See this couch?
This couch is my new normal.
Sitting on it, lying on it, splayed with a book and not-going-NOWHERE on it…that is the stuff and nothin’ of my days, it seems, at least until we—meaning Baby and I—work our way through this first trimester.
And I am using the word “work” in the loosest possible sense.
It’s hard, this not having energy thing. You can chirpily tell your family that “Mommy’s making a baby!” all you want, but at the end of the day, that little voice is still there to taunt you: Lazy lunk…lazy lunk…Mommy is a lazy lunk.
Go away, mean voice.
My husband, too, is part of the new normal. Having him here 24/7 has been a huge blessing for me and (dare I say it?) a mildish curse for him. Cheer up, Honey! These hormones are bound to settle down soon! (He’s thinking, “Right. I’ve been waiting for that for 15 years…”) What’s funny is this: the less energy I have, the more he seems to muster. Do you think God planned it that way? Yesterday he was changing the oil in the van which I would have done myself, honest, if he could have brought the van over to the couch, and needed to run to the auto shop for a couple things. “Hey!” I asked, looking up from my Lazy Lunkdom, “Could you stop by the grocer’s on the way home? For this and this and maybe this?” And then, when he needed to swing by WalMart a little later…”Hey! Could you also get a box of this and a roll of that?”
Thus spaketh the beached momma from the couch.
And thus helpeth outeth the best husband ever.
Here’s the good news: Only two more weeks to go until that Promised Land of the Second Trimester is here. Hooray! I am hopeful that I’ll be able to peel myself off the couch at that time, and I am thankful, so thankful, that your prayers have seen us to this point. I mean it—thank you.
In the words of our resident 3-year-old, “You the best friends ezah.”