The Two Steins

Today the kids were sitting at the table doing their homework when Emma mentioned Einstein.  Abby asked why he was such a big deal.  I said he was a mathematical genius.

Matt looked a little confused.  "I thought he didn't have a brain."

Before I could question him, Abby told him, "That's Frankenstein, not Einstein."

Post-Miscarriage Pregnancy Baggage

It has been brought to my attention that there are 55 days until Baby Day.  This was thanks to the huge bulge causing me to not fit my clothes.  And the heartburn that's piercing my chest.  Oh, and those pesky appointments the OB doctor continues to insist that I attend.

But I really am having a hard time grasping the reality of the situation.  I blame the miscarriages.

There's still a stigma of believing this baby is coming.  It's like a mental block.  Can I really let myself believe that I'll get to hold a little beautiful baby in just 55 days?  A part of me says, "Yes!"  But there's still a part of me that is afraid the answer might be No.

That's the part that has been sneaking into my brain a bit too much.  Things are obviously different this time.

Usually by this point in the pregnancy I...

• have a large stock of diapers 
• have my to-do list of cleaning nearly finished
• have baby clothes washed and put away, ready for baby
• prepare for whatever holidays will be happening directly after the baby is born
• call the baby by the name we plan to give him/her

I'm trying.  I'm really trying to have the faith that this is happening.  My small stockpile of 4 bags of diapers is slowly growing.  My cleaning to-do list is still just mentally composed, but I hope it will be on paper soon and then actually carried out.  I received a couple boxes of climate-appropriate clothing from one of Josh's coworkers and this has saved me.  I totally forgot that the few little baby clothes I have in boxes in the garage were for a baby born in Montana in December and not a baby born in Arizona in May.  I know I need to have Abby's birthday and even Matt's birthday and baptism somewhat prepared for since they will be happening pretty quickly after the baby comes.

Which brings me to my last point of hesitation.  The baby's name.  We've told the kids what we plan to name our baby.  They all refer to her by the name.  In fact, Millie not only calls the baby by her name but readily identifies things for the baby and makes the connection between the two.  So taking a cue from my 3-year-old, I have made more of an effort to call our baby by the name we plan to give her, Sarah.  Sarah Rebekah Louise.

I've learned that I'm not the only post-miscarriage pregnant woman who has been slow to accept reality.  This makes me feel better.  Maybe I'm not losing faith.  Maybe I'm just normal.  In the meantime I plan to remind myself to do the things I know I'll want done.  And it may not be until I hold that precious baby girl (Sarah) in my arms that this all finally hits me.  

55 days.

A Bit of Absurdity

We recently purchased my dad's pickup truck and camper from him.  The license plate cover on the camper reads,

American by birth 

Southern by the Grace of God

I love my Southern roots.  I have some wonderful memories of visiting our relatives in Mississippi when I was younger.  There were warm nights of sitting on the porch and eating watermelons directly out of the garden.  I drove a tractor (nearly killed me and my great-uncle, but I drove it).  My great-aunt gave me a coffee tin of flower seeds from her enormous wild flower garden.  I even got to see the small little shack my grandfather and his six siblings were all born and raised in before it was torn down a few years later.  

The other day I found the show BBQ Pitmasters on Netflix.  The Southern food, Southern accents, and Southern eccentricities has reminded me of my roots.  In fact, it's really hard not to listen to the accents and not let it slip into my own speech.  (The same thing happens when I watch movies with Southern characters.  Country Strong about did me in.)

So it may not be a surprise when today my mind wandered where it did.  It's laundry day.  You know what that means, clothes that rarely make a public appearance suddenly emerge into view.  

Today's embarrassing moment:

Let's all remember that I have two months left.

It was as I was wearing this shirt that I couldn't help but think of my redneck roots and combine that with my affinity for SNL.

Pardon the quality of this video.  Somehow, it's the only clip of this skit online, which is a real shame because it is pretty dang funny.  

And there you have it.  The absurdity of my day.

Top Ten List

If I were creative, I would make a parody of the song, Things That Make You Go Hmmm.  (Yes, I'm over 30 and I still love C+C Music Factory.)

My version would eliminate the beautiful skinny woman and replace her with a haggard, pregnant woman in pajamas.  It would be lovingly called, Things That Make You Go Ugh.


And here's why:

Top Ten Things That Make Pregnant Women in Their Third Trimester Go Ugh

10.  Heartburn

9.  Lower back pain

8.  Bathroom trips in the middle of the night

7.  Getting out of bed

6.  Getting off the couch

5.  Dropping things on the ground

4.  Outgrowing maternity clothes

3.  Braxton Hicks

2.  20 degree body heat difference

And the number 1 thing that makes pregnant women in their third trimester to go Ugh...

1.  The scale in the OB's office

Really, I've been trying not to complain.  After all, it took us over a year to conceive this baby.  But crossing into the third trimester is like a toddler on her second birthday.  One day everything is fine and the next day the Terrible Twos come out in full force.

Only 59 days till C-day.

Abby's Memory

Tonight as I was tucking Abby into bed, she made a comment that warmed my heart.

She said, "I can't wait to see Millie hold the new baby like we did when she was born."

It was the sweetest thing.

When I found out I was pregnant with Abby, Emma was only six months old and I was starting my second trimester with Ab.  I figured I'd be done having kids by the time I was 30.  But Heavenly Father had other plans for us.  Funny how that happens.

As much as I'd like to have a younger body that is pregnant right now, I am happy to have kids a bit older that can remember sweet moments like this.

And I'm glad they can remind me of these moments as well.