The house feels like a cave of tranquillity. I've been nesting but now I think I need to stop and appreciate the nest. It started out as a kind of panic nesting. Following my last blog, with the warnings of just how early twins can arrive haunting me, I kicked into geare. The hospital bag was packed and baby stuff was piling up in the second bedroom. Since then, the reality of it hit a but harder yet.
After the last scan, a week and a half ago, I was sent directly to the clinic. I watched the sonographer and a midwife scurry from room to room with my growth charts as I began to get more and more unsettled in my seat in the busy waiting area.
Trying to breathe and keep calm is more difficult with my now limited lung capacity. After an uneasy wait, a busy midwife called me in and talked me through concerns while preparing a massive dose of steroids she was about to stab me with. I needed to return to the hospital again at 10pm for a second dose. It was meant to prepare the babies lungs in the event that they came early. The growth of one of the little guys had dropped off and it would be decided if any action should be taken when I saw the consultant myself the next week, she explained.
I surrendered a bit of fleshy butt cheek and agreed to be back that night for more. I drove home on autopilot, got in the house and suddenly felt very lost and frightened. What now? What would I do if they arrived by next week? The thought of the plastic baby boxes in the special care unit gave me a chill and I wanted to cry. But first, mamma-bear instinct kicked in. Doing something felt better than doing nothing and I had a huge urge to make my cave totally prepared.
I decided that I could start by contacting my sister in law, Amy, to ask about borrowing her bottle steriliser. She was enjoying a day with my mother in law, Sally. I wasn't making much sense by text so I phoned. in an instant, my she-bear persona gave way to whimpering, frightened baby-bear. I found myself flooded with tears almost as soon as I opened my mouth. Sally and Amy realised before I did that it wasn't really a steriliser I needed. It was some kind words, encouragement and reminding that nothing is written in stone just yet. That and a cuddle from Thom as well as ice cream after the 10pm injection helped.
Never the less, nesting kicked in full time since then. I write that as if it is some force that took me over rather than my own behaviour. Strangely, that's what it feels like. So much so, that I was annoyed by interruptions to my nesting this weekend. Thom told me we were to stop by my friend Bianca's house to check out water damage. I was not happy. There was Ikea furniture to assemble, cupboards to rearrange to ensure room for baby bottles, sleep suits to launder and cookies to bake and freeze. I wanted to stay in but he wouldn't let me, reminding me that he endured Ikea getting storage and organising bits, so the least I could do is accompany him to check out mould patterns in Bianca's ceiling. I begrudingly got dressed and dragged my feet all the way.
When we arrived, my smacked-bottom face was greeted by a group of smiling friends and a load of presents. Surprise baby shower! It took me a little while to figure out what was going on, I imagine partly because I've been in such solitary hibernating, nesting mode for so long. I almost felt like I forgot how to converse with friends. It was for my own good that nesting was set aside for a bit and that I was forcibly made to stop and enjoy this time of my life. I may have come in with a bad attitude but left with a smile and warmed heart from all my lovely friends. As well as a ton of presents for both me and the wrigglers. Things to tuck away in my newly organised comfort cave.
Am I ready? Well, now more than ever. Best of all, I can take a moment to enjoy it, too.
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