Courtesy of Andrea Pike
Andrea's boys pose with their mom and her belly.
Andrea's boys pose with their mom and her belly. Courtesy of Andrea Pike
I'm always the girl who makes tasty lemonade out of lemons. I don't just see the silver lining in the clouds, but the platinum lining. I've even thanked my lucky stars to be blessed, yes blessed, with infertility; without it, I wouldn't have adopted my sons.
But for the past two-ish weeks while in the hospital and at home on bed rest, I've been very much down in the dumps. I've turned down visits from friends who have offered to stop by and cheer me up. I've taken several naps in a day, just to pass the time. I haven't wanted to go near my crafting supplies — something unheard of in my house. I've definitely been cranky, bored and nowhere near as excited as I thought I'd be, being this close to meeting my daughters.
Today, though, things are starting to look up. I'm officially 35 weeks, which brings an end to my run on Procardia (a drug used to prevent contractions) and permission from my doctor to be a little more active. Also, if the girls decide to make their debut now, they won't automatically go to the NICU, as they would if they were born a few days earlier. Instead, they would come with Jeff and me to the postpartum recovery room.
Andrea Pike, 31, from Union, Ky., gave birth to twin girls Natalie and Elizabeth on Aug. 3. She and her husband, Jeff, also have two young sons who were adopted.
Last night, Jeff and I stood in the nursery and just soaked in all of the pink and floral decor. The changing table that I lovingly decoupaged with pieces of shabby-chic-looking paper. The crib that both of my sons slept in until they graduated to "big-boy" beds. The two recliners that flank said crib. The folded items of pink and lavender clothing. The white linen eyelet curtains that were tied back with a piece of light green gingham ribbon.
As I stood there with my husband's arm around my waist, my lower back relaxed a little. My aching hips hurt a little less. The muscles that have a death-grip on my midsection seemed to ease up a little.
And you know what? Today the clouds are looking a little more sparkly around the edges, and I might just make a pitcher of lemonade and sip it on the deck with my guys.
Read more about Andrea's recent stay in the hospital, as doctors intervened to prevent a premature delivery.