Week 22

Have I ever told you that I would rather curl up on a couch and read an entire novel over being involved in social group setting? Have I ever mentioned that if given the choice between seeing every major landmark in the world for free or a three week vacation at an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean, I'll choose the resort every time? I'm not sure why. I would love to see the Coliseum in Rome, or Big Ben in London, Or walk along side the Great Wall of China. I intend to visit Gettysburg and Washington D.C. before I kick the bucket. I guess what it all comes down to is that I believe vacation should be a time of rest... and that when you return from vacation, you don't wish for a vacation to recover from your vacation. When we went to Jamaica, I was in my very definition of paradise. Not because I was staring out into an ocean of seemingly endless crystal waters, not because I was waited on hand and foot, not because of the lack of responsibility, not even because of the fact that I was in one of the most romantic settings in the world with a man I've promised to love for the rest of my life. All of these factors played an intricate role in my joy, but I loved Jamaica because of the peace. Because of rest. There were no clocks, no cell phones, no time frames. I was in completely control of my surroundings at all times. If I wanted to take a nap at 11 A.M., I did. "Woah, early nap, Kaylea." False. Most mornings I was awake with the sunrise. I watched it come up over the water and basked in the sun for several hours before I took a nap. I would sleep until my eyes opened, and if they closed again three hours later, it was okay. My only distractions were sunburns and the occasional waiter making sure I wasn't dead. I fell into a such a deep sleep so quickly that I literally wouldn't move my body until I opened my eyes again. It was one of my favorite feelings. I always felt restored, rejuvenated, and as bronze as a Victoria's Secret Model (until later in the evening when the bronze turned to red and I smeared myself in aloe. I was yummy.) But even the sunburns weren't a hindrance to my happy place.

I need a vacation, y'all. Oh, wait. I already know. "Once that baby gets here it'll be a long time before you go on any vacations!" I know that. Shush. This is my blog and I'm allowed to dream. I need a vacation. I need to get away for a while and sleep on a beach. I need to fall into a sleep so deep and so peaceful that I sleep through all of the activites I planned to attend. I need to be surrounded by a relaxtion so overwhelming that the general annoyances of everyday melt away. I need to be able to curl up against my husband by the light of a bonfire underneath the stars, with my feet being teased by the tide rolling in. I need a vacation. This need for a vacation has nothing to do with my newfound heartburn, hip cramps, stomach rash, ligament stretching, foot swelling, hot flashing, and stretch marking physique. Okay, maybe it does a little bit. It's taking every ounce of self control in my body not to smash every mirror in this house. It's unfortunate, because I do love what pregnancy has done for my hair. It curls at my command, straightens without a fight, and shimmers like a diamond. My face isn't "glowing" but it's much skinnier than it's been in a long time, and I've loved seeing my jawline again. But from the head down... yikes. It takes one glance at the wrong angle to make me curl up in a ball and cry. It's not even that I find myself morbidly obese. I still smile a bit when I catch a glimpse of that belly, because it's all Ella (for now.) But there are purple lines that are jagged and less than comforting. There are blue veins from my shoulders to my feet. There are other parts of me that I feel like I used to know well, and they're far from recognizable anymore. Pregnancy is definitely a transformation, and a lot of it isn't pretty. I have an enormous rash on my belly button. Well, "around" my belly button. I initially blamed the irritation on my healing incision, but it doesn't seem to be letting up, and the incision seems to be healing well. It's irritating, unattractive, and uncomfortable. I have a rash on my arms and legs. I have a rash on my neck. All for no good, unexplained reasons. No new allergies, no changes in soaps, nothing that any of us can think of. My feet have decided to carry an odor for the first time in my life. I know it's because my feet sweat a lot more than they used to (which was never) and I wear flats everyday. I've tried socks, but ended up with sweat filled nasty bumps on my feet. I anxiously await open toe shoe season, but in the mean time, I douse my feet with powder that smells like mothballs. Isn't that gross? Try being the one with the smelly feet. My hair is oily for the first time in my entire life. I don't know why... but I have to wash it everyday. Inconvenient AND time consuming. There's some weird stuff happening to me that I have no control over. It affects my moods sometimes. Some days, I simply miss the times when I was in charge of what went on in my body. Some days, I miss that I only had to wear "fat pants" a few days of every month. Some days, I miss sleeping through the night without waking up to a bladder so full that it makes my back hurt. Some days, I just miss not being pregnant, and I pray that July comes tomorrow. And I get caught up in this fog of "blah" and "wah."

And then that baby moves. Or stretches. And my world stops spinning for a second because I know that as
soon as I try to get Cody's attention so that he can feel, she'll stop. Or as soon as I move my hand to my abdomen, she'll freeze. I've learned that she makes herself the most known to me when I learn how to be still. And stop worrying about how much weight I've gained, or that my teeth look a little yellower than usual, or how tired I look. When I just collapse on the couch and wave my white flag, she kind of reminds me why I've embarked down this path. I've learned that the Lord is the same way. I have so many fears, doubts, and worries, but when I finally learn to be still, He makes himself evident in every detail of my life. Growing this baby has opened the door for me to see how sovereign the Lord is, and that's one detail of pregnancy that I'll sincerely treasure every day of my life. Even on days when I feel look like an orb of splotches and stretch marks.

We had our sonogram yesterday. It was interesting to say the very least. I can only hope and pray that Ella is this cool, calm, and collected when she joins us on this side of the womb. I chugged orange juice before my appointment. There's absolutely no way that she couldn't have noticed. I ate an apple and peanut butter, which wakes her up any other day of the week. homegirl is ALWAYS awake about 9:15, because I wake up to her moving everyday. Not today. Today, she was practically in a coma. She had her face buried so that we couldn't see it on the 3D. She turned her back so that we couldn't measure her abdomen. She rolled even farther away when the tech tried to wake her up. Sweetest tiny frustrating baby wouldn't have it. I was so excited to see her sweet nose. I wanted to see her pouty lips and sweet hands. But instead, we were able to laugh at how she lays (on her back across my stomach with her legs up by her head.) We were able to see her sweet yawns on the 2d since it was too unclear the other way. She yawned so many times. It was the sweetest thing, we laughed every time. We were amazed at how intricately designed she is, from the measurements of her spine to the details of her toes. Her feet are so big. This girl doesn't stand a chance in the "cute feet" department. We'll be buying water ski comparable sizes in no time. Her daddy laughed and laughed at how big her feet were, but I mostly hope they're proportionate to the rest of the body. I would be okay with her being tall and skinny. Or lanky like her dad. I was always a little jealous of those girls in high school. They were always the tannest, for some reason. But if she's short and curvy like me, that will be okay too. At least then she can find a husband that's a foot taller than her, making an adorable "opposites attract" couple... When she's 30, successful, and independent like a Beyonce song. Preferably with a small dog, because she doesn't need to be lonely; but not with a dog so cuddly that it fills the void for warm arms around her. I have one of those... his name is Todd. I would cuddle with Todd over Cody any day of the week. Todd doesn't breathe down my neck or twitch his leg for no good reason. I feel that I've strayed from the point. Regardless of her body type, shoe size, or career choice, at this moment in her life, Ella is perfect. And fat. She was supposed to weigh right at a pound. She weighed one pound and four ounces. I'm a little sad about the quality of our pictures, because she looks so strange in all of them because of the distortion of the camera angles. I can still see the tiniest bit of her daddy's nose in the tiny bit of her face that we were able to see, so that made me happy. Her daddy was such an adorable kid. I don't think I've seen a single ugly picture of him, so I pray all of the time that she looks like him. Anyway, here's the only decent picture we got of stubborn girl yesterday, just keep in mind that the picture is kind of a "guess-timate" because she was moving her head while we were taking it. Hopefully at my next 3D appointment she won't be so stubborn.

I think that about covers it. I wish that I had started my nursery when I was 14 weeks and inspired instead of waiting until now, because I'm already transitioning into the "Does she really even need painted walls?" mood. It just sounds like so much work, and work in general is something I avoid right now. I'm hoping that the closer we get, I'll start getting super excited again, so the painting will be pawned onto my husband. In my defense, it took 5 samples of paint before I found an acceptable pink. So I'm on the right track, I'm just a tortoise instead of a hare. At least I'm already done registering! It was the sweetest, funniest time. My husband had the fun, though, so if you decided to give it a gander in the coming months and see something that makes you say "What??" Just remember Cody had the gun. That's why there are blue blankets and a boy boppy cover... because Cody was "sick of looking at Pink." It's true. And I guess my baby daughter knew she was getting presents, because she kicked and rolled and tumbled the entire time. It's one of my favorite memories so far. She's so intuitive. Anyway, here's the bump, sticking out a little farther this week, but still not in a way that makes you say "WOAH."