What does one do while waiting for a dream to come true?

The waiting is almost over.  We’re scheduled to be induced tomorrow morning at 6am, otherwise known as the butt crack of dawn.  Praying that they still have a bed available for us at that time. 

That leaves us about 18 hours of anxiousness to occupy with the mundane.  Our chosen brand of mundane is sleep.  Which shouldn’t be difficult considering the lack of sleep that we’ve been dealing with lately, but here I am on my computer so you can see that already things aren’t going according to plan.

Garrett, on the other hand, is napping on the couch.  I can’t tell you how much I love to watch that man sleep.  He’s just the cutest thing.  And he certainly deserves to catch a few z’s.  I knew when I married him that I was a lucky woman, but after the way he’s taken care of me the last nine months I can assure you that I am married to the best husband ever.  There was no way for us to predict how sick I’d be during this pregnancy, but he just went with it, taking care of me, our pets, the house, and working at building up his new business all at the same time. 

Garrett is the kind of man that any mother would want for her daughter.  He’s the kind of man that I want for my sisters and friends.  And he’s the kind of man that I would love to see Michael grow into.  Just to be clear, please allow me to list some traits that describe exactly the kind of man I mean, in no particular order:

• Hard-working
• Intelligent
• Funny
• Kind to friends and strangers
• Smiling eyes
• Takes whatever God teaches him to heart
• And he’s just darling

He also sings like an angel, but there aren’t many guys that can sing like him.  So good luck finding that in someone else. 

I waited a long time for Garrett.  I never thought I’d enter my thirties without a husband or children, and there were definitely some lonely times.  But God used that time well.  I grew so much closer to Him, had opportunities for ministry and travel, developed great friendships, and was able to devote some quality time to my family. 

Now I have a wonderful husband and am about to deliver my firstborn.  The purr of joy and contentment in my heart is loud and strong.  I feel ready for the future, excited, alert.  The way I felt the weeks before I met my future husband. 

So I think I’ll spend some of the next 17 1/2 hours treasuring these things and pondering them in my heart.  It’s not every day that I get the chance to prepare for seeing a dream come true.

What does one do while waiting for a dream to come true?

http://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/07/what-does-one-do-while-waiting-for.html

“Pregnancy – 40 Weeks” or “I’m trying to distract myself from the pain and discomfort by writing this post”

Picture it: Mayaguez, Puerto Rico, 1974. A young peasant girl administrative assistant, cheeks still pale from the trauma of natural childbirth, leaves the sterility of a hospital and walks into the warm tropical air holding her firstborn…

Then again, there’s no need to “picture it” when there’s an actual picture available:

That young administrative assistant was my mother, and that firstborn was me!

A few things to note about this picture:

• My mother looks like she’s about 14. But she was actually 21. Really. Almost 35 years later, she looks like she’s about 30. Here’s proof:

• Notice my mother’s smooth straight hair.
• Notice my head full of hair – at birth.
• Notice I do not have my mother’s hair.
• Notice my cheeks.
• I still have those cheeks. Here’s proof:

• My appearance as a newborn saddled me with a nickname. I’ll let you guess the nickname, and why, with even more proof:

          And look who else has chubby cheeks!

          He comes by them honestly:

Back to the original picture – moments after my parents brought me home for the first time, my mother placed me in a bassinet, stared down into my face, and then listened as I exploded in my diaper. Then she cried.

I should meet my firstborn within the next 72 hours.

According to the ultrasound, Baby Michael has lots of hair and chubby cheeks. Just like his mama.

I’ll eventually leave the sterility of the hospital and walk into the warm air with my firstborn. Just like my mama.

Unlike my mama, I will be 34 and not 21.

Unlike my mama, I will do all I can to avoid a natural childbirth.

And unlike my mama, my hair will not be smooth and straight but curly and frizzy.

(It will explode in volume once I step out of the hospital and into the water-saturated Houston air.)

(I will attempt to combat the extreme volumizing by weighing it down with mousse and gel.)

(I will lose the battle with the humidity, but not for lack of trying.)

Picture it: Houston, 2009. A (not-so-)young peasant girl engineer, legs still weak from the effects of an epidural, leaves the sterility of a hospital and walks into the humid south Texas air holding her firstborn…

(…sob…darn pregnancy hormones…sob…)

“Pregnancy – 40 Weeks” or “I’m trying to distract myself from the pain and discomfort by writing this post”

http://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/07/pregnancy-40-weeks-or-im-trying-to.html

"Pregnancy - 37 Weeks" or "Documenting Some Pregnancy Random"

It's been almost two months since I've posted so I'm almost too ashamed to show my face on this here blog. But the need to document some Very Important Pregnancy Facts before Baby Michael is born trumps my shame. So here goes...

- Pregnancy Fact #1 -

I will miss having Garrett call me his "baby squared." I will also miss hearing him say, "Leggo my preggo!" My husband, the poet.

- Pregnancy Fact #2 -

Back in February I shared with the world our concerns about the extra fluid in Baby Michael's kidneys. We spent the next couple of months praying for our baby's kidneys and overall development. We were finally able to go to a follow-up ultrasound and received the fantastic news that Baby Michael's kidney condition totally cleared up! Garrett and I kept it together during the ultrasound, but once we got to the car we prayed a thanksgiving prayer and cried like little girls. Because that's how we roll.

- Pregnancy Fact #3 -

The nausea and vomiting have continued, but have greatly lessened over the last month. If I behave, anyway. During the last couple of weeks I have become quite the hungry girl and inhale whatever food I come across, which is probably my body's way of preparing for labor since I understand that, once I check in, the hospital intends to starve me until the baby is delivered. Like I need something other than the promise of meeting my firstborn to induce me to push. Unfortunately, my body hasn't sent the memo to my tummy because overeating inevitably results in undesired purging. Just last night I sacrificed a Sonic Reese's Blast to the Porcelain Prince.

- Pregnancy Fact #4 -

I have packed my hospital bag and included some contraband cheese cracker sandwiches for personal use in case of emergency. I have also informed Garrett that if I ask for something to eat during labor, HE SHALL COMPLY.

- Pregnancy Fact #5 -

Less than two years ago I looked like this:

(Photo by Joe Heiliger)

The wonder of pregnancy morphed my body into this:

Now I look like...

...wait for it...

...WAIT FOR IT...

...THIS!

Or maybe this:

- Pregnancy Fact #6 -

Excerpt from my birth plan -

We prefer to have only our doctor, nurses, anesthesiologist, and guests present (no residents, medical students, or other hospital personnel).

The mother would like to wear contact lenses as long as a C-section is not needed.

The mother would like an epidural as soon as possible.

The mother would like to be coached on when to push and for how long.

- Pregnancy Fact #7 -

We took a tour of the birth center at the hospital we'll be delivering in. The tour consisted of a nurse and about ten penguins and their significant others. I'll go out on a limb and say that every one of the penguins is ready to deliver their babies and walk like normal people again.

- Pregnancy Fact #8 -

I dedicated several hours to researching diaper bags. My initial plan was to buy something cheapy cheap, but then I considered that I would be carrying said diaper bag in place of a purse for long enough to justify spending a little bit more on it. But I wasn't willing to spend too much on something that will one day carry a bag of poopoo. Here's what I settled on, and am quite pleased:

Garrett gets his very own black Eddie Bauer diaper bag that looks like a laptop bag - a diaper bag incognito.

"Pregnancy - 37 Weeks" or "Documenting Some Pregnancy Random"

http://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/06/pregnancy-37-weeks-or-documenting-some.html

The Flawed Theology of a Teenage Girl

One night I was channel-surfing and came across what I called "The Catholic Channel." I mean no offense to those that are part of the Catholic Church, but the Catholic Channel was pretty scary stuff for a teenage girl that attended a Southern Baptist church. There were rituals and strange pictures and people standing on a hill chanting for hours. I didn't get, and didn't care to get it. (If you're Catholic, please don't stop reading. I promise you I'm not a hater.)

This particular night must have been an isn't-there-anything-on-TV night because I actually paused my channel-surfing and spent a few minutes on the Catholic Channel. I watched image after image of Jesus on the cross, broken and bleeding.

At first I was offended. My internal dialogue went something like this, "Why do they have to focus on His death? He's alive! His time on the cross is not the end of the story." Having accepted Jesus as my Savior as a child, I couldn't think of Him as dead because He had always been alive to me.

But I couldn't look away. With each image, His pain and suffering confronted me and demanded a response. I remembered hearing that if I was the only person on earth, Jesus still would have died for me. And all I could think was, "What a waste."'

I loved Him so much, and I knew in my heart of hearts that I didn't deserve His sacrifice. I was overwhelmed with remorse and decided that an apology was in order. He had to know I was serious about it, so I knelt in front of the couch on the tile floor, bowed my head in the appropriate position of piety, and asked Jesus to forgive me for needing such a sacrifice. For accepting the sacrifice and not being any different. For not being the prettiest, or smartest, or most talented, or nicest, or anything close to those things that would make people think that at least something good would come out of it and I would impact the world positively for Him.

I didn't know that there was absolutely nothing that I, or anyone, could do to deserve His sacrifice. That His strength is made perfect in my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9). That the lack of anything admirable in me would allow Him to receive every bit of glory for anything He did in my life. It would be years before I would understand those concepts.

But that night He began the process of setting me free from any unacknowledged thoughts of deserving or earning salvation and began teaching me the truth of mercy and grace. 

After my apology, I thought I might as well be completely honest and begged, "Help me," over and over again. I'll risk sounding like a crazy person by telling you that he dropped His Presence on me so suddenly and forcefully that I actually looked around to see who else was in the room with me. And I specifically looked to my right to see who was next to me. 

I didn't see anyone, so no need to call the mental police on me. 

At first I was terrified to feel the room so full with a presence and not seeing anyone. But I also knew that there was nothing to be scared of. I realized that it must be God comforting me. Even though I didn't deserve it. Even though I wasn't the prettiest, or smartest, or most talented, or nicest, or anything close to those things that I thought would make one deserving of the attentions of the Creator of the universe.

I've thought of that night so many times over the years. It was the beginning of my understanding, in my heart and not just in my head, that we love because He first loved us (1 John 4:19). That I could do nothing to deserve salvation because He saved me by His grace (Ephesians 2:8-9). That He loves me with an everlasting love (Jeremiah 31:3) and will lift up my head (Psalm 3:3). That my soul could thirst for Him and cling to Him, moving my lips to glorify Him and my hands to lift in His name (Psalm 63). 

I've also learned that I cannot separate the fact that "He has risen" from "He was crucified." And that I would be doing good to agree with Paul and resolve to know nothing "except Jesus Christ and Him crucified" (1 Corinthians 2:2).

How like God to interrupt mindless channel-surfing with meditation on the cross. To use something foreign to me in order to reveal the flaws in my theology. 

I pray that He interrupts your routine this Good Friday, too.

The Flawed Theology of a Teenage Girl

http://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/flawed-theology-of-teenage-girl.html

"Pregnancy - 27 Weeks" or "Houston Restaurants Will Never Be the Same"

Yesterday I added Panera to the list of fine eating establishments whose bathroom I have violated.

And after eating the creamy tomato soup in a bread bowl. What a waste.

So my morning sickness continues all the live-long day. But I've decided to see it as a blessing rather than a curse. If nothing else, it has helped me to not gain 50 pounds of extra weight. I haven't weighed myself in the last few days, but I have reached the 20-pound mark. There's no telling what I would look like if not for the morning sickness.

My husband and I talked about this very fact last night. He says that from behind I don't look pregnant, but once I turn around it's like, "Whoa, Nellie!"

What a sweet and delusional man. He seems to have forgotten that he had to make a run to the maternity clothing store for me to buy new underwear because MY NORMAL UNDERWEAR, THEY DO NOT FIT. And they have not fit for many a moon. Proof positive that the nether regions are not what they once were.

And they weren't all that to begin with.

But enough about my derriere. Let's get back to the belly and its many looks.

My belly has taken on its own identity. I feel like I have the belly version of Sybil strapped to me, with a different personality for every day. All it needs is a pair of glasses and for my belly button to start saying, "You like me! You really like me!" and it would be Sally Field.

But if my belly button doesn't start talking soon, it won't get a chance. It has begun to flatten at an alarming rate, bringing to the light of day regions of my belly button that have never before been seen. 

One of the personalities that my belly is taking on is that of the heat-seeking missle. I say that because it is now growing straight out. With a bit of a point. If we had some time-lapse video of my belly growth I feel sure that you would duck for cover.

Although it's nowhere near as dramatic as the "Jon & Kate Plus 8" belly. Bless her heart.

Despite the shape that my belly is taking on, I can say with certainty that I am not going to birth a missile, but an acrobat. While Baby Michael's movements the last couple of months have consisted mostly of jabs and kicks, the last few days he has moved into rolls and turns, with a little bit of the Marine belly crawl thrown in for good measure.

As a matter of fact, sometimes his movements cover so much area so quickly, I imagine him gripping the umbilical cord and swinging from one side of my belly to the other.

But you won't hear complaints from me. I rejoice over every movement because they tell me that my baby boy is alive and kicking. And that's not something that I'm willing to take for granted.

Swing away, Baby Michael. Swing away.

Just take it easy while I'm in Panera. Mama likes her soup.

"Pregnancy - 27 Weeks" or "Houston Restaurants Will Never Be the Same"

http://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/pregnancy-27-weeks-or-houston.html

Pregnancy - "Facing Reality" or "Pictures That I Will Later Regret Sharing"

Everybody knows that you're not really pregnant until you've got a picture of the baby bump.

This was me at almost 23 weeks. I didn't plan to have a picture taken because this is what I see:

Some thoughts about my new body:

• Swollen feet should be hidden at all times. Nobody wants to see that. Even though they haven't looked this good in a long time, thanks to my sister and a trip to the spa.
  
• The hemline on this NON-MATERNITY dress is almost even, which means that my butt has grown at the same rate as my belly.
• I honestly didn't know my belly was this big until I saw this picture. Ignorance is bliss. What would I look like if not for all the vomiting? Like I did soon after this picture was taken? (You had to know that I couldn't let a week go by without a vomit reference.)
  
• I have more hair than ever and clearly don't know what to do with it.
• At the time my bridal pic was taken, I felt fat. Now I would give just about anything to look like that again.

The good news is that my obstetrician informed me at my 24-week appointment that my belly measures perfectly for how far along I am. Shocking, I know. The bad news is that I have 16 weeks of growth to go.

Giving me time to adopt the motto, "Go big or go home."

Garrett got in the game and poofed out a sympathy belly. How do men do this with their bodies? My belly, on the other hand, is all me, all the time.

Notice that he spread out his legs in an attempt to get down to my height. I am clearly a Woman of Short Stature.

In other baby-related news, my hard-working husband cleaned out the garage last week to make room for storing some of the furniture that's in the baby's room right now. I wish I'd taken a "before" picture so that you could fully understand what a major undertaking this was. Now we sometimes walk into the garage just to look at it. We're so proud that we may host tours highlighting the "Wall of Yard Tools" and "Tank That Used to Hold Our Dearly Departed Lizards." Lizards never had it so good, dead or alive.

While Garrett was slaving away in the garage, I busied myself with chatting on the phone and reading a forgotten book. Until I felt guilty and made him a nice dinner that did not involve microwave steamer bags or take-out menus. It did involve the oven and many, many dirty dishes.

By the time the day was over, Garrett could barely move from all the lifting and nailing, and I could barely move from all the standing while cooking. It was debatable whether or not we'd have enough energy to climb the stairs to the TV room just to throw ourselves on the couches for some mindless channel-surfing.

So we attempted to check ourselves into a retirement community, but were turned away for acting too old.

Because everybody knows that you're not really retirement-ready until you can at least have as much fun as some dead lizards.

Pregnancy - "Facing Reality" or "Pictures That I Will Later Regret Sharing"

http://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/pregnancy-facing-reality-or-pictures.html

I know you didn't ask, but still...

Who knew that the never-ending TMI on this blog would result in an award?

My blog friend Tara was kind enough to offer The Late Bloomers the Honest Scrap Award! I knew Tara was a kindred spirit when she wrote this post about watching my favorite movie. I was so moved that I spent entirely too much time writing my own post about it. But oh, it was fun.

To accept this award, I need to:

• list ten honest things about myself
• nominate five other bloggers

10 Honest Things About Myself

Let me start off by saying that I already feel sorry for you that you're reading this list. When you're done, you may curse yourself for giving up 90 seconds of your life that you'll never get back. Consider yourself warned.

1. I could drink Coke by the gallon. While sucking on a lemon. This can be an expensive habit. I was almost shamed into giving it up when I discovered in college that my parents hid Coke from me when I came home to visit. Keyword: almost.
2. I kinda sorta want a Snuggie. When I first saw the commercials, I thought it was the stupidest thing I ever saw. But, somewhere along the way, my heart changed and I began to feel a sense of longing. Shame caused me to keep this longing hidden, especially as Internet ridicule of the Snuggie and its cousin, the Slanket, increased (like here, which made me laugh so much). And I can understand the ridicule. I once counted myself among the hecklers. But then I saw that someone I highly respect gave in to her desire. So I finally got up the nerve to tell my husband. More ridicule ensued, which has so far kept me from running out and making the purchase, but, as in the Coke situation above, I have a feeling that shame will not keep me from fulfilling my desires.
3. I honestly and truly dislike the taste of water. And don't tell me that water doesn't have a taste. With all the chemicals they put in bottled water, there's some kind of after-taste going on. I find Ozarka to be the most offensive. If you can bring me a glass of water straight from a mountain stream, I'll be willing to re-evaluate.
4. I love to watch my husband nap. He just looks so peaceful and relaxed and his mouth does this cute little pucker thing. I would take a picture and post it but suspect that would be crossing some sort of line. So you'll just have to trust me on this.
5. My clumsiness knows no limits. Just this morning as I was making breakfast I dropped a freshly-cooked slice of French toast and a slice of banana on the floor. I've been known to fall down the stairs (three times), walk into a glass door (once), and walk into walls and doorways (countless times). I don't know what's wrong with me.
6. I love sushi. Wait, you don't understand. I reallllly loooove sushi! Seriously. As a matter of fact, I prefer to eat raw salmon over cooked salmon. Spicy tuna rolls, shrimp tempura rolls, and anything with cream cheese and avocado. Oh, be still my heart.
7. I like the smell of gasoline. Hold on a minute - don't picture me sniffing gasoline in a closet somewhere. I'm just saying that when I have to pump gas, I don't hate it. That's all.
8. When I first met my husband, I asked myself, "Could I kiss those lips?" The answer is yes, yes I can. And I have. Many, many, many times.
9. There is no end to my hair. I was born with a head full of hair. Growing up I called it the "mane" (as in lion). Many women look forward to having thick luxuriant hair during pregnancy (because not as much hair falls out), but not me. I neeeeeed for hair to fall out. It is OUT OF CONTROL.
10. I am the anti-athlete. I've tried to be athletic and sporty. I really have. I've thrown myself into Ultimate Frisbee, physical training lessons, and an ill-fated two weeks of Boot Camp at my church. All to no avail. The only things I got out of it was a sprained ankle, a growing awareness of my asthma, and a T-shirt.

Nominations

I don't know that many bloggers, so I'll have to limit this list to four.

Margaret
Cristie
Jennifer
Missy

I know you didn't ask, but still...

http://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/who-knew-that-never-ending-tmi-on-this.html