giving new meaning to “the right place at the right time”

I remember hearing about someone (was it Janelle?) who took 6 weeks off after having babies.  This time, I decided I was going to be all over that.  “Sorry, can’t do it – just had a baby (39 days ago).”  “Nope, can’t commit to being there; just had a baby (2 months ago)”.  Sounded like heaven.

Except.  Tomorrow Ainsley is 3 weeks old, just half way through my self-imposed vacation.  And I’ve got an ugly case of cabin fever.  True, week one I rarely left the hospital, and week 2 I had the flu really bad.  This is the first week I’ve really been human.  To make up for lost time, I’ve left the house 3 whole times.  Monday I sat in the car trying to feed the baby while the boys were in the library.  Last night we ventured out to the new JCWs in Lehi (Oh my Goodness – SO good). And today, I took Jacob and Ainsley to buy rodeo tickets and for a “quick” (ha!) trip to Wal-Mart.  Wow, how I hate that place more and more.

Last Thursday we got the A-OK to leave the house with Ainsley.  The one pediatrician at the hospital told us to plan on keeping Ainsley at home and away from people for 6-8 weeks since she was a preemie.  I asked our own doctor (who also saw her at the hospital) about that last week.  “Look”, he said.  “She was early and she is tiny, but she’s healthy; you can’t hide out forever.  Life goes on.”  AMEN to that.

But here’s the thing.  I don’t know how ready I am for life to go on.  I’m not done sitting on the couch or in the rocker, just holding and smelling my baby, feeling her downy soft hair and letting her wrap her tiny fingers around my thumb.  I look at the garden boxes outside, realize that we are now weeks behind schedule, and think that, come September, I might really be sad I didn’t take a few hours while the wee one was sleeping to plant a few vegetables already.  Then I give thanks that I don’t have to live off the land, lie down and take a nap.  I read my kids stories while I nurse Ainsley and look outside at the beautiful puffy clouds, think about how I haven’t gotten dressed in two or three days, and seriously consider taking the boys on a walk instead of sending them – again – with their dad so I can have 10 whole minutes of quiet.  Then the story we are reading ends, and Josh fetches another book, and I stay in my comfy pj’s a few hours days longer.

Not infrequently, I think of my new favorite literary heroine, Sarah Agnes Prine, from _These is My Words_, (do yourself a favor and run to buy/borrow that book – then follow up with Sarah’s Quilt and don’t give up on the 2nd since the best pages are the last 100), and I realize that she didn’t have the luxury that I have.  She didn’t get to take 3 or 4 or 6 weeks off to enjoy her new infants.  She had to get up a few hours later and do some serious hard work with the cattle, on the ranch, or get back to whatever she was up to until she went into labor a few hours earlier.

For a minute or two, I feel guilty.  Then I realize – darn good thing I wasn’t a pioneer.

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