Through a bizarre twist of technological fate (and despite Brian's valiant efforts), I currently only have internet access when Asher is awake. Please feel free to laugh with me - seriously? If I'm lucky I can check my email before he is pirouhetting off the couch, but I rarely have time to respond. No matter, because we leave in the morning for a few days in Nashville. Yay for us.
That's all, folks. Just wanted to wave and wish you a happy new year.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
gypsy flat road
I started keeping a blog when the band family began moving in different directions. I wanted a place to write and a way to keep up with old friends. I didn't expect to meet new people, but I have, and I'm grateful for it.
It occurs to me most of you probably don't know what the title of my blog means. It's a line from a song by Sandra McCracken (the quote at the top of the page is from her as well). Sandra McCracken is to music what William Carlos Williams is to poetry. Not exactly, but sort of. They describe places as a way of describing the deeper experiences and emotions of daily life, and I love them both for it. Below are the lyrics from Gypsy Flat Road, in case you were wondering.
Across the gypsy flat road
Where everything closes down tonight
Across the gypsy flat road
Where the steps and the stars are light
And it rained all day
With the bounty of new wine
The sky settles in low
On the rooftops of this trainboard town
We are upstairs alone
And we speak only with the whisper sounds
And it rained all day
With the bounty of new wine
Will there come a day
When our faces will not lift out of the dust
Can we then still say,
That this mercy is our only trust
It will rain all day
With the bounty of new wine.
What was incurable, desperate blindness
has been bound up from all sides with lovingkindness
comfort for sorrow,
rivers for dryness
come and drink you who have no money
And it rained all day
With the bounty of new wine.
I used to see friends and strangers with a baby on one hip and another in her belly, and wonder if that would ever be my life. Our friendship with the Searcys has taught me how much our lives are enriched by the abundance of new life, and I've never wanted anything more than I wanted to have children. Even so, I was never guaranteed anything. (As an aside, a few weeks ago some friends told us they were expecting a baby. After they left, Brian said, "I wanted to ask her about hormone levels and heartbeats and ultrasounds, and then I realized she doesn't have to worry about any of that." Pregnancy is an entirely different experience for us.) Yesterday, seeing the new little one kicking and swimming, and seeing our baby walk, arms reaching out for me, I realized what I had - a baby on my hip and one on the way. Gypsy Flat Road came to mind. It describes my emotion of longing and waiting, and how sometimes our hope is not disappointed.
Thanks be to God.
It occurs to me most of you probably don't know what the title of my blog means. It's a line from a song by Sandra McCracken (the quote at the top of the page is from her as well). Sandra McCracken is to music what William Carlos Williams is to poetry. Not exactly, but sort of. They describe places as a way of describing the deeper experiences and emotions of daily life, and I love them both for it. Below are the lyrics from Gypsy Flat Road, in case you were wondering.
Across the gypsy flat road
Where everything closes down tonight
Across the gypsy flat road
Where the steps and the stars are light
And it rained all day
With the bounty of new wine
The sky settles in low
On the rooftops of this trainboard town
We are upstairs alone
And we speak only with the whisper sounds
And it rained all day
With the bounty of new wine
Will there come a day
When our faces will not lift out of the dust
Can we then still say,
That this mercy is our only trust
It will rain all day
With the bounty of new wine.
What was incurable, desperate blindness
has been bound up from all sides with lovingkindness
comfort for sorrow,
rivers for dryness
come and drink you who have no money
And it rained all day
With the bounty of new wine.
I used to see friends and strangers with a baby on one hip and another in her belly, and wonder if that would ever be my life. Our friendship with the Searcys has taught me how much our lives are enriched by the abundance of new life, and I've never wanted anything more than I wanted to have children. Even so, I was never guaranteed anything. (As an aside, a few weeks ago some friends told us they were expecting a baby. After they left, Brian said, "I wanted to ask her about hormone levels and heartbeats and ultrasounds, and then I realized she doesn't have to worry about any of that." Pregnancy is an entirely different experience for us.) Yesterday, seeing the new little one kicking and swimming, and seeing our baby walk, arms reaching out for me, I realized what I had - a baby on my hip and one on the way. Gypsy Flat Road came to mind. It describes my emotion of longing and waiting, and how sometimes our hope is not disappointed.
Thanks be to God.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
well
I keep trying to write about Christmas, but I delete everything I write, because everything sounds cliche. I realized it sounds cliche because the day was cliche. It was the best Christmas since we've gotten married. So, nothing to report. Practically perfect in every way, from Asher playing in wrapping paper to my niece beating everyone in sight on her new Wii. The turkey was tender, the cinnamon rolls rose, and to all a good night.
Now it's over, December 26, and Asher has been playing with boxes all morning while we've been putting our house back in general working order. I don't know if it's nesting, or the next phase of moving in to our house, but I have recently become aware of how much we need to organize our home. I made a to-do list (as well as a to-buy list), and we'll work through it in time. But not today. January is for cleaning. December 26 is for movies and leftovers.
Speaking of nesting - you know it's the day after Christmas, right? And I am still pregnant. It looks like we may actually have another baby. I went in this morning to have an ultrasound, because I was bleeding a little. It's actually the third time I've been in for an unscheduled ultrasound, because I keep spotting. Not much, just enough to scare me. Today they finally saw why - it's just implantation bleeding, sticking around longer than normal but apparently very common. We saw our baby's hands and feet and even saw him/her swimming around a few times. All is well.
So that's all I have for today. With Christmas, with my family, with the new baby, all is well.
Now it's over, December 26, and Asher has been playing with boxes all morning while we've been putting our house back in general working order. I don't know if it's nesting, or the next phase of moving in to our house, but I have recently become aware of how much we need to organize our home. I made a to-do list (as well as a to-buy list), and we'll work through it in time. But not today. January is for cleaning. December 26 is for movies and leftovers.
Speaking of nesting - you know it's the day after Christmas, right? And I am still pregnant. It looks like we may actually have another baby. I went in this morning to have an ultrasound, because I was bleeding a little. It's actually the third time I've been in for an unscheduled ultrasound, because I keep spotting. Not much, just enough to scare me. Today they finally saw why - it's just implantation bleeding, sticking around longer than normal but apparently very common. We saw our baby's hands and feet and even saw him/her swimming around a few times. All is well.
So that's all I have for today. With Christmas, with my family, with the new baby, all is well.
Monday, December 24, 2007
I'm feeling pretty brave this Christmas.
So brave that as we speak I'm waiting to see if the dough for Granny's Famous Cinnamon Rolls is going to rise. And tomorrow I'm cooking a turkey in a crockpot, fat potato fat fat from Faster than Kudzu, and a recipe I vaguely remember from Thanksgiving at Elizabeth's aunt's house a million years ago. Also, gingerbread loaf. I figure - why not. I'm only cooking one quarter of Christmas dinner, so if it's bad, we'll eat everyone else's food. And it can't all be terrible, right?
Asher fell asleep on me this afternoon. Curled up like an infant against my chest, slumped his little shoulders, and fell asleep. It reminded me of last Christmas, of the terrifying mesmerizing experience of bringing a newborn home from the hospital. I loved it.
I took Asher to a Christmas service last night. Brian has been working with a church about 40 minutes away once a month for the past year, and last night was his last service with them (not to be confused with our church, of which we are still a part). So I took the baby at bedtime to a church service far from home. Aren't you sad you missed it? He squealed and waved and tried to crawl across the room to his dad, then cried when he wasn't allowed to finish his trek. And the room was so QUIET and we were so obviously disrupting the service that I was embarrassed. Our church - our church is like hanging out in someone's family room. With the retired couch and the toys in the corner and a father figure in sweatpants in a recliner. It's the antithesis of High Church, and there's good and bad in that, to be sure. But it's nothing if not comfortable, and there is forever a baby sleeping on a mother's shoulder and a toddler squirming away. So when Asher wants to wave across the room at his dad, it just makes him part of the family. This church was like sitting in a waiting room, where any noise is an intrusion. And I'm not really talking about approaches or theology as much as I am ambience, I suppose. I love cathedrals, and I miss the rituals of past churches and denominations. But it's easier for a baby to be a part of our experience - and not just to eat Cheerios in a nursery - where we are right now. One more reason I love our church.
And now Brian is dozing in front of The Goonies, Asher is getting some much needed rest, and I'm rooting for the dough to rise. And all is right with the world.
I hope future Christmases are simpler. But you know, this one- with all of the busyness, and all of the bad and good news piled on top of each other - this Christmas is pretty good, too.
So brave that as we speak I'm waiting to see if the dough for Granny's Famous Cinnamon Rolls is going to rise. And tomorrow I'm cooking a turkey in a crockpot, fat potato fat fat from Faster than Kudzu, and a recipe I vaguely remember from Thanksgiving at Elizabeth's aunt's house a million years ago. Also, gingerbread loaf. I figure - why not. I'm only cooking one quarter of Christmas dinner, so if it's bad, we'll eat everyone else's food. And it can't all be terrible, right?
Asher fell asleep on me this afternoon. Curled up like an infant against my chest, slumped his little shoulders, and fell asleep. It reminded me of last Christmas, of the terrifying mesmerizing experience of bringing a newborn home from the hospital. I loved it.
I took Asher to a Christmas service last night. Brian has been working with a church about 40 minutes away once a month for the past year, and last night was his last service with them (not to be confused with our church, of which we are still a part). So I took the baby at bedtime to a church service far from home. Aren't you sad you missed it? He squealed and waved and tried to crawl across the room to his dad, then cried when he wasn't allowed to finish his trek. And the room was so QUIET and we were so obviously disrupting the service that I was embarrassed. Our church - our church is like hanging out in someone's family room. With the retired couch and the toys in the corner and a father figure in sweatpants in a recliner. It's the antithesis of High Church, and there's good and bad in that, to be sure. But it's nothing if not comfortable, and there is forever a baby sleeping on a mother's shoulder and a toddler squirming away. So when Asher wants to wave across the room at his dad, it just makes him part of the family. This church was like sitting in a waiting room, where any noise is an intrusion. And I'm not really talking about approaches or theology as much as I am ambience, I suppose. I love cathedrals, and I miss the rituals of past churches and denominations. But it's easier for a baby to be a part of our experience - and not just to eat Cheerios in a nursery - where we are right now. One more reason I love our church.
And now Brian is dozing in front of The Goonies, Asher is getting some much needed rest, and I'm rooting for the dough to rise. And all is right with the world.
I hope future Christmases are simpler. But you know, this one- with all of the busyness, and all of the bad and good news piled on top of each other - this Christmas is pretty good, too.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
if you can follow the white rabbit, you win the prize.
Guess what. Lots of things.
a. My husband is GOOD to me and is finishing the to-do list this morning.
b. My child is SLEEPING like a champ.
Because Brian is running our errands, I have nothing outside of the house to do. And because Asher is sleeping, I can't run the vaccuum, regardless of how desperately the floors need to be cleaned. So. Here I sit on the Saturday before Christmas with nothing to do. How about that.
Every single person who has made a guess on the sex of this baby has said it is a girl. I honestly am hoping for health and longevity only. A boy would be fun for some reasons, a girl would be fun for others. Either will be exciting. Still it's a little odd that EVERY person has said that, don't you think?
I think most of you know I teach a little boy with autism two mornings a week. Our time invariably includes playing outside as part of our day, and I normally play just as hard as he does. But I jumped on the trampoline two days ago, and have since deemed myself Too Pregnant for the Trampoline. It's not that I'm very big, it's just - not a good idea. Poor kid. He relies heavily on routine and really doesn't understand when I change things up. But I'm not going to be able to give on this one.
I've been catching up on my blog reading this morning. Thailand Chani said this last week:
It occurs to me that most of us have one fundamental belief, something we cling to, something that makes the world make sense. It keeps us going through all the craziness, all the tragedy, all the inconsistencies and all the experiences of ourselves and others.
So what is the belief that keeps you sane?
Mine is that God is loving toward all He has made. It's this belief that gives me hope, is the essence of my faith in God, and without it all would be lost.
Another blogger mentioned earlier that she used to think people who still believed in God had never questioned their parents' religious beliefs (I'm seriously paraphrasing, but I think that was the jist). I think that's totally fair. I can see how it would look that way from the outside looking in, the same way that I question the attitudes towards women in other religions. Surely reasonable people would not come to such a conclusion. One of my favorite things about that particular blog is I never feel like I need to defend myself or my faith, so please don't read this as a defense. I just wanted to say - yeah, I see why you'd think that. And I think anyone who has any kind of serious faith has questioned the religion of their childhood. I think it's an essential step in spiritual growth.
After I wrote the post last night about being so stoic, I've been weepy all day. Surely SURELY it is pregnancy-plus-stress-induced. I teared up this morning when Asher cried. I was talking to a friend just a minute ago, and could have cried again, in a conversation that did not merit emotion. What is THAT about? It's really unusual for me.
I vow before God and these witnesses I will never no never again wait until the last minute to shop for Christmas gifts. It is not fun. It is only stressful. I've learned my lesson and I promise to do better from now on.
The end.
Your turn: pick your question.
1. What one belief keeps you sane?
2. Is faith made stronger by doubt?
3. Are you finished Christmas shopping?
Finally, a picture of Asher on the carousel on his birthday. The question you should be asking yourself is - who is this kid? Where did that tiny baby from last December go?
a. My husband is GOOD to me and is finishing the to-do list this morning.
b. My child is SLEEPING like a champ.
Because Brian is running our errands, I have nothing outside of the house to do. And because Asher is sleeping, I can't run the vaccuum, regardless of how desperately the floors need to be cleaned. So. Here I sit on the Saturday before Christmas with nothing to do. How about that.
Every single person who has made a guess on the sex of this baby has said it is a girl. I honestly am hoping for health and longevity only. A boy would be fun for some reasons, a girl would be fun for others. Either will be exciting. Still it's a little odd that EVERY person has said that, don't you think?
I think most of you know I teach a little boy with autism two mornings a week. Our time invariably includes playing outside as part of our day, and I normally play just as hard as he does. But I jumped on the trampoline two days ago, and have since deemed myself Too Pregnant for the Trampoline. It's not that I'm very big, it's just - not a good idea. Poor kid. He relies heavily on routine and really doesn't understand when I change things up. But I'm not going to be able to give on this one.
I've been catching up on my blog reading this morning. Thailand Chani said this last week:
It occurs to me that most of us have one fundamental belief, something we cling to, something that makes the world make sense. It keeps us going through all the craziness, all the tragedy, all the inconsistencies and all the experiences of ourselves and others.
So what is the belief that keeps you sane?
Mine is that God is loving toward all He has made. It's this belief that gives me hope, is the essence of my faith in God, and without it all would be lost.
Another blogger mentioned earlier that she used to think people who still believed in God had never questioned their parents' religious beliefs (I'm seriously paraphrasing, but I think that was the jist). I think that's totally fair. I can see how it would look that way from the outside looking in, the same way that I question the attitudes towards women in other religions. Surely reasonable people would not come to such a conclusion. One of my favorite things about that particular blog is I never feel like I need to defend myself or my faith, so please don't read this as a defense. I just wanted to say - yeah, I see why you'd think that. And I think anyone who has any kind of serious faith has questioned the religion of their childhood. I think it's an essential step in spiritual growth.
After I wrote the post last night about being so stoic, I've been weepy all day. Surely SURELY it is pregnancy-plus-stress-induced. I teared up this morning when Asher cried. I was talking to a friend just a minute ago, and could have cried again, in a conversation that did not merit emotion. What is THAT about? It's really unusual for me.
I vow before God and these witnesses I will never no never again wait until the last minute to shop for Christmas gifts. It is not fun. It is only stressful. I've learned my lesson and I promise to do better from now on.
The end.
Your turn: pick your question.
1. What one belief keeps you sane?
2. Is faith made stronger by doubt?
3. Are you finished Christmas shopping?
Finally, a picture of Asher on the carousel on his birthday. The question you should be asking yourself is - who is this kid? Where did that tiny baby from last December go?
Friday, December 21, 2007
confessions
1. I haven't cried since Granny died. This strikes me as odd - so odd - considering a. I'm pregnant, and b. Granny was an important part of my life. She was my surrogate grandmother after my own passed away. I have no idea why I've been so pragmatic, except that I just haven't taken the time to process it yet. Every time I walk in the door at my in-laws', I'm a little surprised Granny isn't sitting at the kitchen table. She had a birthday gift picked out for Asher before she died. I opened it Wednesday - a winter coat with a cute little outfit - completely dry-eyed. Go figure.
2. My mother-in-law and I made Christmas candy tonight. It's a tradition. When I met Brian's family, they had a tradition around E-V-E-R-Y thing, whereas my family has very few traditions. Over time I have taken on most of their traditions as my own, and Brian has come to love the freedom of my family's approach. We've traded places. So we made candy tonight, and Monday we're making lefse, the traditional Norwegian bread that is complicated, time consuming, and so very high in calories.
3. You gave some great book recommendations, but I haven't had the opportunity to go by the library yet. Maybe next year.
4. I haven't vaccuumed all week. I live on hardwood floors with a big dog and a baby. I really could vaccuum every day, but I usually work towards every third day. It's been seven. Step carefully.
5. Asher is learning new things every day. Today he started imitating "la la la" and "bye-bye." Except bye-bye has an unusual pattern that I cannot begin to type correctly, that makes it a superfun game for him. We all make our own decisions, and my decision has no implication for anyone else's, but I couldn't be happier that I decided to be at home with babies. It would break my heart for someone else to tell me what new tricks he learned today.
6. I'm entering the "is she fat or is she pregnant?" phase of pregnancy. Good times.
2. My mother-in-law and I made Christmas candy tonight. It's a tradition. When I met Brian's family, they had a tradition around E-V-E-R-Y thing, whereas my family has very few traditions. Over time I have taken on most of their traditions as my own, and Brian has come to love the freedom of my family's approach. We've traded places. So we made candy tonight, and Monday we're making lefse, the traditional Norwegian bread that is complicated, time consuming, and so very high in calories.
3. You gave some great book recommendations, but I haven't had the opportunity to go by the library yet. Maybe next year.
4. I haven't vaccuumed all week. I live on hardwood floors with a big dog and a baby. I really could vaccuum every day, but I usually work towards every third day. It's been seven. Step carefully.
5. Asher is learning new things every day. Today he started imitating "la la la" and "bye-bye." Except bye-bye has an unusual pattern that I cannot begin to type correctly, that makes it a superfun game for him. We all make our own decisions, and my decision has no implication for anyone else's, but I couldn't be happier that I decided to be at home with babies. It would break my heart for someone else to tell me what new tricks he learned today.
6. I'm entering the "is she fat or is she pregnant?" phase of pregnancy. Good times.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
moo, baaa, la la la
Asher got a great new book on Saturday. It tells all the animal sounds (a horse says "neigh," a cow says, "moo," etc.), and the last page says- "It's quiet now. What do you say?"
Asher loves that book.
In the normal pace of life, I am in the habit of observing some silence. Not the complete silence of meditation (I love that silence but have not cultivated it, sadly), but a little quiet in my day, wherein I sit in the same spot for more than ten minutes and take a deep breath. But it's been weeks since I've had any quiet, and I miss it. The Indigo Girls line comes to mind: Why must we hurdle ourselves through every inch of time and space? I must say around some corner I can sense a resting place. Why indeed.
This is my only concern in having another child. It took several months for me to find a rhythm to my day, to have time for quiet. I'm not concerned about the noise in the house; I'm concerned about settling my mind. Another little person's life will be entrusted to me. Will I learn to be disciplined enough to think about life outside of my little home? I hope so.
Asher loves that book.
In the normal pace of life, I am in the habit of observing some silence. Not the complete silence of meditation (I love that silence but have not cultivated it, sadly), but a little quiet in my day, wherein I sit in the same spot for more than ten minutes and take a deep breath. But it's been weeks since I've had any quiet, and I miss it. The Indigo Girls line comes to mind: Why must we hurdle ourselves through every inch of time and space? I must say around some corner I can sense a resting place. Why indeed.
This is my only concern in having another child. It took several months for me to find a rhythm to my day, to have time for quiet. I'm not concerned about the noise in the house; I'm concerned about settling my mind. Another little person's life will be entrusted to me. Will I learn to be disciplined enough to think about life outside of my little home? I hope so.
then and now
December 19, 2006
December 19, 2007
When Carrie arrived at our house on Saturday, she said, "Happy Mommy Day!" She's right. First birthdays are about my memories. I am a new and better person as a mother. I'm thankful for him and for how I've changed because of him.
Happy Tuesday to the rest of the world. And happy birthday to Asher.
(update - I did it again! I'm clearly more frazzled than I'd like to admit. Happy Wednesday! Wednesday! Wednesday!)
December 19, 2007
When Carrie arrived at our house on Saturday, she said, "Happy Mommy Day!" She's right. First birthdays are about my memories. I am a new and better person as a mother. I'm thankful for him and for how I've changed because of him.
Happy Tuesday to the rest of the world. And happy birthday to Asher.
(update - I did it again! I'm clearly more frazzled than I'd like to admit. Happy Wednesday! Wednesday! Wednesday!)
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
I wrote the best post in my head while I was cleaning the kitchen tonight. And now - poof! - it's been swallowed up by the tyranny of the urgent. I remember all the main points, but I have no idea how to string them together into something coherent.
Tis the season for madness.
So this is me, waving to the world to say all is well. Maybe January will hold better posts.
PS I have lost my trusty little address book. SAD, especially during card season. If you have given me your physical address in the past, will you email it to me again?
Tis the season for madness.
So this is me, waving to the world to say all is well. Maybe January will hold better posts.
PS I have lost my trusty little address book. SAD, especially during card season. If you have given me your physical address in the past, will you email it to me again?
Saturday, December 15, 2007
highlights from a birthday party
loved the cake, of course.
EATING a birthday gift.
with his dad
Here's the story: Georgia's Mom (whose real name is also Stephanie, but whenever I use her name on the blog I confuse people) and I have been friends since we were two years old. We became friends because she bit me at nursery school. This is Sawyer (Georgia's brother) and Asher standing together at a new toy. Asher put his finger in Sawyer's mouth, so Sawyer did what any 18-month-old boy would do: he bit him. History repeats itself.
the day was just this happy.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
all things prenatal
Did you notice I wished you Happy Thursday on a Wednesday?
We finished Asher's room and moved the computer, so until the cable people come out my internet access is limited. If you've sent me an email and haven't gotten a reply, that's why.
It is also actually 12:50 a.m., an hour I prefer not to see, but I have been blessed with a special sleep disturbance known as momsomnia. If I hear a baby cry at any point in the night, my mom-radar pings to life and I am UP. Sad. Especially when a little boy is cutting two teeth, because he sometimes cries in his sleep. He quickly fell back to sleep (without ever getting out of bed), as did Brian, but I'm AWAKE. So I'm using my momsomnia to tell you we heard a heartbeat with the doppler radar today. At this point, my chance of miscarriage is down to 2%. I think we're going to have another baby. S/he is due right around my thirtieth birthday (July 11).
By the way, my doctor's philosophy on prenatal care is that if a test or procedure will help you sleep better at night, he's willing to do it. Bless his heart.
My next concern - after the viability of the pregnancy, obviously - was if I will automatically have to have another c-section. It is my opinion that recovering from surgery is worse than any labor experience (at least, my recovery was worse than my labor). Also, I'm going to have an 18-month-old son who is not going to understand why his mom can't hold him for six weeks. Plus, there's no way repeated surgery is good for anyone, with scar tissue and that sort of thing. We discussed it at my visit today. He explained the risk (1% risk of a ruptured uterus - only 1%). To make a long story short, as long as there is no medical reason (like a breached baby) that he finds closer to delivery, he will let me go into labor naturally and try to have a normal birth. I have about a 40-60% chance of success, after having one c-section. Which means, in reality, the odds are slightly against me that I will still have to have the surgery. But I just want to TRY. Of course I won't risk the baby's health over it, but if I can avoid another extended recovery in the midst of a major life change, I'd like to. So if you're the praying type, maybe you'll pray for a smooth and normal delivery? If you think of it. Honestly a healthy baby is enough. Not having surgery would be icing on the cake.
Speaking of icing on the cake - I haven't been sick at all. A little more tired than normal, hungry as a horse, and more likely to give my opinion, but not sick. And no debilitating fatigue (like I had with Asher). That's just LUCK, friends. Most of the stories I've heard have been second pregnancies harder than the first. This one has been easier.
Last thing - Asher's been drinking his formula from a cup in the mornings for a few weeks, so he's been down to one bottle a day for a while. We instituted a brushing teeth routine at night (thank you Emily), and had intended to let him keep his bottle until the 1 year check-up. Tonight I was tired and FORGOT he normally takes a bottle, so I made his cup of formula. He drank it without complaint. How's that for unceremonious? Just like that, no more bottle. Oh well. Clearly I was more attached to it at this point than he was.
An example of Hungry as a Horse: I have eaten a sleeve of crackers since I started writing this post. The whole thing. But! I've only gained 2 lbs so far. And in general I try to eat foods of nutritional value (crackers notwithstanding). So, you know, whatever.
I am dipping into banality now. I'm about to support my mother's assertion that not everything should be published.
Happy Middle of the Night, everyone.
We finished Asher's room and moved the computer, so until the cable people come out my internet access is limited. If you've sent me an email and haven't gotten a reply, that's why.
It is also actually 12:50 a.m., an hour I prefer not to see, but I have been blessed with a special sleep disturbance known as momsomnia. If I hear a baby cry at any point in the night, my mom-radar pings to life and I am UP. Sad. Especially when a little boy is cutting two teeth, because he sometimes cries in his sleep. He quickly fell back to sleep (without ever getting out of bed), as did Brian, but I'm AWAKE. So I'm using my momsomnia to tell you we heard a heartbeat with the doppler radar today. At this point, my chance of miscarriage is down to 2%. I think we're going to have another baby. S/he is due right around my thirtieth birthday (July 11).
By the way, my doctor's philosophy on prenatal care is that if a test or procedure will help you sleep better at night, he's willing to do it. Bless his heart.
My next concern - after the viability of the pregnancy, obviously - was if I will automatically have to have another c-section. It is my opinion that recovering from surgery is worse than any labor experience (at least, my recovery was worse than my labor). Also, I'm going to have an 18-month-old son who is not going to understand why his mom can't hold him for six weeks. Plus, there's no way repeated surgery is good for anyone, with scar tissue and that sort of thing. We discussed it at my visit today. He explained the risk (1% risk of a ruptured uterus - only 1%). To make a long story short, as long as there is no medical reason (like a breached baby) that he finds closer to delivery, he will let me go into labor naturally and try to have a normal birth. I have about a 40-60% chance of success, after having one c-section. Which means, in reality, the odds are slightly against me that I will still have to have the surgery. But I just want to TRY. Of course I won't risk the baby's health over it, but if I can avoid another extended recovery in the midst of a major life change, I'd like to. So if you're the praying type, maybe you'll pray for a smooth and normal delivery? If you think of it. Honestly a healthy baby is enough. Not having surgery would be icing on the cake.
Speaking of icing on the cake - I haven't been sick at all. A little more tired than normal, hungry as a horse, and more likely to give my opinion, but not sick. And no debilitating fatigue (like I had with Asher). That's just LUCK, friends. Most of the stories I've heard have been second pregnancies harder than the first. This one has been easier.
Last thing - Asher's been drinking his formula from a cup in the mornings for a few weeks, so he's been down to one bottle a day for a while. We instituted a brushing teeth routine at night (thank you Emily), and had intended to let him keep his bottle until the 1 year check-up. Tonight I was tired and FORGOT he normally takes a bottle, so I made his cup of formula. He drank it without complaint. How's that for unceremonious? Just like that, no more bottle. Oh well. Clearly I was more attached to it at this point than he was.
An example of Hungry as a Horse: I have eaten a sleeve of crackers since I started writing this post. The whole thing. But! I've only gained 2 lbs so far. And in general I try to eat foods of nutritional value (crackers notwithstanding). So, you know, whatever.
I am dipping into banality now. I'm about to support my mother's assertion that not everything should be published.
Happy Middle of the Night, everyone.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
update
First:
10 weeks pregnant today, and so far so good. I have an appointment tomorrow and we will hopefully hear a heartbeat then. Of course anything is still possible, but I've never lost a baby this far into the pregnancy. So I feel pretty good about that. I'm beginning to believe we may actually have another baby.
Next:
Asher's birthday party is this Saturday, right? And I'm really not one to go over the top on things, not really, but I do LOVE to throw a party and he's my BABY and it's his FIRST and ... you can see how this goes. I sent out invitations to 25 families, knowing very well that my house is not really equipped to hold umpteen bajillion people. But it's Christmas time, and everyone is busy at Christmas anyway, and we had about half of the people we invited at his dedication, and about half will fit comfortably in my house.
Um, only one in-town family can't come. ONE. Out of 25.
Don't get me wrong, I'm THRILLED all of my friends and relations are coming to Asher's birthday party. I invited them because I love them and wanted them here. I just never dreamed they would all take me up on the offer.
This is me, taking deep breaths and assuring myself we'll all sit SOMEwhere.
Then:
The painters finished yesterday. Well, almost. They didn't get to the trim in one room, but they'll come back Monday. You know how this goes - any home improvement project costs more and takes more time than you expect it to. That's fine - our house looks SO much better. It looks clean and fresh. I'm anxious to do the rest of the house now ... but not this week. For now I need to get the china out of the sunroom and the laundry out of the dining room, because, dude, we're going to have umpteen bajillion people here in a few days.
Finally:
Did you hear? Asher is turning ONE! I really don't have a sappy post welling up in me. I expect to be sentimental on the night of the 18th (which is when I went into labor). I expect to always tell the story of how my water broke and how we weren't sure if that's what was happening or not, so we called Halle late in the evening to ask birthing-type questions, and how she laughed and told us to GO TO THE HOSPITAL, already. I expect my children to be able to roll their eyes and quote this story back to me, because it's one of my favorite memories ever. And I expect Asher to always know how much he is loved and how excited we were to have him.
BONUS UPDATE:
Asher's cutting two teeth at one time. He's surprisingly happy (he's ALWAYS surprisingly happy), but still - poor kid. Also. I was not previously informed that he would enter a SCREAMING stage. Not crying, just - screaming to communicate. When he sees food he wants - scream. When we put him down and he wanted to be held - scream. I cannot abide screaming. There is nothing about you screaming at me that will ever make me want to do what you want me to do. So we're working on a couple of signs ("please" and "eat") only because screaming is Not Okay with me. This age is both fun and exhausting; he's learning learning learning constantly.
Happy Thursday everyone.
10 weeks pregnant today, and so far so good. I have an appointment tomorrow and we will hopefully hear a heartbeat then. Of course anything is still possible, but I've never lost a baby this far into the pregnancy. So I feel pretty good about that. I'm beginning to believe we may actually have another baby.
Next:
Asher's birthday party is this Saturday, right? And I'm really not one to go over the top on things, not really, but I do LOVE to throw a party and he's my BABY and it's his FIRST and ... you can see how this goes. I sent out invitations to 25 families, knowing very well that my house is not really equipped to hold umpteen bajillion people. But it's Christmas time, and everyone is busy at Christmas anyway, and we had about half of the people we invited at his dedication, and about half will fit comfortably in my house.
Um, only one in-town family can't come. ONE. Out of 25.
Don't get me wrong, I'm THRILLED all of my friends and relations are coming to Asher's birthday party. I invited them because I love them and wanted them here. I just never dreamed they would all take me up on the offer.
This is me, taking deep breaths and assuring myself we'll all sit SOMEwhere.
Then:
The painters finished yesterday. Well, almost. They didn't get to the trim in one room, but they'll come back Monday. You know how this goes - any home improvement project costs more and takes more time than you expect it to. That's fine - our house looks SO much better. It looks clean and fresh. I'm anxious to do the rest of the house now ... but not this week. For now I need to get the china out of the sunroom and the laundry out of the dining room, because, dude, we're going to have umpteen bajillion people here in a few days.
Finally:
Did you hear? Asher is turning ONE! I really don't have a sappy post welling up in me. I expect to be sentimental on the night of the 18th (which is when I went into labor). I expect to always tell the story of how my water broke and how we weren't sure if that's what was happening or not, so we called Halle late in the evening to ask birthing-type questions, and how she laughed and told us to GO TO THE HOSPITAL, already. I expect my children to be able to roll their eyes and quote this story back to me, because it's one of my favorite memories ever. And I expect Asher to always know how much he is loved and how excited we were to have him.
BONUS UPDATE:
Asher's cutting two teeth at one time. He's surprisingly happy (he's ALWAYS surprisingly happy), but still - poor kid. Also. I was not previously informed that he would enter a SCREAMING stage. Not crying, just - screaming to communicate. When he sees food he wants - scream. When we put him down and he wanted to be held - scream. I cannot abide screaming. There is nothing about you screaming at me that will ever make me want to do what you want me to do. So we're working on a couple of signs ("please" and "eat") only because screaming is Not Okay with me. This age is both fun and exhausting; he's learning learning learning constantly.
Happy Thursday everyone.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
meandering thoughts on Christmas
We put up our tree yesterday. We haven't decorated a tree in five years, so pulling out the decorations was surprisingly nostalgic. We don't have a stylish Christmas, with white lights and matching ornaments. I love to see those trees, but I don't want one. We have colored lights and stockings with our names written in glitter. Every ornament we have was given to us. Keepsakes from Asher's first Christmas (when he was six days old), gifts from students, souveniers from our honeymoon and our first trips together, homemade (and so pretty) beaded snowflakes made by friends, and dozens of Santas and snowmen painted by Granny - this is what we have collected, and what is now hanging on our tree. I love it. I LOVE it. I pulled them out and thought about where we've lived, and the people who gave us the ornaments. I used to be more pragmatic about Christmas, grumbling about cost and baking and traveling. But since last year, when Asher was due on Christmas Day, and I spent the entire year waiting for Christmas - since then, I have a new appreciation of the season. I love the traditions, I love picking out gifts, I love the eating if not the baking, I love the glittered stockings, and I love our tree.
My friend Mikkee said recently that her prayer for the season is to follow the example of Mary, and ponder the wonder of God. In Scripture, the last line of the nativity story is, "But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart." It sounds like a transition, some sort of foreshadowing. It's not. Mary's reflection did not motivate her to act (at least not in any way that was recorded); remembering was its own end. I love that God values our thoughts, our reflection. Preachers want to see behavior changed; God wants me to remember what He has done.
Thanks be to God. For Christmas trees and homemade decorations and for His promise born on Christmas.
My friend Mikkee said recently that her prayer for the season is to follow the example of Mary, and ponder the wonder of God. In Scripture, the last line of the nativity story is, "But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart." It sounds like a transition, some sort of foreshadowing. It's not. Mary's reflection did not motivate her to act (at least not in any way that was recorded); remembering was its own end. I love that God values our thoughts, our reflection. Preachers want to see behavior changed; God wants me to remember what He has done.
Thanks be to God. For Christmas trees and homemade decorations and for His promise born on Christmas.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Friday, December 07, 2007
another legal issue about which I know very little but still have an opinion. and then a quote.
The Teena Brandon story. I am so profoundly unaware of popular culture that I had never heard of it until yesterday on American Justice. Do you all know about this? And you haven't been raising fists or shaking heads anywhere on any blog I read until now? Shame on you. There's been a movie and a song and a lawsuit that made it to the Nebraska Supreme Court, and still I was unaware. Teena Brandon was a transsexual young man (anatomically female but living as a man) who was brutally raped by two men. He reported it to the police, who were so shockingly offensive in their questioning that he eventually stopped answering their questions. The men, both ex-convicts who were identified by Brandon, were not arrested. When they found out Brandon had gone to the police, they killed everyone in the home where he was staying, including the mother of a baby in front of her child. What I couldn't get over was the response of the justice system - the questions they asked, the clear disregard for Brandon's emotions, and a judge who, during a wrongful death suit, found Brandon himself 1% liable for his own murder. Unbelievable. If our justice system does not protect the minority, who does?
And a quote, completely unrelated to Teena Brandon, but appropriate for my week:
And that same sun that warms your heart
will suck the good earth dry
With everything it's opposite
enough to keep you crying
or keep this old world spinning
with a twinkle in its eye
- Indigo Girls
And a quote, completely unrelated to Teena Brandon, but appropriate for my week:
And that same sun that warms your heart
will suck the good earth dry
With everything it's opposite
enough to keep you crying
or keep this old world spinning
with a twinkle in its eye
- Indigo Girls
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
1. Weeks like this kind of show the strength of a relationship. All I have to say is that I married well.
2. Today Brian and I did something we have never done before: we agreed to pay for a service we are physically able to do ourselves. Usually cheap wins out over convenience, but a bout of monumental crud followed by an allergic reaction followed by a positive pregnancy test followed by, followed by ... means we will have many people in our house a week from Saturday, and unless we pay someone to do it, our kitchen will continue to have stripes of rejected ideas (remember the cobalt blue countertop dilemma?) and Asher's room will remain un-cute. So we hired someone to paint the rooms. In this moment, it's worth every dime.
3. I have not read anything of value since Asher's birth. I've read mostly children's books and stories so insignificant that I can't even remember the titles three months later. Let me rephrase that - some of the children's stories I've read have been great. But I'm ready for grown-up books again. Any suggestions?
4. The Senate Finance Committee is looking into the finances of several "prosperity gospel" preachers. Click here to find out more. Don't get me wrong; I believe the prosperity gospel is contrary to the gospel of Jesus, and I am not defending their message. But can the Senate do that? Call a religious institution into question if they aren't breaking laws? My understanding is that the question is about oversight. Is the oversight of a religious institution's finances under the jurisdiction of the Senate? Mary? Anyone?
2. Today Brian and I did something we have never done before: we agreed to pay for a service we are physically able to do ourselves. Usually cheap wins out over convenience, but a bout of monumental crud followed by an allergic reaction followed by a positive pregnancy test followed by, followed by ... means we will have many people in our house a week from Saturday, and unless we pay someone to do it, our kitchen will continue to have stripes of rejected ideas (remember the cobalt blue countertop dilemma?) and Asher's room will remain un-cute. So we hired someone to paint the rooms. In this moment, it's worth every dime.
3. I have not read anything of value since Asher's birth. I've read mostly children's books and stories so insignificant that I can't even remember the titles three months later. Let me rephrase that - some of the children's stories I've read have been great. But I'm ready for grown-up books again. Any suggestions?
4. The Senate Finance Committee is looking into the finances of several "prosperity gospel" preachers. Click here to find out more. Don't get me wrong; I believe the prosperity gospel is contrary to the gospel of Jesus, and I am not defending their message. But can the Senate do that? Call a religious institution into question if they aren't breaking laws? My understanding is that the question is about oversight. Is the oversight of a religious institution's finances under the jurisdiction of the Senate? Mary? Anyone?
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
A few links for you this morning:
This little girl is the daughter of one of my blogging friends. She is spending the 25 days before Christmas doing 25 things to make a difference in her community. Her little idea has made a splash in the blogging world (I mean, Good Morning America called yesterday). Anyway, follow along if you'd like and be inspired to help your community, too.
I swear we're leading parallel lives. Not really - not at all, actually. Even so, the past few weeks in her life and mine have been EERILY similar. So, if you're interested, go read and think, Huh, in honor of me.
One more - Mary, Heather, and I are already hooked, but does everyone else read Faster than Kudzu? It really is the funniest thing I read on any given day. The Boobs Under the Bed in Paris story is still the funniest post I have ever read. It's hard to find humor that isn't sarcasm or at someone else's expense. The only person Joshilyn makes fun of, though, is herself. And occasionally someone who crosses her path, like the Sales Prevention lady at the furniture store. If you have a few minutes to spare this morning, you won't be sorry.
That's all I've got today. Happy Tuesday everyone.
This little girl is the daughter of one of my blogging friends. She is spending the 25 days before Christmas doing 25 things to make a difference in her community. Her little idea has made a splash in the blogging world (I mean, Good Morning America called yesterday). Anyway, follow along if you'd like and be inspired to help your community, too.
I swear we're leading parallel lives. Not really - not at all, actually. Even so, the past few weeks in her life and mine have been EERILY similar. So, if you're interested, go read and think, Huh, in honor of me.
One more - Mary, Heather, and I are already hooked, but does everyone else read Faster than Kudzu? It really is the funniest thing I read on any given day. The Boobs Under the Bed in Paris story is still the funniest post I have ever read. It's hard to find humor that isn't sarcasm or at someone else's expense. The only person Joshilyn makes fun of, though, is herself. And occasionally someone who crosses her path, like the Sales Prevention lady at the furniture store. If you have a few minutes to spare this morning, you won't be sorry.
That's all I've got today. Happy Tuesday everyone.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
update
First, Granny passed away last night. The memorial service will be held Tuesday; if anyone in the area wants specific information, email me and I'll send it to you.
Everyone's okay. Thanks for asking.
Next, I'm pregnant. I cannot imagine a less romantic way to convey this information, but there it is. I'm a little over 8 weeks. We've seen a heartbeat (twice), and the baby is measuring correctly. For me, those are the best indicators that all is well. Also, I'm hungry all the time. I eat every two hours, regardless of the size of the previous meal. If you're reading this and thinking, "WHAT?! Why hasn't she told me?!" you're not alone. I really haven't talked about it at all. Because first trimester pregnancy isn't exciting for me. The possibility of another child is thrilling; 8 weeks pregnant is not. This is my fourth first-trimester pregnancy; I don't get excited anymore. Now if we make it to finding out the sex and seeing the spine and chambers of the heart, friends, THAT will be exciting. A second trimester will be news. Until then, we'll see.
Combine these two facts - a death in the family and 8 weeks pregnant - and stir. And I'm exactly as tired as you imagine. Bone tired, weepy tired, dishes left in the sink for two nights tired. TIRED.
There's something poetic about the end of life and the beginning of one overlapping just a little. Maybe when I'm better rested I'll have more to say about that.
Until then, good night.
PS I realize by combining two pieces of information that have conflicting responses in the same post, I'm putting any commenters in an awkward position. Do you congratulate or send condolences? Sorry about that. Let's hold off congratulations and happy baby chatter until week 13. Christmas is our goal; if I make it to Christmas, more than likely I really am going to stay pregnant. So December 26 you can congratulate and I will gladly receive it. Until then, I'm just doing the next thing. And right now, the next thing is Granny's funeral.
Everyone's okay. Thanks for asking.
Next, I'm pregnant. I cannot imagine a less romantic way to convey this information, but there it is. I'm a little over 8 weeks. We've seen a heartbeat (twice), and the baby is measuring correctly. For me, those are the best indicators that all is well. Also, I'm hungry all the time. I eat every two hours, regardless of the size of the previous meal. If you're reading this and thinking, "WHAT?! Why hasn't she told me?!" you're not alone. I really haven't talked about it at all. Because first trimester pregnancy isn't exciting for me. The possibility of another child is thrilling; 8 weeks pregnant is not. This is my fourth first-trimester pregnancy; I don't get excited anymore. Now if we make it to finding out the sex and seeing the spine and chambers of the heart, friends, THAT will be exciting. A second trimester will be news. Until then, we'll see.
Combine these two facts - a death in the family and 8 weeks pregnant - and stir. And I'm exactly as tired as you imagine. Bone tired, weepy tired, dishes left in the sink for two nights tired. TIRED.
There's something poetic about the end of life and the beginning of one overlapping just a little. Maybe when I'm better rested I'll have more to say about that.
Until then, good night.
PS I realize by combining two pieces of information that have conflicting responses in the same post, I'm putting any commenters in an awkward position. Do you congratulate or send condolences? Sorry about that. Let's hold off congratulations and happy baby chatter until week 13. Christmas is our goal; if I make it to Christmas, more than likely I really am going to stay pregnant. So December 26 you can congratulate and I will gladly receive it. Until then, I'm just doing the next thing. And right now, the next thing is Granny's funeral.
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