I've been in the hospital on bed rest for two weeks now. I cannot believe it's been so long already. I cannot believe that I have so many weeks left to go. It's amazing that time can go so fast and still move so slowly.
My family seems to have settled into a schedule of care-providers with people coming on their regular days. As time moves on, I think the kids will be able to anticipate who will be taking care of them on a particular day. Thomas and Anna are excited to come visit me in the evenings and they seem happy enough when it is time to leave, though we do need to add the incentive of walking past the nursery window so they can see the new babies on the way to the car. Everything seems to be working out.
After two weeks in bed, hospital life (and food) is starting to loose its charm. The past two days have found me with moments of irritability and impatience. I am beginning to dislike waiting for people to do things for me. I've gotten over the awkwardness of having to call a nurse for a cup of water and now I'm occasionally grumpy because calling a nurse means I have to wait for something I used to be able to do for myself. I have more sympathy for small children who have to wait for someone to do almost everything for them. Oh, the convenience of fulfilling your own needs! At least I can use the bathroom on my own.
I am hoping this moodiness will pass. I find that being grumpy only makes me more irritable since this attitude is unfamiliar to me. I just want to be my normal, cheerful self.
I am very good at entertaining myself. I have at hand any number of ways to amuse myself including the internet and email, my knitting, and a couple of good books. The TV is little help. It would be worthless if it didn't come with a DVD player. However, after two weeks in bed, I am occasionally finding myself at loose ends for something to do. I'll lay on my side, looking out the window, wishing for something new to brighten my day. Visitors help a great deal, particularly those who are able to come during the day. I have been lucky that I have only had a couple days when I've had no visitors at all. Those were long days indeed, but most days I see Peter and the kids for an hour or so in the evenings. I think the best days are when Rachel or my friend Kate have been able to come for longer visits. I'm not sick so visitors don't tire me out like they would if I were unwell.
So all that is left is to wait. I am always thinking ahead to that future date when this baby will be delivered and we will be able to go home again. I have mid-September fixed in my mind as my goal, though I know that for me at least it could be sooner. I would love it if my baby could go home with me, but I don't see that this could happen. Part of the challenge is not knowing when I can expect the end to come or what it will look like for the baby when it finally gets here. It's almost like Alfred Hitchcock wrote my script for the next few weeks.
I think that the only thing for it is to find another hobby. Rock collecting and metal detecting are out, of course. Figure skating won't do, either. Any ideas?