House Arrest (26 Weeks & Counting)

OK, I'm not really on house arrest, it just feels that way. I CAN get out, in that my doctors haven't told me not to. It's just so incredibly uncomfortable that it's generally not worth the trouble. Even when wearing my support belt, the extreme pressure of three babies - two with their heads vying for position on top of my cervix (at my last ultrasound the tech said it looked like they were racing to get out) - makes standing for more than 5-10 minutes practically unbearable...and walking for any longer than that is out of the question. I force myself to at least walk down to the mailbox every day. I have this kind of shuffle that I've mastered that allows me to walk incredibly slowly while barely lifting my feet off the ground or moving my legs too far apart. Go ahead and laugh - my doctor did - but with every step it feels like the babies are just going to fall out at any minute. And don't even get me started on riding in the car. I can change the position of the seat 20 times and it doesn't make it any more comfortable. I have to hold onto the little handle above the door and kind of lean up off the seat to take the pressure off my lower back and, well, my behind.

By the time Kevin got home from work yesterday, I was a weepy, emotional mess from being cooped up in the house by myself all day, so he decided a trip to Wal-mart would cheer me up. It's one of the only stores around that has the manual wheelchairs as well as the motorized ones, which scare me too much; I can easily picture myself crashing into a display. So, we had some fun with him pushing me around the store (ironically also nearly causing a few crashes). It wasn't that comfortable but at least we got some laughs out of an incredible mullet we spotted. I was a little frustrated by all the stares I got...they seem to have changed in recent weeks from the "oh look at the cute pregnant girl" stares to "that is the biggest belly I've ever seen in my life, shouldn't she be in the hospital" stares. I try not to let it bother me. But I'd really like to make a shirt that says something like, "I'm not due tomorrow, it's only triplets." Because the next time someone tells me I look like I'm about to pop, I may not have the energy to explain yet again that no, it actually won't be any day now (or so we hope).

I've been feeling a little discouraged in the last few days, but I really am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. It feels like I'm coming into the home stretch...unfortunately it just also feels like it's going to be the hardest stretch. Thinking of the payoff!