The Story on Morning Glory

I wish you could have seen my feet at the fabulous shower my sweet friends threw.  I looked through all the pics, and there isn't one of my feet.  Go figure.  Anyways, they were swollen like whoa.  Swollen like I was walking on two inflatable devices.  Swollen so that I could wear very few pairs of shoes, and even those, my feet spilled out of them and it was a bit embarrassing.  

So when I went to my doctors appointment the following Wednesday, I wasn't super surprised that my blood pressure was high.  I had high blood pressure towards the end of my pregnancy with Jack, so I somewhat anticipated it with Owen, too.  It hadn't gotten too high, they would just take it, say it was high, lay my on my side for a few minutes, retake it, it had gone down, and bye bye.  

But not this time.  My doctor is the nicest doctor ever.  Soft spoken, and just a sweet and soft spoken person.  So when she told me that my blood pressure was troubling her and that I needed to be on modified bed rest for the next few days and I started bawling, she was very understanding.  She reassured me that things with Owen were ok, and that he was almost full term (I was 36 weeks) and worse case scenario, it doesn't go down when they check it again the following Monday, they would need to induce me, but that it was ok, because the most important thing is that Owen was ok, and that I was ok.  So, I left in tears, but reassured that things would be ok.

And then I remembered that I had a toddler at home.  And bawled all the was to my lunch date.  I called Jeff, bawling, who reminded me that it would be ok and promptly sent me flowers (so sweet) and called my mom and bawled to her while I asked her to pick up Jack from Mother's Day Out and bring him home...and stay with me until Jeff got home to take care of Jack. 

One of the things that I wrestled with the most about thinking about having Owen is saying goodbye to Jack as we head to the hospital.  I cry now, even as I think about it!  The last goodbye as an only child.  The last time my heart is not divided.  The last time I hug him and squeeze him and kiss him before his little world rocked.  So I'd thought of all these fun things we'd do before Owen gets here, and now, here I am on bed rest.  And I cried some more, feeling like I was now unable to make these last few weeks special. 

Jack had a really hard time with me sitting on the couch and being shuffled from one grandparent to another.  Don't get me wrong, he LOVES his Nana and Papaw and Grammy.  But he knew something was wrong.  He wanted me to do everything.  Every diaper change that I sat on the couch through, he cried and fought whoever was changing him, even if it was Jeff, screaming for me.  Every dinner that was lovingly prepared for him, he would just say over and over, "Mamma do it!  Mamma do it!"  Every toy that needed to be played with, he wanted me to do it.  It's like he knew something wasn't right, and he just wanted to me get myself together and "do it!"  It was rough, yall.  You can't explain bed rest to a 2 year old.  I did get up to do bedtime, because that's just the most precious part of the day, and I just could...not...miss that. The first two days were the worst.  Then he got a little more used to it and would just come and sit on my lap.  And those times were so so so special to me.