I'm pretty sure that at this point in my pregnancy, 8 months and counting, the only thing that I should really be worrying about is what's the best way to decorate a nursery. Nesting is a wonderful thing that has been programmed into most people and animals to welcome that bouncing bundle of joy.
I think my nesting instinct was broken with the munchkin. I never really got into preparing a nursery. I made her bedding for her crib a few months after she was born. I knitted a blanket for her when she was 2. This time however, I've been much more into the whole idea of nesting. All I want to do is prepare a room for the next monster, get a crib put together and organize tiny clothes and diapers.
The problem is I look at the room that was being prepared for this new arrival and it's a little out of sorts. There are 2 walls that were recently painted, a spare bed propped up against the wall, the crib is in pieces in the hallway, and there are boxes packed and stacked where baby things should be. So what is the opposite of nesting, you might ask?? Moving...
In the last 2 weeks the Cowboy lost his job, and thus our place of residence, the munchkin has been sick for 3 weeks now topping it off with a double ear infection, our 5 month old puppy was hit in the road and killed, we are headed for winter quick and in a hurry, yesterday I passed out, banged my head, freaked everyone out, and I'm a giant hormonal mess. Oh yeah, did I mention that I'm a month away from giving birth?
To say that this came as a shock would be the understatement of the year. I guess maybe that's what happens when you befriend a young hand and he gets money hungry for your paycheck. I suppose some people are willing to stoop to some pretty low levels. All integrity goes flying out the window to make room for the sacks of money they stand to gain.
Evidently the man we thought we worked for and the one that we actually worked for were not two in the same, since he saw a cheaper way out and listened to everything he was told by everyone except the person that it involved. Heart-breaking is a good way to describe the whole thing.
We've made a life here, set down roots, opened our hearts, and started to raise a family. Every where I look there are memories, good ones at that. The munchkin can't understand why the ranch horses can't go with us or why we can't set up the baby's bed. She's a good help packing boxes, but keeps asking where we are going and where's her new room. How do you explain betrayal and heart-break to a 3 year old?
So while I was doing laundry yesterday I guess it all caught up to me at once. I’ve had my angry moments of betrayal and my tears of hurt. I guess it was time to just be exhausted. The last thing I knew I was standing in front of the washer with a basket full of clothes in my hand and felt a little dizzy. Then the Cowboy was standing over me trying to wake me up (what seemed like yelling at me), and I kept thinking, “why in the heck is he yelling at me?”
I don’t remember much till we got to the hospital and even that is pretty fuzzy. After the Cowboy yelled at several people for not helping us (no one came to help me out of the truck, they just said go down the hall to the OB ward…geeee thanks), he was wheeling me to the OB desk with one hand and the munchkin in the other. I was then hooked up to all kinds of monitors and all was ok. Baby was just fine and for all practical purposes so was I. After a while of being monitored, I was sent home and told to rest for the next few days. The only good thing was that for a while I forgot all the rest of the crap going on in our lives.
So I woke up this morning feeling sore, tired and appreciative that I had the Cowboy there to take care of me. Hard times always bring you closer together if you let it. Maybe that’s why we’ve proved everyone wrong and lasted this long together, because we choose to take the good out of a terrible situation. Last night we fell asleep holding hands, something we haven’t done in a while.
While I’m not happy about packing instead of nesting, this too shall pass. It’s not the first time something bad has happened to us, and even if I don’t want to say it out loud, it won’t be the last. The health of our family is more important than stewing over things you can’t change or people you’d like to punch in the face. As long as you end up holding hands at the end of the day with the people that mean the most, that’s all that really matters.