Naps for Everyone

Here he is (kinda)!

31 weeks...Got 9 weeks to go...Eek, single digits!

Isn't it obvious already how darn cuuuuute he is ;-)?!

This Little Light of Mine

Getting ready to fly to Minnesota tomorrow. I am going to visit my mom and sister and niece, and they are throwing me a baby shower! Hurray! I have lots of family and friends up there in the Minneapolis/Fargo area so should be fun.

In the midst of my packing, I've tried on nearly every single outfit in my closet that has the chance of fitting. I found some long-lost gems I forgot about that suit my maternity look well. But more often than not, I found my choices dwindled further. On a positive note, I bought super cute capris today that were too expensive, but that I will probably wear everyday until I give birth.

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On a totally different note,

I'm feeling lately extra sensitive about the people in my life and the struggles of the daily grind.
I'll leave with a mini-poem...

The world is on its axis right now
tipping over
spilling guts out.
You and them and him and her
are all struggling
with the weight of its insides
crushing
souls down.
i see the earth bearing down
and the bodies in pieces
the population wide-mouthed and
pleading.
i want to relieve you
All. 
What needs to be done here God
so we may lay 
our burdens down?


Can't you see our little lights,
struggling to get air? 

Silhouette in Blue

 I worked on the house today. It feels like the first time since we've moved in that I've had a weekend without a barbeque or wedding or visitors or out-of-town travel. I meant to get so much more done, but I'm slower now; I kind of shuffle around the house.

The last couple days I've pretty much eaten very poorly. It seems like cakes and cookies and ice cream bars are the quickest solution to my hunger pangs. How cliche are these cravings? Pre-preggo, I don't typically crave that stuff--I kind of considered the "sweet tooth" a sign of weakness. Um, yeah...I will retract that judgement for the rest of my life thankyouverymuch. 

I go through stages though. While I can always make it through breakfast with some tasty fruit and whole grain Cheerios or english muffin, the nighttimes kind of are like hit or miss. It depends on how much I feel like cooking. Today? Not so much...

Dax's room is filling up with his toys and sheeps and baby things that keep arriving in the mail. I started a pile by his pack-n-play. I love looking at it. I love imagining him sleeping there. I love imagining his cry, his smile, his presence. I smile all by myself sometimes. 

Who are you, little man?

You're my heart. You're my heart.

Snippets of Things to Say

I was hugging the curves around Bancroft Street today when I saw a playground to my right. In my mind's eye, a giant brown unicorn lounged in the yard. It was a tangled branch. Still, I wasn't disappointed.

At the wedding last weekend in Jerome, AZ, we all cuddled inside the garden. We talked about large things like love and eternity. The fountain was too loud sometimes, I couldn't hear the words that slipped from our lips, but I knew them anyway. We were all trying to find forever here. We believe.

In our little flat above the Flat Iron Cafe, you and me, we could see the red and pink cliffs in the distance. How cute are these stores in Jerome, lined up like brightly colored antiques? We fumble up the town's stairs hand in hand. I feel so petite and pretty and protected by you...seven months pregnant...your little lady...I feel safe...and slightly owned by you. How primal are we...

Cupid-sized boxes keep arriving in the mail for our little one. Yesterday, I opened a board book and got teary-eyed. "This is for our son," I thought, as the image of him poured into my heart. I ached for his presence just then. These not-yet memories thrill me.

My brother is filling his space here. I am pleasantly pleasant. I've missed him. The cakes he's making help. Like a lot.

You Get the Picture...

Time is moving hand over fist now. Yesterday, I bought this birth help CD's to help me with my no-drugs birth. I am going au natural not because I am against drugs, but more for the fact that I'm a control freak. I want to feel it so I know when to push. I figure the less intervention, the more quickly this labor thing will go. I'm flexible, but I'm preparing for labor diligently to avoid drugs and interventions as much as possible.

The approach I will be using is called "hypnobabies." It is more about self-hynosis and relaxation techniques so that fear does not take over. It uses visualization and deep relaxation techniques that still allows you to be completely aware and in the moment, but supposedly reduces the pain of labor. The birth stories are actually quite amazing. It's a lot of work though in the next few weeks, and my lovely husband also has to do some work so he can help me. He is totally willing. I love that about him.

I keep having these vivid dreams. The other day I had one where I gave birth to our baby boy, but he just fell out of my vagina. I wasn't at the hospital and I was way early. He was bloody and purple and I had the umbilical cord still attached to me and attached to him as I ran around trying to find someone to help me cut the cord. I remember thinking he'd be ok, but the terror of the whole thing made me choke.

I'm pregnant enough now where people give up their seats for me and young kids at the grocery store want to lift my bags. However, I'm also pregnant enough where my damn feet hurt and I really do need it. Laugh out loud.

I'm am almost 30 weeks now, but here's a couple 27 week photo (six months incubated)...

Here's clothed and looking much more pregnant...

These are the days of our lives...

The little dude in my belly is all over the place. How big could he possibly be? I feel him from my ribs to my pelvis. He rolls and kicks. The intimacy of it is such an internal joy. Such a complete satisfaction.

Having him growing up in my insides makes me feel so grown-up. Not on an intellectual level--I'm not just saying things. I mean I really feel different.  Like I am on the cusp of a new identity. I'll never come back from it. I know this. I welcome this. I fear this.

I had a beautiful day today, unpacking boxes and shuffling the office around. The presence of my brother helps quell the loneliness. It takes the edge off my desperation. Normally, when Dave gets home I'm like an abandoned puppy. I can't even stop myself from chewing on his leg. So I am grateful that conversation with other humans has calmed me thus far. I imagine Dave is grateful too although he's so damn sweet he'd never admit he noticed my child-like attention needs.

It also makes my pregnancy more real, to actually be around people who can see that yes, it's true, I'm actually pregnant. I don't have to status-update on Facebook to remind you. You see it every day. That's another reason I loved my sister's visit. That's a reason I enjoyed my Phoenix visit. And that's the reason I'll enjoy that barbeque tomorrow. When it's more real in the world, it feels more real to me.

I finally found the cord to my camera in one of the boxes I unpacked. I have much to show you!

Dependence Day

It's been gloomy here in San Diego the last few days. I wonder where the sun is. Doesn't this city know that it's summer? 

I worry about the changes in my life. I have moments where I feel out of control. Last night I started crying for every reason in the world and none at all.

With my brother moved in, we are making room for him. Not just in the house. We are adjusting our hearts, our time, our space. I've been spoiled with Dave; we've carved out a world for us.  But that's the thing about that: it just doesn't work for everybody. I can't get my way all the time.  I think it's good my brother challenges me.  He won't let me pick out the violet bath towels for the bathroom. I huff and puff. I let go. We settled on cerulean blue.

I'm not sure if he's happy about our compromise. He's been in his room all day. I think I might tap on his door. No. I think I'll let it go.

He bought a stand mixer last night at Macy's. You know, one of those fancy ones that make you want to bake cakes? Today, he ordered three vanilla beans online. He's plans to make a red velvet cake, thick with cream cheese. I anticipate this cake with pregnant furry. I too look to that machine excitedly. I have vanilla buttercream dreams.

I made a flag cake for fourth of July. My first cake from scratch EVER. The cake reminded me of my Grandma, who used to make them at the lake cabin on Lake Melissa in Minnesota every Independence Day. She just turned 90 years old. I wonder how proud she'd be of my flag cake, inspired by those sparkler and bonfire nights by the lake? Where the fireflies flit around the lampposts and the sounds of our young squeals echo as we sprint down the wooden dock in that long ago past.

The Unexpected

I realized the other day how much I need this. How Much I Need this written word diary. This cry into cyberspace. I realized that I can't talk right.

What I say typically has nothing to do with how I feel.

But This. This cry into binary code delivers me somehow. I need you blog. I'm sorry I doubted you.

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My sister and my niece surprised me this weekend. I didn't know they were going to visit. They flew across the country to see me. When I saw them I cried. And my weekend become wonderful. Already wonderful though. My brother snug in his corner bedroom. His presence here and permeating already.

My sister and I fought though. Like cry so hard you want to throw up hard. I even threw a Sprite can at the wall. It exploded and fizzed unto the walls. I have never done that before. Sure, I have lost my temper, but never punched or thrown things.

I come by it honestly perhaps. After we made up (that's too simple of a sentence), my brother sis and I named off all the objects that had been thrown by each member of the family, including my mother. I now, the self-proclaimed non-thrower, now I join the club. I have to admit, it was the perfect expression of how I felt at the moment. I am somewhat ashamed by how good it felt.

I would tell you about it, but it wearies me, and plus my sister reads this. Rest assured though, we all think we're right and justified and that knowledge only flusters us so.

Why though, at 31, are we still fighting? What is it about the sibling relationship that challenges us so?