We were in for double trouble—twins. All through the pregnancy, we repeated the phrase, “stick, grow and be healthy”. We tried to stay measured and calm, but the excitement kept rising. Twenty-eight weeks in, our babies tried to break the first rule—stick. Pre-term labor! My OB put me on two months of bedrest. I wasn’t even close to ready. With bedrest, all my plans for nesting were destroyed—or so I thought.
As you can expect, I had lots of time on bedrest. Between episodes of Home Improvement and every other TV show availbale on Netflix, I planned the nursery. There was no plan too complicated or complex. Being out of commission, I felt like I couldn’t do anything, but it turned out that there were things I could do—plenty of things.
I shopped. Perhaps a little more than I needed.
I browsed other nurseries on Pinterest. I did lots of that.
I chose colors. Easy-peasy.
I bought furniture. Thank you Amazon!
I researched safety tips.
I freaked myself out. No thanks WebMD!
I planned, planned and planned.
"The nursery was perfect in its imperfections. Every flaw reminds me of our teamwork."
One month into bedrest, my dad flew out for a week to help out. He was great. Not only did he wait on me, but I gave him a “daddy do list”. Between online shopping and my dad, I was able to get a lot done. With my dad here, Jesse—my husband—was able to focus on getting the nursery done.
In my endless browsing, I found a fun, but inexpensive baby bedding set that was a patchwork quilt with colorful animals and letters. I went with something gender neutral for my boy-girl twins (a.k.a micro and mini while still inutero). With lots of color, and simple design, I knew I’d have a better chance of pulling something off.
I used the bedding as wall treatments. The quilt went front and center. My husband had no problem pinning it up over the neutral couch I bought at a discount retailer. I cut up the baby bumper into squares, which he pinned up too.
Next, my husband took the quilt down to Home Depot to have the colors matched. I then convinced my husband to draw circles and rectangles on the wall in several of the colors. He added animals copied from the quilt or traced around toys from the baby shower. At first, he tried to get the animals perfect, but I liked them better when they looked more childlike.
We put the giraffe behind the couch, so it would look like it was peeking it’s head out from behind. I was worried I got the size wrong, or that he’d place it in the wrong spot, but … we nailed it.
Next came my OCD moment. I wanted stripes on one wall. I found a rug that had stripes, and wanted the theme repeated on the wall. My poor husband spent hours and hours working on those vertical stripes. He taped and retaped those lines so many times.
I was worried that it was too much, that we’d get burned out on the nursery. It turns out that the nursery became a coping mechanism for both of us. We constantly worried about the twins. There wasn’t anything else we could do. So, we focused on the nursery together to distract ourselves. By the time we were done, we were proud our creation.
The nursery was perfect in its imperfections. Every flaw reminds me of our teamwork. Every stripe reminds me that we’ll never stop, even if we have to try and try and try again. The whole family came together, including my dad who flew into town and my mom who held down the fort in Indiana. That nursery reminds me of what we can do together as a team. Even when out of commission.