The Bed-Rest Blues…

Today marks my 12th full day of complete bed rest and my 10th full day without placental bleeding.  Of course, I’m thrilled that I haven’t had another bleeding episode.  But it’s hard to be not only house-bound, but also bed- and couch-bound.

It’s hard to ask my husband to run up to 7-Eleven to grab a gallon of milk, even though he’s happy to do it.

It’s hard to ask my nearly 5-year-old son to shove all of the clothes down the laundry chute because I’m not supposed to do anything but lounge around, except when I take my once-daily shower and use the bathroom.

It’s hard to have my husband take my son to his doctor’s appointment and his weekend birthday parties.

It’s hard to have my friend take my son to his weekly soccer class.

Because while I am so thankful for all of the help I’m receiving, I would like to live my own life, to run my own errands, to participate in my son’s activities.

Now, I experience life vicariously.  I sit here at home all day, every day, and I miss what my life, though hectic, used to be like.

I remember friends who, when they were brand-new moms, revealed to me how they felt so isolated all day at home with their newborns, how they were so desperate for any conversation, they would pounce the moment their husbands walked through their front doors at night.

Now that’s me.

When my son comes home, I ask him:

“How was soccer?”

“How was your playdate?”

“What did you eat for lunch?”

“How was school today?”

“What did you work on at school?”

“Did you play outside on the playground?”

“What were you doing when your teacher said you were goofing around?”

I ask until, exasperated, he’ll ask me, “Do I still have to talk?”

Having heard my son’s recitation of his day, I let my husband get off easy, with a simple, “How was your day?” or “How did your conference call go?”

When I’m home alone, I am staying amazingly busy.  I refuse to watch television.  I don’t expend any physical energy, so, not tired, I don’t nap.  I’m sorting through paperwork, throwing nonessentials away and filing the rest.  I’ve written the book that will be the fundraiser for my son’s preschool class.  I’ve revised and updated the book proposal for my memoir.  I’ve responded to requests for interviews for DES Action USA’s newsletter and a feature story on infertility.

I’m trying to view my time on bed rest as an opportunity to accomplish certain goals, rather than a burden.  But, I still miss basic freedom.  I still miss participating fully in life with my family.

But, who wouldn’t?

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