I was joking with Jason that I kinda feel like I'm in a minimum security prison. He told me that he saw a special on a minimum security prison in Canada. "Oh, no," he said, "they have MUCH more freedom than you do."
I have "bathroom privileges" (really, that's what they are called, as if I have done something to earn the right to use the bathroom and if I misbehave that right could be revoked), and after some convincing I got permission to go across the hall to refill my water cup.
It's not so bad, really. I have a room with windows, and fairly decent food (though it gets very repetitive), and I've had lots of people stop by and drop off treats, movies, magazines and books to occupy my time. I'm very, very thankful that I am still pregnant and that the girls are growing just as they should be. We are at 30.5 weeks now, getting closer and closer to the safe(r) zone of 32 weeks.
The worst part is being away from "my guys" and I miss all sorts of little stuff. I miss reading Z his bedtime stories, and he was just starting to search for the goldbug in "Car and Trucks and Things That Go," which was my absolute favorite thing about the Richard Scarry books when I was a kid. I am astounded at how well Jason is juggling everything. I mean, wow. I always knew he was a great guy, but I appreciate him now more than ever. They visit me daily which is the highlight of my day, but I still miss all the little incidental moments of day to day life with them.
It feels strange not being able to plan anything. There is this vague worry constantly hanging over my head, knowing that any day I might have to have an emergency c-section, so it is hard to think much beyond one day at a time.
Ultimately, in this current moment both the girls and I are healthy. And that is a good thing.