I spent the earlier parts of this pregnancy hoping fervently that it would continue, and carefully - very carefully - trying to avoid tempting the fates. In some ways it’s a Jewish superstition thing - like flaunting something before you have it will tempt the evil eye. In some ways, it’s just me being afraid to publicly announce this fabulous thing for fear that it all falls apart and I’m left with good wishes for something that isn’t any longer.
And so I rejected offers of baby showers. “No thank you,” said I, “We’re not planning to have a shower before the babies are born.” We’ll wait, we thought. We don’t need so much stuff before the babies are born. We have a few things, it will be fine.
The room - the, um, nursery - has not yet been painted and needs a carpet. We don’t have a changing table or cribs. (We have a mini-crib that will go in our room for the first bit of time, so I’m not actually worried about the cribs, but still...) We have some outfits - mostly bought at garage sales and consignment stores, with a few absolutely irresistable things from Old Navy (and a shipment from Children’s Place on the way). We have yet to register (though I have lists - oh, do I have lists).
I feel a weird combination of thrill and guilt when I try to move forward on the plans and preparations. And it’s mixed with something else - a kind of sadness. I was afraid to take these steps too soon, and now I can’t do much of anything, and I’m so sad. I feel like after all this craziness, I’m losing the opportunity to stand quietly in the nursery (no “um” here) and fondle the cute things and fantasize about what it’s going to be like. And it’s my own fault for being afraid to act sooner.
We have plans to go register this week - special dispensation if I do it in a wheelchair and try not to be up and out too long. And I know family and friends will send stuff, even without the official occasion of a shower (which we’d started to reconsider right before the bedrest hit). But I’m so scared that if we don’t get it together REALLY soon that I’m going to miss this, too. I’m not so much worried about the babies right now (at least, not in this particular momentary freak-out), but I’m terrified that something will happen that will land me on medicated, full, mind-numbing, no-outings bedrest, and I won’t get to put clothes in drawers. And it makes me so sad.