37 weeks--from Mr. Wilson

I had the idea for Josh to write a blog post, and I was giddy when he agreed.

Charlotte has invited me to contribute to her blog. I think she phrased it "visiting author emeritus," but it also might have been "guest writer." She also asked that I be serious.

I'll have to admit that her request is leaving me here with blogger's block. It turns out that jokes and quips are a defense mechanism I employ to avoid communicating any emotion or conveying anything about what I am feeling. How about a thought experiment?

Those who know me, take a minute and imagine a hypothetical. You are observing me speaking with someone, and I am suddenly asked a question where the only socially acceptable response would be me expressing an emotion. For example, "Josh, how is your marriage?" In your mind's eye (or ear) what was my response? Did I express my love for Charlotte and the feelings of devotion I harbor for her, which seem to grow stronger all of the time? Or did you imagine that I said something different, perhaps you imagined that my response to the question was something like, "Interminable."? So there is my point.

She wanted me to write about my thoughts on the upcoming birth of our child. When you consider the amount of emotion that is carried in a genuine answer to that query, you'll believe me when I say that writing this is a monumental internal struggle. Not because I am trying to express feelings that I don't have, but rather because I am feeling so much and I am trying to push all of it out of what has always been such a tiny outlet, like the pressure from a fire hose behind one of those plastic nozzles used to fill small water balloons.

I can't believe how much I care about someone whom I haven't met yet. Already I know that I am going to do anything to be sure that he is safe and loved and cared for. I feel relieved that I have Charlotte to share this responsibility with, and I know that she feels the same. I can't wait to teach him everything I know. I also know that it won't always be easy. Sometimes he'll need someone to play Mario Kart with, and that responibility will likely fall to me. (Hmmm. . . a joke. Old habits, I guess.) Son, I love you, and I'll do my best to be the kind of dad that I had, so that you will always feel safe and wanted at home.

That was a lot of emotion just now. I'm feeling a little dizzy, so I'd better go lie down.

-Josh

sewing marathon

My first week as a full-time homemaker looked something like this.

Now that I'm on the last leg of this project, I might venture to say that I was crazy to do it. But just look at those graphic prints. I mean, seriously, this babe is going to have a rockin' bedroom.

threadbare

The dress code at Deseret Book is a solid-color collared shirt with either slacks or a skirt. When I first started working there last fall, I invested in a couple of cute blouses from Banana Republic and was able to layer my white blouses with sweaters and vests, so most of the time I felt cute.

Once my pregnancy started progressing, however, the blouses I used to wear weren't so much an option anymore. I remained resistent to purchasing collared maternity shirts, because maternity clothes aren't super cheap, and I'd rather buy a cute t-shirt than a tent-like maternity blouse. So I made due with the shirts I had.

Borrowing an idea from a fellow pregnant coworker, I bought a white blouse at Goodwill and cut out just the collar, so I could wear it underneath regular t-shirts. Then I also had one white blouse that I could kind of button over my ever-expanding abdomen. So I wore those for the last two or three months at my job. The collar was more or less ridiculous, but it did the job, and the regular-sized white blouse lost a couple of buttons and became incredibly dingy, despite my laundering efforts.

{After taking this photo, I really did put them completely in the trash. I figured that if I didn't showcase them a little better, you'd just think they were paper towels, and I certainly never wore paper towels to work.}

So last Saturday, my last day of work, I took great pleasure in tossing those two items straight into the trash. It felt amazing. Almost as amazing as it does to be unemployed and waiting Babe's arrival.

36 weeks

Sometimes I'll walk up to Josh when he's on the couch or at the computer or sink and nudge him with my belly. We call it baby bumping.

So dorky, but so delightful.

all good things

:: John Mayer's new CD (let's just forget that in real life he's a scum bag, yeah?)
:: The fabric for the nursery

:: Homemade mac and cheese
:: Target house-brand popsicles
:: These flats from Target (and gift from Rachelle)--I wear them everywhere

:: Two more shifts at work. Two.

a Monday

This morning I woke up with a list of things to accomplish.

I cleaned the kitchen--like, scrubbing counters and mopping floor kind of clean.

And I went grocery shopping, a big grocery trip necessitated by the depletion of many household staples, like moisturizer and chocolate chips.

I also made dinner, changed the sheets, and watched some TV, so all in all, not a bad start to the week.

I was also able to cross napping off my list, even though that activity wasn't actually on the list. It sneaked its way there, and who am I to say no, right?

34ish weeks--postscript

Thank you, everyone, for your kind and uplifting comments. Yesterday I went visiting teaching and had one of those experiences when I feel like I was helped more than I was helping. I was humbled by the insight, kindness, and understanding of the women I talked with last night, and now my fears and insecurities, though not gone completely, are softened, my perspective lengthened and refined.

As I was talking with these friends yesterday, I felt Babe move a lot. He'd shift so that his bum was pressed hard against me or his elbow poked my side and stayed there. With each movement I was filled with so much love, and my anxiety retreated to a more tolerable place.

So, readers, I want you to know that while I am far from fearless about entering parenthood, I can't imagine our life or family without this little person--and that makes me so happy.

34ish weeks--a freak-out

I've been reading everything I can about birth, nursing, and babies, and I think I've reached the point where rather than informing me (which has been great), my reading is now freaking me out. I'm overwhelmed with the uncertainty of all this change in my immediate future, change that I know is coming but change that I don't really know.

Yes, I know that I'll be up in the middle of the night--probably all night sometimes--and I know that lots of days I'll feel like a zombie, but I don't really know how this will affect me emotionally or mentally. I don't know how I'll change.

My mind is flooded with questions: How long will it take me to find a routine? How will I know how to comfort and reach out to my babe? Will Josh and I ever have time for each other? And what about all that laundry? I hate laundry. And underlying everything, Will I be able to find balance, to find a way to be me in the metamorphosis of motherhood?

Babe has roughly six weeks before he debuts, and sometimes six weeks seems so far away and sometimes it feels so close that my heart starts palpitating and my mind blanks in panic. The bottom line is this: I've had months and months to prepare for this, and six weeks out I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing or what I'm going to be doing or how I'm going to do it.

Six weeks. Babe is coming whether or not I'm ready, and something tells me that I'll never be ready, so I might as well accept it now and trust that I'll figure out motherhood and me as I go.

a definition

tenacity: the quality needed to spend over two hours untangling kite string for only 15 minutes of flying time

almost like Christmas

{I secretly want to take a walk with the stroller even though Babe isn't born yet.}

a Monday-ish Monday

Today's Monday felt like a Monday. You know that feeling? That Monday when not only do you have to deal with an insurance billing debacle but you also end up driving the small car to Costco and find that Target doesn't have that mini-propane grill you were hoping to buy.

On top of that you burned your finger on the baking sheet and one of the most likeable characters on your newest show died.

You know, that kind of Monday.

Looking on the bright side, though, I threw together an easy and tasty dinner and got to eat off of a plate that enables you to play with your food (nevermind that it was actually a gift for the baby).

So, I guess this Monday isn't ending so badly.