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Tuesday, July 7, 2009

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.

Monday, July 6, 2009

“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:

Leslie Maddox Small Edited

  • 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!

38Weeks 38Weeks-Edited

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…)