Looking for the "pause" button

It is Wednesday morning.
I am sitting here staring at my To Do list, eating a breakfast I wish consisted of chocolate chip cookies.

This list I have in front of me is two pages long, front and back.
It covers every errand to run, every grocery to buy, every item to clean, every suitcase to pack and every room to organize... along with many other things and notes and ideas.

It is basically "nesting" (an unexplainable urge and need to clean/organize the whole house, top to bottom before baby, or in this case babies, arrive) on paper, or spring cleaning or a combination of both considering the recent weather change.
Nesting usually takes place starting a few weeks, or months before the baby is born. Old wives tales suggest it means labor is coming but from everyone I have spoken to it begins much earlier than that. And it is an instinct that really can't be explained. 
Before I go further, let me back up a little... so, a "normal" pregnancy runs approximately 40 weeks. This would mean, in my mind, nesting begins around 30-35 weeks. That might be early but some people are just born to plan and prepare. Let's for sake of example say it begins at 32 weeks. 
At 32 weeks of a mono-mono pregnancy - you are having your babies. BOOM! 8 weeks of prep for babies, GONE.
Now back up even further- at approximately 24 weeks (depending on doctor and situation) you are inpatient hospitalized (yes, we have just gotten to the heart of this post). So apparently you, as a mono-mono mom are to be "nesting" around what? 18 weeks!? Dear God. This brings us back to an insane To Do list that others can't comprehend. 4 months of prepping packed in to, say, two weeks. 


Monday morning I am going to walk out of my house, with only what I can carry. (OK that is a lie, I can't carry anything. It'll be what someone else, stronger and more balanced than my now enormous self can carry). But not much. Think of packing for a weeks vacation (and by vacation, I of course mean jail) but having to stay for 8 weeks. No washer, no dryer, no refrigerator, no microwave, no getting up for a midnight snack in your undies, no cuddling on the couch watching crappy TV with the love of your life, no sitting in the 'new' nursery dreaming of the arrival of your little one. None of that at home, nesting, resting stuff. 
Just some luggage, some strangers and some odd machinery monitoring you. 

I will walk out of my house on Monday, knowing when I return in two months, my life will be absolutely NOTHING of what it is right now. Not only will it be different when I arrive home, but it will be different in a way my brain can not even begin to understand. 

I have talked to many women over the past few weeks who have spent time inpatient waiting for their babies to be born. Some have hated it, some have not. Some flipped out, threw a fit, absolutely refused to go and others have gone quietly. I guess I fall in between. I do nothing quietly. I fear for the nurses on D6 of Albany Medical Center, because I know that over a matter of two months they are going to consider holding a pillow over my face while I sleep countless times. 
In the words of singer Frank Turner:
"And I won't sit down
And I won't shut up
And most of all, I won't grow up"
God Bless those poor nurses who have no idea how their lives will change upon my arrival on Monday. They are going to hate me when I try to redecorate the room, leave and go to Target and tell dumb jokes until they want to blow their heads off. 

All joking aside, just how does one prepare for such an event like this? I mean, clearly you clean the house, you pack your things, for months you save activities to do while inpatient, you gather advice, you read what you can, you ask questions, you cook meals and freeze them for those still at home, you do laundry, you run errands, you tie up loose ends.... but really? How do you prepare for the home sickness, the loneliness of missing your of your partner, the missing of a pet (crazy but true), the boredom, the stir crazy, the missing of your own bathroom, and your own home, and driving in your car, the missing of holidays and birthdays and life happenings, the lack of freedom, the idea that the one place in the world that scares you more than most is a hospital and medical procedures and emergencies, and roommates and babies and you have never had anesthesia or surgery or even have a single idea what it is like to give birth to preemie babies and dealing with a NICU or anything leading up to it or what comes after and omg omg omg omg omg ... the claustrophobia of it all....HOW!?!?!

I have an answer. After the lists of things to do, the arrangements, the tasks, the errands, the groceries and the laundry are done, you are left with faith. 
You remember that this journey, is in fact just that... it is an adventure. You do what you have to do, with out resentment, and with out the fear swallowing you whole. You do it with support from those close to you and also from those you never knew would or could support you. You remember that two months is a tiny  amount of time to sacrifice when it comes to saving the lives of those you are creating. You remember the scary statistics and the feeling you felt the day they told you exactly what you were up against and you then remember your promise to those babies and to the other parents in your same situation - to fight this good fight the way it was meant to be. With positivity, faith and hope. To prove the statistics wrong, to be support for those who follow you and to build little warrior babies from the get-go.

THIS is what life is about. As corporate America sits there wishing for Friday, for fast forward, for the weekend of St. Patrick's Day parties, I am wishing for the pause button. For one more night to sleep next to the person I love, for one more hour hanging out on my parents couch and talk nonsense, for one more minute of  snuggling with my cat. But life has no fast forward, no rewind and certainly no pause button. I savor every moment at home til Monday arrives. And then come Monday, I am going to savor every, single, last minute I am in that hospital receiving care other mothers only wish to have, surrounded by a support system any other girl can only dream of. And come delivery day, I will savor every moment that led up to meeting these little guys and every moment that my life is no longer what I knew it was before. Life goes too fast to not do these things daily.
I will not take the little things mentioned above for granted. Because I will know the struggle to go with out them. 
Yet again, this experience is handing me even more lessons I couldn't have otherwise imagined learning. 
If that alone, with the reward of babies, isn't worth the small inconvenience of an 8 week hospital stay,
I truly do not know what is.



**With this being said, if you are in my position and facing the "jail time" of inpatient hospitalization, know you are not alone. And remember no matter how much it sucks, and how boring it is and how awful it will seem, it will never amount to the love you will receive for doing it. Best wishes!