The Beginning of the End

Here is our new son or daughter. This image was captured over 7 weeks ago and the change between then and now is significant enough to jolt me into the reality that I am, in fact, pregnant. I'm not going to talk about our new addition - we'll be talking about him or her for years to come. Let me bask in the glory of all the attention, sympathy and non-verbal "Bless her heart" looks I can these next 9 weeks and I'll be more than excited to give our new child the next 30 years after that. Deal?

Things have changed drastically since the beginning of February for me, for us. I kept warning others, mainly to remind myself, that come the end of February the glow and energy of trimester #2 would be replaced with the sweat and weariness of trimester #3, which I fondly refer to as the "beginning of the end". Thankfully, I've found I've been laughing more than crying at myself, which shows that God certainly has a way of graciously preparing a woman for change as a new life grows and takes over her body. Here are the things that keep me humble, and giggling:

I drop everything. Everything.

Almost everything I drop stays where it lands, with the exception of car keys and knives. The house is littered with papers, chapstick tubes, socks without mates and tiny hair rubber-bands.

With the exception of the workers at Nancy's mom's day out program, strangers are finally asking me "When's yo baby due?". Apparently there is now no question of if I am pregnant or have gained massive amounts of weight, but those teachers at Nan's school are still scared to ask. I wonder if I'll have to wait for them to ask until they see I'm carrying a car carrier with an infant in it into the school to drop Nancy off.....

Heartburn wakes me up at 2:30am. And again at 5am. Just like our new baby will once it arrives.

I can't catch my breath, and my 6 year old can out-walk me.

I caught Nancy Rose using the heating pad for her back, eating a snack and watching tv. When caught, she confesses "whew, I needed a rest."

Since I can't bend at the waist well, sometimes I find myself with my head inside the dryer trying to pull the clothes out. And then find I can't get out by myself. Ryan is often called from his desk to my assistance.

My shoe laces are tied to the inner part of the shoe towards my arch, and I know my toenails will not be trimmed until June.

If I have a shirt I like to wear, I will not wash it because I know if I do, it won't fit the next time I go to put it on.

Once a secret I tried to keep, I'm no longer ashamed to say I'm in pjs by 4pm most days.

I've started to daydream about sleeping on my stomach again, no longer giving my husband side-hugs and lying on my belly on the floor coloring with my girls.

I my hormones are so crazy, I have used shampoo only 3 times in the past month and have almost no need for face wash. Nonetheless, my hair is dry and brittle and my face ashy and flaky. My nose bleeds daily and my nails are growing at warp speed.

I fall asleep spontaneously, usually without realizing it. I realize it once one of the girls wakes me up, in my face, saying "MOMMY! Are you tired!?!"

Ryan's gazes of affection have slowly turned into pouts of sympathy, with eyes that say "oh, baby, I'm so sorry."

All these, and much much more that I won't share for fear of getting too personal or sounding like I'm complaining, I do believe are ways that mothers are prepared for welcoming their new child into the world. By the end of this pregnancy you better believe I will be more than happy to welcome the temporary excruciating pain of labor in exchange for this daily morphing and grating sacrifice of my body and sanity to grow a living creature. And really, when I look at the picture of that little face, I know it is all well worth it.