Pregnancy Album
These were taken at 32 weeks at the park next to the Reading Public Museum.
Pregnancy Photo Shoot
My sister is amazing. She recently offered to do a pregnancy photo shoot for us to document The Belly, with benefit for both of us since she wants to gain some photography experience and start to develop her portfolio. Brittany has such a natural eye for portrait photography, especially the kind of natural, outdoor photos you'll see in our Pregnancy Album. Here are just a few samples, and you can go to her Picasa website to see the whole shoot - not so much to admire my rotundity, but to be impressed by my sister's incredible talent with a Nikon!
Pregnancy Album
These were taken at 32 weeks at the park next to the Reading Public Museum.
Pregnancy Album
These were taken at 32 weeks at the park next to the Reading Public Museum.
32 1/2 Week To-Do List
Another list, in no particular order. (I think listy blog posts are my brain's feeble attempt at becoming more organized. [It's not working.])
1. Pack birth center bag.
1a. Obtain items for birth center bag - i.e. baby apparel, nursing bra, 40 million other things "they" say you need to birth a baby and successfully get him/her home. What happened to the good old days when all you needed was a pot of hot water, a towel, string, and maybe a diaper?
2. Write birth plan.
3. Find a pediatrician.
3a. Have pediatrician sign birth center letter, and return at next midwife appointment.
4. Make freeze-ahead meals for after the baby comes.
5. Organize client information for substitute therapists during maternity leave.
6. Tidy, dust, sweep, mop, launder, wash...
7. Bradley class daily exercises - pelvic rocks, kegels, stretches
8. Finish knitting baby hat(s)
9. Wrap Christmas gifts
10. Bake Christmas cookies
11. Christmas cards?!?!?
12. Bake pies for Thanksgiving dinner.
If you had to prioritize, in what order would you put these tasks? All I know is that number 6 is in great peril, whereas number 8 sounds pretty good, just til I fall asleep...
1. Pack birth center bag.
1a. Obtain items for birth center bag - i.e. baby apparel, nursing bra, 40 million other things "they" say you need to birth a baby and successfully get him/her home. What happened to the good old days when all you needed was a pot of hot water, a towel, string, and maybe a diaper?
2. Write birth plan.
3. Find a pediatrician.
3a. Have pediatrician sign birth center letter, and return at next midwife appointment.
4. Make freeze-ahead meals for after the baby comes.
5. Organize client information for substitute therapists during maternity leave.
6. Tidy, dust, sweep, mop, launder, wash...
7. Bradley class daily exercises - pelvic rocks, kegels, stretches
8. Finish knitting baby hat(s)
9. Wrap Christmas gifts
10. Bake Christmas cookies
11. Christmas cards?!?!?
12. Bake pies for Thanksgiving dinner.
If you had to prioritize, in what order would you put these tasks? All I know is that number 6 is in great peril, whereas number 8 sounds pretty good, just til I fall asleep...
A Journey of Self-Discovery
The past eight months have been incredibly enlightening. In the interest of documenting this pregnancy in all of its wonderfully surprising glory, I thought I would share a few things I have learned so far. In no particular order, of course.
1. No, there is no limit to the depths of my laziness nor the heights of my procrastination.
2. I do, in fact, have it in me to kill a cat using nothing but the items in my nightstand. Particularly cats who believe that my stomach is a pommel horse, and/or that 6:50 a.m. is time for breakfast. No felinicide has occurred as yet, but preventative Xanax might be in order if I weren't, you know, pregnant. Hey wait, maybe if I give the Xanax to the cat...
4. One pregnant consulting psychology resident can halt all productivity on an entire nursing home wing as nurses and aides play "Top That Pregnancy Story" and place bets on baby gender. And yet nobody offered said pregnant resident a comfy wheelchair in which to make patient rounds.
5. Our bathroom can go a surprisingly long time between cleanings without growing anything funky. That I know of. And no, I have no interest in quantifying the meaning of "surprisingly long time".
6. It is infinitely better practice to wash a few dishes as you need them, than to spend twenty to thirty minutes overheating and having Braxton-Hicks contractions at the sink. Not to mention ending up with a huge water spot on your shirt because your belly simply knows no bounds when it comes to wet countertops.
7. Nesting is a very real, and very powerful, phenomenon, my friends.
8. The thought of scooping ice cream can, in fact, make a pregnant woman cry; as can a fire engine parked along a little-used back alley. Shoot, I defy you to name something that can't make a pregnant woman cry.
9. Internal organs apparently take up very little room, when it comes right down to it.
10. If I can't see it or reach it, it probably doesn't need to be cleaned/put away/groomed. And if it gets bad enough, that's what my husband is for. Speaking of which, it's been awhile since I was last able to paint my toenails...
11. There exists a very complex algorithm for determining the behavior of pregnant women. Said algorithm involves such factors as hormone levels, bladder capacity, hunger severity, duration of most recent sleep episode, and quality of current hair day - and no, you cannot figure it out.
12. When a pregnant woman does not answer your phone call, there is probably a very good reason involving (non-)memory of phone location, lack of speed and agility, and possibly the annoying frequency of bathroom visits.
13. Being pregnant must be a lot like getting old, in the sense that social mores and tact become far less important than getting one's point across and alleviating one's biological drives (hunger, need for bathroom, fatigue, etc.).
14. Baby clothes are laced with crack - have you noticed that it is impossible to buy just one outfit or onesie? I plan to take full advantage of this fact after the birth of our baby, since not knowing the baby's gender makes it difficult to really accumulate many clothes. Grandmas, unite!
15. God is far more gracious to me than I deserve. From granting us this pregnancy, to sustaining us through it, He has made this journey more than anything a lesson in His faithfulness. In spite of being called to suffer through tiny gnomes in soccer cleats tap-dancing on my throat (sans medication, of course), and a mischievous baby chewing on my sciatic nerve, I wouldn't change a minute of this sanctifying experience. And I pray that God does, in fact, ultimately use it to my sanctification and to His glory. We are still working on the former, I'm afraid...
I'm sure I am missing many important lessons I have learned. Perhaps I'll post another installment a few weeks down the road. Or maybe all of my three readers who have been (or are) pregnant can share comments with surprising things you have learned along the way!
SDG
1. No, there is no limit to the depths of my laziness nor the heights of my procrastination.
2. I do, in fact, have it in me to kill a cat using nothing but the items in my nightstand. Particularly cats who believe that my stomach is a pommel horse, and/or that 6:50 a.m. is time for breakfast. No felinicide has occurred as yet, but preventative Xanax might be in order if I weren't, you know, pregnant. Hey wait, maybe if I give the Xanax to the cat...
3. Pregnancy is slightly move involved, and significantly less glamorous, than looking adorable and "all belly" in frilly empire-waist attire.
[example of non-realistic pregnancy:]
4. One pregnant consulting psychology resident can halt all productivity on an entire nursing home wing as nurses and aides play "Top That Pregnancy Story" and place bets on baby gender. And yet nobody offered said pregnant resident a comfy wheelchair in which to make patient rounds.
5. Our bathroom can go a surprisingly long time between cleanings without growing anything funky. That I know of. And no, I have no interest in quantifying the meaning of "surprisingly long time".
6. It is infinitely better practice to wash a few dishes as you need them, than to spend twenty to thirty minutes overheating and having Braxton-Hicks contractions at the sink. Not to mention ending up with a huge water spot on your shirt because your belly simply knows no bounds when it comes to wet countertops.
7. Nesting is a very real, and very powerful, phenomenon, my friends.
8. The thought of scooping ice cream can, in fact, make a pregnant woman cry; as can a fire engine parked along a little-used back alley. Shoot, I defy you to name something that can't make a pregnant woman cry.
9. Internal organs apparently take up very little room, when it comes right down to it.
10. If I can't see it or reach it, it probably doesn't need to be cleaned/put away/groomed. And if it gets bad enough, that's what my husband is for. Speaking of which, it's been awhile since I was last able to paint my toenails...
11. There exists a very complex algorithm for determining the behavior of pregnant women. Said algorithm involves such factors as hormone levels, bladder capacity, hunger severity, duration of most recent sleep episode, and quality of current hair day - and no, you cannot figure it out.
12. When a pregnant woman does not answer your phone call, there is probably a very good reason involving (non-)memory of phone location, lack of speed and agility, and possibly the annoying frequency of bathroom visits.
13. Being pregnant must be a lot like getting old, in the sense that social mores and tact become far less important than getting one's point across and alleviating one's biological drives (hunger, need for bathroom, fatigue, etc.).
14. Baby clothes are laced with crack - have you noticed that it is impossible to buy just one outfit or onesie? I plan to take full advantage of this fact after the birth of our baby, since not knowing the baby's gender makes it difficult to really accumulate many clothes. Grandmas, unite!
15. God is far more gracious to me than I deserve. From granting us this pregnancy, to sustaining us through it, He has made this journey more than anything a lesson in His faithfulness. In spite of being called to suffer through tiny gnomes in soccer cleats tap-dancing on my throat (sans medication, of course), and a mischievous baby chewing on my sciatic nerve, I wouldn't change a minute of this sanctifying experience. And I pray that God does, in fact, ultimately use it to my sanctification and to His glory. We are still working on the former, I'm afraid...
I'm sure I am missing many important lessons I have learned. Perhaps I'll post another installment a few weeks down the road. Or maybe all of my three readers who have been (or are) pregnant can share comments with surprising things you have learned along the way!
SDG
First Moments: A Look Back
My dearest not-so-tiny one,
The other day I was doing some cleaning, and came across my pregnancy tests from back in May. I was amazed at the rush of emotion that swept over me as I looked at them again, the same feelings of wonder and amazement that I, I could be pregnant! I remember hardly daring to believe that that second pink line was there. To me, it was like magic, something mysterious and unreal causing that elusive mark to appear.
But you were very real! And the memory of that first, secret moment when I knew you had been conceived still takes my breath away. Before anyone else knew, before even your daddy found out about you, God whispered the miracle of you into my ear. He pulled back the veil of His marvelous plan and showed me just enough to know that He was knitting you together, fearfully and wonderfully. I believe that in some small way, the instant when a mama knows she is carrying a baby is like a tiny glimpse into the very glory of God. I felt that way with you, precious child. Knowing that for us to have conceived, God must have moved His very hand and opened my womb. Knowing for certain that you are a precious, precious gift to us, given deliberately by a gracious and loving Father.
Would you like to hear the story? We had been trying for so long. It seemed all things were working against our efforts, and we were uncertain as to whether you would ever be. Before you, I was pregnant once, and God gathered that baby to Himself long before we ever got to meet him or her. This was not long before you were conceived - which is why it was so difficult to believe that you were really there! It also helps to explain my great eagerness to learn about you.
I left work on May 3 around lunchtime - it was a Monday - to buy a pregnancy test. In fact, I stopped at the dollar store and bought several, because I knew that I would never be able to trust just one. We lived not far away, so I went home to take the test. And there, by myself, in our little apartment by the railroad tracks, I watched the faintest of pink lines spread across my cheap dollar store pregnancy test. I remember letting out a tiny gasp and just staring for the longest time. And putting a hand low on my belly where you must have been, perhaps hoping to feel you already. I immediately tore into the other pregnancy tests to prove to myself that it wasn't a dream. Sure enough - the same pink line on each of them!
Your daddy was working late that night, and I wouldn't see him before bed. And I just couldn't tell him this news over the phone - I wanted to see the look on his face! But you know what made the wait even sweeter? The next day was your daddy's birthday! If I couldn't tell him about you right away, I would at least make the news a birthday present to remember.
I have no idea how I made it through work the next day without telling anybody, or without jumping out of my own skin. I've never been one for keeping news to myself, and this was the biggest news of my entire life! But there was something precious about being alone with you in the world, and I'm glad that we had that short time when nobody else knew what I knew.
That evening when your daddy FINALLY arrived home from work, I handed him a birthday present, all wrapped up. We had agreed not to give each other birthday presents, since we had gone on a weekend trip not long before that constituted our gifts to each other. Little one, your daddy knows how to drag out a surprise! I begged him to open his present, but he wanted to change his clothes, do his stretches, and cuddle with me for a little bit after a long day at work. Usually this would be no problem! But on this particular day, his birthday, I wanted nothing more than for him to open his gift and find out about you!
At long last, at my urgent behest, he agreed to open his present, and what he opened was this:
[photo to be edited as time permits;
my computer rotated and saved it, and then uploaded it sideways.]
He was kind of quiet, and his eyes went from the photo frame to me, and back to the photo frame. He said, "Wait, are you pregnant again?" And I said yes. For the next few moments, he said, "Really?" and I said, "Yes!". Repeatedly. And then he grabbed me and gave me the biggest kiss and held me close. We sat there together, sharing the excitement and disbelief and talking about you. It was wonderful to have finally told your daddy, and have him know about you, and rejoice with me. He was, and is, so thrilled about your life!
But I will never forget the day when only God and I knew of you. I will never forget the leap inside me when the test read positive, or the song my heart sang in thanksgiving. I will never forget the intimacy of the first moments when we were alone together, and I imagined everything about you.
I wonder what it will be like when we meet, face to face! You will have no recollection of these things, but you will see your mama's face and hear my voice for the first time with no belly between us. I will see your face, and know whom I have been loving these past seven and a half months. If just learning of your existence took my breath away, then surely looking into your eyes will break my heart into a million pieces and put it right back together again.
Until then, sweet one, keep on kicking and growing!
With love,
Mama
The other day I was doing some cleaning, and came across my pregnancy tests from back in May. I was amazed at the rush of emotion that swept over me as I looked at them again, the same feelings of wonder and amazement that I, I could be pregnant! I remember hardly daring to believe that that second pink line was there. To me, it was like magic, something mysterious and unreal causing that elusive mark to appear.
But you were very real! And the memory of that first, secret moment when I knew you had been conceived still takes my breath away. Before anyone else knew, before even your daddy found out about you, God whispered the miracle of you into my ear. He pulled back the veil of His marvelous plan and showed me just enough to know that He was knitting you together, fearfully and wonderfully. I believe that in some small way, the instant when a mama knows she is carrying a baby is like a tiny glimpse into the very glory of God. I felt that way with you, precious child. Knowing that for us to have conceived, God must have moved His very hand and opened my womb. Knowing for certain that you are a precious, precious gift to us, given deliberately by a gracious and loving Father.
Would you like to hear the story? We had been trying for so long. It seemed all things were working against our efforts, and we were uncertain as to whether you would ever be. Before you, I was pregnant once, and God gathered that baby to Himself long before we ever got to meet him or her. This was not long before you were conceived - which is why it was so difficult to believe that you were really there! It also helps to explain my great eagerness to learn about you.
I left work on May 3 around lunchtime - it was a Monday - to buy a pregnancy test. In fact, I stopped at the dollar store and bought several, because I knew that I would never be able to trust just one. We lived not far away, so I went home to take the test. And there, by myself, in our little apartment by the railroad tracks, I watched the faintest of pink lines spread across my cheap dollar store pregnancy test. I remember letting out a tiny gasp and just staring for the longest time. And putting a hand low on my belly where you must have been, perhaps hoping to feel you already. I immediately tore into the other pregnancy tests to prove to myself that it wasn't a dream. Sure enough - the same pink line on each of them!
Your daddy was working late that night, and I wouldn't see him before bed. And I just couldn't tell him this news over the phone - I wanted to see the look on his face! But you know what made the wait even sweeter? The next day was your daddy's birthday! If I couldn't tell him about you right away, I would at least make the news a birthday present to remember.
I have no idea how I made it through work the next day without telling anybody, or without jumping out of my own skin. I've never been one for keeping news to myself, and this was the biggest news of my entire life! But there was something precious about being alone with you in the world, and I'm glad that we had that short time when nobody else knew what I knew.
That evening when your daddy FINALLY arrived home from work, I handed him a birthday present, all wrapped up. We had agreed not to give each other birthday presents, since we had gone on a weekend trip not long before that constituted our gifts to each other. Little one, your daddy knows how to drag out a surprise! I begged him to open his present, but he wanted to change his clothes, do his stretches, and cuddle with me for a little bit after a long day at work. Usually this would be no problem! But on this particular day, his birthday, I wanted nothing more than for him to open his gift and find out about you!
At long last, at my urgent behest, he agreed to open his present, and what he opened was this:
[photo to be edited as time permits;
my computer rotated and saved it, and then uploaded it sideways.]
He was kind of quiet, and his eyes went from the photo frame to me, and back to the photo frame. He said, "Wait, are you pregnant again?" And I said yes. For the next few moments, he said, "Really?" and I said, "Yes!". Repeatedly. And then he grabbed me and gave me the biggest kiss and held me close. We sat there together, sharing the excitement and disbelief and talking about you. It was wonderful to have finally told your daddy, and have him know about you, and rejoice with me. He was, and is, so thrilled about your life!
But I will never forget the day when only God and I knew of you. I will never forget the leap inside me when the test read positive, or the song my heart sang in thanksgiving. I will never forget the intimacy of the first moments when we were alone together, and I imagined everything about you.
I wonder what it will be like when we meet, face to face! You will have no recollection of these things, but you will see your mama's face and hear my voice for the first time with no belly between us. I will see your face, and know whom I have been loving these past seven and a half months. If just learning of your existence took my breath away, then surely looking into your eyes will break my heart into a million pieces and put it right back together again.
Until then, sweet one, keep on kicking and growing!
With love,
Mama
Impulse Non-Purchase
Another poll of previously and/or current pregnant ladies: When you feel "nesty", does that nesting sometimes involve somewhat impulsive shopping and decision making, occasionally resulting from spontaneous Craigslist searches?
Not that I ever get that way. Or rather, when it happens, I'm not sure I can blame nesting...Joel has banned me from Craigslist in the past for much-needed detox periods...but I had been doing so well, and I really think that this time it was pregnancy-related. Why don't I just tell you what happened, and you can decide for yourselves?
On Monday evening, Joel worked until 8, as is his custom. I was at home eating some dinner (beef stew leftover from Sunday's Reformation Day event; if I hadn't made a gigantic crock pot of that, I don't know what we would have subsisted on this week due to my illness and lack of cooking ability) and hopped on Craigslist for some reason. And for some reason, I searched "pianos".
Now, Joel and I have talked about getting a piano someday. We lamented leaving our piano in Virgina Beach (also a free piano; we have been so blessed!) when we moved north, but realized it just wasn't feasible to bring it with us at that point. And we've discussed how wonderful it would be to have a piano again, for me to play at will, for piano lessons, for impromptu hymn singing when we host prayer meetings and Bible studies. And of course, to make our house a home. But the discussion has always ended with placing the dream back on the shelf, especially now that we are preparing for a baby. There is just no extra money to put toward a piano, since even a used one would cost at least what we might need for, say, a Pack 'n Play.
So, how logical was it for me to look for pianos on Craigslist? Let's just say I knew full well that I was probably walking into an emotional debate with Joel that would end with me questioning my husband's love for me and him being convinced anew of my irrationality. Eyes wide open, I assure you. Always a good time in the Pearce household when Elizabeth hops on Craigslist. But, it couldn't really hurt to just look, right?
Praise the living God who delights in giving His children good things. There were two free pianos listed on Craigslist, and the owner of one of them emailed me back within about twenty minutes of my first inquiry. Long story short, I went to look at the piano that very evening and lo, it was in decent shape and missing only one key (from her email: "it is missing one black key at the far right that you probably don't really need". Clearly, not a player of classical music.). Joel and I discussed that night and - well, how could he say no to a free piano? What husband truly hates his wife in that way?
Enter our plans to recruit help in moving the piano. I blame this next part on me falling ill with a wicked sore throat/cold on Tuesday, and Joel working like a fiend at his two jobs. He thought that I was going to call/email some church guys, and I could have sworn that he said he would send out an email. So, fast forward to Friday afternoon when he's at his second job of the day and asks me if I have people lined up to move the piano.
What???
But again, the Lord was so gracious, and our dear friend Bruce was gung ho about helping move the piano- even volunteering the use of his trailer. I sent out an email, then a few texts, and ultimately called around (hey, it was a last resort - I have this fantastic manly voice from being sick all week and was trying to avoid the phone. Just ask Bruce how many of his calls I ignored...). We had a few no's and no-answers, and I wasn't sure if we would really pull this thing off. But just then, Tim called back and said he could help - so we just needed one more! So this morning Joel recruited Orrin who was, miraculously, available to jump in his car within 45 minutes of the phone call.
So somehow - no, through the Lord's providence - we wound up with a free piano in our library this morning. And I promptly sat down the second our movers were out the door (so I thought - Joel said that Bruce and Tim caught some Chopin on their way out) and cranked out a little Waltz in D-flat Major. Ahhhhh nothing is more soothing to the soul than feeling your fingers slip over piano keys as Chopin's smooth melodies grace the air.
As I was playing, though, I thought about how my mother would have dusted the piano first. And I grabbed the Pledge as soon as I was finished with that first piece because, hello, grimey keys.
Now it's as good as new - or will be, as soon as we have it tuned and that "black key that you probably don't need" (which I needed in the 2nd to last measure of the Waltz) replaced - and the cats are even warming up to it. If a piano makes a house a home, then a cat on the piano must be heaven. As was pointed out to me on Facebook, just wait til we bring a baby home too...I will never want to go anywhere else again!
Soli deo gloria!
Not that I ever get that way. Or rather, when it happens, I'm not sure I can blame nesting...Joel has banned me from Craigslist in the past for much-needed detox periods...but I had been doing so well, and I really think that this time it was pregnancy-related. Why don't I just tell you what happened, and you can decide for yourselves?
On Monday evening, Joel worked until 8, as is his custom. I was at home eating some dinner (beef stew leftover from Sunday's Reformation Day event; if I hadn't made a gigantic crock pot of that, I don't know what we would have subsisted on this week due to my illness and lack of cooking ability) and hopped on Craigslist for some reason. And for some reason, I searched "pianos".
Now, Joel and I have talked about getting a piano someday. We lamented leaving our piano in Virgina Beach (also a free piano; we have been so blessed!) when we moved north, but realized it just wasn't feasible to bring it with us at that point. And we've discussed how wonderful it would be to have a piano again, for me to play at will, for piano lessons, for impromptu hymn singing when we host prayer meetings and Bible studies. And of course, to make our house a home. But the discussion has always ended with placing the dream back on the shelf, especially now that we are preparing for a baby. There is just no extra money to put toward a piano, since even a used one would cost at least what we might need for, say, a Pack 'n Play.
So, how logical was it for me to look for pianos on Craigslist? Let's just say I knew full well that I was probably walking into an emotional debate with Joel that would end with me questioning my husband's love for me and him being convinced anew of my irrationality. Eyes wide open, I assure you. Always a good time in the Pearce household when Elizabeth hops on Craigslist. But, it couldn't really hurt to just look, right?
Praise the living God who delights in giving His children good things. There were two free pianos listed on Craigslist, and the owner of one of them emailed me back within about twenty minutes of my first inquiry. Long story short, I went to look at the piano that very evening and lo, it was in decent shape and missing only one key (from her email: "it is missing one black key at the far right that you probably don't really need". Clearly, not a player of classical music.). Joel and I discussed that night and - well, how could he say no to a free piano? What husband truly hates his wife in that way?
Enter our plans to recruit help in moving the piano. I blame this next part on me falling ill with a wicked sore throat/cold on Tuesday, and Joel working like a fiend at his two jobs. He thought that I was going to call/email some church guys, and I could have sworn that he said he would send out an email. So, fast forward to Friday afternoon when he's at his second job of the day and asks me if I have people lined up to move the piano.
What???
But again, the Lord was so gracious, and our dear friend Bruce was gung ho about helping move the piano- even volunteering the use of his trailer. I sent out an email, then a few texts, and ultimately called around (hey, it was a last resort - I have this fantastic manly voice from being sick all week and was trying to avoid the phone. Just ask Bruce how many of his calls I ignored...). We had a few no's and no-answers, and I wasn't sure if we would really pull this thing off. But just then, Tim called back and said he could help - so we just needed one more! So this morning Joel recruited Orrin who was, miraculously, available to jump in his car within 45 minutes of the phone call.
So somehow - no, through the Lord's providence - we wound up with a free piano in our library this morning. And I promptly sat down the second our movers were out the door (so I thought - Joel said that Bruce and Tim caught some Chopin on their way out) and cranked out a little Waltz in D-flat Major. Ahhhhh nothing is more soothing to the soul than feeling your fingers slip over piano keys as Chopin's smooth melodies grace the air.
As I was playing, though, I thought about how my mother would have dusted the piano first. And I grabbed the Pledge as soon as I was finished with that first piece because, hello, grimey keys.
Now it's as good as new - or will be, as soon as we have it tuned and that "black key that you probably don't need" (which I needed in the 2nd to last measure of the Waltz) replaced - and the cats are even warming up to it. If a piano makes a house a home, then a cat on the piano must be heaven. As was pointed out to me on Facebook, just wait til we bring a baby home too...I will never want to go anywhere else again!
Soli deo gloria!
Baby Belly 28 Weeks
Just in case you are not privileged to witness my expanding girth on a regular basis, behold the latest Belly Progression Photos:
September 29 (24 1/2 weeks)
Please ignore how tired I look in that last one, and instead focus on my, er, radiance...or something...
And you're up to date, thanks for checking in!
For comparison, the last photo from August 11 (18 weeks):
September 29 (24 1/2 weeks)
October 21 (28 weeks)
Please ignore how tired I look in that last one, and instead focus on my, er, radiance...or something...
And you're up to date, thanks for checking in!
The Self-Flagellation Begins
27 weeks and 6 days pregnant, and I've officially had my first moment of explicitly believing that I am a terrible mama.
Full disclosure: I may or may not be posting about this because I want all of you to tell me that it wasn't my fault, and I am a wonderful mama, and it is just the pregnancy hormones speaking evil to me.
Last night I went on a desperation run to the corner store in search of something quick and cheap for dinner. It was a long day at work, and frankly that was all I could seem to muster as far as meal planning. I ended up with a can of ravioli, and there is a large part of me that believes (irrationally) that my choice of processed food led to some wicked karma (I know, I know) as I left the store.
I paid for my family-size can of ravioli and headed out the door, cutting slightly across the sidewalk because I parked around to the left side of the store. Well, said sidewalk happens to be just a touch uneven, and I do not have the balance and agility that I once possessed twenty-something pounds ago. It was simultaneously slow-motion, and faster than I could react. Down I tumbled onto the sidewalk. Thankfully I landed on all the most padded parts of my admittedly well-padded self - mainly on my side, which means my leg and cushy tush bore the brunt of the impact. But I think my belly at least bumped the sidewalk a little bit, because I instantly entered panic mode worrying about the baby. A couple of well-intentioned young men asked if I was ok, and since I was able to get up by myself (a small miracle, when I think about what it takes to get up off the couch most days) and walk it off, I answered in the affirmative.
But once I was in the car? A torrent of emotions overtook me, and I immediately began to cry. This did not help my efforts to prod my belly for baby movement, since my crying was causing my tummy muscles to contract all over the place. I was a mess, I promise you.
Now for the icing on the cake: We live within a five-ish minute walk from the corner store. Just up Main Street. No biggie, right? Well. When I left the store, the universe decided to completely thumb its nose at me by holding a parade on Main Street. At 7:00 p.m. on a Wednesday night. The street was blocked, and I was not permitted to turn left toward my home.
There may have been a few more tears shed at this juncture.
But not many, because how hard is it to circle a few blocks and go home by a different route? Mentally calculating - I can't circle right because of the park behind our house, but if I circle around the other way I can come out almost directly across from our driveway. They have to let me use Main Street to pull into my own home, don't they? Don't they??? Ok, deep breath, we can get home.
Mind you, I was still emotionally fragile at this point, but even at my worst I can drive around the block to get home. Or so I thought.
I turned left onto Broad Street and discovered....the parade lineup. Complete with roadblock and fire engines. Deep breath. Ok, let's turn right and go down the next block. Which happens to be a dark alley that dead-ends at somebody's garage. Oh universe, how you hate me.
A few more tears were absolutely shed at this point, stretching my three-point turn into an eight-ish-point turn, but I made it back out of said dark alley. Thankfully my emotional havoc did not completely neutralize my problem-solving skills, and I did eventually make it home.
But when that parade went by, you better believe I sat with my back to the front porch and thought hateful thoughts.
Oh right, back to the point of the post. Sitting at home and devouring my canned ravioli, I berated myself for my laziness with food planning, which led to my choice to purchase cheap processed food for dinner, which led to me falling and possibly RUINING our baby, and which also led to me nearly not surviving the drive home from the blasted corner store. My mind, it can be dramatic. And for the first time, it told me that I am a terrible mama and how can I be trusted with the innocent life of a tiny, helpless human being?
It's ok now, I am better, and the baby still has a heartbeat and soccer-playing kicks and everything. But I thought I would be honest about how this experience shook me. I have certainly learned to be more careful, and to wear mountain climbing shoes and padded gear when I go out at night. I have learned not to take the well-being of my baby for granted, and that my weaknesses and carelessness no longer impact only myself. Everything I do is for my child, for my family. What a sobering, yet empowering, thought.
Thank you, Lord, for this lesson. Thank you that because you have called me yours, I don't have to wonder whether the universe hates me, but can rest in your providence. Please help me to bring every thought and fear captive to Christ, and to trust in your plan for our child. Grant me the grace to be obedient to your Word, and wise in my actions, for it is through my obedience that you desire to bless my family. But thank you, above all, that in spite of my sin and weakness you work for my good and Christlikeness, and that you promise your blessings to the thousandth generation of those whom you have called. Our baby is in trustworthy hands indeed - not mine, but yours.
Full disclosure: I may or may not be posting about this because I want all of you to tell me that it wasn't my fault, and I am a wonderful mama, and it is just the pregnancy hormones speaking evil to me.
Last night I went on a desperation run to the corner store in search of something quick and cheap for dinner. It was a long day at work, and frankly that was all I could seem to muster as far as meal planning. I ended up with a can of ravioli, and there is a large part of me that believes (irrationally) that my choice of processed food led to some wicked karma (I know, I know) as I left the store.
I paid for my family-size can of ravioli and headed out the door, cutting slightly across the sidewalk because I parked around to the left side of the store. Well, said sidewalk happens to be just a touch uneven, and I do not have the balance and agility that I once possessed twenty-something pounds ago. It was simultaneously slow-motion, and faster than I could react. Down I tumbled onto the sidewalk. Thankfully I landed on all the most padded parts of my admittedly well-padded self - mainly on my side, which means my leg and cushy tush bore the brunt of the impact. But I think my belly at least bumped the sidewalk a little bit, because I instantly entered panic mode worrying about the baby. A couple of well-intentioned young men asked if I was ok, and since I was able to get up by myself (a small miracle, when I think about what it takes to get up off the couch most days) and walk it off, I answered in the affirmative.
But once I was in the car? A torrent of emotions overtook me, and I immediately began to cry. This did not help my efforts to prod my belly for baby movement, since my crying was causing my tummy muscles to contract all over the place. I was a mess, I promise you.
Now for the icing on the cake: We live within a five-ish minute walk from the corner store. Just up Main Street. No biggie, right? Well. When I left the store, the universe decided to completely thumb its nose at me by holding a parade on Main Street. At 7:00 p.m. on a Wednesday night. The street was blocked, and I was not permitted to turn left toward my home.
There may have been a few more tears shed at this juncture.
But not many, because how hard is it to circle a few blocks and go home by a different route? Mentally calculating - I can't circle right because of the park behind our house, but if I circle around the other way I can come out almost directly across from our driveway. They have to let me use Main Street to pull into my own home, don't they? Don't they??? Ok, deep breath, we can get home.
Mind you, I was still emotionally fragile at this point, but even at my worst I can drive around the block to get home. Or so I thought.
I turned left onto Broad Street and discovered....the parade lineup. Complete with roadblock and fire engines. Deep breath. Ok, let's turn right and go down the next block. Which happens to be a dark alley that dead-ends at somebody's garage. Oh universe, how you hate me.
A few more tears were absolutely shed at this point, stretching my three-point turn into an eight-ish-point turn, but I made it back out of said dark alley. Thankfully my emotional havoc did not completely neutralize my problem-solving skills, and I did eventually make it home.
But when that parade went by, you better believe I sat with my back to the front porch and thought hateful thoughts.
Oh right, back to the point of the post. Sitting at home and devouring my canned ravioli, I berated myself for my laziness with food planning, which led to my choice to purchase cheap processed food for dinner, which led to me falling and possibly RUINING our baby, and which also led to me nearly not surviving the drive home from the blasted corner store. My mind, it can be dramatic. And for the first time, it told me that I am a terrible mama and how can I be trusted with the innocent life of a tiny, helpless human being?
It's ok now, I am better, and the baby still has a heartbeat and soccer-playing kicks and everything. But I thought I would be honest about how this experience shook me. I have certainly learned to be more careful, and to wear mountain climbing shoes and padded gear when I go out at night. I have learned not to take the well-being of my baby for granted, and that my weaknesses and carelessness no longer impact only myself. Everything I do is for my child, for my family. What a sobering, yet empowering, thought.
Thank you, Lord, for this lesson. Thank you that because you have called me yours, I don't have to wonder whether the universe hates me, but can rest in your providence. Please help me to bring every thought and fear captive to Christ, and to trust in your plan for our child. Grant me the grace to be obedient to your Word, and wise in my actions, for it is through my obedience that you desire to bless my family. But thank you, above all, that in spite of my sin and weakness you work for my good and Christlikeness, and that you promise your blessings to the thousandth generation of those whom you have called. Our baby is in trustworthy hands indeed - not mine, but yours.
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