We Have No Pants

My folks dropped by for a three-day visit (they'll be back in two-weeks). We toured the hospital where Dr. Dad and Nurse Mom meet Dr. Evita, saw the labor ward, and noted the highly professional medical facilities. Dad bought a gift for Dr. Evita. Fancy chocolate you might ask? No. A pocket-sized doppler. Mom couldn't stand having the doppler in the house and Baby S. to use it on. So before handing over the gift, dad administered an at-home check-up and we listened to the heartbeat--thud-thud, thud-thud.

Another highlight was the 7 a.m. walk with dad. He said hi to every person we passed, picked up a newspaper, and we were back home just as Ben and mom rolled out of their beds. With hazy lazy eyes they gazed at us, disgusted by morning-people who sip coffee and have the boldness to welcome the day with a "Good morning!"

On Friday while the guys fastened in the car seat, mom and I attacked the baby room with stealth. At one point I commented, I guess several times that "we have no pants" (in lue of trying to find baby pants) at which point the guys stuck their heads in the room and said, "You have no pants??" Ben continued to repeat "We have no pants" throughout the day at random moments suffering us all into giggles and laughs.

It was great having mom and dad around. The next time they see us, life could be totally different. Though some things may never change like morning walks, morning "good mornings", and jokes on who has "no pants".

Family time is good time. And sometimes it's funny too.

Pregnancy Update and Refresher

In lue of our delivery date nearing (Feb 13th), here's a brief update and refresher of already known facts and maybe some new ones.

Facts:

• At week 37, I'm considered full-term.
• Total weight gain (all the ladies want to know) is 22lbs.
• My folks will be here for either the delivery or post-delivery. First they have medical training in a nearby state, and afterwards will fly to Hyderabad arriving on the due date of Baby S.
• We (still) do not know the sex of our baby (and won't). Yes we have a hunch and that's a secret.
• A name has not been nailed down, but we're close.
• The baby room is furnished with a crib, makeshift changing table (aka: single bed), diapers, clothes, wipes, and my favorite, a rocking chair.
• Continued exercise throughout the pregnancy has freed me from too many aches and pains, though I am ready to sleep on my tummy, practice yoga moves, and run again.
• Specific cravings: apple juice just before bed and oranges. Lots of oranges!
• Ben will take time off for baby/mother caring.
• Ben's folks have tickets for mid-March. They'll stay two weeks. And volunteered to babysit so Ben and I can take a date for our three-year anniversary.
• Baby S. has regular bouts of hiccups.
• I've read them all!, picked and nibbled at some great concepts, thrown out legalism, and come across one or two great reads. Feedings, sleep schedules...thank you for the grace of Your guidance.
• And finally, Feb is a popular time for babies due to the auspicious time that comes nine months prior--May. A religiously-held "lucky" time to marry, thus conceive as well, on the wedding night. We joined the ranks without even knowing it!

Time Keeps on Ticken

The clock is ticken.

Week 36 ends. Month nine and no turning back. Dr. Evita will begin to evaluate the "readiness" of my body to deliver. The hospital bag is (partially) packed. The crib is (partially) prepared. Baby clothes are drying on the line outside. Grandparents have tickets to India. I'm tired. Fatigued. Anxious. I can't wait to meet you! Ben arranges for the installment of an AC so the whole family doesn't melt this summer. I stay awake at night baby names whirling in my head. Ben does the Bill Cosby impression of Lamaze breathing. We think it's hilarious. Labor won't be.

The clock is ticken.

Labor and Delivery 101

Ben was doing his homework last night. Reading through a chapter "for spouses only" in the pregnancy book, let out a few gasps, asked some provoking questions ("They do WHAT with forceps?!") and landed on the section about cheering his beloved wife through "pushing." This conversation followed...

So Babe, do you want me to cheer "push, push, push" along with the doctor, or should I kick everyone out?

Well Hon, I really don't how I'll feel right th.....

But think of this: when you are running a race, are you encouraged by people cheering for you?

Yes, actually I...

Alrighty then. I'll have the doctor and staff line up and, "Give me an L, give me an I, give me a B.."

I'm not sure if humor will be the best for me right th...

No. It's gonne be great. We're bringing in the pom-poms.

Not only do have to worry about forceps, I now have the head-cheerleader planning routines to chant our way through delivery, pom-poms and all.

Clippin' n' Snippin'

Today I am clippin’ n’ snippin’. It’s called “nesting” and I’m supposed to be madly dashing around the house dusting every nook and cranny, killing every cell and molecule no matter how miniscule, of germs I may find. I’m supposed to be folding and unfolding baby clothes, testing out every cream, every ointment and every medication that will be put on, under or into my baby. Ben, on the other hand, is supposed to be finding new hobbies he’s never loved before but now finds great pleasure in, like assembling a 500-piece do-it-yourself “easy-to-assemble” bookcase in 15 minutes flat. Or planting a crop of corn in the dust of our front yard and grunting at the end of the day how fulfilled he feels, how he’s “redeemed the day.”

I’ll definitely let you know when this happen. Maybe that’s what today was? Today I clipped and snipped off “for sale” tags on baby clothes, toys, and blankets. I definitely have a sense of satisfaction. Like removing the “Do Not Ever Remove” tag off your pillow. So I did this with some baby’s clothes, etc. More plastic containers to fill, so there was also time spent arranging miniature everythings. I have a sense of satisfaction in appearing organized for the time being. Ben hasn’t planted a new crop or assembled any bookcases lately. But he is working hard to keep the car clean, dust his bike, replace broken tub lights, hang framed art, manage finances, suggest ideas for the baby room, take me diaper shopping, check the health of our plants… oh wait. That’s all normal.

Nesting. Hum. What does it mean to you?

Beautiful Foot

I never liked my feet. I ran around barefoot for a good 10 years before I was forced to wear socks and shoes. During those ten years, I had some tough toes. But I also suffered severe pain from my heels that cracked and bled. My feet have an allergic reaction, different than athlete's foot, when left uncovered. My dad often bandaged them up in long strips of white cloth until the hurt healed.

So my torn, bleeding and calloused feet really were ugly. But it wasn't until I was 18 years old that the truth about my feet was realized. Flying high above the lush forests of Madagascar in a six-person airplane, I was reading my Bible. Romans 10:15, How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news. It came at me sharp like a blade.

For it was on this day that I had spent many hours with abondanded and rejected twins. Nestled in a small village, twins were a curse and a taboo, literally thrown away. The forgotten ones. I'd spent the day in a rescue home for the twins. It was one of the first moments in my life where a tangible expression of sin crushed me, heart and soal, so tremendously.

From that day on, my feet became beautiful. And Romans 10:15 became my life verse. I felt like God had whispered a personal, tangible message of his love and dreams for my life. He took my uglyness and made it good.

So it's no surprise that at our last ultrasound, all Ben and I were able to see were feet, and more feet. Our baby was all folded up, and all he/she allowed us to see were feet. What beauitful feet.

Aweful Mystery, Mysterious Joy

Every day I am forced into the reality of this pregnancy. Every day I am forced to see the miracle of this child growing in my womb. Catch me in a quiet moment with my hand on my belly, and you'll find a smile as my fingers feel this child's foot pressed against my tightened skin. Find me in the doctor's office with red slightly swollen ankles and aching joints on my hands, and you'll find us in conversation about delivery, where, when and how. Find me on a morning walk as I am able, but listening to the tones of my body. As I listen, I am forced to sometimes slow down, sometimes speed up, lie down, or put my feet up. I am forced into the miraculous reality of this wonderous child. God could have chosen any way to bring a child into this world, but He chose this aweful mystery and mysterious joy of bearing children to bore by woman. What a mysterious God is He.