble motherhood, with all it's sacrifices and heart wrenching love. I'm giving up my body and my privileges and my day to day agenda for someone else for a few weeks. But in essence, don't we do that everyday as mothers without blinking? And really its not just mothers. This experience is teaching me well that crisis brings people's true values to life and its a beautiful, humbling thing to be a recipient of.

My doctor said she wouldn't wish bed rest on her worst enemy. Well. It's only been a week so I may be jumping the gun by saying that I want to learn all I can from this experience. I am already learning to just say yes when people want to help or offer you support. I'm learning that my husband is way more amazing than I ever give him credit for. I am learning to let go of my way and my expectations and realize how little control I actually have over my life. I'm focusing on savoring  little moments of joy and storing them up for when I am struggling through my long quiet day.

I'm also just trying to take each day as it comes. At the end of this I wont look back and regret that I didn't worry more or rack my mind with all the possible outcomes. No. One step at a time. Today is a good day: I slept in to a perfectly unreasonable hour, baby Joel is kicking the laptop as I balance it on my tummy, and I'm looking at my first ultrasound since the hospital. The technician said it looked perfect.

Sharing this story in such detail was not something I intended to do. It just sort of came out when I started typing. Like I said, I was not sure whether I would. As I sit here and edit and muster the courage to hit the publish button my inner critic starts piping up as it often does. More than ever, now is when I have to tell it to be quiet and let people in. I have received so much support from those around me who already know what is going on and I just have this sneaking suspicion that this is one of those times when you can't have too much of something. There's no such thing as too many people who care, too many prayers, or too much love. Thanks in advance from the bottom of my heart.

Jenna

p.s.- I'll keep you posted. (Probably a lot more now since I'm tethered to the couch:)