You know the feeling when someone hands you a gift that’s heavier than you think it’s going to be?
There’s that second when your arms jerk a little in their sockets, shoulders tightening against the sudden weight. You wonder what could possibly be inside. And if you’re me, you think you’re probably going to drop the whole thing. The gift inside is going to break in a thousand pieces, the person who handed it to you is going to think you need to spend more time in the gym, and you are going to feel like an idiot. You need a place to put it down, stat.
That was my last week.
Learning that we were expecting twins was an amazing gift. I simply was not expecting it. No one expects things like winning the lottery, or being called in to the doctor’s office to be told they have cancer. It is an all-encompassing shock.
I literally stayed awake that entire first night, spinning scenarios like a spider on speed. We would need to replace my car… again. Buy another crib. Transition Ellis into her big girl bed. Budget for three babies in diapers. Figure out my work situation. Childcare. Daytime activities. Feeding. Find a way to leave the house with all three kids (and my sanity) intact.
I was a laundromat dryer stuck on tumble, my thoughts constantly tangling in new configurations. None of them were positive.
But somehow, today, I have run out of quarters. Maybe I’m exhausted. Maybe God is doing some sort of intervention with my freaked out psyche. All I know is that the spinning has stopped. I have exhausted the angles, and all I want to do is fold up my worries and put them in divine hands more capable than my own. I am trying to stay away from Google searches about just how big, exactly, I am going to get. I am repeating a phrase I hear a lot around the alcohol and drug treatment campus that I work – one day at a time.
Today, I’m good. For the first time, I’m letting myself think about how amazing it will be to have two additional lives in our family. And I can be honest when I say I’m slowly, but surely, getting excited.