So, that was weird. Yesterday I turned 34, hurt my back while putting my boy back to bed, threw up into my favorite water bottle and spent the night fighting nausea, chills and thoughts that something must be wrong with the baby.
For the record: she's fine. Moving around like a champ. And seems pleased with the cheesecake Nate's mom brought over. Today, Nate declared GrandmaRama. We had help from my mother-in-law all morning and help from the Oma all afternoon. They were a powerhouse of laundry. I am grateful.
I am always trying to look for the lesson in things and the best I can come up with is this: ask for help, Kar. Unlike my other 2 pregnancies, I have struggled this time. I am older. My children weigh a combined 78 pounds. Mister is cra-zy busy. Repeatedly throwing my back out has caused old doubts about whether my body is truly capable of childbirth to come creeping in. And this time, I have to ask for more help than I like to admit that I need.
One person who loves to help is the Mister. Last week, I taught him how to vacuum. Not bad for a 2 year old.