We've been trying to be a bit more sane this week. Last week I spent every possible minute at the hospital and was there about 12-14 hours each day. I was also pumping every 3 hours through the night so I wasn't getting much sleep. Oh, and I was recovering from a C-section. By last Friday, I was completely exhausted. When our baby got sick, I had zero emotional reserves and completely broke down.
So this week I go to the hospital at 10:45 am instead of 7:45 and we leave after the 5:30pm feeding. And I'm sleeping more due to a modified pumping schedule.
Last night we walked out of the hospital and it was one of those classic Utah summer nights. Anyone who knows me well knows I don't handle Utah winters as gracefully as I should (I'm known to not leave my house for days - which you can do if you work from home). And this summer with it snowing in June, my traveling every other week and then unknowingly entering the hospital on July 23rd to start my bed rest stint, I haven't had a summer at all. My summer consisted of Tony visiting me everyday and telling me how hot it was and living vicariously through my Facebook friends and their adventures.
So when I exited the hospital and felt that hot summer air last night, we decided to have dinner on the patio of our favorite Thai restaurant instead of going home to look for the crib hardware that I can't find (one of my casualties from our two moves during our remodel). It was heaven.
Everyday at least 2 or 3 people remind me that I need to take care of myself. I smile and respond with some sort of agreement while I silently wonder how I do that and have a baby in NICU.
Last night I took care of myself. We enjoyed a lovely dinner and reminisced about our first date - which was at the same restaurant. And I'm big enough to admit that they are right. I need to take care of myself. I still wonder how to do that, but at least now I know to go with the impulses that tell me to relax and enjoy.