Sai-ai-ai-ling, Takes me Aw-ay-ay

So this week we took our first family sailing trip up to the Elliott Bay outstation on Gambier Island. We left on Tuesday and all three of us returned Thursday afternoon - victory indeed. We had gorgeous weather: the three sunny days of July I think, with no motor issues or sails ripping apart. Again, victory everywhere.

First photo is of Scott taking us out, Talia slung in at the helm. Hopefully this time next year, she'll be able to run the tiller for us. Or at least reach it. The sling is awesome and we used it all the time as the photos will reveal. Unfortunately, she probably got a bit addicted to it and was a bit sad without it once we got home! Oh well, as problems go, it's one we can live with. Anyway, you can see that the Captain of Cheap Therapy is pretty comfy with his new first mate (Oh Lord, if that isn't the cheesiest line ever - ahahhaha! I need to send that in to the Lats and Ats photo section).



Here we are cruising the decks at the outstation. Do note how gloriously clean the boat is - it was beautiful. Okay, it might be hard to tell from this photo, but trust me, it looked really good.


Sleeping in the boat is intimate at the best of times. Adding a third body to the mix is kind of funny. We brought the bassinet along and it worked awesome for nights. However early morning, she got to cuddle up with us, making for a really nice start to the day. Especially when it is dad keeping her happy and quiet!


And here is a photo of sweet T bundled up in her sling. Think it was a bit bright for her? Or maybe she's getting tired of all the photos, poor thing.


Nap time on the way down broke almost all the rules of baby sleep. At least she's on her back, but probably all the blankets might be considered a bit of a hazard. Oh well, she lived and she napped which counts as a win in our books. We were taking a bit of a beating on the way down, and she just lay there, bouncing around quite happily in her v-berth coccoon.



Hopefully there will be many more voyages in our future. It was a good first run and we had a really great time. As always, three days on the boat feels like a week of holidays and we came back very relaxed and happy, thankful for the boat and for each other. Really, a victory.

As I Mean To Go On

As a responsible parent-to-be, I read up on life with newborns prior to Talia's arrival. As a fundamentally opinionated and lazy person, I stopped reading when I found an author who agreed with everything I already thought about life with newborns. The Baby Whisperer by Tracey Hogg is a good read with a lovely tone of voice about it that makes it feel possible to do have a happy, contented baby who eats and sleeps well and grows up to bring peace to the Middle East. And of course, she agrees with me. Kids like routines, parents matter, sleep is good and a child can learn to do it my way. Well, that last one might not be verbatim, but I think it's what she meant.

One of her standard lines is "Start as you mean to go on". I think she means that you do at the beginning the things you hope to be doing later, be consistent. There is some wisdom in that certainly, and it is probably good advice.

However, I somehow took that to mean "Start by doing it right from the beginning so that you never do it wrong and your child is always fine because you're always doing it right." This would be a less healthy interpretation. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that until yesterday. The first 6 weeks of sweet Talia's life have been an exercise in failure for me against that standard of doing it right from the beginning, every time.

And then yesterday it occurred to me that I might want to give some thought to "how I want to go on" and then evaluate our parenting from that point of view. What good news that was! Because were I well-rested and well-fed and sipping cold white wine with a friend outside in the yard, and she asked me how I meant to go on in parenting, I would say something like this:

"I want to be open-handed with my child and myself and my husband, not holding too tightly to any thing, person or idea. I want to be a learner and be adaptable. I want to be gracious with my children and my husband when they make mistakes so that they can be wholly themselves with me. I want to be wholly me with them and I hope they will have grace for my mistakes. I want to be faith-full and Jesus-y-ish and see God better through my family. I want to get better at it, and I want to enjoy it, enjoy them. I want to be thankful."

And that would be true. There are however, dark parts of my heart that would rather be perfect at parenting and I was living in those dark parts for a bit there. I will probably visit them every once and again. But my whole heart isn't that way. Thank goodness.

So right now, I am less committed to a perfect going-to-sleep situation. In the practical sense, how I mean to go on with sleeping is to figure out a way to help her sleep in whatever situation she's in. She won't always get to sleep in her own bed, and I won't always sing the same song, or any song for that matter. Sometimes it will be Scott putting her to sleep and sometimes it will be Grandma and sometimes God love her, she'll be on her own. And that may mean that sometimes, I have a daughter who doesn't sleep well but that's how I mean to go on. Imperfectly, making it up as I go and wishing that it was the way that worked best.

Oh well. I feel better at least.

Counting a Few Blessings

After the last post I find myself wanting a record of at least a few sweet things:

1. Waking Up Faces. I wish I had footage of this to post because a still photo won't capture the hilarity of my daughter waking up. Big stretches and arms all over the place. Arms akimbo in fact. I believe the word akimbo was invented for this exact motion. Eyes squeak open only enough to decide if the scenery is worth a full waking and the wrinkles in the forehead... oh my goodness. Laugh out loud funny she is.

2. Cuddling into the Neck. Little baby breaths against my neck even when it's a million and twelve degrees outside. Feeling the little hand resting on my shoulder. Looking at those blond eyelashes. Smelling that baby smell that I never really smelled until her. Mmm.

3. Baths with Daddy. My daughter loves water and loves her dad and bathtimes are about her favouritist thing being a wicked awesome combination of the two. A poop disaster yesterday landed her in the shower with Dad and she was beside herself with enjoyment. Loves spray on her belly and on her head and in the bath, loves swimming her little arms around and pushing herself around with her wee legs. Little tadpole gazing up in total love with her dad who gazes back.

Those are my top three for tonight. Off to see some of those waking faces.

A.

My Daughter is Cute. My Heart is Not.

One month, 6 days in. She's easy on the eyes, that's for sure. At least to me, Scott and my mother. And my dad, Brian and Anna. That's a nice thing.

One thing that is not so nice is a day (or several) where a person wants to just quit. When a person realizes that this was all a terrible misunderstanding, and that when I was begging the Lord to get pregnant what I meant was, "Let me have the feeling of getting my own way, but please don't change anything about my life." Of course, I didn't know that at the time. In fact, I guess I was really asking for my life to change. I just didn't know that I didn't really want that after all.

Silly me.

The system is set up so that there are no returns, no take-backs, no do-overs. I suppose this is wisdom, but I couldn't tell you why. At least not this week.

Now this might sound like whining. You might be thinking, "goodness, Talia must be a really difficult baby." Nope. She's not. She is healthy, she is alert and happy often. She cries often too, but has yet to be inconsolable. She eats well, and she is cute. Probably a dream child.

However, she is permanent. She is always here. She doesn't take 12 hours off. In fact, so far she has yet to take more than 4 hours off. And of those 4 hours, I spend 30 minutes wondering if she is going to fall asleep, and another 30 minutes wondering if she's going to wake up. Who thought up this system??

And me. I am always here too. Me and my head wondering what the magic code is to falling asleep for 2 hour naps. Me wanting to get an hour's worth of work done in the 10 minutes she plays happily on her own. Me realizing that I am a bit addicted to accomplishments and items crossed off the to do list. Me unwilling to believe that my life really has to be about someone else. Someone who is frikkin' useless. Albeit tremendously darling and cute.

Ugh. And someone who needs attention again. Hmm. If only she could put the sausages on the barbecue while I turn down the potatoes and change the laundry.

Huh. I thought this would be funnier. Maybe in a few years...??

A.

One Month Old

The Johnson Family on July 3, 2007. Young Talia is a month old and both mom and dad can smile. Talia is eating her hands, a favourite pastime of late. The hot weather is perhaps making her a bit cranky, but her cute moments make up for most of the crying parts. As I type, she is with her Dad instead of in her bed because she is prone to inconsolable crying when she discovers herself in bed. Well, completely consolable as long as she is removed from said bed, and we are totally falling for it. Today, we are falling for it. Some days, not so much. We're what's known in the parenting business as "inconsistent". I like to think of it as keeping her on her toes.

Soon, I'll post my rant about the massive gap in Baby Lit about the first 6 weeks and the truth about baby raising advice. Maybe sometime after the first 6 weeks are over and I'm a complete pro.

A Guide for New Fathers

If your sweet bean decides one night that 3am is the new 8am and celebrates by fussing and houdini-ing her way out of her swaddling and when your wife finally caves and tries to give her some boob to see if maybe that will fake her back into sleeping and the baby gnaws on said boob in such a way that only intensifies the "needles in my eyeballs" pain that is a breastfeeding nipple these days and your wife exclaims, MOTHERFUCKER GET OFF! here is one thing you should not turn over and say:

"The level of your anger concerns me."

What a Difference a Month Makes

Our first family photo, June 3, 2007:


That is Talia Grace Caldwell Johnson with her parents Alison and Scott, aka Tired and Exhilarated. Talia was born at 6:20pm on the third after a remarkably wonderful labour. Midwife Irene was there, with friend Brynne and Scott had the amazing privilege of actually delivering his daughter into the world. It was magical as it turns out, especially now that I don't remember the pain.

I will not detail labour here, except to say that it progressed quickly and I was so well-supported the entire time that I didn't have a chance to give up. A great gift to start off this family life of ours.

We were cared for overnight at Lions Gate Hospital by Nurse Barbara and left the next day around 2pm. We were able to walk to and from the hospital which will make for a good story over the years, good news as I could not say in truth that it was a "good time" (if you don't know the good time/good story rule, do ask).

Grandma Caldwell (aka Dottie) was there that afternoon to babysit while Scott and I napped and then life with baby truly began that evening. We had a wonderful first week together, with Katie and Jared here to meet Talia and lots of visits from everybody!



Here is a favourite photo of Steve and Dottie (we have yet to settle on grandparents' names and this was Andrew's vote) with Baby Talia at Week One or so. They are such good grandparents and have been giving sweet Talia an inordinate amount of love these last weeks. Both dropped by yesterday on their way home from the respective work places for a quick Talia Fix. Too cute.

A particularly sweet thing that I must make note of is the loveliness of Mum becoming Grandma. I'm not sure how to write it down, but if you've read earlier posts from my pregnancy, you'll know that I wasn't an ideal Pregnant Daughter. I was a reluctant sharer of the process, slow to warm to mom/daughter shopping sprees and lingering longing and planning over tea together the way I think both of us thought those months should be.

But now that Talia is here, it's all okay and I think we are that way. Mum of course wants to be here all the time, and oddly for both of us, I want her here all the time. I love having her nearby to hold the girl, or make lunch or agree that the way those other people do things is CRAZY. I give serious thought to 3 generation living and wonder how Scott would feel about me living with my parents when he's working. Not because I need them so much, but more because I want them. Who would have guessed?? I don't think either Mum or I would have and so we are constantly delighted to find ourselves still loving this new phase. Oh thank you, thank you, thank you.


This is Talia being coy at about 2 weeks. She is full of funny faces, and just as I thought during pregnancy, she is a funny girl in general, who makes us all laugh often. Although, she has also made us cry once or twice. And by 'us', I mean me. This mothering gig is a tough one and although we hear it often, I don't know that any of us truly believe it until it is MY nipple on fire, and MY sleep being compromised, and MY inability to discern what that cry means leaving my child upset for far too long... The first 3 weeks, I was determined to just have her fit into my life, without allowing her to really change my life. Thus there are photos of Talia at Old Navy at a week old, and Talia out for coffees at less than that, and Talia on holiday and with cousins and taking Daddy lunch... all in the first few weeks.

But that way doesn't work. At least not for me. And of course now I have to believe it can't truly work for anyone.

Life does change. I do have to do less. Or at least less of what I used to. In so many ways, I do more. 6 - 8 hours breastfeeding a day. Lord knows how long is devoted to diaper changing and baby jiggling. When I think of it like that, adding a load of laundry to the day AND making a dinner for us is the most productive I've been in years. So how do we come to believe that the child-loving part doesn't count?? Oh the insidious evil of it all...

But child-loving is such a great way to live these days. Despite my failures, real and perceived, I love it. I love her. I love seeing her wake up and try out every single muscle in her face, every time. I love kisses and cuddles and her confusion when I try to read her a story ("Do you even know how old I am??"). But mostly, I love Scott.


This is Daddy cuddled with his sweet daughter. I don't think there was ever any question for me about whether or not Scott would be a good dad. But to see it in person, to watch him be in love with this one from the very first hour... It is too sweet, too wonderful, too much to behold. Scott is tired and works too many hours and is taking such good care of us and I can't even think how to thank him. Hopefully Daddy and Talia canoodling after the early morning feeding frenzy is a thank you of some kind his heart can receive. Because I remain SO thankful. For him. For the father of my daughter who is loving her so well, so deeply, so truly.


This is the Johnson family at 3 weeks, 5 days. We are well.

Well, the Diaper Bag is Ready

Actually, not so much ready, as here. Sweet Auntie Katie sent a wicked awesome diaper bag that happens to be a great match with the wicked awesome stroller that Mum & Dad bought the Bean. As you'll see by this photo, at the very least we look like we know what we're doing. The reality remains to be seen.



In the meantime, I'm just ... waiting. All systems are go in most meaningful ways except for the part where I go into actual labour. I do have to remember that sooner or later it will have to happen, and maybe not be quite so impatient if it turns out to be more later than sooner. I'll practice that.

Well, brief but to the point I think. Oh, and I did switch out the photo in the last post to better reflect Week 39. The initial photo looked a little too... awful, really. Of course now you get a much better sense of the neck size. Really, I can't win.

Perhaps more later?

This Is What Ready Looks Like

It's not easy to see in this photo, but at 39 weeks plus a day, I have become large-necked. Well, large-lots-of-things, but the large neck is the most upsetting of late. I'm really hoping that it's just fluid, but really, where in your neck would fluid go?? oh well, so far the cankles are holding off, so all's not lost.




In the meantime, I'm about done with the little make-work tasks of these last days (weeks?) before the Bean arrives. I've become a bit weepy and tired, and convinced that in fact, this child is staying in here forever. It's very hard to imagine it leaving really. But it is getting big - when it moves now, my organs shift. I'm pretty sure I was pushing my kidneys back in the other night in bed. Kind of low, below my ribs in the back?? I figure the kid is about 2 feet long by now, seems to weigh about 13 pounds... I held a friend's 7 pounder on Thursday, and realized my belly weighs a LOT more than she does. Can't be a good sign.

Yes, all my talk just a week ago, about not being desperate to end this... well, that phase has passed. I would not say I'm desperate - just ... ready? I mean, clearly, so NOT ready in many ways (see photo below), but ready in the, "It would be good to see you in the flesh" kind of way.

Yesterday my husband sent me home from errands with the caveat that I stop for a pedicure and then go home and take a nap. He stopped on his way home and bought us a glider I've been coveting. I woke up from my nap and there it was. You will see it in the baby's room, next to the basinette (thank you Heidi). SO lovely and wonderful. You may also notice the chaos in the corners of the room. The photos not hung, the baby gear tossed to the side... that would be the not ready part I was mentioning above. But the glider is ready. The sweet husband who makes sure the toes are ready is ready. My kidneys are ready.

Hopefully the Bean is ready.

38 1/2 Weeks

So technically, only a week and a half to go. Or 3 and a half weeks. Or a few hours... Could be anytime I guess. I have been asked if I'm desperate to get it out, and I must confess I am not. I am increasingly uncomfortable dragging all this weight around but it is nowhere near as terrible as it could be. At least right now I know where the kid is, and I'm doing a reasonably good job of raising it. Hormones are steady, all my body parts where they ought to be, freedom to sleep in every morning... no I'm not desperate to end this at all.

That said, I am SO looking forward to meeting this one. I am looking forward to cuddles and kisses and the smallness. I am looking forward to Scott grabbing his child out of the carseat with one hand and grabbing a bag in the other and walking up the walk to our house with his Dad face on. It's such a clear picture to me...

I like to think about the things I'm looking forward to as it seems to be people's favourite thing to tell me all things I should dread. Why do we do that? The world is joy-robbing enough as it is, especially for those of us with anxiety fondness. So for now, I am practicing dwelling in the potential sweetnesses and walking my mind away from the fear and hopelessness that draw me so much more easily.

Yesterday, I found myself oddly weepy, thankful all over again for this moment in our lives. The journey was so not how we expected it to be, but is just how it should be nonetheless. I am thankful for Jolie - all our breakfasts at the Bakehouse and then that morning in September when she was right there to pray for us all right at the beginning. I am thankful for my Mum who prayed so quietly to herself for so long, waiting me out. I am thankful for my sister who did all the aunt things while understanding all the crazy things too. I am thankful for all our friends in our homegroup who prayed for us so often, and especially on that last un-pregnant Tuesday- there is such good faith and community built into that entire week, but that moment remains particularly sweet.

I am thankful for a Father in Heaven who loves us all three so much. So togetherly are we loved (yes, I do mean 'togetherly'...) already and then so faithfully are we loved each on our own. It is quite humbling over and over. That we have each been provided to each for the others so that we would each know Jesus better, each know God's deep love for us. So wonderful. So marvellous. So thankful I am.

Finally, I am thankful all over again for Scott. It is something else to realize that he is just so much better than I knew when I said yes to his brave marriage proposal. I didn't know. He was so good then and I figured we could probably pull this off with enough other people around to help us, but I knew nothing. Nothing at all. He is so good. Strong (not quite strong enough to carry me anymore apparently, but hell, who can?) and brave to do this with me. I see him carry the weight of having to provide for us, and how hard he is working at it and I wonder at the wonder of it. Who thought someone would take care of me?

Funny, I am sitting here weeping. Totally late for an appt but crying my eyes out in thankfulness for this boy I love so deeply. So thankful for him and all of who he is and none of that is in here. But before life gets all busy and crazy and I don't have time to remember that I love my husband, I just want it here that today at 38 and a half weeks, I know that God knew I would do better with Scott around. That he was the one to build a family with. That he was the one who would be a reminder all the time of how much God must love me...

A few more

Clever Brooke sent yet more photos, so I am posting them mostly for my mother's edification. I am surprised by my own delight in having this record. Oh, and for the record, this afternoon Auntie Anna hosted a lovely shower for the Bean and I, and we were thoroughly spoiled. I will try to get some pics of the loot, I mean gifts, to share with some of you long distancers who were forced to miss the fun!

Photo Fun with Brooke

So friend Brooke is a capable gal in all manner of ways but this afternoon's project was photos of the Belly for posterity's sake I suppose. I was a bit reluctant, having mocked this form of self-appreciation by others but darned if I don't just love the results. This is a fun little record of the Bean's pre-natal days and it will be good to remember my body did this.

So following is a little gallery from this afternoon's fun by Photog ExtraOrdinaire, Brooke McAllister.

This first one is Brooke's favourite; we were very brave about being so corny and it even turned out!


Number Two here is a big old laugh-riot. Scott and I have a running bet about how many fire-themed items this child is going to receive. Oh my, I laughed OUTLOUD when I saw this one. I think we'll have to hang it over the crib...


Number three is an old-school photo reference for Shannon, with Eleanor returning to centre-stage of the photo world. Eleanor the Duck has been photographed world-wide and the belly seemed like a great stage for her re-entry to modeling.



The next three are perhaps to be ever known as the Serious Shots. I think I am doing a good job of conveying tired and round.





This is actually the funnier of the fire photos - I guess this one will go over the crib...



Round. Katie asked me what I wanted to photos to say, and I said "round" and sure enough, I got what I wanted...


Turned out the best light was in the bathroom. And for the record, I do spend a lot of time there...

Philadelphia Dreaming

This last weekend, the Bean and I went to visit the aunties in Philadelphia. Auntie Katie flew in from Pittsburgh and we lodged at Auntie Shannon's lovely home in Oaklyn, New Jersey. The Bean and I were well loved by both aunties and the 2 full days of travel were well-worth it to get in some prenatal lovin' for me and the kid.

Of course, one must carefully document these things and I'm sure Auntie Katie will do a more thorough job than I, but do find following the photographic record of this trip.


This is Auntie Katie working on work on Friday morning out at the stables. She is a very diligent employee and her boss (and their clients) are lucky to have her if you ask me. She worked very late on Thursday night and again Friday morning to get this done even though it was a bit of a ludicrous project if you ask me. But no one did, so I just took pictures and watched Shannon do ground work* with Austin the horse.


Austin the horse is clever and good looking and despite Katie's wisdom that one not ever trust an animal with a head bigger than your own, I think he's quite likeable. He did not chew my fingers off when I gave him a snack so I think that's a good sign.

This is Shannon's favourite picture she says. I won't say why, but Katie's coat is not form fitting. This is us walking from Meal One at the White Dog Cafe to Snack One at the Metropolitan Bakery.

Shannon had a delicious iced mocha and Katie had a yummy iced vanilla latte and I risked a decaf, non-fat cafe au lait. And lemon cake. Now is not the time to stop eating, just because one has gained (unspecified huge number of) pounds and still has 10 more weeks of weight adding to go.


Day 2, Auntie Shannon treated us to massages at Topper's in Center City. After an hour of really nice rubs, we went and ate again. Just enough calories to get us to Target, Babies R Us and Bath and Body Works. By the time we got to BabiesRUs though, we were getting weary so we took a quick break to rock and recline in these lovely gliders. God bless the inventor of the ottoman - what a great thing!

There were many more highlights to this trip including a Japanese meal with young Shiaheem and lots of Mojitos for Katie and Shannon. I snuck in a Dr. Pepper just for old times' sake and then before you know it, I was on my way home! The photos do not do anyone justice, but now it's logged and we can all look back on these halcyon days when the Bean was just along for the ride.

A.

*Ground work is when you let the horse run around and you stay on the ground. This seems like the wisest course of action if you ask me 'cause that horse runs fast.

Standing Where We Ought to Be

Shrove Tuesday! Pancake Day! Mardi Gras! We had so much fun! We feasted on pancakes and fruit and sausages and mimosas with so many friends: Scott and Margaret and Hudson and Imogene; Jolie and Andy and Chanida and Sam; Kelly; James and Lisa and Nodin; Stuart and Adrienne and William. And us! Traditions are lovely and traditions that surround us with good friends eating good food are the best kind. I am feeling thankful and glad, if not particularly Lenten the morning after, but isn't God good for providing an evening of abundance of all those good things on a day when Scott and I woke up feeling so "not enough".

There was indeed a lot of 'not enough' kicking around the Caldwell Johnson home the last few days. Not enough sleep, not enough money, not enough motivation, not enough time, not enough vision. It is just so easy to slip into what Rory Holland called scarcity thinking - surely it is the root cause of our mental illness(es)? This morning, I don't think we are cured but we are... reprieved? A reminder of our true abundance is a gift gift gift and it took off the edge. At least for today, and for today, that is enough. E.N.O.U.G.H.

In the meantime, I was reading from a blog that Katie recommended many moons ago called The Happiness Project, and specifically a post on having children that seemed like yet another holy whisper.

Some background: at some point in our homegroup history, we tried to develop or think on mission statements for ourselves and/or our families. Where I ended was in the Beatitudes, "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they will be satisfied." Knowing how easy and inherent Scott and my dis-satisfaction seems to be, I thought that the promise of satisfaction was a good one for us to tuck away. And then I started learning about what righteousness is and the summary definition I ended up with was "Standing where we ought to be" and in particular the gift Jesus gave of being able to stand in front of the Father. So our Family Mission was (is) to Stand Where We Ought to Be. And while it is true and a good fit for us, I haven't really thought about it a lot since.

But then I read this this morning and it was such good news:

Feeling right is an essential component of happiness. I don’t think that parents-to-be fool themselves that parenthood is all fun. They might not exactly anticipate what’s going to hit them with that first baby, but they know it’s not all playgrounds and valedictorian addresses.

There are times when feeling right means feeling bad. Consider a commute. Studies show (surprise!) that a bad commute is a real downer, and one to which we never adapt. But you might choose to have a bad commute in order to live in a neighborhood with good schools. Once your kids are in the good school, you’ll adapt to that circumstance, and it won’t be a source of feeling good, and the commute will make you feel bad every day. But it’s worth it, because you feel right about your trade-off.

Even though they may means less feeling good, and more feeling bad, I think children contribute mightily to happiness.

Also, they contribute to the atmosphere of growth that is important to happiness (and part of my formula). Seeing them learn, change, and grow boosts happiness.

I like thinking that happiness is in fact a combination of feeling good, feeling bad, feeling right and being in an atmosphere of growth. It is confirmed by our own experience together, of feeling bad right in the middle of being so happy these days. We feel like we are in the right place in so many ways, especially when we lie in bed on a Friday morning feeling the Bean move around. When we wipe down the kitchen together after the last friend has left with a syrup-fueled child in tow. Those things are so right, and we are so happy.

The things that are not right... well, they are there too, but this morning they are less important. And they are tempered by my deep faith that God's promise is to satisfy our hunger and thirst for this righteousness, that He will lead us to the Right Place in all those other, not-yet-right things that remain.

There may be more to say about this but that's all I have for this morning.

A.

For Scott

It is an unusually attractive child, isn't it?

Yes, I have turned into *that* mother. And I'm not even joking. I really do think he/she is one of the prettier ultrasound babies I have seen. Probably the big head makes them a bit cuter than normal. But you see it too, don't you? You know, deep in your heart, that that is one cute baby.

The photo was taken at 20 weeks and we are coming up on 24 this Friday. More than halfway done. Imagine that.

My belly is looking more pregnant too, although on bad days I'm convinced I just look chubby. I am a bit (not) surprised by how much pride I have in my skinny-ness, pride that is only being exposed now that I am not so skinny. The out-of-controlness of the whole body change is a bit disturbing, and I think probably just the first of many experiences like this (yes Mom, I've been listening to your menopause thoughts!).

I am right now loving being pregnant. I love feeling this one move around and make themselves known. It is quite magic-making really - I had no idea. I can sit with my hands on my belly for hours at a time, waiting for any adjustment, any random move. And then when they're not random, when they feel like an orchestrated work-out, I just laugh. The kid cracks me up. What are they doing in there? a full minute of drumming and beating against the walls and I am laughing outloud. It just seems so ... preposterous!

The other day Scott took a listen to the belly but couldn't hear much and decided to start tapping to "wake the baby up". A bad habit that I'm trying to break. Suddenly Scott jumps up laughing - "The baby just kicked me in the face!" What is not to love about that? Our clever child already knows their father is going to be a bit annoying (he/she just kicked - surely in agreement? we are that in tune, the wee one and I).

I asked Scott last night when we forget what a wonderful gift this child is - he suggested I ask my mom, but thought it was probably likely to happen. I must say that even with my better-than-average self-esteem, it's hard to imagine having ever been so completely wonderful to anybody, even my mom. And to extend that to all the difficult people in the world and think that they too were an unimagined delight to their mother, all tucked away in her womb... well, you'd think it would make me a better person really. Not so much, but it does make me glad to have this moment too. So thankful to have this treasured away.

I get a bit sad to think it will pass, to think that once they arrive and make themselves known, they will become less perfect, less wonderful, less-thankful-making.

But not today. Today he/she is perfect and lovely and a source of deep gladness. My fears are less fearfull these days, and for that I am very thankful too.

Okay, is that enough? I think it's all I have for today.