You're a Girl!

To My Baby-Girl Bird,

First of all, you were so worth the wait. The tests and tears and pokes and prods can never compare to the joy of seeing your eyes and heart and bones, the container that holds your personality and attitude and smiles and frowns, all the beauty of you. So many people are excited about your arrival, and without your awareness, you are being asked about and texted about and talked about by family, friends, students, and everyone else to whom I announce your arrival (including the waitress at Olive Garden last night J).

In honor of finding out more about you and spending almost every moment thinking about you, I want to share with you some of the hopes I have for you.

I hope you giggle at silly, random things.

I hope you cry with those who cry.

I hope you laugh often at yourself.

I hope you pick flowers and make dandelion necklaces.

I hope you eat blueberries and strawberries from a field.

I hope you let go of petty grudges.

I hope you race to the ocean tide—and finally catch it.

I hope you never know the meanness that popularity can bring.

I hope you choose honesty rather than ease.

I hope you love ice cream the first time you taste it.

I hope you know God’s love early and never doubt it.

I hope you play tea-party with daddy on a regular basis.

I hope you are angered at injustice and fight for the weak.

I hope you know far more joy than sorrow.

I hope you run to mommy when you’re knee is skinned or your heart is broken.

I hope you trust the incredible support-system all around you.

I hope you meet a man as good as your daddy (but not until you are 35 J).

I hope you love life and live deliberately.

I not only hope this for you. I have a feeling that though you (and your parents) will make mistakes, the heart of your life will be all this—and much more.

I love you,

Mom

My Favorite Picture of Baby Bird

Venti Calm Tea Misto with Soy

I'm sitting in class right now, waiting for my students to finish reading the last Chapter of The Scarlet Letter. I had hoped to read it aloud to them, but I am sick. A coughing, sneezing, congested, "am I wetting myself?????" kind of sick. I never thought about the ramifications of that during pregnancy. Now, I worry about how being ill might affect my baby. Now, I can't take most meds and instead just work through it. Now, I call my mom at 6:45am and ask more questions than I already would normally. Now, I'm easier on myself as a teacher, drinking my Venti Calm Tea Misto with Soy and ichatting about the book with my students. It's all I can do right now. All of this leads me to believe that this may be part of the prep for being a mom myself. Concern for my child, questions for my mom, less of a focus on work and more on home. Being a mom. Hmmm... What a nice thought, even with all the new (cuter) baggage that I carry with me on this journey to motherhood.

Pregnancy Is Weird

Okay. So I really thought that pregnancy was like this: throw up, get a belly, suffer through delivery, bring home baby. Now, I wonder how many other millions of misconceptions I have. Instead, I've found that pregnancy is like this:

1. Wake up with achy legs because I've tossed and turned from side to side all night (in an attempt to avoid sleeping on the back or belly)

2. Go to the bathroom and discover a bloody nose because apparently every blood vessel in my body dilates during this miracle-of-life-making

3. Get dressed, attempting to find a cute outfit that still covers the belly

4. Walk down to the car to go to work and then just sit for a moment, attempting to catch my breath (apparently rising progesterone has something to do with this)

5. Go to work and suddenly need a bathroom visit in the middle of class (when it's desperate, the poor children are left to fend for themselves for a few moments)

6. Sneeze while I'm working in my office and suddenly wonder if I've just gone to the restroom on myself (not completely yet, thank goodness)

7. ALWAYS forget SOMETHING (like turning in grades or a meeting)

8. Stumble over my words during lectures and grade the kids' papers incorrectly, obviously because my baby is becoming a genius and needs my extra brain power (not leaving me much to work with)

9. Finish my work day full of energy and arrive home (after an entire 5 minute drive), about ready to pass out from exhaustion. Nap or no nap, depending on the evening, but still tired and ready for bed by 10pm either way.

10. Go to sleep, prepared to wake again every two hours in order to get up and visit the bathroom once again. I assume this is my body's way of preparing me for 2am feeding (and 4am and 6am, etc...)

These are not complaints because I paid a little over $1000 for each of the above observations. Thus, they are merely noticeable moments in this strange world in which my body has been hi-jacked by a (currently) navel-orange-sized little person. But I know that these minor weirdnesses will be worthwhile, so in the meantime, I'm glad to share this body -- this oh-so-strange and changing-day-to-day body -- with my little fruit-sized wonder.

Making Faces

This week has been a tough one at work, as a couple of recent events about a faculty member has unfolded in the media. However, last night while Tim worked out and watched the Rockets downstairs, my mom came over and took me to Target to spend some of my birthday money (and her money too, of course). We perused the baby section, enjoying browsing amongst the oh-so-adorable one-sies and tiny shoes. After choosing a few gender-specific items (more girl stuff than boy, so we'll see how that goes), the "Big Bang Theory" season one, M&Ms, and a frozen pizza, we went back to my apartment where we talked profusely and laughed loudly and ate delightedly. While we watched the season and my mom gave me a back rub, she said, "You need to laugh like this every night. Just come home and laugh."

I realize that she's completely right. Laughter is sweet relief to a drained spirit. I remember being particularly reminded of this at points in my life where I would giggle and then realize that I couldn't remember the last time that happened. So today, I encourage all of us to find at least one carefree moment to chuckle out loud--at a film, at a comment made by someone else, at the strange situation we may find ourselves in, or simply at ourselves. Surely we can always find one characteristic about our unique personalities with which to amuse ourselves. If all else fails, make faces at yourself in the mirror.

Resurfaced

Many readers know that my relationship with my dad is sadly strained at the moment. Typically, I go throughout my day, occasionally thinking or speaking of him, but often focused on my work, family, or friends. However, my birthday last weekend brought up a grief that resurfaces on occasion. The thought that my child might not know someone whose life deeply influenced mine offers a difficult reality to face. Although no easy answers exist in a situation like this, I do know that grief is an inevitable part of the process, whether the relationship ends in a happy reunion or a sad separation. I find that embracing the sorrow allows me to move forward unlike the results of avoidance or distraction. A friend brought a song to my mind recently, and I would like to share it as a tool that comforts me as I work through this array of complex emotions. May we all know the comfort of being held. The YouTube link is below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOufqWodFNo