Arbitrary musings of a bed-ridden perfectionist

Most of the 30 days I was on bed rest have been resigned to the deepest depths of my mind, not to be unlocked any time soon.  However, there are some random thoughts that I sometimes remember with a smirk...

Temperature:  Dear Family:  IT'S NOT MY FAULT.  I have metabolic issues!  Up until this point, everyone thought that my house was cold in the winter because I am cheap (which I am).  While I was in bed for a month, they found out it wasn't just my frugality that keeps the house at a balmy 62 degrees in the winter.  I like the cold.  Trent got used to it over time.  The rest of the family made constant comments about the freezingness.  Always the problem solver, I had Trent bring a bunch of blankets, and at any given time, our room would be as cold as it would get and everyone would be wearing blankets like parkas, except myself, who wore shorts and a t-shirt daily.  

Nursery:  Gabriel's nursery was painted and planned long before I came to the hospital.  The problem was, it wasn't completely executed yet.  Everything had been picked out and ordered, but not yet delivered.  Big problem.  Not because the room wasn't done...because I am a perpetual perfectionist and its hard to live up to my standards, even for me.  So when the curtains came in, I had Trent immediately pick them up and go to the house and hang them.  He sent me a picture of how they looked, and it wasn't quite right.  I had these curtains custom-made, yet they didn't cover the entire window.  Certainly I didn't measure wrong.  I had a multitude of emails from my curtain-contact-person showing the dimensions and details, so I had Trent drive the curtains back to the store that day to remedy the issue.  When they were finally finished a week later, I had Trent rehang them. Perfect.  Except...... They needed room darkening liners.  Off to Target for Trent.  Rehang.  Liners too small.  Return to Target.  New liners.  Rehang.  Perfect.

Although I am sure you are all feeling very sorry for Trent and questioning his judgement in marrying me, the nursery turned out amazing.  After the PPROM, my sisters had gone to my house and written words, verses and pictures on the chalkboard wall to encourage and instill hope for Gabriel.  It was touching and beautiful.  We have added to it over time and the room now looks like this...

Home:  There was a point during the bed rest that I hadn't left my room in 26 days.  One day they practically forced me to go on a wheelchair ride.  I remember telling Trent over and over, "I just want to go home".  It wasn't possible because of the risk of infection, added to the fact that Gabriel was now viable and if he was in distress, they would deliver him immediately.  When I thought about that, I realized I would lay in that bed for months if thats what it took.

"The" Wheelchair:  

 Since the doctors tried to get me to venture out of the room, they brought in a wheelchair.  While it didn't serve the purpose they thought it would, it did become a source of entertainment.  My brother would do wheelies, balance on it with his feet up and appear to almost tip it over backward.  Seeing such fun, all the other men wanted to give it a go....why they do ridiculous stunts like this I'll never know.  It's a fundamental difference between the sexes, I'm sure.  It's a wonder someone wasn't injured.

Ambien every night....enough said.