So we'll dive right in. This week has been so easy, breezy (not in real life. It's been like a tornado in real life), and laid back. I've battled a little bit of fatigue. As usual, my back hurts pretty much all of the time. I wake up several times a night, but usually fall back asleep pretty easily. Basically, I've grown accustomed to aches and pains during pregnancy, and so they really kind of roll off of me like water on a duck. No new symptoms, no doctor visits, and no severe discomfort. It. Has. Been. Wonderful.
Our Garden is finally in the ground, which usually makes the next 60 days of my life fly by, which is wonderful, because 60 days puts us in June. And June puts us a very short time away from D-Day. I always find myself super suckered into the 60 day germination process of plants, whether that be a vegetable or a flower, because I get to watch the process from seed to harvest. I watch the tiniest of plants weather the wind, occasional thunderstorm, and relentless heat. Plants really are the prettiest in the morning, and I actually get out of the bed to have my coffee on the porch to watch the flowers open during the summer. I guess I'll be doing that with Orange Juice this summer (agh, I miss coffee so much.) Anyway, I see what the plants overcome in order to grow, and it always makes me aware of the Lord and His faithfulness. That may sound weird to some of you, but I love that I need an evident and obvious Lord in my life, whether that be through Sunsets, Babies growing where doctors said they wouldn't, or through the process of plant growth. Maybe that's why I hate Winter so badly. It's harder for me to see the creative wit of the Lord. ANYWAY, it's exciting to know that the same process is happening inside of me, and even though I can't see her growing, I know she is. And though it takes much longer, I'll see the fruit of my labor in such a short time. I already get entirely too emotional when I think about seeing her in the flesh, so I already know it's worth it all. I would be okay if time moved a little faster, though.
I typed about the garden on Monday, and then a stupid cold front blew in. What?! In a way, it's one of those examples I talked about, where you look out the window and see the shivering plants in the wind... and you just know that they're dying and you'll have to buy more plants in three days. But they always survive. And produce enormous tomatoes. And I hate them by August because there are SO MANY TOMATOES. So I stop watering them. And then they really do die. And then October rolls around and all I want is a tomato, but I can't have one... because I killed the plant.
...I do believe we just went down a rabbit hole. Back to the original point: It is cold outside. Not cold enough that I wear a jacket, but cold enough that I feel silly wearing Spring colors. I demand a new groundhog, because at this point, I prefer that he would've just seen his shadow. At least these temperatures would be more acceptable. We had dinner on the porch on Monday night, and it was warm outside. I loved it. I was telling Cody that one day we can watch our baby play in the yard while we sit on the porch and hold hands. Or this summer, I can sit on the porch and watch him work the garden while my sweet baby sleeps in my arms. OR at the end of the day, when I'm exhausted from being a human vending machine and he's exhausted from hearing her cry in the middle of the night, we can sit on that porch and cry together while she snores inside. I was so excited, because her impending arrival seemed SO close... and the next day, the cold was back. And she felt so far away again. Isn't it funny how the weather can dictate our moods? Especially if your hormones are feeling a little out of control anyway. And they have. I don't know what's going on this week, but I need Cody's affection, affirmation, or presence. I think he secretly loves it, because I'm generally not super clingy to him. I love talking to him, texting him, and being around him in general, but I've never really NEEDED the display of affection. Um, I sure do now. Like, I literally get sad if he doesn't reach for my hand while we're walking somewhere. Or if he doesn't hug me as soon as he walks in the door, my world crumbles. Or if he hasn't said "I love you" in an appropriate amount of time, I feel strangely out of place in my own home. It's weird, and I hate it. It's hard enough to feel like I'm getting fat, but it's even harder to feel like a clingy girlfriend. Fortunately, he knows that it's my hormones, and he's been so wonderful about random displays of affection, "You're so Pretty" comments, and more snuggles in general. It's been wonderful. And weird. It's like the first 6 months of marriage all over. You know, those days where it's okay to kiss with morning breath and it's okay to cuddle in bed on a Saturday until noon. Don't pretend like those things are still okay. They aren't. I know it, you know it.
Have I ever told you how much I HATE charley horses? I've only had a few of them the first 23 weeks, and if we're being honest, it was the kind where you recognize the very beginning of the pain and you instantly freeze what you're doing so it passes. Well, THOSE days are over. Last night, I woke up and noticed that my right leg was twitching. Kind of the same sensation as when your eye twitches when you're tired. Intrigued and confused simultaneously, I rolled over and stretched my legs before I prepared to fall back into my coma. Except when I stretched my leg, I felt that same familiar twinge. I stopped moving, but my leg didn't. Pain. So much Pain. Sometimes it felt really cool to feel (and see) the muscle contracting; but most of the time, it hurt. I survived the first wave and thought to myself "Well that was less than pleasant." And not even ten seconds later, it flared back up. Twelve minutes, I fought that charley horse. TWELVE minutes. And then the left leg flared up around minute eight. I had two charley horses at the same time, in different legs. Ask me what Cody did throughout the torture? Slept. And snored. I don't know how he slept through my contraction-like breathing. I tried to stretch my legs while the pain hung out, but it only made it worse. I finally stood up beside the bed and noticed that it brought a little relief, so I paced my bedroom floor for awhile. Since then, my right leg has been so horribly sore. I wake up at night whenever I move my leg, though I'm not sure if the pain or fear wakes me up, but to say that I'm tired is a bit of an understatement. I eat at least 3 bananas a day now, and I haven't had any problems since.
I am entering into the "Tired of being Pregnant" phase. And before you laugh to yourself and shake your head condescendingly, just be aware that I know that I still have 3 more months. Be aware that I KNOW that the hard times are coming. I know that a baby is going to be too big for my stomach and in my ribs. I know that a baby is going to make it feel like I'm in a continual state of exhaustion. I know that the pressure from a baby preparing to make her appearance is going to be fairly uncomfortable. I know. I have been warned, informed, terrified, and made aware of each of these facts. That doesn't change the fact that I have been pregnant for the past six months. I've been pregnant, irritable, tired, and achy for six months of my life, and I'm really just ready to move past this phase. I've had surgery, been poked with more needles than I care to count, felt completely out of control, and cried more tears than I've ever cried in my life. I am SO thrilled to see this baby that the Lord so craftily put together inside of me through it all, and I don't think there's anything wrong with being more excited to see her than to keep her inside. When she moves, my heart takes flight. When I look at her ultrasound pictures, my enthusiasm is almost uncontainable. I love bonding with her through the limited resources available, but it's time. It's time to be okay with her coming into our world and wrecking it completely. It's time to be okay with knowing that even though this world is so scary (I was never really aware of how scary until I was responsible for another life,) she's not mine. It's time accept that she belongs to the Lord now, tomorrow, and forever... and there's something comforting about it. I know that when she's in my arms and looks so much like her daddy that I burst into tears, it'll be harder to acknowledge that she doesn't belong to me, but I would prefer that her life belong to the one that made me her mom. I want to be okay with sending her to school, playing at a park, or even going to an annual check up. Pregnancy hormones bring so many negative thoughts to light, whether that be everything that can go wrong in a pregnancy, or everything that can go wrong after she's here, and I hate it. I love that I already love her so much, but I'm ready to be captivated by peace instead of battling my hormones for a positive mindset. I'm just being real, honest, and open with all of you at the moment. I used to be so judgmental of whiny pregnant women. Because at that phase of my life, all I knew is that those women had what I wanted more than anything, and that I would be the most thankful pregnant woman in the world. Everyone would be blown away by my love and appreciation for my growing fetus. I am so blessed and thankful to be so incredibly humbled by my ignorance. Pregnancy is hard. And your outlook on life is continually transitioning. You learn quickly that there are things that matter, and there are things that don't, but every facet of your life revolves around how it will affect your baby. It changed my outlook on my marriage (in a positive way,) friendships, relationship with the Lord, and life in general. Growing this baby has eternally changed the way I think, and though it's made me entirely too cautious at times, I will never judge another pregnant woman's complaints. I understand now that sometimes you just want your back to stop hurting long enough to eat dinner. Sometimes, you just wish that the baby on your bladder was asleep on your chest. Sometimes, you're so sick of opinions from other people that you want to retreat into your closet and stay there until your baby is born. Pregnancy is worth it all, but it's hard, and I'm ready to kiss my baby's toes.
Okay. Soapbox Sermon over. Here's the bump! I took my regular picture, but I accidentally deleted it and cried for at least five minutes. So this was three days later:
Please excuse my sweatpants. The weather was cloudier, windier, and colder that I originally planned. They aren't maternity sweats, so they made a weird line around my stomach. But I was comfortable, and that's really all that counts.
KG
Delightful as always.
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