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Being so very pregnant, one of the questions people tend to ask is “Have you had any cravings?” I guess you wonder if they mythology of cravings is true. During my first pregnancy experience, i started out feeling nauseous often, but felt better as long as I didn’t get very hungry. I had aversions to almost every fruit and vegetable– just looking at a banana or salad gave me heartburn and made me want to gag. The only things i wanted were white or tan foods: bread, baked goods, grits, creamy soup. It did not help that i was working in a bakery at the time.
The second time and this time, i have fared a bit better. As i poured my third cup of Pink Lemonade just now (it is a small cup, i should mention), i remembered every foodstuff that i have just had to have in the past 8ish months. For those interested, here they are:
First, sushi, with plenty of wasabi. Eel and tuna were faves. Sorry, Asher– I didn’t know you were there yet.
If no sushi was to be had, something spicy and Mexican would do.
Next, while feeling frequently nauseated, the only thing that ever sounded appetizing was Chick-Fil-A sandwiches, which i would gladly have eaten for lunch every single day.
Lucky Charms were the first thing in the history of three pregnancies that i actually begged Brian to go out one night and get. It wasn’t the middle of the night or anything, it was probably like 9, but i was soooo tired, and it really felt like i might die without those Charms.
Cheese is always a good one. Once while walking by the cheese section at the grocery, i found myself staring– the Havarti! The Gouda! The Brie! When i realized i was lusting over dairy products– out in public, no less– i was pretty embarrassed.
Then it got hot out, and i ate watermelon like crazy. And cucumbers. And then there was pink lemonade. It absolutely has to be pink. That was the second thing i sent Brian for. Once i had the idea of pink lemonade in my head, there was no way to drink anything else, and again, i might just die if i do not get a glass immediately. Thank God for a husband who humors me. And that the grocery store is barely a mile away, if even that. And that Pink Lemonade Kool-Aid runs about 10 cents a packet.
Yesterday i was driving and caught Charles Stanley in part of a radio sermon. Do you know how much i love those? Now, usually I prefer music, but there’s nothing like the perfectly-timed radio program when I need help focusing the mind, as the case may be while driving through traffic with my pair of crazy littles doing God-knows-what (generally about a million “Why?”s from her and some yelling from him,) in the back seat.
The day before i’d been in Target with one (thankfully) sweet 3 1/2 year old and one nearly two-year-old who was making quite the scene; he has reached a whole new level of tantrum-throwing. We were almost done with our shopping and we’d been doing just fine, but i’d bought a carton of milk, and by the time we reached the register it had leaked all over Oliver’s shoes. Okay. The cashier tells me to just go exchange it. Simple enough, right?
The tantrum-inducing issue for Oliver is hand-holding. I tell him this: you are little, so if you want to walk through the store, you must hold my hand. Then i set him down, and he is happy for the half moment until i grab his hand. Instantly he starts screaming that horrible high-pitched, eardrum-busting anxiety-inducing noise he’s perfected recently, and drops his body weight onto the floor.
My choices: drag him by the arm through the store, kicking and screaming, or carry him under my arm like a football (since he will be trying to hit and kick me if i hold him), kicking and screaming. Either way, i am going to feel like everyone is staring at me thinking “Oh, my. Can’t handle the ones she has and about to have another one. Tsk, tsk.” So that day i went for the football hold.
And when we got across the store to the milk, I discovered that every carton of the milk i was trying to find was leaking. So back across the store to the register we go, still kicking and screaming, mind you. “Can i just get a refund for the leaky milk?” I ask. Well for that, i will need to go to the customer service desk over there. At this point i’m sweating. I am that mom. The rest of the world, it seems, looks on in pity or disgust.
Finally we troop out to the car, pile in and crank the A/C up, and on the radio are the last few minutes of a family radio show I sometimes listen to. The host is closing with these words “We had six children, and in retrospect, if we could change anything, we’d have had more.” Fade in a song chorus of a parent singing to child, “Now i see you are a blessing and not a burden…” And like a rainbow after a flood those words sit right on my heart: Reminder that those are true words, that God has not given me more than I can take, and that it’s not my strength i need to be relying on anyway. That though I am deeply grateful for my children, I find myself viewing them as a burden.
Is my stress during Oliver’s tantrum because of my pride– because i want to look to the rest of the world like I’m effortlessly doing a good job? Is it simply because a child mid-tantrum is so stressful to be around? Is it because sometimes i see so much of myself reflected in that moment? Because like my son, i do not want to hold hands, to need help or to submit to a plan that’s not mine.
The wonder of it is even in my tantrums, whatever form they take, God does not lose patience with me, but loves me right on through. Lord, let me love with that love, with Your love.
We got the car seat taken care of– the only thing we truly needed to be prepared.
Oliver is now sleeping with a child-proof doorknob thing, which took all the fun out of trying to escape his bed. He is sleeping once again, and order has returned to my world. (With toddlers life all hinges on sleeptimes/naptimes.)
My sweet sister, known around here as Aunt NiNi, is visiting for a week to help us out. Praise the Lord for Aunt NiNi. She is so helpful with the kids, and of course i am more than happy to get a week with her, since we’ve been separated by the state of North Carolina for the past four years.
The Patient is on the mend and doing much better indeed. In fact, his doc raised the weight limit that he can lift from 3-5 lbs to “5-10, if neccessary.” Today we went for a brisk walk around the ‘hood. After we returned home, Stella gave me a big hug and remarked, “Mom, you smell so sportsy!” She said it like it was a good thing….
We visited the public library yesterday, something i had not attempted with both kids in a while; since Oliver reached the age of running away (a feat easily accomplished at the library, where the kids section has no doors (why, oh why?), and all the rest of the doors to the building are opened with the touch of a toddler-height handicap-access button). The trip was a success– a little reading, some puzzles, good books for everyone– until we checked out, and the librarian informed me in a hushed tone, “Ma’am, you’ve got a twenty-four dollar fine on your account.” Gulp. Aren’t library fines supposed to run more in the twenty-five cent range? Well, there’s my little problem with schedules and responsibility… we’d reached the max amount on several items. Whoops.
My resolve this week: learn to write things on a calendar in order to remember them.
It is pretty obvious from my posts (and, i’m sure, conversations) lately that I’m not-so-patiently awaiting the baby. Not-so-patiently living my days with my sweet kids, groaning (sometimes in an uncharacteristic display of drama, I’m afraid) as i bend down to put on their shoes or sweep up the floor, or move to get up from sitting on the floor.
You know how i struggle always to live with discipline or to “get it done,” as we say around here. Well, yesterday i did spend some significant time journaling in prayer (rather than my frequent ritual (during the kids’ naptime) of a nap followed by a hit-and-run session in the Word). This little verse in Phillipians (3.13&14) got me good:
“…I am focusing all my energies on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I strain to reach the end of the race and receive the prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us up to heaven.”
I thought of how, before i was impatient about Asher, i was impatient to go on vacation with my family. Before that, about moving out of the townhouse. And before that, about finding somewhere to move. You see the trap? I know so little about “focusing all my energies” on anything, and especially when it comes to the invisible, that I am always putting my stock in these small things, waiting for something to happen or to fall in place, and then wondering why i tend to slip back into a sense of purposelessness.
Shortly after I returned to Christ and subsequently to church, about 6.5 years ago, i went through a membership process at church. There was material to read explaining the core values and purpose, and then an one-on-one interview, and then i was a member. It was a little intimidating. But in the booklet with all the important stuff, i remember this principle, which I am paraphrasing here, that said “At our church, we believe that full devotion to Christ is a normal part of life for each believer.” Now, that stopped me short. As a person who had always had partial devotion to Christ, i couldn’t get that one. Full devotion? Normal? For all of us who believe? Isn’t that a bit drastic, a little too much to ask?
Part of my problem lies in my personality. I mean, i am uncomfortable being fully devoted to lunch plans. I like the option to change my plans at any time. Ask my husband how much that drives him crazy. Over these elapsed years though, i’ve grown to understand and to believe that truth, which i will not deal with further today. (I tried, but it’s just way more than one post) But along with every other human in history, my “full devotion” is often subject to my selfish whims, my moment-to-moment wishes.
So in my impatience, I am reminded that a life spent waiting around doesn’t at all resemble a life in which i “strain to reach the end of the race and receive the prize;” that my focus is so shifting because it is so very small. The things i hope for are not bad things, but they quickly diminish compared to the prize of complete fellowship with Christ, of taking part in His Glory forever.
You’re not even born yet, and already i love you. That is just one of the reasons i want you to hurry up and get here. Hold on a minute while i put my swollen feet up. Okay. The thing is, son, that even though your estimated due date is a month from yesterday, you are already “full term” according to the doctor. Then the other thing is that when Stella couldn’t understand how long we’d be waiting till your birth, i told her that it would be after Court and Stu’s wedding, which was Saturday. So now she’s ready. I’m ready. I’m pretty sure your dad and brother will become ready as soon as you arrive, a visible individual among us, and no sooner, so they’ll be fine whenever.
Today we washed your clothes and got them folded up all cute and tiny in your dresser. Also today i got an Ace bandage to wrap around my stomach– i think i’ve pulled a muscle carrying you around while doing other things as well. I’m wishing i could escape my body to breathe in a full breath. And much as i am amazed to feel you kicking around in there, I wish you wouldn’t get so worked up when it’s bedtime or in the middle of the night. And speaking of kicking, whatever you find so amusing about kicking on my bladder all the time, rest assured is not so much fun for me. I can say all this because i’m your mom, and you’re going to be getting lots more instructions from me over the years, so you can go on and prepare for that.
I’m growing weary of backaches and of never being able to set you down; i’m growing so excited to finally see your little face, and i’m just growing constantly as you fatten up in there. That’s another thing– i want you fat and happy that’s for sure, but if you could make your exit before exceeding the eight pound mark, that would be great.
Your Aunt Steph is coming to visit soon to help large and uncomfortable me (and your invalid dad– remember– no lifting anything over 5 pounds for a month!) out with Stella and Oliver. Good thing too, because i simply can’t keep up. Not to mention there is something about these final weeks that saps my patience. I remember this happening before Oliver’s birth, and trying so hard not to feel it, but being so very on edge. I think God might do this in preparation for the glories of childbirth– making me so achy and uncomfortable and crabby that birthing a little human actually doesn’t sound so bad after all. Ha.
Either way, I pray you’ll join us soon, healthy and happy. I pray we’ll all be prepared for your arrival. The only thing we don’t have prepared is the baby car seat, which is missing but your dad swears he knows where it is. If you go on and make your way out, he’ll be under the pressure of buying a new one, which i’m sure will cause the old one to reappear with haste. So don’t worry little, we’re all set whenever you are.
Aching and Anticipating,
Your Mom.
I took Brian to the hospital today. He needed some minor surgery to repair an umbilical hernia– which is where there’s been a separation (a hole) in the muscles near your belly button and now something that’s supposed to be held back by those muscles is poking through. Pretty gross stuff, i know. “You were probably born with a weak spot in those muscles,” the Dr. told him at the appointment that preceded the surgery, “What’s coming through now is fatty tissue. If your intestines start to come through, then you really have a problem.” Um, yeah. That was the point at which Brian signed up for the surgery.
So we rolled into the hospital at 7:30 am, and i waited while he was prepped. When the nurse brought me back to wait with him, there was my husband in his hospital bed, all suited up in the hospital gown and hospital socks and hooked up to some IV fluids. It wasn’t until the surgeon came back and began to review the procedure he was about to perform that i began to get genuinely woozy. I have an aversion to all things “hospital,” but it’s the IV that i really cannot handle. Silly me, I thought it would not be a problem since i was not personally having any needles poked into any veins today, (though i cannot entirely banish the knowledge that they are going to do this when i go in to have the baby). I was wrong.
As the good doc poked around demonstrating that “if you feel right here, you can tell that there’s a hole in the muscle tissue,” everything began to go blurry, and that familiar cold sweat came over me. He wasn’t talking to me so much as B, so i sat back and tried to just breathe a lot in hopes the moment would pass. By the time he was leaving the room, things were nearly black, so when he looked at me funny, i confessed “I’m passing out, here.” A nurse came to bring me a cool cloth (and there we were in a hospital, so i guess that’s the Official Remedy) and Brian advised me to put my head between my knees, which of course is completely impossible. Slowly things began to come back into focus. The Dr. returned, asking if lightheadedness is a problem i’ve experienced with pregnancy. No, just with needles, i answered. I was a little embarrassed, since when you look like you could give birth any minute and go around passing out it draws a bit of attention (at least in my experience– which is (!) not limited to today’s).
So, after a dose of something which induced lots of talking and slurring of words, Brian was off to surgery. The operation was predicted to last about 15 minutes, and we’d naively expected to get out of the hospital around 10 am. Of course, it didn’t actually start till 10:30. At noon, they called me back “to speak with the doctor,” which made me a little nervous, but i guess that’s what they always do. He explained that instead of fixing one hernia, there were at least half a dozen, so it the process took a bit longer. Recovery restricts B to “light activity” for four weeks– walking is okay, yard work is not. Surfing is obviously out. And no lifting anything more than 15 pounds, which includes our children, for that whole month. This may be a challenge.
As i type, the patient is recovering well. He is as hungry as always, which i think is a good sign, but has learned that most movement involves the abdominal muscles, which you never really notice until you work too hard one day or get sliced open for surgery.
Interestingly, Stella had the same sort of umbilical hernia as a baby, which caused her belly button to stick out like a pop-up turkey timer every time she cried. “She’ll outgrow it as her muscles strengthen,” said the pediatrician, and sure enough she did. Then just a couple weeks ago at a routine preg. check-up, my doctor proclaimed that i, too, have the same condition, and that it may “need to be checked out” after Asher is born. Clearly, we need to be doing some sort of core-strength workouts in our household, so we can get a handle on the weak abdominal muscles that apparently plague a full 75% of the family. Crunches, anyone?
I have a hard time sticking with projects, so it is with a great feeling of accomplishment that i tell you that tonight I got something done! By that I mean an entire project has been completed. That thing is that my kids now have their own rooms– a girly girl room for Stells, and a boy room for Oliver (which Asher will eventually share.) Stella’s new curtains and bedding were made by me, which was the bulk of the project. I thought i would never finish, seeing as Oliver’s anti-sleep situation has drastically cut down on my getting-things-done time around here. (On another good note, i think we are moving toward the end of that nightmare.)
Other highlights were (at last!) the clearing of the former “box room” (now Oliver’s), and, in a demonstration of great patience in the face of irritating domestic responsibility, the disassembly and immediate reassembly of the crib (just a bit too wide to fit through the door) by Brian. Adorably enough, brother and sister didn’t want to part ways at bedtime; it must be strange because they have always shared a room. But each is now soundly sleeping in his/her room. Relief and rest reign through all three bedrooms of our sleeping house. Even I am on my way to bed at this (barely, but still) pre-midnight moment. Ahhh.
