I know, I’m fortunate enough to be at home on bed rest. I’m lucky that I’m not trapped in a hospital room, limited to the same four walls and seven crappy tv channels. But trust me, in any version of bed rest it’s still depressing.
Pregnancy is already an emotional time. Being put on bed rest seems to just make it even more so. The urge to nest is settling in, I’m growing tired of take out food and my bath tub has the beginning of ring around it. A house wife’s nightmare.
I get up in the mornings, come to our couch and watch as my husband sets up my computer on an airspace work station. At least, I can work from home and secure my income.
But working from home is not the cats meow people make it out to be either. But that’s probably because in my line of work, most of the people I’m dealing with are arguing with me over proving liability and settling out their claims. It takes a troll three hours into the day when you can’t even get up and take a walk just to get some space.
And if your thinking, well, at least it’s Christmas time. The upcoming holiday isn’t making things any better. There really isn’t any holiday joy in a house where you wonder if your 5-month pre-term baby is gonna bust out of your vagina waaaaay too early.
Apologies for the TMI. Or unwanted visuals.
Any whooo, I’ve got the worlds longest cold and this week I’m craving gyros.
Hoping for good news at our doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Fingers crossed.