Peaceful Thoughts and Dreams

Years from now, and not that many, I see my son playing with his trains and cars around the Christmas tree as Ken and I watch him in all his joy. I see the brightness in his eyes being enough to fill my heart...without presents, without things, without superficial clutter. This boy will be my hero with his genuine smile, his gracious spirit and his pure heart. He will be my reason. And Ken and I will look at one another with complete content, knowing we created the only redemption we ever needed. Because this child will not be just any child; he will be ours. And he might just save his mommy's soul. Three months seems too far away to have little Christian here. But he is always with me...moving, twisting, exploring, growing...reminding me that humanity is within my very being and that there is much hope to be had.

Do you remember Laura Bennett from Project Runway's third season? Well, if not, here's a picture of her with her children. While the program was being filmed she was pregnant, married to an older man (which you know I love), the mother of four rambunctious boys and one girl and also a finalist on the show. When she was sent home during the last few weeks to complete her final line for the runway, Tim, the show's moderator, visited her "humble" abode in Manhattan. And this image, this snippit from the show, has stayed fresh in my mind now for several years. It is an idea that Ken and I often speak of because it is exactly how we see our son:
Tim walks in the house and is bombarded with excited little boys eager to have the attention of a visitor (you know, visitors are very exciting for children!). A couple of the little boys are running around trying to find the family pet (a turtle) who is M.I.A.somewhere within the house (Tim is obviously a little unnerved by this fact), and another little boy (a toddler) is running up to Tim, hiney out of his pants, with a handful of turtle poop to show him (at this point, Tim is looking for the exit). Neither of the parents are overly concerned with the situation. After all, what can you expect? Boys will be boys.

This image, this little moment from an otherwise pointless program, has been the way I see my son. Ass out of his pants, running around trying to find a wayward turtle loose in the house and more than a little excited about turtle droppings discovered along the way (surprise!).

My son will be whatever he wants to be. He will do what amplifys his strengths. He will undoubtedly mess up along the way and even grow weary of my advice. But first and foremost, he will be my son; my troublesome, dirty, quirky (because let's face it, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree...), cuddly, squirmy little boy.

Having these ideas of what Christian will be like, I discovered a song that will now, forever and always be his song. For those of you who have little boys, I can't think of a more appropriate Christmas tune. Listen and enjoy! Ken and I wish you the best Christmas that money can't buy...may you be blessed with peace and mercy.
Christian's Christmas Song

7 months...Third trimester, here I come! And look, Remmy's in the picture! (As usual...)

Back Pain and Lullabys

The past couple of weeks have been kind of like the doldrums of pregnancy. It's like you're stuck right smack in the middle and you're starting to have some serious pregnancy issues and you know...it's only gonna get worse. I did have a couple of humorous things happen, however.

First thing, a little boy (probably about 6 or7) shopping with his mom in my store kept looking at me. He finally came up to me and asked, "How pregnant are you?" and I said, "I'm 6 and a half months pregnant." He makes this face like he doesn't believe me, so I asked (because I am a glutton for punishment),  "How pregnant did you think I was?" He responds, "Oh, I thought you were at least 8 months." His mom was mortified (and apologetic). Me? I wasn't upset at all. So I responded with, "I feel at least 8 months."

And then the strangest little memory came to mind. I remembered the first day of kindergarten in Mrs.Smith's class. She was wearing a printed overall/jumper. You know the ones...especially if you grew up in the early 90's. I mean, they were everywhere and I still have no clue what grown women were doing wearing them. Remember the super poofy Slater pants with the tapered leg turned into overalls? Yeah. They were bad. So anyways, I digress. That is what she was wearing on the first day of kindergarten. Apparently, I thought she looked pregnant so I asked her. I said, "Mrs.Smith, are you pregnant?" She looked at me skeptically and said, "No." To which I most graciously asked, "Are you sure?" Mrs. Smith immediately shot me the "I'm-lighting-you-on-fire-in-my-mind" look because unbeknownst to me, I had just offended her. (Yeah, I really had no idea that I had offended her...she looked pregnant! Maybe she didn't know! Geez. I was being helpful...)

25 weeks...and yes, I am pregnant...not that you had any questions.

So, my point in telling that story is to point out the fact that I completely deserved the innocent comment from the little boy. I did however, get a not so innocent comment from a woman shopping in my store. She asked if I was having twins. About 50 different come-backs popped into my brain...not a one was uttered...BUT! Again, I totally deserved that, I am sure. 

My back is in serious pain. Sleeping is hard to do because I am constantly rolling and turning and tossing in bed trying to find a comfortable position (of which I am here to tell you, "THERE IS NONE!"). Poor Ken. It's a wonder he manages to stay in the bed with me. We bought a memory foam mattress topper...that has yet to arrive from Amazon. But I keep thinking that the more I can endure the better. Especially if I am planning on having little Christian naturally (still waiting on my Bradley method workbook from Amazon as well...geez Amazon. Get it together!).

I have found out that no matter how "healthy" you are (when I say "healthy", I mean fat), it is really easy to become dehydrated. Dehydrated is something that will kick your butt. Dehydrated is the super reality check. Yeah. I will have to be very careful with that one. 

On the upside (yes, even though I complain constantly there is an upside!), Christian has been moving around like a madman and the doctor says that that is a good sign. I love feeling him with me all day. He is my constant reality check. If I start to freak out about something that seems important (but probably isn't), Christian gives me a good kick in the guts and I remember to relax a smidge. I truly cannot believe he will be here in 3 and a half months. We haven't bought the first thing for him. Is that horrible? I mean, we just haven't had time. Plus, after-Christmas deals should be pretty awesome, you know?

I am really happy about being a mom. I mean, I have dreamed of this boy for a long time. Literally. Lullabys  are very important to me. My mom actually wrote me a lullaby and sang it to me every night until I left her house. When I spend the night at her place even now, I can usually count on her singing it to me. I will write the lyrics...
"Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep little Stephanie. Get some rest for the best, so you can grow so strong. You're Mommy's little munchkin from heaven above. You're Daddy's little pumpkin to have and hold and love. We love you, oh yes we do. Oh how we love you our little Stephanie. You're the best of all the rest and we thank God for you."
 Now, isn't that sweet? I mean, it's so special to me. I want Christian to have something special like that, too. Sooooo...I have been singing a certain song since I first heard it. It's about a mom who is sending her love to her little boy from the road while on tour. But it is a song that has stayed with me since I was 18 years old. It's like I knew I was going to have a little boy even then. And when I met Ken I sang it to him and told him that that would be my child's lullaby. Now I can't even sing it without crying. Every time I try, I get this overwhelming sense that I am unworthy of such a life, such a love. I don't know why God has entrusted me with something as precious as this child, but I swear to sing to him every night the way my mom did for me.
Christian's Song