Nesting

I am nesting.

I didn't really "nest" with Walter ... I was too tired, sick and broken by the time we got to this point.  There was no sudden burst of energy directed at household tasks, just some plaintive nagging from my perma-perch on my bed directed at my beleaguered family members.

I've gotten the whole family in on it this time, too, but I'm able to do more and find I have quite a lot of focus and stamina to direct at various tasks.  The to-do list I made for getting ready for Sally has been significantly diminished, to the point where I'd feel comfortable now, if I go into labor, that anything we didn't get done could get done and everything that really needed to be done is done. Done done done *satisfied hand-washing gesture.*

I've been super productive and efficient at work, too, and am also feeling very good about the congregation being prepared for my maternity leave.  I like this energy and focus.  I like making visible progress and checking things off of lists.

I don't like the insomnia. I find I'm either too wired to sleep at all or, if I'm tired enough from a few nights of that to actually sleep, I wrestle with anxiety nightmares all night long and wake up exhausted.  Last night, I kid you not, I dreamed I was in a van full of young women evangelicals caught in the crossfire between the police and some kind of organized crime syndicate.  My favorite quote from the dream (that I can remember) was when I told our driver and the leader of the group, "Well, if we don't get in the van right now, we're definitely going to die." "Good point," said the leader. "Yes," I said.  "I'm very good in a crisis. I should really be in charge."  Then I felt bad for undermining the leader's authority.

There were some tense moments, but when I woke up everyone in the van was still alive. What a relief *uncharacteristic moment of sarcasm.*

Worse than the insomnia is the impact the nesting is having on my time with Walter. I'm well enough to sort and fold clothes.  I'm not well enough to keep up with a 21-month-old.  So, Umma, Baba and Sean have been rotating Walter duty and nesting duty (that is, they do the majority of the difficult work while I sit and sort things.)  Walter has noticed the lack of Mama time.  Today when he got home from school he was extra affectionate, with his arms wrapped around my neck for hugs and stroking my face very gently (before switching to poking my face as he counted my freckles ... then I showed him the millions of freckles on my arm and he sighed, overwhelmed ... then he started to pester to let him watch YouTube videos.)  He was very upset when I left to go to a council meeting and very glad to see me when I got home, just in time for a goodnight hug and kiss.

Part of me reasons that it's good for Walter to get used to Mama being less available.  Part of me wants to be as available as I can possibly be these next two weeks.  I want to pick him up and hold him as much as I possibly can, knowing it'll be a month at least before I'm allowed to lift him.  I want him to feel the warmth and love of my full, undivided attention.  And I want him to be OK when that attention is divided, too.  Oh, Walter.  After I left his room tonight, he kept calling out, "Love you, Mama!"  After calling back with "Love you, Walter!" a couple of times, I knew I had to stop so that he'd go to bed.  I hope he knows that "love you" never stops, no matter what.

So, my plan is to get done as much as I can during the couple of hours I'm home when he's at day care and at night after he's gone to bed, leaving the weekend as open as possible.  I'm still working (I'll work right up until 2 days before the c-section, Sally permitting) so I don't have much time during the day, and today I spent that time napping (blissfully dream-free.) We'll see how it goes.

Every once and awhile in the middle of my nesting frenzy, Sally will start moving very assertively and demanding my attention.  At first I'm a little annoyed, like, "Hey! Settle down! I'm sorting and folding your clothes, here." Then, I'm delighted, and then, I stop what I'm doing and take some time to notice her, this baby I'm nesting for.  She continues to love my left hip best of all, which makes me wonder if we'll be "joined at the hip" after she's born, too. She sticks her little feet up under my ribs and does a stretch/handstand, just like Walter used to do.  She doesn't get the hiccups very often or for very long.  She's running out of room, and sometimes her movements seem a little ... indignant.  Like, "Hey, Mom.  Did you really need that second ear of sweet corn? You're smushing me, here."

It's a good nest we're making for you, Sally.  It's a little crowded, but you're used to that, and there's a dog. He's going to lick your feet. Your brother is going to love you and count your toes a million times.  He may also poke at you a little bit, but he's pretty gentle on the whole. Your Baba and Dada have sore backs from moving bins and other heavy things around to get ready for your arrival, but when you arrive they will take Advil and brave the pain so they can bounce and rock and walk with you.  Your Umma is going to sing to you and make you laugh and smile.

Your clothes are clean and lovingly folded, for now.  It's a good nest, Sally.  It's a nest of always "love you's," no matter what.