It was Thanksgiving week, the Tuesday before to be exact. The doctor sent me home from the transfer to strict bed rest. Completely flat on my back for 24 hours, except to eat and potty. I could then sit up but had to be in bed or on the couch for 3 days, only getting up to use the bathroom; and then house arrest for 2 days. Life had been so hectic for the months leading up to this that I honestly could not wait to just get to lay around for a week. It sounded like pure heaven. I was going to make the most of it and enjoy this. Thanksgiving Day would be difficult, because I love to cook the turkey and all the fixings. Not to mention that our usual full house of family and friends had dwindled down to just hubby and me, but it was going to be worth it. Thanksgiving will come around again next year - and we'll hopefully have even more to be grateful for!
After the first 24 hours I was done. Bed rest is a bitch. I have no clue how those women do it that are put on bed rest for months at a time. If I had been sick or on drugs it would not have been so bad, but I was perfectly fine. Awake, alert and bored out of my mind. It had only been one day and I was already starting to go stir crazy. I started to go to the bathroom more often and take the long way back to the couch - making a pit stop in the kitchen to check out what was in the fridge - until I heard hubby yelling at me to lay down. I did get to spend some quality time with family and friends that came to hang out with me while hubby was at work, so that was a nice perk. We had no shortage of people reaching out to help us in any way they could.
Thanksgiving Day rolled around and hubby had ordered a turkey and all the fixings from Marie Calendars. I was sad that we did not get to have the house full of all the smells of the day - the sauteing of onions, celery, parsley and sausage. The smell that just tells you it's Thanksgiving. So he picked up our order and came home and made the stuffing himself! It was delicious and I was grateful. Our daughter came home that afternoon and brightened up the mood with her presence. On Friday we put on Christmas music and I laid around and watched hubby start the Christmas decorating. Saturday and a shower could not get here soon enough!
We made it through the week: me "suffering" through bed rest and hubby "suffering" through my complaining. I was ready to get back to work and occupy my mind with anything other than the pregnancy test. We had one more week to wait. We were advised not to take a home pregnancy test. The results were rarely accurate and would only cause us more anxiety. I had read a lot about this on other blogs, so I heeded the advice and stayed away from them. Sunday was the day we were to have our first beta test. It was going to be another long week.
My emotions were all over the place. I was trying so hard to stay busy and not think about it - but it was impossible. It was all I thought about. I prayed. A lot. Hubby was a saint! Truly. Although he was just as anxious as I was, he managed to hide it well and was a constant comfort to me. I had a lot of tears that week - anxiety got the best of me. We were at Chili's eating lunch on the Saturday before. Hubby received a phone call. Apparently the person on the other end of the phone had asked about me and he responded that I was doing fine and that we were just waiting for the test to find out. That was all it took, I was in tears. I don't even know what I was crying about - and I could not stop. He just chuckled and said, "Baby, you're pregnant."