Picture This

It's Saturday morning.  All four of us are still in some semblance of pajamas.  I've been in pre-labor for almost 36 hours, so our house has been a flurry of activity the past day, getting things out of storage, washing things like the Boppy cover and receiving blankets, stocking the kitchen with food for the kids, packing a hospital bag, and timing contractions.  After a false alarm last night, with contractions suddenly slowing down, we finally succumbed to sleep sometime in the wee hours of the morning.  Ellie woke up crying around six this morning, which is very out of character for her, but Eric got up with the kids and graciously let me sleep--or try to--until around seven thirty.  We are both very tired at this point; my contractions are more intense and prolonged, but still about thirty minutes apart.  We've continued preparing things while letting Jack watch way too much Diego, and being followed around by a whiny Ellie.  Then it happened...the throwing up started.  Poor little Ellie lost all her breakfast down the front of Daddy's shirt.  It's so sad to see your little ones losing their stomachs, looking terrified and feverish and then when they're done, shaking all over.  As we're trying to keep me from coming into contact with any germy body fluids, I've been keeping my distance, which is hard for a Mommy to do. 

(Excuse me while I breath through a contraction...)

So a little while ago she threw up again and got it all over her sweet little red-from-fever face.  I grabbed a cool wet cloth to clean her up as Eric held her, his second shirt now splattered and in need of a change.  Just as I finished cleaning her face, I felt a strong contraction come on.  I stood there almost paralyzed, with eyes closed, holding the throw-up covered cloth in one hand, leaning against the wall to steady myself, when Jack walked up to me crying, "Mommy!  Mommy!" and holding out his bucket of sidewalk chalk for me to hold.  A second later he returned with his plastic crayon box (which he had just stuffed full of crayons and hadn't quite gotten the lid on right) and placed that in my hand as well.  So here I am, standing there in my pajamas, breathing deeply, trying to balance germs and pain and colored wax...and it hits me that this is a fine glimpse of motherhood: multi-tasking, nursing sick children, holding five thousand items in your hands at a time, putting aside your own discomfort as you care for your children's needs...and trying to breathe deeply as you go about it.  Eric made a comment echoing my own thoughts, but of course with quicker wit, which sent me into fits of laughter at the ridiculousness of the moment. 

Ah, life.  I'm beginning to realize that it's not very smart to ever think to myself, "Things just couldn't possibly get worse" because you just never know.  But it also never does me any good at all to sit and worry about the what-ifs, and so it leaves me having to just take life one thing at a time, whether it's one day, one hour, or one contraction, and pray for grace and strength to persevere.

We'd sure appreciate your prayers this weekend and in the coming week, over the birth of our baby and the wellness of our little family, for protection from illness for me, Eric, and Jack, and quick recovery for Ellie, so that none of us endangers our newest member with sickness at such a young and vulnerable state.  Thank you, friends!  We'll keep you posted on our labor progression as we are able...