This week has been indescribably rough. Due to some unfortunate circumstances, I am unable to attend my sister’s wedding this weekend in Seattle. Have I mentioned that my sister is awesome? Hilarious, sarcastic, brilliant, and magnetic. A loyal friend, emotional yet tough simultaneously. And she’s beautiful. She’s a slob too, but nobody’s perfect. I may be biased, but I love her.
I was discharged from the hospital on Monday with strict instructions to stay very close to home and essentially model my behavior in the hospital: sitting and/or laying around with occasional slow jaunts to the bathroom or down the hall. So long healthy pregnancy weight gain! Needless to say, travel is out of the question, as at any moment we could have an issue that would precipitate an emergency c-section and a baby two-plus months early.
Physically, I know baby and I are going to be just fine. Mentally, however, this is absolutely crushing. Like your-first-love-just-broke-up-with-you crushing. I know well that things could be way worse, and I have way more to be thankful for than sad about, but wow, missing Margaret’s wedding…. It’s just something I never imagined could actually happen.
So her matron-of-honor (seriously?! I’m not even 40!) is out. Even worse, her ring bearer, my son, is out. The cutest little person on the planet. Biased again, I know, but he is legit adorable. I had visions of Brady and Bo still being able to attend the wedding, especially since I was out of the hospital and stabilized. But my parents and Brady basically all ganged up on me and told me this was unacceptable: A) to preserve whatever shard of mental health I have left, and more importantly, B) to have someone here in case I start starring as a victim in a CSI rerun again.
So here we are. Thursday, T-2 days to my sister’s wedding. I’ve been home since Monday morning, and despite my best efforts, it’s literally impossible to maintain the same level of inactivity I had in the hospital. I have been successful in not exercising (which is both maddening (feel like a cow, need those endorphins) and thrilling (no seriously, I CAN’T exercise, YIPPEE!) at the same time) and not going anywhere more than a five minute drive away where I can just pop in and out to grab something. So despite the lack of exercise and major grocery hauls, I feel like my normal self.
Which made this morning really tough. When we should have been getting ready to go to the airport. When we should have been arriving at the airport. When we should have been on the plane. When we should have been in our final descent. Tears, tears, and more tears.
I have sporadically burst into tears so many times today that Bowen has started looking at me each time it happens and promptly announcing “hug!”, and then following suit by giving me a big squeeze. Then he looks at me and says “happy!” Because in two-year old world, a hug makes you happy again. It really should be that easy in adulthood. It doesn’t help that Bowen’s book of choice today has been about why sisters are so great. That they’re stinky and funny and loud and your best friend. Cue more tears.
But it’s all true. She’s stinky (sorry Marg), she makes me laugh, she’s definitely the life of the party, and she’s certainly my best friend. We took a fantastic sisters’ trip to Calistoga last fall and had an awesome time wining and dining and luxuriating. But some of my favorite memories are just vegging out with her, wearing sweats, eating junk, and watching a classic 80’s movie that most folks don’t have any appreciation for (Big Business anyone?). Or taking a long walk with our dogs. With coffee.
Because with a sister like mine, you bare your soul, and you can tell her anything. She’s known me inside and out for nearly 29 years of my life, and she probably knows me better in many ways than my husband even does. She never judges me, and she understands my faults and shortcomings because she knows where they came from. And I can truly be myself around her. Let go of that last shred of decency that I manage to uphold for even my closest friends and just be my complete crazy self. I honestly don’t know what I would do without her. It’s pretty awesome having a built-in best friend.
Congrats Margie, I love you.