30 Weeks

I am now at thirty weeks.  Crazy, right?  Just before Christmas, I was at twenty weeks, and to think that ten weeks have just gone by makes my head spin.  There are only ten weeks to go, give or take when Baby actually decides it is time to delight Brian and me with his/her entrance into our world.

I have long since developed the ever-graceful pregnancy waddle.  New pains pop up here and there, including a ridiculously severe pain in my left heel.  Since I don't normally have any problems in that quarter, I'm guessing that due to the extra weight, my body is retaliating against me.  Sleeping is becoming a chore.  I long for regular clothes again, and while I was skinny just this past August and September, I wonder if I will ever be again!

Along with the third trimester, comes the insatiable nesting factor.  For me, it isn't just about organizing the baby's room.  I'm trying to organize every room and everything that we haven't already done since we moved.  I'm going through all the closets and reorganizing them, and I have a pile of things that I need to look through to decide what to keep and toss.  The baby's room is sort of on hold, because my old bedroom furniture, which will be the baby's, is in the garage, so we'll wait to get that out for now.  I won't have a crib until after the baby gets here, so there is just not much I can do in that area.  For now, I have to organize Baby's things without drawers and do the best I can.

Last week, I was sitting in the eye doctor's office, and a little girl of three years old took a liking to me and sat beside me.  I had my winter coat unzipped and my hand on my belly.  This little girl's father walked into the room and said, "Oh, a mother-to-be, getting some practice!"  It was the FIRST time anyone in public has recognized me as being pregnant without me mentioning it, no doubt due to the giveaway hand on my belly.  Normally my winter coat has me well concealed.  Then another, older lady came out of the exam room, looked at this man's children, and lamented that her kids were all grown.  She was wishing they were still small.  I took it all in, and while I don't think she realized I was pregnant, she caused me to pause and think how quickly we move through life. Someday I will remember, perhaps twenty years from now, this moment in the eye doctor's office, when I was on the threshold of the birth of my first child, with all the joyful anticipation my heart could hold.  I know that some of the best moments of our lives await me and Brian... those first few moments of holding our baby in our arms.  How wonderful!

Mother's Day

Well, yes, I'm writing about Mother's Day while it is only February.

I'm due on Monday, May 6.  Mother's Day is Sunday, May 12.  So I will either be a mother on Mother's Day or I will have just missed it.  In which case I will be very disappointed.  (Sentence fragment used on purpose.)  I have already instructed Brian that I expect a Mother's Day card whether I have delivered or not.

Thinking about the above, for me at least, begs the question, when does a mother become a mother?  (The same works for father as well.)  Is it at the moment of conception, or does it occur when the baby is actually born?  Or is it somewhere along the way?

The phrases that go along with pregnancy seem to answer the question.  "Expecting parents", "parents-to-be", etc., implying that "No, you're not a parent yet, but soon."  While I would agree with that, there is a part of me that already feels very much like a mother, because while my child is in my womb, there are decisions that I make daily in regards to his/her well-being.

I think of a moment back in December, right before Christmas, when I fell down the stairs.  Of course, this being my first pregnancy, I tend to worry about everything.  The idea that falling when pregnant immediately results in calamity is mostly myth, but it is a very powerful myth regardless.  I don't think I'll ever forget how I felt in those few seconds of time.  First of all, I hadn't fallen down the stairs since I was a child.  How it happened, I'm not sure, but I found myself slipping, both feet in the air, wondering how in the world I would land.  I remember purposely thrusting my knees forward, trying desperately to avoid my abdomen.  Brian was at the bottom of the stairs and caught my upper body in his arms as my knees crashed to the floor, my legs tucked awkwardly in back of me.  I burst into tears and cried out, "The baby!"  He held me as I sobbed, wondering, too, if all would be well with our precious babe.

I can say that at that moment, we felt every bit the full-fledged parents.  As it turned out, perhaps we needn't have worried quite so much, as falling is rather common during pregnancy, but we didn't know.  All we knew then was we loved this child already, and we didn't want any harm to come to our little one.

So yes, I agree that I am a "mom-to-be", but I would have to add that I am also a mom.  Perhaps I'm not a full-fledged one yet, but I think that loving this baby makes me a mother.  When Brian puts his head near my stomach and says, "Hi Baby, it's Daddy!", he is a father, too.  While we have a lot to learn, I'd like to think we are in the beginning stages of our journey already as parents.

And for the record, I really hope I am a mother, officially, by Mother's Day.

Surprise Shower

Today, my church surprised me with a shower.  To say that I was stunned, and a little bit embarrassed to be in the spotlight, is an understatement.  But what a blessing!

On the fourth Sunday of each month, our church has a potluck communion service, where the entire service is gathered around the table instead of a normal service in the sanctuary.  The women had wanted to throw the shower next month, but since I'll be at home then at my "other" shower (exactly one month from today!), they decided they'd rather do it now instead of wait until April.  (You never know when a baby will come early.)  So they checked with Brian and made sure we'd be there this week, and he didn't breathe a word of the whole affair.

We had eaten our meals, and dessert was brought out.  I noticed a young man carrying a rather large chair to the back of the room, and I thought to myself, "I wonder what he's doing with that." Soon after, the church secretary came to me and took my hand, and beckoned me to come with her.  I saw some yellow wrapping paper and balloons, and at first I thought, this must be a surprise for me and the other pregnant lady, due with her third child, in May.  It turned out this shower was just for me.

Brian and I were blessed beyond words.  I was embarrassed to say the least, but in a good way.  It's funny how I could teach in front of thirty students at a time, but that was so much different.  Being in front of people in a spotlight sort of way is always a bit unnerving to me.  This was the thing I disliked about our wedding day!  

I think what blessed us most today was the thoughtfulness of everyone there.  Our church is a rather small church, and a shower was the last thing I expected.  In fact, I don't think any of the churches I used to go to threw showers.  Babies were a pretty regular thing because they were bigger churches, so it would have been difficult to throw showers for everyone.  Brian and I were so touched because neither one of us has family that lives close by, and the shower today was so meaningful to us for that reason.  Instead of feeling on our own here in PA, our church was kind enough to reach out to us and share in our joy.  It is something we won't be forgetting any time soon.

A Little Help From My Parents

My parents visited Brian and me this past weekend.  I look forward to their visits, and not just because they bring me bagels from my favorite bagel place back home.  I am quite used to living away from my family as I have been doing it for more than a year now, but seeing them again, and parting once again, always threatens to undo me.

They came on Saturday morning, and I was in the unfortunate predicament of being tied up on the phone with Verizon for over an hour, trying to resolve my internet issue, that I couldn't do much more than wave to them when they arrived.  Not to worry, though; Brian took over for me.  Soon I untangled myself from the attempt to fix my internet and finally got off the phone with these people, only to have them call me back a few minutes later.  After getting off the phone once again, we took my parents out to a few of the local shops, because my mom had been wanting to purchase some apple butter.

On Sunday, my parents were determined to help us paint the baby's room.  By "help" I mean they did most of it.  In our defense, Brian and I did paint one wall the weekend prior.  For us it was a big deal.  We had never painted before on our own.  I had always assisted my parents, but had never done any of it alone.  I'm not sure if Brian ever helped his parents.  So doing the one wall was quite an accomplishment for us.

While Brian and I were at church, my parents were painting the trim in the room.  We came back, ready to help out, only to find we were very low on paint, and so Brian was sent out to get more. When he returned, the four of us finished the room rather quickly.  We had thought we were done.

Then on Monday morning, my parents began ripping up the tape and getting rid of newspapers, when I took a step back and looked at the walls.  There were noticeable spots that we missed!  We couldn't quite figure it out, because we knew we had painted those spots, yet there they were, glaring at us.  In all fairness, the paint that we chose was rather light, making it difficult to see missed spots, but I think we finally determined that two coats were needed.  Since we had already cleaned up, my dad offered to paint with the brush instead of bringing out the rollers.  I felt bad, because my dad insisted on getting the job done after I said I'd do the touch ups during the week.  I guess the thought of me doing it by my pregnant self bothered him, and he wouldn't hear of it.  So my mom and I scrutinized the entire room and pointed out to my dad where to paint. It was a rather significant amount that he painted with the brush.  He's a real trooper.

All in all, we did get it done, and if there are any more missed spots, I'm just not looking.  Easy solution, right?  In any case, it looks much better than it did before.

Here's my dad in action.  It turns out he worked as a teen one summer as a painter.  I tried to pick up a few tips from him, as well as book him for our next painting venture.

My poor mom.  She's definitely worn out a bit here.  I missed a shot of her in action, but in action she was.  Not only did she help out with painting, but she insisted on helping me around the house. She even did the things I don't think about, like dust the ceiling fans.  I am looking forward to her visit after the baby arrives, when she'll be staying for a week.

My family also gave this to us, one of the larger items from our baby registry:

Of course, this car seat is used when the baby is about a year old.  We still need to get the infant car seat, so we can bring our little one home from the hospital!  But it is nice to have this for when that time comes.

My mom also brought me a few baby outfits, including this one which stole my heart:

It was surreal, looking at this tiny outfit, and realizing my baby will be wearing it.  I haven't yet bought anything for the baby, because I figured I'd wait to see what I needed after my shower, but it stopped me in my tracks to see some of my baby's clothes.  It's becoming increasingly more real!  I can't wait to hold my sweet-smelling baby in my arms, in this very outfit.

When my parents left on Monday, Brian was at work because his school took back President's Day due to all the used snow days.  When I said goodbye to them, I entered my house, which suddenly seemed empty, and cried.  It broke my heart, all the hard work they did, especially the painting, simply because they love me.  It is always a heartache to me to have to come and go, come and go with them.  I most likely will never live close to them again, and like I said above, even though I am used to it, part of me will always be saddened by it.

I will see them again next month, when Brian and I head home during his spring break, where my family is graciously hosting my baby shower.  (It is also payback time, since I did this for my sister.) It was a great visit with my parents, and I know they are looking forward to the arrival of their sixth grandchild!

Valentine's Day

It is a little late to be posting about Valentine's Day, but blame it on my internet connection that decided to call it quits for a few days.  In fact, they had to send out a tech to fix it since Verizon couldn't help over the phone.  Not a big deal, but since we don't have t.v., I was sorely missing my weather reports that I get online.

Brian and I celebrated our second Valentine's Day together as a married couple.  While some people balk at the idea of one day to celebrate love and complain about the commercialism, I enjoy celebrating it.  For sure, it is too commercial, but if you buy into the idea that you have to purchase your loved one an iPad or iPhone, then that would be a problem.  Simple is fine, if you ask me.  I enjoy making an extra effort for one day, even though Brian knows I love and adore him all our days.

I woke up to these on my counter on Valentine's Day:

Brian got me good.  I am difficult to surprise.  I usually figure things out, not because I'm even trying, but I can tell when something is a little off.  Brian had these in his car late Wednesday night, and after I was settled in bed, he used the excuse that he had to go to his car to retrieve his lunch bag. Though his car was in the garage, I begged him to wait until morning; after all, our garage gets pretty cold.  He insisted on going, and for a split second, I thought maybe he was bringing up something for me for Valentine's Day.  I quickly forgot the thought as I was getting ready to fall asleep, and when I came out to the kitchen in the morning to get Brian's breakfast, there they were on the counter.  For a moment, I was stunned.

We celebrated Valentine's Day the day after since Brian had to work that night, but he had a few more treats for me.

The best gift, though, was the beautiful card he gave me and the words he wrote.  As someone who appreciates the written word, that was the most special gift he gave me.

I got Brian a sweater and a DVD that I knew he wanted.  We originally thought we'd go out this year, like we did last, to a Chinese buffet.  I am always somewhat of a germ-o-phobe, but this year, being pregnant has made me more so.  I have been prayerfully avoiding sick people and trying desperately not to catch the flu.  While we enjoyed the buffet last year, I kept picturing sick people sneezing and coughing on the food, and it just didn't seem appealing.  Instead, I picked up our Chinese food to go, and we had the benefit of it being much cheaper.  I made a cinnamon chocolate chip cake for dessert, and we enjoyed a quiet evening in our warm, cozy home, instead of going out.

Perhaps it sounds cheesy, but I thank God for Brian every day.  I am so grateful for him, and I truly think he is the best husband in the world.  He is a wonderful provider and he takes such good care of me and our little one soon-to-come.  When I look back at our courtship, I know it wasn't always easy for Brian.  I didn't play hard to get, because I would never play games with anyone, but I didn't exactly hand my heart over on a silver platter with a sign that said, "Here, come and get it."  I made him work for it.  This wasn't to be cruel, but I had been hurt before, and I needed to see the steady, careful pursuer for a change.  There were times, perhaps early on, that Brian didn't know if he was coming or going!  But I should say he got his reward, which is my fierce devotion and constant faithfulness, every day of our lives.

Perhaps the reason that I love Valentine's Day is because I love him.

I Can Only Imagine

I am due three months from tomorrow (when you look at the calendar), but I enter my third trimester in six days.  It is startling how quickly it goes.  When I was a mere seven weeks, this point seemed so far away.

More and more and I think about that day.  THAT day.  The day I have dreaded/anticipated/desired all my life.  The day that the mysteries of childbirth unfold into reality and I learn firsthand about the worst and best pain that exists in all the world.

I've been fearing it as long as I can remember.  I've never been physically strong, and things seem to hurt me more than the average person.  If I'm honest with myself, I am nervous.  In these past few months, I've been reading about childbirth and trying to change my own view of the pain- to not one of dread- but anticipation that the baby is indeed coming.  All of the intense pains will lead to my body opening the door to let my little one out.  This isn't a thing to be dreaded at all!

Still, there are so many unknowns in childbirth, and it is enough to make a woman scared.  It is at these times I turn to the Lord and put it all in His hands, and I feel peace.  Sure, things can go wrong, but He already knows, and it gives me great comfort.

I keep trying to picture that day at the hospital, with Brian at my side.  I can see myself laboring and Brian encouraging me.  A woman gives of herself entirely in labor.  She pours herself out and uses all of her strength to bring her little one into the world.  I can imagine the thousand feelings I will go through at that moment.  I'm sure I'll be exhausted, spent, and more tired than a thousand trips back and forth across the planet could make a person.  I imagine that I'll cry tears of joy:  tears for seeing my baby for the first time, tears of relief because it's all over, tears because I've waited all my life for this moment.  I imagine that when I see Brian hold our baby for the first time, I'll be crying then, too. I can't wait to see him as a daddy.

I may have always been on the weak side in terms of physical strength, but I'd like to think there exists within me a strength I have not seen yet, a strength that will emerge on that day I labor to bring my baby into the world.  A mother would do most anything for her child, and I feel no different. I don't want to take any pain medications, because the baby gets them, too.  I have spent my whole pregnancy avoiding eating/drinking anything that can harm baby; why would I want to abandon that at the last moment?  As for an epidural, don't even get me started about how I detest the mere thought of a needle in my spine and then having no feeling in my legs... not to mention that if the needle nicks the wrong spot, it can bring about a dreadful spinal headache that lasts for a couple of weeks.  (Side note:  my sister recently had a spinal headache from a procedure- not an epidural- and it was horrendous.  She couldn't do anything at all but lie down.)

Will my labor go as I hope?  Only God knows.  I can prepare all I want, but it is useless if I don't lean on Him and hold His hand through it all.  He is the one who made me and prepared me for this child. I may not trust my own strength, but I do trust Him- completely.  That gives me a greater comfort over any worries my mind can conjure.  Thank you, Lord, that I can cast all my anxieties on You.