During the last trimester, I was overcome by fatigue while browsing in a department store with the kids. I felt like I just couldn't walk another step, and Clare and Theresa, who were 3 and 5, were getting restless. So I headed to a niche in the store where they keep their clearance furniture. It is a room lined with wall-to-wall couches and chairs, and it's fairly private. I knew I could rest there a spell in relative privacy while the kids safely romped off some of their energy.
As we entered the room, there it was - sitting across the room, directly in front of me, as if it had known I was coming. As if it had been waiting for me. A double-wide oak glider rocker. Feeling as bulky as a sumo wrestler at the time, I was immediately drawn to it. This chair just spoke to me. It was large enough to fit me, my twin belly, and a child on each side. I could see myself reading to the girls. I pictured myself rocking (and nursing) both twins at once. It was a handsome chair; my husband would be proud to rock his babies in it.
There was no other choice to make. I would use our baby shower money to invest in this piece of furniture, which would surely pay off in dividends of memories and love.
I was not mistaken; the chair is still a favorite. It started out in our bedroom, did a stint in the living room (until the kids leaned on the arms too much and loosened the spindles), then reclaimed its place in our bedroom. It creaks more than it used to, and has been fortified with Mighty Putty more than once, thanks to the way the kids use it as a recliner instead of a rocker. I'm pleased to say that it isn't even covered in laundry too often. I nurse the baby in it almost every day, several of us sit there to read, and it is ready for us to sit in it at almost any moment.
Unless Mittens the Kitten is around.