Anyone who says moving is a piece of cake has never renovated an entire building and moved in 30 days. It's been an almost nightmarish ride. If long exhausting hours coupled with a tight budget wasn't enough stress, as it's wont to do, life was still going on around us.
I'm now seven months pregnant and can't lift much of anything over thirty pounds. Plus FJoC is pressing on my sciatic nerve making repeated trips up and down the stairs not just uncomfortable but dangerous. In normal circumstances I'm toter and a hauler. A get down on the floor and paint the trim, scrape up glue, push the display case where it needs to go kind of girl. Not only could I not do any of these things but I also had to leave anytime they were painting, gluing, staining or working with chemicals because I think a child having only one head is very important. I'll love you even if you do end up with two heads baby. I just think your life will be easier with only one. ***kisses*** This was extremely frustrating for me although I did get to go home and paint pretty pictures and that was extremely helpful.
Poor Melissa spent the entire move, plus, in labor and on bed rest. She managed to keep the twins in for five weeks Go, Melissa! Which is amazing considering that about halfway through she developed severe gall badder problems. She did though and the twins now have a very good shot at being completely fine. The constant prayer stream for the babies and her and the trips to triage once a week were emotionally exhausting. We all knew that for every day those babies stayed inside that was two less days in intensive care when they were born. Every day, every hour that they stayed in brought them one step closer to safety and one step further away from the possibility of severe handicaps. They are here and a miracle. Tiny and fragile and beautiful. Both are doing well. Eli slightly better than Aidan but they are both off of oxygen, and can now drink from bottles. There's a good chance that they will be home by their expected due date in January and that is just amazing.
Then one night Cate left the bakery a little early went home and fell asleep before 8 pm. I know because I called to ask her something. A few hours later I get a call from her. "I thought you were asleep." "I think I might be dying" Okay, off to the emergency room with you. Five hours later the diagnosis is mystery illness! ?!???! "Most likely she strained her back so badly that it was making her physically ill. Take her home, put her to bed. Here's some anti-inflammatory drugs and pain pills." Anyone wanna guess how long it took for her to end up back in the emergency room? Four days. "Oh wait, it's not your back at all, it's your gall bladder. Sorry, our bad. We'll just pop that out for you." She of course did NOT take off as long as she should and was back at the bakery 10 days later. Sometimes I hate that place, sometimes I hate it a lot.
So we exhausted ourselves, our friends, our family. We injured fingers, toes, backs, knees and in a very scary incident, ankles. Sacrificed sleep and peace and I think most of the time we felt like "Why the hell are we doing this?"
Then Sunday night (mighta been early Monday morning) I walked out to check the view of something from the outside and I looked into the shop. The light from the windows glowing out onto street and the scene inside the window made my heart soar. There was our hard work, there was our sacrifice and it was beautiful. It glowed like a magic place and I felt like maybe it was almost worth it. I also felt like it was going to be okay. I don't remember the last time I felt like it was going to be okay but it's been a long time, a really long time.
Thank you God for giving me my wonderful family, my wonderful friends and the strength to endure this time. Thank you Brian and Joey and Don and Lora and Mary Jo and George and Heidi and Amanda and Brandon and everyone who scraped glue, tore down walls, put up trim, hauled boxes, moved equipment and sacrificed sleep and family time to help us in our time of need. Thank you Cate for dreaming with me, for pulling us though this and bringing us out on the other side and for working like a dog. Thank you Karl for holding me up when I was falling, for holding me when I felt hopeless, for working when you were exhausted and in pain and for being, always, the man I love, the other half of my heart.
I can never say to any of you how much what you've done means, how truly and deeply grateful I am to have you but I can say I love you. I love all of you so very much. Thank you again and again.