Thursday, January 20, 2011

Dear Diary...We're Down to the Wire

Sometimes I feel really sad that I have all but forsaken my personal blog in my efforts to Bloom. Mostly because it is, for the most part, the only form of journaling I do, which means I haven't had much in the way of a journal for a while. For example, I have hardly written down anything about this 3rd pregnancy of mine. I haven't jotted down how much harder it has been physically. How the nausea came sooner, lasted longer, and came with more fervor this time. How my round ligament pain started early and has persisted all along the way. How this time I realized that I don't have to wake Taylor up at 2 a.m. to rub my cramping legs, I just have to get out of bed and walk a few laps around the downstairs until they subside. How a big bowling ball belly doesn't feel quite as charming and cute as the first two times around, but I've finally embraced it. How I finally understand why women give up wearing stilettos and opt for flats. And how I'll never say again: "What is up with pregnant women walking funny?" It's all been harder this time. But I always try to remember that I shouldn't complain. I've never been on bed rest or hospitalized. I don't even throw up, I just feel like it. So I'm pretty lucky, let's be honest.

But really, after journaling some of those thoughts, I'm not sure what else I would say. Life rolls swiftly along, and my job is to keep up with it--as gracefully as I can possibly manage. Thankfully I have more energy lately. It must be the nesting kicking in. I'm painting and decorating and organizing and de-junking with gusto. It feels really good. I want my nursery ready and my life organized and my family well-fed. I want my boys' lives to be exciting and full of learning and adventure. I want to perform all of my church and community jobs energetically and lovingly. I want to keep nesting and creating and serving and hosting until the moment I go into labor. I am doing my best, but don't get me wrong. It's not all chocolate cake and pink ribbons. Some days I'm still in my big, gray, elastic-ankled (more like elastic-Kankled) sweats when my husband gets home from work. Some days Blaine is 2 hours late to preschool. Some days I yell and then cry at my dear little children because they are making mischief and I'm not able (more like not willing) to control my response. And things are getting scratched off the to-do list left and right. Like making my own hospital gown. I guess I'll just have to have another set of newborn photos with me in an ugly gown with 'central laundry' stamped on the front. And the rainbow velour living room chair that I despise will have to remain rainbow velour a while longer because I just can't tackle a slipcover right now. I think I've finally learned to let go of things that don't really matter.What's really in the forefront of my 'preparing for baby' mind frame is my children. Are they ready for this? Most of the time they are happy, wrestling, snuggling, donut-munching, imagining, carefree little boys. But there are struggles. Blaine got his claws out this morning and hit me in the eye. I cried heartily. Partly because it hurt pretty bad but mostly because I wish I knew how to help him put his claws away permanently. And Rog is probably upstairs peeing in his Thomas the Train undies as I write this. Sometimes in the midst of all the chaos I look at Taylor and dramatically exclaim, "We are about to add another one! What are we thinking?!"

Thankfully, Taylor and I have never been more in love. He makes me feel like I matter and that I'm succeeding at my job. He helps me paint walls that he thinks don't need painting. He thanks me for the things I do for him. He makes me feel beautiful. And he is the best teammate imaginable. So that makes me feel stronger. When he holds me as I sob about Blaine's claws, I know I am not running this marathon alone.And, throughout all of this, my little babe nudges me from inside. Nudge, nudge he says. And I tap back and give him a little rub. It seems that as my belly grows, so does my love for him, so does my capacity to do all of this.

He's almost here. And I think we'll be ready.

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