If (Only) These Walls Could Talk

So much for progress. I left the apartment today because the contractor was coming, and I really shouldn't be around when he is kicking up dust (bad for babies) and creating a mess (bad for me). It was fine, because I had little errands to run and then I stopped by my sister-in-law’s to spend some time with my niece and to nap on her couch and eat delicious homemade chicken noodle soup.

When I got home, I was so excited to open up the door and see progress. We were told that the frame for the room would be up, and probably also some sheetrock. Imagine my surprise when I saw…nothing. Not a single thing. I was hoping to stand in the babies’ room tonight and just…be there. The sheetrock was there and all the tools were there, but nothing was done. Now I know this is par for the course for contractor, and I don’t expect miracles, but I should point out that I suffer seriously from any slight change in my habitat. I really struggle with it on a psychological level, with some deep roots that I can trace back to childhood. And did I mention the nesting? We have picked out cribs and paint and carpet and I think an armoire and even the hamper.

I am ready to get this room built before I slip back into “These babies are going to disappear” mode. I am almost superstitious that something bad will happen if we buy anything or do anything baby-related. It was devastating to pack up books and magazines and the very few things that I had bought during my other pregnancies. I could have nothing around to remind me of what I lost. In such a situation, what does one do with a room? A whole room? Filled with baby stuff? I can’t even imagine. And that fear is so real that there are times when I almost chicken out on pulling the trigger on this remodeling job. It takes very little to push me into the negative space, and a lot to get me to the positive space.

On a happy note, I do think having the room and then filling it up will help drag me into the realm of “This is really happenening.” Because it still feels too good to be true. I know I sound like a broken record (skipping CD?) but I can’t believe that after all we have been through, we are at this point. I have never felt so grateful for something in my life.

The lack of progress may have been a low point in the day, but Nicole brightened the night with stolen Girl Scout cookies. I love those Samoa cookies with a passion but lack any scout connections, much to my dismay. Someone gave Nicole a bag full of boxes of cookies to share with her employees, so she pulled aside the box of Samoas for me ( a misuse of executive privileged?). They are chilling in the fridge as I write this, and will be a central part of dessert (along with another cake I baked…let’s see if this one lasts more than a couple days). It will be hard not to eat the entire box in one night. I really need to learn to pace myself.

I just read somewhere (can’t remember where) that the average couple only talks 15 minutes a day. Isn’t that sad? I speak to my friend Jen more than that every day; it seems strange to think I sometimes speak to her more than I speak to Nicole (at least during the work week). But that is because Jen and I can talk during the day, since neither of us work (and she has downtime when her twins are sleeping). That whole statistic is one of those reminders that relationships actually take work. Nicole and I went through so much during the years of TTC, and the m/c’s and all the failed cycles. During crisis mode, you don’t really think “Are we talking enough?” You think “How am I going the get through this day?” I am happy to be at the point again when I am focus on things like making sure we have meaningful exchanges that last longer than the length of four songs.

Pictured above is me in pajamas at 20 weeks, side view. Let’s just say I am not thrilled to notice that it seems like I am carrying babies in my a$$. I hide my head in shame. And I have to stuff this body into some decent semi-formal wear by Thursday. Ha! In other body news, my belly button is half popped out, which is kinda freaky.

Three more sleeps until the next Level II and who knows how many sleeps till the room is done or even started.