Thursday, April 03, 2008

Hold Me


So I'm in that final sprint of pregnancy--the part where your body is so imbalanced there is simply no way to feel comfortable. Can't walk without a waddle, can't sleep without every pillow positioned just right, can't bend, lift, hold, carry, or bring grace to any position. Even breathing is somewhat compromised with what I'm told is a nine to ten pound tenant taking up more than his share of space. 21 days. Only 21 days. I can do this.

But of course, just cause mama's bursting at the seams and exhausted five minutes into the day doesn't mean life slows down, and this week brought with it a virus that one by one has attacked the whole family. Two days ago I was at the doctor for my daughter's double ear infection while my husband was home sick with the worst of it. My two year old was running wild as I was at the pharmacy counter trying to pay for the prescription, and in an effort to settle him down, I asked:
"Do you want me to hold you?"


I had barely even noticed an older man standing beside me when he responded without missing a beat:
"Well, that'd be nice, but I don't even know you."


I looked over at him in surprise, and as his joke registered, I burst into laughter. He apologized for his "bad joke." But I insisted "It wasn't a bad joke, it was hilarious!" And I meant it. Because in two seconds flat, he had de-stressed the dynamic of the situation, and put perspective back into my day. Here I was so tightly wound in my haggard state of hugeness and sleeplessness, trying to care for a sick little family while at the same time ready to pop with yet another dependent, and feeling the weight of it all----and all it took was one small sentence from one witty stranger to lift my day, my spirits, and enable me to endure those last five minutes at the pharmacy, which was perhaps the greatest gift of all.

10 comments:

merideth said...

you are hilarious! i love your posts. good luck with the last three weeks. and good luck with that nine to ten lb baby....i have had two nine pounders and one wee eight pounder. we will see what happens this time.
hope everyone is feeling better.

An Older Maughan said...

The devil is in the details, Lu Lu. Are we talking "Brad Pitt - older? By the way he is 44.
Come on, I can take it. The story is still funny even if the wit came from some handsome, "older" stranger, using a lame - yet effective "pick up line", ready to sweep you away to some day spa, complete with someone pick up your prescription...or anything else you need. I can't wait to hear "THE REST OF THE STORY".

Mike & Shelby said...

Amy, you have a gift for telling stories! What a great moment.

And a nine or ten pounder? You ARE amazing!

Anonymous said...

We love you Amy. We love the way we see life through your eyes. You are an inspiration as well as one ready MaMa. Thank you for brightening our lives. Thank you for taking such good care of our Brian and our sweet grandchildren.

Love You, L & T Maughan

Audra Bollard said...

Wow! Getting hit on at 9 months pregnant makes for quite a story! The last three weeks are the toughest--hang in there and CALL ME anytime and Cairo can come play with our Geotrax all day to give you a break.

Team Biddle said...

Hi Amy,
I think you would get hit on if you were any age, any size...you are kind and just lovely! I hope the next 18 days go by fast so we can see that sweet new boy.

p.s. I hope I get to see you on the 17th! XO

Carrie said...

Oh Amy, I hate the end . . . I am so glad to be on this side of pregnancy. Good luck, may your last weeks fly by!

Shanicherie said...

So funny Amy! I hope you're doing well! I'm making my blog private, so if you want to, send me your email address to shanicherie@gmail.com.

Coontz Clan said...

Don't you love moments like that.

I don't envy you the next few weeks. My two 9 pounders made for A LOT of discomfort!!

sandeebeaches said...

We love you Amy and can't wait to meet the new big boy. Whatever his extremely unique name may be.