Well, hm, things sure are fiercely normal and frighteningly different. All, of course, on a scale of minute proportions.
Normal: Currently addicted to the Olympics,
Abnormal: Projecting my fear of motherly failure on that one American snowboarder who totally choked four years ago at the finish line, gained a ton of media attention for her hope for gold this year, and unfortunately wiped out in the semis in a furry of snow, flags, and a flying snowboard. Needless to say, I teared up a little on the way to work thinking about her surely broken heart.
Normal: <3 for rearranging and purchasing furniture
Abnormal: Obsessively checking Craigslist for new listings.
Abnormal: Finding a beloved changing table/dresser combo on Craigslist, feeling like I had it for sure in my grasp, and then finding out it sold before I could see it. (Note that it was used and not the finish that we wanted, but for some reason I latched on.) Finding another beloved combo changer at JC Penney Outlet (it did, in fact, have scratches and damages, but of course, I loved it unequivocally), checking on it a few days later, arranging for a friend to help us haul it, and then finding that hours after it was in my sight for the last time, some other mother-to-be (likely a Johnson County-ian, hmph) bought it out from underneath my very grasp. I bawled, bawled, rejected fast food, bawled, curled up on the recliner, and bawled. Over a damaged dresser.
--Clearly I'm swinging on a pendulum--
Normal: Excitement for the baby to come!
Abnormal: Waking up at 1 am and pondering the birth of my child, waking Keith up to discuss it, and finding that I'm annoyed with him for not wanting to chat about childbirth and birth defects and all that jazz...
Normal: Dreams
Abnormal: Dreams that involve my mother, at 52, having another child; a college acquaintance blowing up in Disney Land; and my OB stealing my child at birth and giving it to a couple who couldn't have kids all for the sake of doing Good in the world (I could always have more children, after all). I now have developed isolated fears of birth control, Disney Land, and my obstetrician.
Enough of this talk. Some info updates: I'm 23 1/2 weeks and feeling the baby moving about a lot. Keith felt her swimming around two weekends ago (yay!), and just recently I've been able to see her kicks! While I'm watching TV or reading, I enjoy leaving my hand on my tummy and feeling every knee, elbow, hand, or foot that I can. Usually, I giggle. Giggling has become my number one reaction to any miracle of life: marriage, healing, salvation, babies...
At my last check-up I had gained 6 lbs from my previous appointment, for a total weight gain of 7 lbs. Yippee. I very much enjoy my prenatal pilates, mainly because the instructor is at least 10 months pregnant (ha) and if she can do it, I can do it too. For the most part. Unless it involves moving more than 2 appendages at a time. Coordination gets tricky, if you know what I mean.
Still trucking away at Caribou Coffee. I both look forward to and dread my quitting day, because once I quit, there will be no more paychecks. And I don't know what we'll do, or how we'll make it, and I don't know what my next work move will be from there, and I don't know how long we'll be able to hold on, but that's where the beauty of Christ-following comes in. Something (well, Someone) is keeping our hearts at peace as we approach this serious unknown. God is our Provider. He'll provide.
