I had a pretty big realization today.
I’m seriously loved.
And I’m not saying that in a, LOVE ME, kind of way. I’m saying it in a, I had no idea that that many people cared, kind of way.
In the world of facebook and ‘friends’, it’s hard to decipher between those who truly care versus those who ‘like’ your stuff just to ‘like’ it. Or because it’s witty. Or because it’s true.
The amount of real, honest, kind outpouring I’ve received since yesterday’s post about being afraid has been amazing. It’s touched my heart in ways, I honestly never knew possible.
I’ve gotten emails from my Grandma and my dad. (I love saying my Grandma emails me.) Texts from friends. Facebook posts from my aunt and even my brother. (Let me tell you, that nearly made me cry. My brother isn’t usually up to speed with things and thoughtfulness. He’s a nice boy, but, well, a boy. How. Freaking. Thoughtful.)
And furthermore, people honestly willing to help me.
I’ve been put on a modified bed rest as of late, just more for comfort and healing, being told to ‘not over do it.’ Which, of course, in my life, is really next to impossible.
Matt has been phenomenal, even with a demanding job. But this morning, he was able to go into the office for a few hours because of my mom who took the first 2 hour shift and a long time friend, Melissa, who took the next 3 hour shift.
Now, of course, there are times when you come to rely on family. I mean, that’s what they’re there for, right? But family also has lives, work, children – and they just can’t always be there.
When I got the text from Melissa saying she’d be more than willing to come help out, given she could be freed before 6 pm soccer practice, I was awe struck. I’ve known her since working together at Fridays and we’ve been facebook friends and even real life friends, but nothing like, talk every day kind of thing. She’s just always been super supportive. I also think we’re a lot alike.
She’s just generally a nice person and fun to be around. And clearly, willing to help a friend.
I’m not usually one to ask for help. It’s like pulling teeth to get me to ask for help of any sort. It’s really an awful thing to suffer from. But especially when it comes to my kids, I’m very hands on. The way I’ve always viewed it is, I chose to have them in the world, they’re my responsibility. I don’t feel that other people should have to help me out, regardless if you’re family or not.
Over the years I’ve learned to relax. And since yesterday, when I nervously texted Melissa back asking if 10 was an acceptable time to come over, I realized that it’s not about me at this point. If I want to get better to get baby better, then I damn well better be ready to accept help. And I also need to realize that if someone’s offering, they probably mean it.
So wasn’t it a huge change in my mother in law’s voice today when she asked if she could help me out, when I quickly answered, “Yes.”
She paused, and then said, “Oh! OK! How’s 10?”
Every single one of those comments written yesterday I read twice and took to heart. I even cried over them. The amount of kindness and honesty is unreal. I feel overjoyed at the outpouring and a little less alone.
I’m still afraid that something’s going to happen and baby won’t make it, but if this baby can survive on positive thoughts alone, I think we’re in the clear. I have people that I never knew fully cared sending me positive thoughts.
My OB said this morning, “I know you are thinking to yourself, you didn’t originally plan this baby, and even maybe considered it a burden, but know this – you did nothing to make this happen. You can’t wish a baby away. It just is. You’re doing everything you can, and that’s all you can do. We’re in this together.”
And that’s when I shouted, “BEST. OB. EVER.”
I know that a few weeks ago I was on here crying about how I’m pregnant and woe is me, and it’s still true, and I still stand by those feelings, but those were feelings of two months ago. I’m all in now. Me and baby, we’re a team. And to come this far to acceptance and love and then to possibly lose it? Not cool.
So I’m staying positive. I’ve dubbed this baby Thor, and while it’s totally not gender neutral, (so no calling this baby he, man,) it’s a tough name. It’s a fighter. And one thing I know about me and where I come from, we fight. We’re survivors and we don’t put up with shit.
I’m on team Baby.
Now I just have to get shirts made.