The last week has really been lovely. I had a deliciously brief labor. I sat around in the maternity ward as the only patient (no one else on the ward the entire time I was there). I and baby ! were completely healthy and had 2 nurses with no other mission for their 8 hour shift than to serve me. I had restaurant style (and quality room service). My mom and adoring husband took care of @ and after getting him off to school, they came to join in the seemingly neverending service of me. On Tuesday when I went home a nice friend brought us dinner. I sat around in lounge clothes all day Wednesday. I shuffled about the house putting things away. Folding. My mom happily busseled doing laundry. Jonathan and mom were eager for dish duty. Wednesday another dear friend brought dinner. Thursday my mom went home and I began to think about getting my life together to do more than nursing a new baby. But yet again, dinner arrived on Thursday. On Friday we took for granted that dinner would come (not that we needed it). We took a late afternoon walk, visited with friends up the way and by 5:30 we began to wonder where our dinner was. Well, dinner didn't come. And I began to grumble a bit inside myself. Where was my manna? Where was my group of neverending servants? And then I began to realize, I can still function for myself. I'm in no pain. I'm not sleeping a ton but the quality is better than when I was pregnant. I have no job. My son is pretty self sufficient (within limits). I really don't need a constant attendant doing my laundry. I can make my own food.
Today I spoke with the dear friend who has been organizing this shower of generousity. She wanted to make sure things had arrived in a timely manner and to let me know that tonight (Saturday) would be our last meal. My last supper. Delivered to me by a kind woman and her two teen daughters. The kind woman said "Dessert will be good but I'm not a very good cook." Delicious chicken chili, complete with tomato, cheese, and tortilla chips. Even @ liked it (and he has decided this is the week to grump about all food put before him). But as I went about this evening, I've found the response of "What!? I can't cook my own dinner. What will we eat? How will I pull this together?" And I remembered that I am capable. I'm a functioning adult. I need to adapt to the new routine of having a slightly larger family and its new dynamic. I've adored the kindness of all of these people but I don't need to abuse and take for granted their kindness. Their kindness is best spent on someone else now. I've adored the grace to slowly restart life. Its such a mercy. But its better for me to walk back to the other side of the table. Too much being served can be dangerous. It is Thanksgiving though and so I think I will add this week of my life to the list of things I'm crazy thankful for.