“I’m almost 32 weeks pregnant with my second child and I’m parenting from a hospital bed. If I weren’t working on my self there would have been an explicit in that last sentence bc that’s how overwhelmingly frustrated I am.”

That’s the farthest I got. I was emotionally, physically, and creatively drained, and unable to ideally parent, much less write about it. I spent 4 days in the hospital being treated for signs of pre-term labor. I missed my baby girl. I was worried about my baby boy. I was helpless and an emotional wreck. To be quite honest, I still am.

As I write this, I am home on bed rest and nearing my 34th week of pregnancy. Being on bed rest while pregnant is no joke. God is so good. Though I know I am extremely blessed to have come this far given how close I was to this ending another way, I am still feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt for the way in which I must temporarily parent.

I don’t want your judgement. 

I am tired of people telling me it’s only temporary and that it’s what is best for the baby and I. I know that. I don’t want your sympathy. I guess me writing this post is a way for me to put my emotions somewhere. For me to release my frustrations, and try to make sense of what I am dealing with. I don’t expect someone who isn’t in my shoes to fully understand what I am dealing with emotionally. I appreciate the concern and support I am receiving, but please, I don’t want a lecture, and I don’t want your judgement.

I am doing the best I can to keep my unborn little safe, happy, and healthy– while caring for my daughter too. Being on bed rest is no walk in the park, and it’s damn sure not easy when you have an active two-year-old who needs your attention. I’ve never been the parent to plop their child in front of the television to keep them entertained. I’ve never had to tell her I can’t pick her up or take her to the park to play. She is never stuck within the same four walls for days at a time, until someone is able to come “rescue” her or be her hero because mommy can’t be. The other day she cried to her father that she “wanted to do something else” and my heart jumped out of my body and broke into a million pieces. This is NOT what I envisioned for my family. I am NOT this mother and I hate that being on medical restrictions is making it seem that way.

I don’t want to hear that I should rely on other people to help out.

I appreciate the help we have. I have a great support system of family that is willing to watch J while I “rest” or when she needs a few hours of interaction with other kids, or some play time outside of our home. I love that. But I am her mother. I enjoy spending time with her and being there for her. I don’t want to be slighted of my role as a parent because I am depending on someone else to always be there. That’s not my parenting style and I never want it to be.

Being on rest is not all fun and games, but I’m trying my best to make it so.

I’ve been thinking of creative ways to accommodate the both of us in the healthiest, most productive way. We do arts and crafts. We learn. We watch movies. We play and build. We read stories. We have play dates. We cook. We sing and dance.

So no, I am not laying in bed or on a couch all day with my feet up and a bell at my side while someone tends to my needs. But I am resting. I have substantially limited the amount of activity I partake in. My spouse takes care of the household activities when he is home, and I try to help out as much as I can from a comfy seat or in small increments.

I am doing the best I can given that I want a healthy, full term delivery– but a happy, engaged child at home as well. As out of control and frustrating as my situation seems, I am doing my best to stay positive and keep my faith strong. I thank the Lord that I am at least in the comfort of my own home, and not in the hospital at someone else’s mercy. I thank the Lord that I am able to spend this time with my daughter– though not in the ideal way I wanted for my last trimester– but quality time in the least. I pray that she doesn’t lose sight of who her mommy is. The fun loving, adventurous mommy that is so full of life, takes her places and never seems to lose energy. I pray that her vision of this new mommy, who has had so much life drained from her and “doesn’t do as much” quick fades and isn’t a memory that she keeps with her.

This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with in my life. I tell myself that each day conquered is a small victory for the progress of our family and our bond, and I want to keep that perspective. I pray that overall, when I am holding my son and hugging my daughter, that I am able to remember how truly blessed we were to overcome it all. I hold this vision in my head of me pushing J on the swing, her baby brother in his carrier, at the park on a beautiful day. That’s what keeps me going.