Some days...

So hey, some days are better than others. Some days I try to soak up the time spent "resting" since I know soon my life will be a chaotic whirlwind of babies and needs and little rest. Some days I put on that smile and laugh anyway and be okay. And some days...

Some days everything seems to go wrong. And everything that goes wrong needs to be fixed by Mama. And Mama can't get up off the couch. Some days shouting encouragement from my bed doesn't cut it. Some days the bed is a prison. Night is the worst. After lying down all day the last thing I want to do is lie down some more, switching sides every 45 minutes in hopes for some relief from the ache, watching the clock move so slowly, hoping for the night to be over already just so I can start the day so tired I can't see straight.

Looking for the positive in that (to play Polyanna's game) isn't hard, when I give it a shot. After the babies come, when I'm insanely sleep deprived but can't sleep because I have two babies with constant needs, I will be able to say, well, at least I'm not pregnant. By comparison, surely attending to two darling babes in the night will be preferable to not sleeping because my body is a massive, bloated ache.

You are all good-hearted and I anticipate comments cheering me on, which is so lovely, but which I don't deserve. I know my own little trial is so embarrassingly pathetic and minuscule compared to many. Some women ache for children and can't have them. Some women suffer from painful disabilities that won't magically go away in a few weeks. And some days It's easier to remember that than others.