Too Short

If you ask to hold my baby and notice a flash of wildness in my eyes and notice my mother arms clutch a little tighter, don't take it personally.

I'm in a soaking-in-the-sweetness moment.  

Call it apronstringitis that struck really early.  The 3-6 month clothes are waiting in the wings.  I'm pushing those away, but it's a battle soon lost.  Tomorrow he'll be bigger.  He's growing.

These feelings also strike at night when I've been up taking care of him and the bed calls.  It will be one of those wee morning hours.  He'll be fed and asleep.  We could get back to bed, but his babyness has a firm grip on my heart strings.  It's quiet, no one else is vying for their turn, and I can enjoy the moment.

Or two or three.

I love it.

Eventually the voice of reason starts talking, whispering things about extreme tiredness and the list of to-do's for the next day.  Since I'm already sleep deprived, the voice eventually wins, but not without a battle.  At least I've had my moment. 

Not that I don't also love watching others enjoy him, especially my husband and other children.  But this baby time is so short, as I've seen with my six others.

Then again, the three's and seven's and nine's and twelve's and fifteen's and sixteen's are short too, and I need to enjoy and appreciate those as well.

Don't mind me.  There's a piece of heaven in my arms.

Hard vs. ... Yep, Hard

(I need to stop writing out posts and forgetting to reread the next day before publishing.  Just found this one waiting from 6 weeks ago.)

I really am not one to complain, specifically at least, but this pregnancy has in many ways been much harder than any of the others.  At almost 28 weeks, I still have a lot of uphill to go.  I don't like thinking about myself and coddling myself, and it looks like I'm going to need to do that even more.  I've already been wearing support hose on one leg from pretty early on because varicose veins went nuts.  Now, after a 4th glucose tolerance test (we're not even going to talk about that), my doc's office called to say some of my numbers were high and they want me to talk to a dietitian to "help me out."  I'm feeling fine, thanks, no help necessary.  But the appointment is set, and I shall be dutiful and go.  I know I also have plenty to look forward to, like my standard super achy ribs on my right side.

But this too shall pass.

After all, it's this little friend currently giving my lots of kicky hellos I'm doing this all for, right?  (How I wish there was a window to peek in and see what is poking me, because we sure are active tonight.)  Trying, really trying to keep my mind busy elsewhere and keep perspective in mind.

Plus, plenty of people have a way harder time at this than I do.  The only time I've even really felt sick during this entire pregnancy was when I puked my 2nd glucose tolerance test (wait, I wasn't going to talk about that.  But really, regurgitating super sweet syrupy test beverage is not something I would EVER care to repeat, making tests 3--the retake--and 4--12 weeks later--seem like momentous accomplishments).

Yesterday evening, I happened upon this little gem:  "You will come to know that what appears today to be a sacrifice will prove instead to be the greatest investment that you will ever make" (Gordon. B. Hinckley).  Looking at my 6 other children, I have to agree with him.  Not that I don't still have my sacrifices for them, but the gifts they possess are amazing.  Even the drive-our-mom-crazy talent that some of them have in such abundance.  :)

Trying to enjoy the journey.  With all the extra issues this round, I feel like my body is resigning its creation job, probably leaving what's left of my mind to do the creating from now on.

My Maternity Clothes are Revolting

Does anyone really like wearing maternity clothes? Try as you may, they really are not very flattering. I've had comments from people telling me how cute I look, but I know it's not true. There was a time maybe, but at over 8 months pregnant I think I'm beyond the cute stage and have most definitely moved onto the "wow, you look miserable" stage. About a month ago I had someone act surprised when I told them I'm expecting. Hello, I'm not stupid.

While I'm always happy to be done with maternity clothes and move back to the real deal, this time it's different. My maternity clothes are revolting against me. I'm not sure how to take this turn of events. Can they do that? I must say that with all this belly sticking out I'm surprised I haven't created any holes in my shirts, but the pants, oh the pants. One pair is quickly wearing a hole a few inches above the knee, though I haven't figured out why or how in such a spot (it's worse now than when I took this picture).

Another pair is getting holes and runs galore in the stretchy panel.

I made some fabulous repairs, and within a week I have another gaping hole.

I'm feeling a lot more gratitude for them and all I ask them to do. More humble knowing that if they choose to totally fail me I won't have many options left, especially since I am NOT buying any more at this point. In light of all that...

Dear Maternity Pants,

I know I complain about you. I know that with 4 weeks to go I've been weighing more than I have at delivery every other time. I know that I've asked you to snuggle around me and 2.9 babies now [bought while pregnant with baby #4]. I know I keep joking that I'm going to start wearing sweats or PJs everywhere I go, but I really don't want to. I do love jeans. Yes, even if they have stretchy panels on them. I don't want to look slobby everywhere I go. Can you please please please hold together for just a few more weeks? I promise to give you a very well-deserved break after that. After all, think of all the sweetness you get to wrap that stretchy panel around.

Love,

Me

(All ready to take to the hospital - girl outfit and blankie in case it's a girl, boy outfit and blankie in case it's a boy.)