Trusting

Today marks 6 days beyond my due date. I am grateful to friends and family who have shared with me their birth stories of perfectly healthy late arrivals, despite my doctor saying I have now entered into “non-standard care” because I am late and not having a C-section.

It feels unreal that this is ever going to happen. Hospital bag is packed. My son's bag is packed to stay with his grandparents. And realistically I know that baby won't stay in my belly forever. At some point here, very soon, I will no longer be pregnant and perhaps this will be my last pregnancy. While I'm eager to meet our son or daughter, I am content to still be pregnant. I am grateful that I am feeling so well, even to the end here. Sure, I'm not sleeping very well and am feeling uncomfortable, but all in all, I am doing well. So it is fear that causes me to worry as each day passes beyond my due date and baby has not come yet. Fear that my body is failing me and I'll end up having to have a C-section. Fear that I will lose the baby the longer he/she is in my belly. Fear that I have to consciously not allow to get out of control. Fear that I am fighting with peace and trust. I know that this is a precious time right now that I won't ever have back and I don't want to miss out because I am eager to get on to what's next. So I remind myself to trust – trust that my baby knows when he/she is ready to be born. Trust that the birth process can be a gradual one and that I've already entered into it by having these stop and start contractions for a week now. Trust that despite my doctor saying there's nothing going on because I don't have any dilation yet, and the baby's head should be in the birth canal by now, in actuality, my body has been doing a tremendous amount of preparing this past week. Trust that my body knows what to do and in fact, is already doing it and will continue to until my baby is born. Trust that my baby will be fine and while it's good to continue to monitor the baby to ensure that my womb continues to be a good environment for baby, I don't need to be frightened by my doctor's scare tactics.

So I wait and rest and enjoy my family today for I don't know what tomorrow brings. Today I am grateful to be pregnant... to be "still pregnant"

What I will miss about pregnancy

1.my husband putting on my socks and shoes (and our son trying to help)
2.feeling the baby move
3.not worrying about my weight for 9 months
4.sleeping with four pillows while my husband gets one.
5.After pregnancy, it won't be so cute for my son to tell me that I have a big belly...
6.wearing a t-shirt in the winter (great time of year to be pregnant!)
7.cute comfortable maternity clothes
8.Not feeling guilty about resting
9.freaking miracle that a human is growing inside of me!!!!
10.the gallons and gallons of milk I go through (my husband will not miss this). I drank so much milk when pregnant with my son as well.
11.Feeling my body preparing for birth (didn't experience any labor with first as he was a scheduled C-section a week before his due date)
12.this precious time of peace, stillness, anticipation and putting the world on hold for a bit

Past and Present

I used to be...

a gymnast

a runner

desperate

searching

passionate

holding on

at arms length

fearful

unseen beauty

a storyteller

manipulative

demanding

hungry

thin

sad

stuck in the past

expressive

a dancer

intense

clutching

Now I am...

coming out from hiding

hopeful

becoming

at peace

a runner starting over

a writer whose words have been unread for too long now

losing weight

fearful of the final finish line

forever changed by the birth of my son

a mother: a role that can never be undone but sometimes leaves me feeling undone

grateful

missing

envious

looking forward

a photographer

blessed

dancing with a limp

a counselor

deep

letting go

little hands, big heart

I dropped my son off at his grandparents this morning on my way to work. As I'm driving away I look back at the front door and there is my son watching me leave - waving to me, blowing me kisses. He's not crying. He's not sad. He's just saying goodbye. And I know that when he can't see me anymore he will be perfectly happy and will just go back to playing with his beloved grandparents. But in that moment, at the door, as I wave back to him and blow kisses back to him, I realize how much I MATTER to my son. Not only does he hold my Momma heart in his hands, I hold his little boy heart in my hands. This love between my son and I is like nothing I've ever experienced before. It's both terrifying and awesome to be THAT important to another... This whole other who grew inside my tummy; who I had to let go after all those months, so he could be born and live and breath on his own. Every day since there is a letting go. But this morning... I got to hold on as we said goodbye. Such a heavy, precious weight his heart is in my hands.

Letting go and finding peace

I remember feeling a definite shift in my heart as soon as I realized I was pregnant with our first child. For years I had struggled with living in the past and wanted to let it go and move on but still felt so tied to such disappointment, loss, regret, and lack of closure that left me agitated and restless. But then I became pregnant and the past fell off my shoulders. My body was changing and preparing for this new life inside of me. My heart and my mind were preparing for this new life ahead of me. I became much more present-focused (my changing body and feeling the baby moving inside of me) and future-focused (I couldn't wait to see what my baby would look like and hold him in my arms.) Now my son is 2 years old and I haven't looked back. Not in such a way as to forget my past or to be unaffected by my past but I am open and willing for NOW to matter so much more and to take up so much more space in my heart. Perhaps becoming a mom and discovering this different kind of love I've never experienced before has freed my heart. It's freed my heart to love my husband more freely and fiercely as well. And as a result, I'm so much more full of life and content. Perhaps through time, I've also become more at peace with the past. Something I have learned - much like gratitude, healing, and forgiveness - peace can't be forced upon us. Rather - taken under our wing and protected.

Presence and Absence

It is late. Especially for a 2 year old.  Especially for his tired Mommy laying in bed with a migraine. Through the monitor I hear my son singing, jumping, banging his crib against the wall. It's been over two hours and the poor little guy is having a hard time going to sleep. It's been a busy weekend with his birthday party on Saturday and a car show with daddy and grandparents on Sunday. He's not crying. He doesn't need anything from me. In fact, going into his room would make it worse. But the thought occurs to me to pray. I know that God loves and cares for my son even more than I do. Imagine that kind of love. How much has God protected my son, my husband, myself from all that we aren't even aware of? So I pray. I pray that God will lay hands upon my son and calm him and settle his precious, restless body so he can get the sleep he so desperately needs. As I pray, my son goes quiet and still. I don't hear another peep through the monitor until morning.

I don't know what to make of that, and yet, I know my God can be that present. I also know that I've experienced God as more absent than present. After I pray for my son, I pray for myself that God will lay hands upon my head and heal my migraine. But there is no relief. Perhaps it's more important for me to be resting right now, and I know, if it weren't for this migraine, I would not be resting. I'd be up late into the night cleaning or reading or editing photos or blogging, or most likely, on Facebook. I know this is what my body needs right now and I don't always heed that unless I'm forced. I sigh and settle into a long sleepless night with a cold washcloth on my forehead. And then I feel a warm hand cradle the top of my head. It's so real, so comforting I almost cry out. And then it's gone. And isn't that just the way it is with God? As if to say, I'm not always going to take your pain away, but I'm here. Sometimes that's enough. Sometimes it's not.

Seven years ago, I prayed that God would lay his hands on my dad and heal him as he lay paralyzed, unable to speak, dying from brain tumors. I imagine my dad did feel God's hands upon his broken body. I know because my dad was at peace. Yes, there were nights he woke up hyperventilating; he cried in pain, frustration, regret and deep sadness. But in the end, he was at peace. He was ready, no, he was eager to be with his Healer.

He whispers, "I will not take this away. But I am here."

What's next?

Lately I've been feeling restless and uneasy. I'm beginning to feel like I'm just floating along in this life, with no real direction, or purpose or concrete goals that I'm working towards. It's very easy to get caught up in my son's daily routines and in his constant needs that weeks/months pass and I look back and find that I am beginning to fade. It's easy to get caught up in other people's stories so much that I'm not living out my own. That has been a struggle for me all my life. Lately I've gotten lazy and disorganized. These are my biggest stumbling blocks these days. So I'm taking some time to think, to organize, to dream. I've been floating along for too long now. I need to dive in and see what's next.

It goes by so fast

Today I was thinking, I really want to SAVOR this time with my son, for it goes by so fast. There will be a day when he'll be in school all day or he'll be away playing with friends rather than home with Momma. There will be a day when he won't need me in the middle of the night, for a burp, for a drink, for a snuggle. There will be a day when I won't be able to rock him, take his picture (ALL the time!), read him books, push him in the stroller. There will be days when he won't like me so much and won't want to spend the afternoon blowing bubbles, dancing together in the living room, or not doing much of anything but just BEING TOGETHER. My kisses will embarrass him and under NO circumstances will I be allowed in his bedroom. It'll be here before I know it. So today, I am SOAKING up this precious time, for it goes by so fast.

a mother's birthday

So I woke up kinda grumpy on my 32nd birthday this morning. What kind of birthday can I have as mother of a one year old? Last year was different; My son was only 2 months old and I was still in the newborn-honeymoon-stage. But now it's a year later and while I love my son to pieces, I just wanted a day off for my birthday. I kept asking my husband - don't they have "take your child to work" days? No, I guess it wouldn't be appropriate for him to have his toddler with him while he's counseling addicts and felons (he's a rehab counselor). If I can't have the day off for my birthday, I'll try to reason with my son... Son, it's my birthday, you're supposed to lie still when I change your diaper; Son, it's my birthday, you're not supposed to throw your breakfast all over the kitchen floor and walls. Son, didn't Daddy give you the memo? It's my birthday, you're supposed to go right down for your nap, no fuss. I even tried to reason with the kitties... no, Frankie, I'm not letting you outside, which he responded with, "meow, meow, meow, meow, meow" on and on and on and on and annoyingly on until finally I gave in and let him out and told him, "fine, go out, run and frolic and eat grass til you puke but you better not get hit by a car because I don't want a dead cat on my birthday. And while you're out, poop outside because it's my birthday and I don't want to clean the litter box on my birthday.

But as the day went on, something happened inside of me. Rocking my son, reading him books, and holding his snuggly warm body against mine, I thought, what more could I possibly want for my birthday? After his nap I put on my favorite tunes and we danced and danced and danced in the living room. He giggled and I sang and we swayed and twirled and b-bopped (and he burped LOUDLY) until I was too tired to go on. When have I had a dance partner so delighted in me? This is joy.

So tomorrow afternoon, after work, I get some time off. I'm going to Barnes and Noble and getting a yummy treat at the cafe and buying some books for my birthday. I'm really looking forward to it. But I also know, it will be nice to come home to my husband and son. They're the best parts about me. And I'm grateful.

Fear and loss

A woman from my grad school died on Monday. She died from a brain aneurysm. Her name was Allyson and she was days away from turning 34. I didn't know Allyson, as she graduated several years after I did, yet I am deeply affected by her death. Especially by the way she died. Would I feel differently if she had died from a car crash or from an illness? I don't know. A brain aneurysm is so scary to me. Any death is devastating, whether it's sudden or a ticking clock. But this kind of death stirs up a lot of fear in me. It's so random, so sudden, and I fear a similar fate.

I am afraid to die. I'm even afraid to write about this for fear this will be some ironic last post people will read after I'm gone. But I'm not superstitious and in writing this down, I hope I will be able to quiet my mind long enough so I can fall asleep tonight. In dying, I'm not so much afraid of where I'm going but what I'm leaving. Ever since my son was born, I've been afraid that something is going to happen to me and he will be motherless; that I'll be taken from him before he'll be able to know me or remember me. Since my dad died almost five years ago, I've been afraid that other loved ones will be taken from me. Now that I have a son, there's been a shift for me. Yes I fear that I will lose my son or my husband or other family or friends. But for the first time, I fear that I will be taken away.

Death seems so random. Why Allyson? Why my dad? Why someone else's dad or child or sibling? I want death to be logical - you get lung cancer because you smoke. Then there's something I can do about it - I won't smoke. I want control over death - if I eat healthy and exercise, get plenty of sleep, don't get too stressed and wear my seat belt I will be safe. But it doesn't work that way. Death overtakes the healthy and unhealthy, the young and the old and everyone in between. I feel powerless to death. My time will come when it will come. And being God's beloved doesn't give me much comfort. He took my dad. He could take my husband or my son. He could take me. He heals some and not others. Who knows why. Every night I lay my hands on my sleeping husband and my sleeping son and beg God, "please, please protect them - body and mind and heart and soul. Please don't take them from me. Please don't take me from them." I need help to live, without this weight of death on my shoulders.

As a therapist, I have clients who want to die. (Or perhaps better said, see that as their only way out of the tremendous pain they're in.) I have other clients who are afraid to live - really live - in fear of change, pain, loss. This is my struggle as well. And yet, I am so blessed to be in the midst of so much life - my 8 month old son is so full of life! Everyday he teaches me how it is to truly live - without fear, fully engaged and present in each moment, giving his all in everything he does whether it's fighting sleep or trying to crawl or laughing in delight over the kitties or playing and splashing in the bath. He is fully alive in body and spirit and heart and mind. I want that always for him.

My heart goes out to Allyson's family and friends. How devastating. May I live - truly live - with freedom and passion - until it's my time to die. And I will continue to lay my hands on my family and beg God every day.

My conception story (don't worry, it's rated PG)

No one likes to admit that their parents have sex. I'm not sure why but it's a squeamish topic. Like my brother, who chooses to believe that our parents had sex only 5 times in their 30+ year marriage - one time to create each of us kids and one miscarriage. Anymore than that and he has to dissociate and go to his happy place...
(hee hee, love you bro!) :)

I have no idea how my mom and I got onto this topic but she shared with me my conception story the other day. It's such a cool story, I wanted to blog it.

I am the youngest in my family with quite a big age gap between my siblings and myself. My oldest brother and I are 12 years apart, my next brother and I are 10 years apart and my sister and I are 6 years apart. So, I guess you could say, I was unexpected. Welcomed and delighted in, but a "surprise". My mom was 34 years old (believed to be "at risk" back then to be having a baby that "old") and while she had wanted another girl she was happy to have my sister and no plans were made for more kids. God had other plans (I'm so glad!)

My dad had been away on a business trip and called my mom from the airport to tell her that he was on his way home, a day early. A neighbor lady was over for coffee, visiting with my mom and when she heard that Bill was on his way home she stood up, gathered her things to leave and said, "I'm going home right now to pray that you become pregnant tonight!" (She had 7 children herself and really wanted my mom and dad to have more kids.)

Well, my mom is a believer in the power of prayer and her and my dad hadn't discussed the possibility of having more kids. She didn't want to be doing anything behind my dad's back so she doubled up on protection that night. And that night I was conceived. If my dad had come home the next night as planned, who knows... if birth control had been more reliable back then, who knows... I mean come on, I got through two forms of protection! I was determined!

Thanks Mom, for sharing that story with me. It has powerfully affected me. I was prayed into existence. I am meant to be here. I'm even willing to admit my parents had sex to know that story :)

6 months!

My son turned six months on Christmas Day. I can't believe how fast time is flying. We had a great trip to PA to visit my in laws. My son's first plane trip went really good - that was a relief. You just never know...

I am loving my life as a mommy. Everyday I just can't believe that he's actually my son. He's a strong-willed child that's for sure... I can already see we're going to have some challenging days ahead when he's a bit older, but then we did give him an Irish name that means "fiery" so we have no one but ourselves to blame! :) It is truly interesting how that happened though - I fell in love with that name while I was pregnant when I saw it in a magazine. I had no idea who this dear boy was inside of me (although I did have a clue he'd be very active with how active he was in my belly!) And yet the name fits. Pretty cool.

Sorry it's been so long since I've blogged. I've never been good with organizing my time and with my son it's even harder! But that's something I want to get better at this year. I love having a new year ahead of me and the hope and inspiration that gives me. Blessings to you my blogger friends. Thanks for reading.

Baby boy

Tomorrow our baby boy will be 3 weeks old! I love being a mom and am so in love with my son. Let me tell you a little about him...

He was born Monday, June 25 at 8:57 a.m. by C-section. C-section wasn't as bad as I had feared. My recovery has been really quick which I'm so grateful for. He was 10 pounds, 20.5 inches so I agree, C-section was best. He surpassed his daddy who was 9 pounds 9 ounces. He has lots of black hair (just like his mommy was when she was born) and a dimple in his chin (passed down from his Grandpa (my dad)). His hair seems to be getting lighter now though and maybe a little reddish? That would be cool. He loves his momma's boob juice and hates to have his diaper changed. He sleeps a lot (not as much at night) and poops a lot. He's very alert and likes to look at everything going on around him. He loves to suck on his fists and hopefully he'll follow in his momma's footsteps and suck his fingers or thumb. (I must have had a strong sucking urge too because I sucked my fingers until I was 12 years old! No, I'm not ashamed to share that...) So far he seems to be a pretty happy and content baby (except when he's having gas issues). I feel so blessed to have him. He brings me to my knees before my Father more than anything else ever has. Everything I had to go through in pregnancy, in delivering him, in these past few weeks of recovering has been so worth it to have this precious peanut in our life. I am in awe of the whole thing.

Pregnancy rollercoaster continues...

Lots been going on with my pregnancy in the past couple weeks. I've been having constant pain in my inner thigh for over a week now. I had an ultrasound and they didn't find any blood clots or deep vein thrombosis. That's a good thing but in the meantime, they don't know what it is (possibly varicose veins?) It's extremely tender and achy and throbbing. Basically it's no fun and I haven't found any relief yet. It just may be this way until I deliver, which is of huge concern to me regarding labor and delivery. All those wonderful labor positions I've been working on I can no longer do - I can't bend my leg, I can't squat, I can't get on all fours; it hurts to sit, to lay on my side with my legs touching... so how am I supposed to deliver a baby?

Speaking of delivering this big boy of ours... my midwife is having me do a consult next week with the Dr. she is under. Baby continues to measure big and therefore this is an "at risk" pregnancy. She had me do another ultrasound... the first ultrasound they measured the baby at 6.5 lbs; a week and a half later I had another ultrasound and he measured at 8.5 lbs, which proves to me how inaccurate the test is! How can a baby gain 2 pounds in less than 2 weeks, and wouldn't I also have had to gain more than 2 pounds during that time period?
They also are testing me again for gestational diabetes to see if that is a factor for baby's "bigness". I took the test this morning and haven't gotten the results yet.
So next week, my husband and I meet with the dr., she's going to gather all my info from my ultrasounds, from my diabetes test and do a pelvic exam and my midwife said not to be surprised if she recommends a C-section.
At this point, my husband and I are shooting for a vaginal delivery; we at least want a chance to begin laboring and then if I can't or if there's a medically necessary reason why I can't, then we'll go for a C-section. (please God, no) I'm trying to emotionally and mentally prepare myself ahead of time for it but so far, I'm not ok with it.
We are getting anxious for baby boo to come out... mostly so I won't have to be induced and he could come naturally. I feel like, the closer we get to my due date, the doctor is going to pressure me for induction or a C-section.
I'm so attuned to my body and waiting for any little sign that labor may be near, but reality is, I'm still a month away from my due date and he could come late.
I'm still trusting that baby will come when he's supposed to come and really, I don't have much say in the matter if I want him to come on his own. But I feel abandoned by my midwife and very disappointed that she seems to be passing me off to the dr. and that she will not support me if I decide to go against doctor's wishes for a C-section. This is the very reason I went with a midwife. Maybe her hands are tied and legally she has no choice. And if there was a medical reason for all of this (like if my gestational diabetes test comes back positive) than that's a different story. But no longer working with me because tests that are reliable 50% of the time are saying I'm having a "too big" baby doesn't seem fair to me; that seems contrary to what midwifery is all about.
Well, here I go again, writing a very long post. Thanks for reading. Please keep us in your prayers.

First Wash

Grumpy Bear

So I'm in a bit of a bad mood today. 33 weeks pregnant and I'm no longer enjoying this "renting my belly out for living space". I had no idea it would include such major home renovations. I'm uncomfortable 24/7 no matter if I'm walking or sitting or laying down. My hands and feet and legs are swollen, my back aches, my pelvis hurts, I see stars when I stand up... and to top it all off, I can't even find relief in complaining because I feel guilty for complaining. I love my precious baby boo. He can't help any of this... (nor can my husband help any of this and yet I'm afraid I've been taking it out on him a bit today... He made the mistake of saying something about how difficult the delivery turns out to be isn't as important as having a healthy baby, blah blah blah... or at least that's what I heard and I got all mad and said something about him having no right to say anything about the "discomfort" of labor or delivery when I'm going to be doing all the work. Of course I shared this with him in a very loving tone. Thinking back on it, our conversation made me feel alone... like when it comes down to it, I have to get this baby out by myself. No one else can do it for me. Yes, there will be people there to support me - wonderful people which i am so grateful for - but it will be my body doing the work and feeling the pain and I just don't know if I'm up for it. I felt more confident in 2nd trimester when I was feeling better. How am I supposed to get through the labor and delivery when I'm feeling so physically uncomfortable and achy? And baby has so much more growing to do... I'm still 7 weeks away from my due date.)

I think I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed as well. Baby could come now, he could come in a month, he could come in two months... or more... There's lots to do but I feel like I can only do a little at a time before I get too tired or my back starts hurting or any of my other random body parts start aching and swelling.

This "grumpy moodiness" all began with an ultrasound I had this morning. On one hand, it was a wonderful experience. I loved seeing my baby - he looks great – all ten toes and fingers; strong, steady heartbeat; a head of hair, chubby cheeks and a round belly (like his momma). The tech measured him and calculated he's about 6 ½ pounds (at 33 weeks, average for baby's weight is 4 ½ pounds). Not new news, I've known all along he's going to be a big boy. The tech said he'll most likely gain a ½ pound/week til he's due which puts him as a 10 + pound baby for delivery. I know what's important is having a healthy baby but to be honest, why do I have to have such a big baby? Why me? I was of average size when I was born. My husband, on the other hand, was 9 pounds 9 ounces. But I can't be angry at him because of that. He couldn't help it. I feel guilty for saying that I want a nice “normal” size baby. I should be grateful he's so healthy...

The ultrasound tech doesn't believe that my due date (July 1) is necessarily wrong but that most likely they will not let baby boo come that late. I like the idea of not having to be pregnant until July 1 (or after). But I don't like the idea of being induced. Who knows, maybe he'll come early on his own... before he reaches 10 pounds. But I'm worried that he won't. I'm worried that he's loving it in my belly and will be in no hurry to get out. I'm scared of the idea of being induced and all the interventions that often leads to... induction causing labor pains to come on so strong and so fast that I need to have an epideral... which means I can't be upright during labor which slows down labor, which often leads to C-section, etc...
My childbirth educator lead me to some research about the accuracy of estimating fetal weight through an ultrasound. (or more like inaccuracy). Research shows that in the third trimester, it's only about 50% accurate and yet from these predictions, women can be strongly pressured to have a C-section or be induced or other such interventions. For example, when the baby is predicted to be 'big,' the doctors often induce labor early in the mistaken belief that this will be more likely to result in vaginal birth. The opposite tends to be the case, in many cases, induction strongly raises the chance of a cesarean. Numerous studies have concluded that the best plan is not to induce labor or to have an elective cesarean. The research made me feel better. I allowed the ultrasound results to cause me to doubt myself and my body but the research helped me to stay strong and trust this pregnancy process.

I guess this is what they call "pregnancy moods". One day someone tells me I look fabulous pregnant and how cute I am and I feel beautiful and radiant and walk tall with pride. The next day I have an ultrasound where the tech predicts that I'm going to have such a “big” baby and I feel ashamed and huge and want to hide. Is this because I stopped running years ago and gained weight? Is this because I'm so out of shape? I wonder how much of this weight I'm carrying is shame.

I see my midwife next week and I look forward to hearing what she has to say about the ultrasound results. I just need to keep telling myself to trust my body, trust this baby and trust God. He knows my heart; He knows my fears. I won't let anyone turn me against my own body. Baby is as he's supposed to be... even if that means he's destined to become a baby sumo wrestler.

I love my tummy!

31 weeks and I feel like my tummy is bigger and lower than last week. I've been trying to get out and take walks. It's definitely different than 2nd trimester exercising. I have to walk slower and shorter distances and I'm quickly breathing harder. But I know walking is good so I will try and keep it up for the next couple months. And stretching feels so good - my back so quickly tightens up so the stretching really helps.

My husband painted the baby's room this past weekend. We love the color (light blue). I will take pictures once we have the room set up. I'm so excited to get it set up! That's going to make it all the more real. We're actually going to have a baby... we're going to have a son... we're going to be a mom and a dad! It still blows my mind when I think about it. There's a little baby inside of me and soon he will decide to come out and I already feel sad about that. I can't wait to meet him and see what he looks like and hold him in my arms, but I also will miss having him inside me. I guess the letting go process begins already from Day 1 outside the womb.

Third Trimester Belly

Two months to go and baby boy boo is growing growing growing. Saw midwife today and baby grew 2.5 inches in last 3 weeks. Mommy is a bit more tired, more hungry and more emotional these days but baby is doing great. He is so active in my belly. I love feeling him kick and jab and roll around. My body is starting to get a bit more uncomfortable these days but I'm still so grateful to be pregnant and to be on this amazing journey.

It's not time for you yet baby boy boo! Stay in there!

I had a bit of a scare this past weekend. Sunday, after a long walk with my husband (perhaps too long of a walk) I had some cramping and bleeding. Upon resting, the symptoms went away and I haven't had any since. I guess I overdid things a bit. I've been taking it easy this week... fighting a cold too. One really cool thing from it all is how well I was able to take it... I thought with something scary like that I'd be real anxious but I was calm. And my husband was calm. I just listened to my body and my body told me to rest. So I did. Baby boo is teaching me how to listen and pay attention to my body - this body I haven't treated so well in the past - he's insisting I be kind to this haven of his.

I'm feeling more and more like I'm going to be okay for this labor and delivery thing I've got coming up here in a few months. I can do it. My baby can do it. My body can do it. I don't know what's ahead but right now I'm excited and calm.

Week 22

My husband and I have been working out at the Y this week and it feels really good! It's good to have the energy and to know that what I'm doing is good for me, good for the baby and good prep for labor/delivery.
We start childbirth classes this week. Here's the link to read about our instructor and the classes... www.informedbirthchoices.com
I'm looking forward to getting started.
I've been feeling the baby kick this week! It's so cool! Except when he kicked my bladder the other night and sent me running to the bathroom! That was not cool. Other than that, I am loving it!
I continue to have strange dreams... like last night, I dreamed I was cradling our 20 lb cat, Oliver, and feeding him milk from a bottle. I'm not sure but he might have been dressed in baby clothes and a bonnet. Boy it's fun to be pregnant!