I have a picture from my last pregnant day with my Sunshine. We were scheduled for an induction at 7am the following morning, but she decided to come on her own starting around midnight. I remember that day being a good one. I was definitely over being pregnant by then (nine days past her due date), my bag was packed, I’d had a long, hot shower, and everything was ready at my parent’s house for us to bring our girl home.
This time it was different. My body felt wrecked–it hurt to sit, to stand, to move. I was stressed about the boys being breach–meaning if Baby A didn’t flip head down, a c-section would be necessary. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t concentrate on even the most simple yet important tasks (like packing a go-bag, setting up baby things, opening mail, etc.). And from the moment I’d found out I was having twins, I’d felt off-center and couldn’t seem to regain a sense of balance.
The babys’ room was not ready, the house was not ready, but worst of all, I could tell I wasn’t ready.
So on a sunny Sunday evening in June, I decided to mostly ignore my brain, which was telling me I should not go paddle boarding 36 weeks pregnant with twins, and follow my heart to the water.
We didn’t go far and we didn’t do too much, but I brought my paddle board (feeling cautiously optimistic that I could actually use it) and my man brought one of our kayaks and a tow-rope (just in case I couldn’t). I managed a leisurely paddle from the boat launch to the beach (where my mama and my Sunshine were playing) and back again with no need for a tow and it was pure magic.
For the first time in at least six months, I felt good.
I felt happy.
And I felt strong.
Then, just an hour or so later, my water broke and when I realized that night would be the night, I smiled. That paddle was just what I needed to fill my cup, get my head on straight, and take on the monumental task of bringing new life into the world with a smile on my face. : )