Bedrest continues. And as I work on finishing the story I began yesterday (it's pretty long, actually), I thought I would lighten the mood with a short post.
Indeed, I missed the Valentine’s dance Saturday night. And then yesterday, Valentine’s Day, I missed church (for which I was glad, as apparently there is a nice little rumor floating that I have lost the baby -I HAVE NOT!). Then we forfeited a lovely dinner invitation as well so that I could rest.
Our most amazing friends came and took ALL FOUR of our children anyhow, and left us a lovely dinner to share. I wandered out to the couch (that’s my flight pattern now; bed, couch, bed, couch with a whole lot of toilet layovers in between). We exchanged our traditional five-dollar-limit gifts. I had secured mine the day before all this uterine action started; a terrific score at the thrift store. Guy cheated. He spent six.
Guy dragged the piano bench over to the couch, opened a bottle of sparkling cider, and we shared dinner by candlelight. Norah Jones crooned to us softly, and my sweetie danced with me for a few moments --well, you know, the “hug-sway”, not waltzing or anything. Now, don’t scold! Call it a leg-stretch. You don’t want me to get bedsores do you?
We talked for a long time about the book I’m reading, his work, the baby, the future…
I love him so immeasurably. Really, this gentle, wonderful man has held me up through so much, even with such a heavy load on his own back. He works full time, is a full time student finishing up his administrative credential, he is the executive secretary to the bishop at church, he takes his children on dates, is loyal and loving to his wife, cooks, takes over what I am unable to do right now (which is everything) and still makes time for stories and snuggles for little ones. I love him. How could I not love him?
And for better or for better, I'll never forget this Valentine’s day.
(I'll go finish writing the previous post now.)