My mind is everywhere these days. Pregnancy is a huge distraction for me. I am consumed by it most of the time, every hour of every day. I’m either reminded about how I won’t see a pair of pants with an actual waistline for months-I even have begun to miss buttoning my pants, now I don’t even have the option, elastic reigns. Or I ponder how I’m slowing getting to the point of not being able to see my feet and that I needed a pedicure yesterday. There will also come a time where shaving my legs will be a comedic event. Then to add on to all of this, I have decided upon the crazy notion of possibly growing out my hair again because my hair is growing so quickly these days but also know that I will face an awkward Justin Bieber grow out stage.
I’ve also been having pregnancy dreams like crazy. Many of them lately have involved running, like athletically. Let me just take a moment and state that I have never been a runner, I have tried in the past and have failed miserably. I am the person that tries to run but turns into an asthmatic mess of a human, hacking and wheezing my way through very short distances. But, in my dreams, I run. I compete. I fly.
I also dreamt last night that I gave birth to three puppies instead of a baby. We pulled them behind our tour van (since we were touring musicians in my dream) in this pimped out trailer that was nicer than the van. But, they kept getting out and I couldn’t keep track of all of them.
Lord, please let me not have 3 babies or puppies at one time.
On top of my pants not fitting, I also am still worried about out little Marin. I try not worry, I really do, but it’s tough when I can’t quite feel her yet and know that she’s in there but could still be facing risky conditions. We see the specialist again on Tuesday and I hope to hear miraculous words come from his mouth: “She is measuring fine now and your fluid levels are up. I don’t know what you did, but great job!” Then, in my mind, I will be praising God in heaven and thanking all of you that have been praying and praying and praying.
Tuesday. I have to wait until Tuesday.
I’ve been making it my point to slow down and rest, firstly for my baby and secondly for my sanity. The other evening I came home, put some thumbprint cookies on a plate, made a cup of decaf (so over that), and sat down to read one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott. It was like this book was made for me at this point in my life. If I had the guts to, I’d go through and obsessively highlight every line on every page.
“Oh, but my stomach, she is like a waterbed covered in flannel. When I lie on my side in bed, my stomach lies politely beside me, like a puppy.”
Anne Lamott, Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year
“I don't remember who said this, but there really are places in the heart you don't even know exist until you love a child.”
Anne Lamott, Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year
I need times to breathe like the other evening. I’ve also needed the rest of this weekend. I actually was able to spend two whole days off with my man. We slept in, went shopping, watched movies, ordered pizza, made italian. My heart and stomach are full. We seem to keep getting stuck in this routine of me leaving early for my day, him working late, and me being basically asleep by the time he gets home. I cherish every moment that we have together now.
Overall, Tuesday. I have to wait until Tuesday.
And finally, thank you all for all of your prayers and encouragement. You have helped carry us through these past few weeks.
