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Small Miracles

Though I just posted, I had to share about this incredible day.

First and foremost, I went to my OB this afternoon and had a growth ultrasound. I find this insanely hard to believe, but the growth estimation is that Baby A is 5 lbs 10 oz, and Baby B is 5 lbs 8 oz! Of course this may not be totally accurate, but even so, I likely have over 10 lbs of baby in me, PLUS two placentas. WHAT?! That’s crazy! People ask how I am able to fit these babies in my body, and while I myself am not totally sure, I am pretty confident they are lodged in my ribs and smashed against my lungs!

I am definitely ready to reclaim this body as my own, but I also know that this is the last time I will be pregnant and so I am a bit sad about approaching the end as well. I also know that having two newborns plus a preschooler will be no walk in the park either, and I should just be enjoying (as much as physically possible) this short time before life becomes complete chaos.

Aside from learning how much baby actually resides within me right now, another incredible thing happened to me today. This morning was REALLY tough. After yet another sleepless night, I was irritable and achey this morning. Unfortunately, Harper’s been going through a lot of sleep changes/issues lately too, and so she too was irritable. This did not make for a good match, and getting her off to school proved even more physically and emotionally challenging than usual (and it’s been rough on my pregnant self for a good month now). On my drive home, the tears just started to fall as I realized I now needed to ask for more help. I’ve been trying my best to hold on to these little moments I have left 1:1 with her – taking her to school, going to music class with her, spending Friday afternoons with her – but today I realized for the first real time that I am not doing her, me, or these babies any favors. I am getting so worn down physically and mentally – every step for me feels like 100, and dealing with a turbulent, sleep deprived toddler is akin to wrangling an alligator – and my goal is to keep these babies in as long as possible (hopefully until my March 10th C-section). Also, this “special time” with Harper isn’t so special when we are fighting!

So I came home, put an ice pack on my ribs, crawled in bed, and asked our nanny if she would be able to drive Harper to school from now on (or at least until after I’m healed from my C-section). As hard as it is, I also decided it was time to put myself on partial bed rest, and only leave the house for any appointments I have between now and March 10th. I just can’t physically manage anymore.

I was feeling sad about all of this–sad not to spend the time with Harper, sad that neither she nor I are getting the sleep we need to feel rested, inadequate as a parent that though I have tried EVERYTHING I am unable to help her get the sleep she needs (sleep is a big trigger button for me), and scared about how I’ll manage major surgery, taking care of two newborns, and a toddler who is sleep deprived and cranky much of the time–when all of a sudden, a purple balloon that’s been in our house for weeks and is pretty much out of air, floated up the stairs and landed itself right outside my bedroom door. I just stared at in awe. How did it manage to get itself up there? It hung there for a while, and after a few minutes, made its way down the hall and into the babies’ room! I followed it in there, and as soon as I entered the room, it floated towards me.

I absolutely couldn’t believe it. For me, without a doubt, this was a sign from my amazing dad. I knew in my soul he was with me in that moment, telling me that everything is going to be okay–that we are all going to be okay–and that he is with us, and with the babies. My tears instantly turned from sad to happy ones, and I felt a strong sense of peace and calm wash over me.

The balloon is still in the babies’ room, exactly where it should be, watching over and protecting these little ones until they are ready to make their grand entrance.

dad balloon

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