My good friend Julie is in Boston right now --she and her husband are there with their son awaiting his heart surgery (it's tomorrow). Could you please pray for them? Pray that their son will have a successful surgery and that everything will go smoothly? Their little guy is only 2 years old (wait. He's not 3 yet, is he Julie?), and so it's an overwhelming situation.
I love you, Jules!
I've been having crazy, crazy dreams lately. Here are a few:
1. I went to the hospital and gave birth to a little girl. And then I came home and gave birth to two boys. Obviously, I had triplets! And why I came home to deliver the last two while I was already at the hospital is beyond me (although it may have everything to do with this post).
2. I was at ward choir practice, and I started hemorrhaging. The choir director (a very nice lady) was very, very angry with me because I couldn't leave! I had to stay and accompany the choir! I saw that Brandon was there, and I turned to him for support and although he agreed we should probably go to the hospital, he was VERY put out --how dare I take him away from choir? He wanted to sing! And so I cried a lot because nobody cared I was bleeding and might lose the baby...
And I'll be honest: That second dream, although totally ridiculous, slapped me right in the face. When I woke up (it was just this last Friday night I had the dream), I did a complete 180 and decided to keep my ultrasound appointment.
I still hope I'm right and the doctors are idiots --and chances are it will be that way (in fact, chances are pretty high. See, I always get worked up about stuff "that is wrong!" and it turns out it's "not so bad." Like my asthma. Or my broken nose. Or my heart PVC's. Or my colds. Or my pregnancies, etc. I am seriously blessed with health, and I have no room to complain --because I have never had any serious life-threatening illness or injury. In fact, sometimes I would like for something to be serious just so my dramatic side can make it all dramatic-like and dramatic-y and I can be validated in that dramatic-ness. Morbid, eh? Yeah, I know) however --after that dream, and a few scary 30 minute intervals when I couldn't feel the baby move, I decided to just do it. Two things can come from it:
1. Everything is peachy-keen. I'm right (again). The doctors freak out too much so they won't get sued, and I sigh a lot.
2. Something is very wrong. Baby must be born right away. Baby is born, he's great, and life is good.
Either way, at least everyone will know, right?
My time is getting harder and harder to manage. Remember the post I wrote last week? The whole re prioritizing one? Yeah, well, I guess I'm not doing very well. I keep telling myself to just give myself a break --I'm completely exhausted and stressed and should be giving birth soon. Plus, everything is happening in July (used to be May! But no more --it's now July): family reunion, holidays, #1 being gone for almost two weeks with extended family (still worried about that one), Brandon going to London, house guests, blogging parties, starting work, etc. In fact, just this morning --and I'm being honest here --I kind of wished for the baby to be born today. Or tomorrow. Maybe by Friday? That way, I won't have to do anything this month.
See? Morbid. Or lazy. Probably both.
But at the same time, I really DON'T want the baby to come early (even if he is measuring 4 weeks ahead) because if I can get through July with the baby still inside, then I will get everything done. Finis! Brandon has finals on the 24th and 25th, and after that? A four-week break! Boo-yah! That would rock if I had the baby during that time. And since the due date isn't technically until August 2nd...
And it's true, you know --the things pregnant women say about the last month. It is HARD. It doesn't matter if it's your first or third or tenth kid --the last month is torture. I'm finally starting to swell (rings are getting harder to put on and off), my back aches, my pelvic ligaments are doing that jolting-giving-out thing, I'm HUGE (garments are even getting tight), I'm getting the comments from people at church ("Cheryl, when is that baby due!?!?" and "holy cow, Cheryl, isn't that baby here, yet?!"), I'm tired ALL THE TIME, my brain is complete mush, I'm forgetting all kinds of details about everything and forgetting to even call people, I'm panicky about having the house ready but have no energy to get it ready, and I cry over everything. Well, it's bawling, actually. I think I've bawled my eyes out four times or more in the last two days alone.
See why I wouldn't mind him coming early?
Anyway, ignore my rantings and ravings, dear reader. I'm sure they'll come in handy one day and be a part of this journal that I call a blog, but I really don't want to evoke any pity (or cancellation of events or assumptions that I'm out of my mind and can't help out or etc. things). So...instead, you should just...I know! Just answer these questions:
1. June or July?
2. If you've had a baby, did s/he come early, on time, late, or by induction?
3. Strawberries or blueberries?
4. Journey or U2?
5. Seattle or Texas?
That is all. Have a fabulous Monday!