I'm one of those bad houseguests that doesn't know when to leave

We had lived in North Carolina for six weeks when my husband was deployed to Saudi Arabia. Since I was almost three months pregnant with twins and had not met anyone in our new town, my father flew down to drive me the 500 miles back to live with him and my step-mother until my husband returned.

We had not even unpacked in our new house. I threw what few maternity clothes I owned into a suitcase, packed up my two cats, and got in the car. At the last minute, I remembered I should take a coat - even though it was currently August. My father laughed and said we would all be safely back where we belonged long before cold weather. Yeah, right. I took the coat

Even the drive to his house was memorable in that we stopped at what seemed like every exit for me to go to the bathroom. Since I am on only child, I believe it had been a long time since my father had been around a pregnant woman. He was more than a little baffled - but endlessly patient. And remember, we had two cats bawling in their cat carriers in the car too.

My step-mother, who had up until that moment managed to not ever find herself taking care of a dependent, must have been somewhat shell-shocked when we pulled into the driveway. Nothing like your very pregnant and emotional step-daughter moving in for an undetermined time, with her cats, to perk your life right up. But much like my father, she never complained.

I had only been there about a month when my doctor put me on bed rest. And now my step-mother got to do all of my cooking, cleaning, and laundry. And they got to take care of my cats.

We were a happy, and extremely odd little family. I mostly laid on the sofa watching mindless TV and watched my stomach grow larger by the day. They both worked and came home to take care of me.

Days turned into weeks and then months. My waistline expanded to match.

At some point I gave up driving because I really didn't fit behind the steering wheel. At that point, my aunt and uncle would come and drive me to my doctor's appointments. My aunt's husband was one of those people that everyone loved because he was mild-mannered and good natured. Driving me to the doctor was just one of numerous things he did every week to help others. He was in his late 60s at that time. One of my favorite days was when I was leaving my appointment at the OBs, walked into the waiting room which must have had 20 pregnant women in it, and yelled across to my uncle, "Honey, I'm ready". His eyes grew large and his cheeks grew flushed. I was bored and had to get my laughs where I could.

Obviously, the babies were born and back to my folk's house we went. We were now an even odder family. My step-mother had long since had to go out and buy me a crib and other items I needed but had not been able to get for myself. So, in one small bedroom was me, my two babies, and an odd assortment of their large scale antique furniture as well as things for me and the babies. I had a rocking chair at the end of my bed. I could not even open the closet with it there. Think about living with newborn twins in someones guest room. Yes, that was my life.

I look back on all that time now and it seems surreal. Thankfully, I was young and much more adaptable. Now, I am not sure I would do as well. I did know to keep my mouth shut and be thankful for all of the help I was being given. I could not have begun to have managed without them.

Sometimes I think back on the day my father and I pulled into that driveway. I bet my step-mother often wished she had locked the door, turned off the lights., and pretended she wasn't home.