Father Daughter Fondness

I mentioned below that I am Talia's favourite boobs, but it is becoming apparent as time goes on that her real favourite is her Dad. And certainly, she is his favourite. She always has big smiles for him and continues to love bath time which is a Dad Exclusive.

Watching a man become a father is an amazing experience, and certainly tied to my longing for parenthood. As much as I wanted to be a mom, I really wanted Scott to get to be a Daddy because I just knew it would bring out the best in him. And you may recall that he was already pretty good to begin with.

Sure enough, Talia accesses a part of Scott that is new and wonderful for both of us; wonderful for him I think because it must be so nice to discover your own tenderness and capacity for this protective love, and nice for me to be nearby and watch it grow and deepen and even get some of the overflow.

Scott's love for Talia surprises him sometimes, catches him off-guard. And her delight in him as she gets more aware and connecting only grows the affair between them.

I will confess that I am a bit jealous. Jealous of her love for him and his love for her. I wonder about feeling left out when we're all older, and about being second in her heart. I wonder about him one day choosing her ahead of me. Lots of wondering, but all mixed with joy and gladness that both my favourite daughter and my favourite man are being so well-loved. It's truly my best hope for both of them.

Three Months In

That's Talia asleep in her playpen aboard Cheap Therapy for her second voyage of the year. We spent 6 days out, with a couple of nights each in Centre Bay, Pender Harbour and the Pearl Islets off Hardy Island. It was lovely to be away and she is proving to be a very able sailor.



At three months old, Talia is still wee but moving along in every other way. She is very engaged and engaging, checking things and people out. She can be quite chatty and has a bit of a love-affair going on with her dad. I remain her favourite set of boobs, and every once in a while she is glad to see me. Until her dad shows up. There are worse problems I think.

Now that she seems to be gaining weight regularly, we can slowly move our focus to sleeping. She sleeps well-ish at night, although still wakes 2 or 3 times between 7 & 7 to eat. I guess that will keep up for a few more pounds and I generally don't mind, except for the times when I mind a LOT. Naps are another story and she remains a reluctant napper. If she does finally fall asleep, it is usually short-lived. However, she is happy when she's awake (unless she is awake in her crib - not so happy then!) so we'll just keep at it and hope she figures it out soon. I find it taxing and discouraging and it makes me want to quit. However, as I mentioned before, quitting isn't an option so I don't get to, and just wait another 3 hours for the drama we call naptime.

As is wont to happen, all this discouragement prompts deep thoughts. Okay, well, deep-ish thoughts. And so my current thinking is about what God is doing in building longings in us. Because we really wanted to be parents. Well, I should only type for me. *I* wanted to be a mother. I wanted to be pregnant, and I wanted to have a baby, but bigger than that, I wanted to be a real mom, more than the half-assed, pseudo-parent I was with Shiaheem.

As the wait for pregnancy went on and on, the longing grew deeper and deeper which is of course no surprise. Now, I'm a realistic person so there was a realization that the fulfillment of this longing wasn't going to be my happiness. But there was a belief I guess that life would somehow be better than it had been.

This is not better.

It is good. Often great. But it is hard. And full of new failures and disappointments. It's not better, although, not worse. Just ... different. In the midst of all the new that different brings, suddenly the same old disappointment of not being pregnant doesn't seem as disappointing and terrible as it did at the time. At least I knew how to do that part.

And this is the crux of it: I hate not knowing how to do this. I hate sitting here listening to her wail instead of drift off to sleep not knowing what I should be doing instead. I hate that there is no recipe that works everytime. Or that just plain works. And by works I mean, makes her fall asleep quickly without crying when I put her in her crib.

So here I am at home with my "gift from God" that is hard work and makes me feel bad a lot. And this is without getting into the world of "impact of children on marriage."

Which leaves me thankful oddly enough. Thankful that early on in this process of wanting family, God taught us both that we were meant to be longing for God's will, God's love, God's way with our lives. We kept on longing for a baby, but asked God all the time to change our hearts and minds to wanting something else if something else was what was going to be provided. In the end, Talia was provided and she is in every way, the fulfillment of that longing.

I think that wisdom means that knowing that the fulfillment of a longing is not meant for our pleasure though. There can be pleasure in it, but it's purpose is not our pleasure. The purpose is what our entire purpose is: to know and be known by the Creator, to glorify Him forever.

This would be so much harder I think, if I didn't know this. What if I didn't know, at least sometimes, that Talia isn't here to make me happy? That our prayers weren't answered so that we would be blissful? That in fact she is here so that we will know God, know that we are known by God and glorify Him forever?

I have to say, this isn't a comfort when she won't do what I want. When I'm up for the third time in the night. When she is crying and won't do what I think she should. Like stop. But in quiet moments, like when we were anchored in our favourite anchorage and she was sleeping forward while the sun set off the starboard side, it is possible to be thankful that God is in the midst of this and that our family is on purpose and that the hard parts are not indications of a terrible, terrible mistake, but just of our need for help.

Need help? No wonder I hate this.

Good thing she's cute.

The Parent Whisperer

One thing I have learned is that in the world of new parents, Baby Sleep is a competitive sport. We met a couple at the coffee shop yesterday morning with a baby born the day after Talia and in answer to the question, "how's it going", they answered with how long young Matthew sleeps (9 and a half hours - we think they use opiates in the bottle).

Young Talia's first sleep in her new crib. Talia's parents enjoy a mix of 2 minute timed cries and
shushing and patting comfort in between while they wait for her to fall asleep.

This is why people write books on how to get babies to sleep. Because there are millions of parents out there desperate to find the answer and willing to spend any amount of money to find it. The sad, unfortunate truth though, is that there is not a book's worth of content for the answer. The answer is actually just one word: wait. These books are actually just a long list of things to do while you wait. You can spend your waiting sleeping with your child, ignoring your wailing child, shushing and patting your child. You can bounce and rock, you sling and swing. You can feed 'em or change 'em. You can attach, ferberize or whisper. But know this - all you are doing is waiting. Waiting for them to figure it out, or move out. Whatever comes first.

You may recall an earlier post where I admitted that I only read baby books until I found one that agreed with me. One that described how I most wanted to wait. I truly believe that all parents that do the same although some are better than others at convincing others that they are in fact choosing a methodology for their child. Ha!

They are not. For example, I could go on and on about the importance of children sleeping in their own beds: it fosters independence, it decreases the risk that they will be crushed by a parent dead asleep and it uses the very cute crib that you've chosen. However, it might be more true to admit that Talia sleeps in her own bed in her own room because I value my own sleep very highly and she makes too many noises too often for me to sleep deeply if she was in my room, never mind my bed. Or, to use my book theory, I don't want to wait with her so nearby. I need some distance in my waiting.

So this afternoon, I'm shushing and patting my daughter into her nap (see The Baby Whisperer to explain this particular way to wait) and I realized truly and deeply that like all parenting books, in addition to not actually doing any thing other than giving me something to do while I wait, it is also meant to make parents like me feel better about what we're doing while we wait.

This particular book is for those of us who need to feel like we're doing something, like we're not completely abandoning our children, but who aren't willing to actually sleep with them either. The shushing may or may not soothe a crying baby, but I realized at minute 7 that it was really soothing me. The patting may or may not ease young Talia into sleep, but it absolutely keeps my hands from covering her mouth to quiet her down. That Tracey Hogg woman made a fortune giving parents like me something to do until our children are old enough to do things like fall asleep on their own, and more importantly helps us feel righteous about doing it. Amazing.

So this will be my book - The Parent Whisperer. It will help parents identify what their parenting priorities are (mine are MY sleep, MY eating and her making me look good in public) and then match them with the waiting activity that most closely matches their hopes. Of course, this will involve me finding out what those other options are - you'll remember that I've only read about the one that matches ME. But you watch, it's going to be a best seller.

Off to start my research. Right after I wake my daughter from the nap I spent an hour getting her to take. But holey moley, did I feel good about how I spent that hour.

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...