mundane echo

She was dancing last night.  4am.  My baby’s a party girl.

Yesterday was our first birthing class.  Fun.  I like the group of parents that are there.  Particularly V&J, they just seem like really fun people.  I didn’t learn anything new, but Mark was able to pick up some specific information.  After the class he seemed more interested and talkative about the baby and pregnancy than he has been.  I was hoping for that, but at the same time it frustrated me…. I could ramble about it, but I’m going to spare you.

Today’s piorities are – HOMEWORK.  I am incredibly behind in my classes and I need to spend some time today getting caught up.  It’s difficult because school is not a piority to me right now.  I’m done and moved on.  I want to focus on getting myself, the baby, the house, the nursery, etc.  Not school.  Although, being in perinatal Friday was a great reminder.  I want to be in medical.

All these things are swimming around in my head.  A baby is swimming around in my tummy.  Hum.  I’m going to ramble for a bit.

A friend of mine is just a few weeks ahead of me in her pregnancy.  Last Friday she delivered preterm.  A little boy.  Apparently there was a problem with the cord not transferring nutrients from the placenta.  While he was 27 weeks when delivered, his development was more in the 23 week mark.  Because of the cord issue they decided he had a better chance out here than in there.  The doctor believed that leaving him in the womb would be fatal within a day or two.

He must be so small.

I’m going to be in that part of the bay Friday and will hopefully get a chance to check on the parents and child.  It will be good to be there and get a chance to pray for him.  I don’t know that physical distance makes a difference in prayer… the bible talks about laying hands on people… but there is something human in the connection that makes.

My little one is doing ok, as far as I know.  She’s getting big enough that I can feel the smaller movements.  The shifts and turns.  It has become a comfort to feel her.  Talk to her.  To have her respond to me.  There’s so much that is tied to her.  Dreams that I’ve been having recently.  A dream that I had in the past.  Despite all that, my Mom reminded me this morning that all she has to do right now is be a baby.  To grow, stay healthy and be a child.  It was a good reminder and it eased my heart.

It’s been placed on my heart that her name has to mean strength.  Or something related.  So the search continues.

Yesterday was going to be an important day for the nursery.  Mark was finally going to put the crib together.  Sadly, a side piece had split in shipping and everything had to halt there.  I knew I should have unpacked the box when it was delivered.  I chose not to because Mark wasn’t going to put it together until that weekend (which was delayed, obviously) and I didn’t want to temp myself to find an alternate way of assembling the thing.  So now, I have to wait for at least a week for the replacement to come in.  Blah.  Yesterday I was quite annoyed.  Luckily it was rather short lived, heh.

I’m trying to grow as a person.  To be less selfish.  The most difficult area for me is my marriage.  To give and not have expectations of anything in return.  My husband has some needs, some issues, and other things which are yet to be classified.  I have to help/support/aide/etc in these things.  I have to give him what he needs without expecting anything back.  I can’t weigh my own input into this relationship based upon his output.  How is that managed?  How can I continue to pour out without being poured into?  If I perceive that my needs are not being met, can I, in turn, meet his?

The only way to do this, is to be poured into.  My only consistent source is God.  People fail.  They too have their selfish issues.  They forget to call.  They flake.  They make mistakes.  They don’t pay attention.  It’s just traits that make us human (and in that, they are beautiful).  If I lean upon God and allow Him to fill me, then there will be more than enough for me to provide for my husband.  More than enough for me to provide for my child.  More than enough for me to provide for whomever and whatever gets placed in my path.

He is the source of my strength.  He is the source of my peace and my joy.  Perhaps not happiness, but always there must be a joy.

Recently two people from my past told me how different I am.  It wasn’t in a good way… at least, I didn’t take it that way.  I’ve grown up.  I’m not the free spirit they remember.  To quote one “we haven’t spoken in so long – it is not the Stina I remember, so carefree, – it’s like I’m reading someone else’s blog.”  The other was my ex.  When I told him I was pregnant we hadn’t really been caught up on each other’s lives.  I filled him in on the past year, including my miscarriage.  He said I wasn’t the free spirit he knew.

It’s not possible to avoid change (and it shouldn’t be avoided).  Change is good, in its own right.  What constitutes that change and its effects are what have the potential to be negative.  Growing up is good.  Being more responsible is good.  Experience is good.  But at what cost?  My carefree free-spirit personality was something I valued about myself.  It was a core to my personal identity.  It got me into trouble sometimes.  It caused me to hurt people sometimes (not intentionally).  But it was me.  It defined me and how everyone saw me.  It was how I coped with all of the crap that happened in my life.

If I don’t have to that cope… how am I?  How am I dealing with the waves that come at me without end?  The pains, the hurts, the disappointments, the death, the struggle.  Even the joys.  How do I process those if I can’t let them go into the wind from a green hillside?  How do I breathe?

Does this too have to come from God?

Dostana has two amazing date scenes.  Twilight is all about love and rescue.  Princess Bride. Time Travelers Wife.    Somewhere in Time.  The Last Unicorn for crying out loud! The list goes on and on and on and on and on and on.  Really… are there men out there who are masculine AND romantic?  Or is it just a fallacy that we’ve been fed through books, movies, etc?  How is a woman supposed to reconcile reality and dreams/expectations/things hoped for?  How can we let go of the desire, put it as a pie in the sky and walk away?  Should we stare longingly at the moon… still hanging on to hope?

What happens if we’ve had it before?  What about if we’ve known and loved those idealistic men who leave a single rose on your windshield almost daily, since your car is on his way home from work… who greet you home with a trail of rose petals leading to a beautiful evening picnic complete with music, candles, and pillows… who kiss you goodnight and then find short cuts to your house, so he can be there… waiting for you… for one last kiss and so he could rest knowing that you made it home safe… who take you out to watch shooting stars…

How can that taste of love, desire, and devotion… the warmth of being needed and wanted to such extremes that he can’t help but express it in any way to make you smile… how can that be forgotten or boxed away?  How can life be accepted without and not considered lacking?

Is romance a dehabilitative disease? That once touched, infects you forever?  Is it an addiction that you crave for the rest of your life?  Is it like losing a leg… where you can still feel it twitch?  An itch that you can never quell.

Is it a passing season and I’m just too old?

It’s Tuesday night.  Already.  At last.  Besides a telephone outlet and cleaning the windows, the nursery room is completed.  Closet will be done later this week.  Furniture will arrive tomorrow.  It’s all coming together.  The house is a mess, but getting cleaned up slowly.  It’s ok.  Things are moving.  I’m ok.

Tonight I’ll rest.  After the laundry is put away.  Then I’ll rest.  Knit.  Watch Chuck and maybe Heros with my husband.  Curl up next to him.  Breathe.  I can’t wait.

Today’s been a “wasted” day.  It was wonderful.  I needed it.  I realize, now, what a mess I’ve been a bulk of my life, just because I never took time for myself.  It’s amazing how the burden lightens and I’m able to breathe again.

Andy and AJ are on their way home.  It was great having them here for a few days.  I put them to work day 1 helping me paint the nursery   I’m such a terrible friend.  The highlight of the weekend was hanging out with Andy.  We went themed Saturday with Indian food and Dostana.  It was really nice.  I’m looking forward to their visit in Spring.  So much will have changed between now and then.

I’ve finally committed to Flickr’s 365 group.

It’s 2pm.  One more hour before I can cut the power and replace the switches and plugs in the nursery.  Depending on how long it takes me, I may start working on the rest of the house.  I’ve been meaning to replace these things for a couple years now…

A few weeks ago (10/27) I was eating oranges in my office.  Sometimes it’s fun to stick the whole slice in your mouth… you remember those days.  Mark came in, laughed at me.  He wanted to draw teeth on the orange and take a picture.

He tricked me.

Now, I knew that he was doing something sneaky.  But when Mom walked by and said “what’s that say?” the gig was up.  I still let him take a picture (before I saw it) because it’s funny.

I like memories like this.  They make me smile.

We’re house sitting for some friends while they are overseas.  This morning I woke up and dressed to walk over.  The fog was lovely. beautiful. perfect.  Ludovico Einadui’s Andare played as my soundtrack.  It was perfect.  beautiful. lovely.  The crescendos came at the right time.  Ending up the song as I reached my destination… just as the sun began to burn through the fog.

Exiting the house, Primavera came on.  The sun continued it’s work and the colors became brighter, crisper.  lovely. beautiful. perfect.  The leaf edges defined, etching themselves against the sky.  The song picks up around the five minute mark, right when I reached a busy intersection.  I had to increase the volume over the sound of the cars.  But it was right.  It was the push for a new day.  As everyone entered their lives, their work, their tasks.  Movement mixed with color and edges.

lovely. beautiful. perfect.

It’s such a relief to hear her heartbeat.  I know that I am not alone in my worries.  Every Mother and expectant Mother I’ve chatted with have gone through / are going through the same concerns.  By the time the OB appointment comes around, we’re relieved.  Something about hearing a medical professional say “everything looks good” – makes the world of difference.

I have my glucouse screening test.  A little bottle of orange liquid that I can’t imagine tastes very good.  “Drink it cold” I was told… never a good sign!  I’ll probably get that done and over with Saturday morning after my exercise class.  Oh wait, company.  Maybe I’ll put it off for a week, no reason to rush the horrible parts of life!

I am trying to step up my exercise program.  I gained a bit too much over the past four weeks (probably because for the past three I had a HUGE sweet tooth!).  It didn’t help to have my husband constantly commenting that I don’t eat enough, in his opinion.  I need to stop appeasing him on things like that, especially when I know better.  It’s a frustrating part of my personality.  Anywho, so I’m getting up earlier so that I can walk every morning.  It’s day two and going well.  We’ll see how day three and four progress.

ohmygoshicantwaitfortwilighttocomeoutimsoexcited.

blah!

I was thinking about a friend of mine, who’s older brother is estranged from the family (or is it that the family is estranged from him?).  Either way, even after all these years, it still breaks my heart.  I wonder why this is so heavy on my mind today.  I haven’t heard from my friend in a bit, and perhaps in thinking about her this memory came up.  I hope all is well.

It’s seven something in the morning.  I’ve had toast and am drinking a lovely, warm, wonderful cup of almond tea.  It’s gray and chilly outside.  Really, this makes the perfect morning.  Shortly I will head upstairs and start on “her” room.  My baby.  My little girl.

Do you ever notice how, when attempting to grow out your hair (ladies) it doesn’t change for AGES!  Then one day you wake up and it’s grown an inch?  Out of nowhere.  It was short yesterday and suddenly today it has some length to it?  Well, that’s how I feel about my belly.  Nothing… nothing… nothing… ohmygoshitshuge!  Granted, I’m not that big and it’s still not terribly obvious that I’m pregnant, but the belly is getting bigger.  The only time in my life that I’m excited, and waiting in antisipation, of my clothes getting smaller.  Bless the small joys.

Bless… hum.  Word rabbit trail.  At church we are going through Ruth.  I adore the book of Ruth so I was happy to see it come up for the next study.  Pastor Larry is drawing some very interesting meanings from the text.  Nothing crazy, nothing outside of “right” – but beautiful, inspiring, and new.  I’ve heard enough teachings that I can nod my head in agreement.  Yepyep, heard that… that’s right.  Some of the stuff he’s been drawing out of the text makes me pause and contemplate a bit more.  It brings that much more depth to the story and it’s beautiful.  God’s providence.

Tea is almost done… done enough that it’s too close to room temperature.  Time to get to work!

I have a large white board in my office.  I come up with the great idea of moving my task list on there instead of paper.  The problem is that now my task list is (looks) bigger and is in technicolor.  Luckily it’s not so much that I get heart palpatations looking at it. 

One thing I don’t like about counseling.  I have to look at certian things.  I’ve done pretty good ignoring them or even pretending they aren’t there.  I can’t do that anymore, and looking at them is making my life very difficult.  For example… if I acknowlege the things about my husband’s habits which bug me, then they BUG me.  If I ignore them and continue on as if some imaginary gnome was the root cause of all evil – it just makes life a little bit easier.

One thing that I’m hoping will help – is communication with my Mother.  I know that’s strange considering that this is marriage counseling, but it’s more than that.  Our theripist wants to work on our individual issues and through an series of events he has a better understanding of me and my family relations.  Lately communication with her has been more difficult than usual.  I chalk this to to 1. I’m pregnant (and by proxy emotional) and 2. she’s living with us so I engage her more often.  It’s one thing to put up with particulars during the occasional weekend visit.  It’s another to be faced with them daily.  It’s difficult on both of us and I hope we can continue to work on it.

Lately I’ve been on the edge/end/limit I don’t know what to call it.  I am having trouble dealing with the different communation styles of Mom AND Mark… as well as the regular daily stains of reach relationship.  I hope things get better quickly.

In other news, my Godmother has left ICU and has made it past the initial infection that put her in the hospital originally.  However, somehow she has contracted e.coli … in the hospital.  They think it happened when they attempted to transfer her out of ICU this last time.  So now visitors have to wear special protective body suits and masks. Woah.  I talked to her on the phone the other day.  I kinda wish I hadn’t.  It was good to hear her voice, but it also made her health issues very real.  I think this “real” thing is becoming a pattern.  I’m going to clump it with pasley.