Aughra

Hopefully most of you have seen "The Dark Crystal." It was a (kinda slow, but otherwise VERY good) movie that came out in 1982 whose cast was entirely Muppets (but no one from Sesame Street or The Muppet Show - and incidentally, there's apparently a sequel in the works!). One of the characters was named Aughra. In looking for pictures of her, I've discovered that she's both male and female, just that the male part of her has shrivelled by the time of the movie. Who knew? (Well, beside the guy whose website I got that tidbit from...) Anyway, I'll call her a "her" since that's how I've always thought of her (and I think how they address her in the movie).

So here's a pic:



Now you might wonder why I'm posting about her. Well, the reality of the situation is that, while I'm still part hobbit in my eating habits (and expanding hairiness), I think I'm now becoming part Aughra too. Not only does she do a good "pregnant lady" impression (leaning forward with a pot belly and holding her back), but she also groans/grunts like every time she moves.

Especially at night now (when I'm lying down) or when I'm trying to get up from a chair or the couch, that's become me. I've even woken VNB up a couple of times as I've rolled over in bed, not because of the motion, but because of the grunting required to turn my hips (with their extra 30 lbs). It's not pretty.

Pretty funny, but not pretty. :)

Anyway, for those who wonder how pregnancy feels/is treating me...well, apparently I become Muppet-like. When I start growing purple fur, a big orange nose, or wings, I'll let you know.

Fire Drill

So we had a pre-announced fire drill in our building today. Let me rephrase that - we're currently having a pre-announced fire drill in our building today. Why am I sitting here blogging, you ask? Well, the building/company policy is that pregnant women (and the otherwise infirm) are supposed to stay in a room with a window and a phone with someone who is not infirm, call 911, and wait for the firemen to rescue them. So, while the rest of my office has to wait outside in the cold, I get to sit in my office and blog. Theoretically, I'm supposed to go to someone else's office to wait for the firemen, but since we know it's a drill (and we're not supposed to call 911), and he knows that I'm in my office (he's walked by twice now), I get to sit in my office and do whatever I want.

The only downside is that our hallway's fire alarm is literally right outside my door...and not only that, but there's a HUGE amount of static for the "There HAS been an emergency reported in the building. Please immediately evacuate using marked stairways and exits. Do NOT use the elevators." The siren is usually the annoying part. This time it's all the rest. And I get to listen to it probably for the entire half-hour that the people are supposed to stay outside.

I feel like I'm playing hookey from school or something (only with a _LOT_ more static).

Heh...as Baby moves around, I wonder what s/he is thinking of all the noise.

Ego Boost

I, a lady who is (at least in my own eyes) obviously pregnant, was hit on by a construction worker when leaving the Metro this morning.

You heard me right.

Dude had been sitting in a seat near mine and had handed me my lunch bag when it threatened to roll away during the trip. After we got off the train, he introduced himself and asked what I did. When he heard that I was an aerospace engineer, he (like many people) started talking about airplanes. When I mentioned that I was more into rockets, he then explained how his model airplane hobby really wanted to take a rocket kind of turn.

When we got to the main escalator (which I use as my daily exercise regimen - that's one LONG escalator and I manage to walk my ginormous body up it every day), he said that what he really wanted to talk to me about was me.

Now I give him several points, so single guys out there, listen up:
1) He was bold. But he wasn't scared to talk to me. That was, incidentally, one of VNB's main selling points (among many other things, but that was definitely one of the first things I noticed). Now, this can be taken too far, but it's refreshing when the guy isn't afraid of you.
2) He was obviously being sincere when he said it was something about my eyes (HA!). I mean, seriously. How does one not notice that a girl is SIX MONTHS PREGNANT?!!! unless they're really only looking at her face? Now granted, during the time that he was admiring my eyes, I was seated with a jacket on over a sweater, but still...he didn't talk to me until we were both standing and walking. He could have bailed at that point and I would never have even noticed.

When he said that what he really wanted to talk about was me, I responded with, "Well, my husband probably wouldn't appreciate that, especially with our little one six months on the way (while patting my belly)." Again, two points in the guy's favor:
A) He looked genuinely surprised when I mentioned being six months pregnant (which reinforces point 2, above), and
B) He immediately backed off. I mentioned that walking the escalator was my morning exercise and he made a motion to walk with me, but then changed his mind.

It was a very pleasant encounter from start to finish, all things considered. But all in all, it was quite the ego boost and honestly made my morning far more enjoyable than it otherwise could have been.

HA!

(Another, unrelated "HA!" - apparently Blogger's spell check includes the word "ginormous!" Ok, that one's more of a "Heehee," but still...)

Updating (for two)

Well, we've been incident-free since the notorious "terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day." Additionally, VNB's been able to work almost "normal" hours the past two weeks, _AND_ we finally got old appliances out and all of our stuff has a home again (except for one very small box of odds and ends that I've already gone through), so life is returning to a semblance of "normal." The nursery is basically done. We've gotta put the knobs back on the dresser, but otherwise, all painting, bordering, and re-organizing is done! I've even managed to start the last of our registries. The bulk of the baby stuff is registered for at Target. If the link doesn't work, you can just search for me in MD and the event in January and you should find us pretty easily. As I said, it's only a start (the store I went to didn't have a very good selection), but it'll do for now. I'll add more in the days to come.

VNB is catching up on his childbirth class reading...and man is he dangerous when he knows things. He's starting to actually make sure that I've been doing my exercises! I've been skating by up till now because he was too stressed to pay attention to things like that. Now I'll actually have to work! :) And, God bless him, he did the dishes last night. I didn't ask him to, and they hadn't even been there that long...he just got up and did them when we got home. We'd even had company on Saturday and used the nice china (we finally have enough for four people!) which had to be done by hand. Have I mentioned how nice he is? ;p

But it's amazing how much the stress is reduced when the house is in some semblance of order. No more piles of things on tables. We can come home and relax because we're basically caught up. There's just not much else to do that doesn't require multiple free hours on a Saturday (like laundry). I'm sure this is just the calm before the storm of holidays followed closely by new baby, but it sure is nice! Of course, we don't have a completely free Saturday until possibly the week before the baby comes, if you count major holiday weekends as "not free" (i.e., we don't have specific plans for the Saturdays before Christmas or New Year's, but we'll probably have family in town, so there will likely be things to do)...but the rest of life is no longer pressing in all around us.

I guess that's good since we have our official "kick-off" meeting tomorrow for the big contract I'm gonna be working on (FINALLY! Something to do at work!!!). That'll be really cool work, but might require some extra hours over the next couple of months. That's good though. Every hour I work extra is either one less hour of sick leave I have to take for baby appointments (which happen every other week now!), or it's one hour sooner that I qualify for FMLA (the Family Medical Leave Act - I'll be 10 hours short of the required minimum at the start of the day on the baby's due date). :) Plus, while I won't get "overtime" (i.e., time and a half pay), they _will_ actually pay us for our extra hours, as opposed to normal when they claim that we're salaried, so shouldn't get paid more if we happen to need to work extra (but try and turn that logic backwards to explain why we shouldn't have to take vacation/sick time to account for less than our normal hours and see how quickly that changes!)!

Anyway...life is good and restful right now. Which is nice because every time I move, something hurts. :) The joys of being almost 30 lbs heavier than normal! I tell you what though, for all they say that being pregnant makes it difficult to breathe (which should make it hard to sing, theoretically), I've had no such problems (so far). Instead, I feel like I can sing better! I've always had such a wimpy, little ("sweet") voice - primarily because I've got such a wimpy little frame (aka "resonant cavity"). I mean, it was like when we were playing catch outside the dorms in college. My guy friends would tell me to "put my weight behind it" when I couldn't throw very far. I'd remind them that I was - I just didn't weigh as much as they did. Same with singing - the bigger your rib cage, and the more "heft" you have behind it, generally, the "bigger" your voice (which is why opera singers tend to be big boned). Well with a painfully expanding rib cage and 30+ more pounds on me, my resonant cavity and extra heft are doing wonders! I'm rockin' out in choir right now! It's awesome! :)

That's not to say that I intend to _keep_ the extra pounds once Baby escapes...but it's been a nice little added bonus. :)

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Ok, just in case I didn't mention this, IF Baby Jones is a boy (we don't know), his middle name will be the same as his father and paternal grandfather's middle name, and his some-number-of-greats-on-VNB's-side grandfather's first name - Alexander. Plus it's such a great book, and the title was very fitting to yesterday, that we're going with it for now. But that doesn't mean that we know the sex of the baby, because we don't. And that's all you'll hear about his/her name too.

Anyway, on to yesterday...or the days before really....

Looking back (and with a _MUCH_ clearer head than I had yesterday), I can see some signs that might mean I was fighting some type of infection Sunday and Monday...but there was nothing overly significant to really catch my attention. I just didn't sleep much Sunday night, which made me feel bad enough that by the time I _got_ to work on Monday (very late), I'd decided to come back home. After a nap, I thought I was doing better. Still, VNB and I took it pretty easy Monday night.

Tuesday morning, I'd slept better (although still not well), but I was running late, as usual. So when I finally convinced myself to fight the bed gravity, I did what all pregnant women do - I ran to the bathroom to relieve myself. While wiping, I saw what all pregnant women fear most - blood. Not a lot, but definitely fresh blood.

Knowing that this is a SIGN YOU DON'T IGNORE, I called our midwives' emergency line. I gave the lab tech the info and she said the midwife would call me in a few minutes. Then I called VNB and told him what was happening and that I was waiting for the midwife to call back. Then I called my mom and Aunt Mom and left (apparently very frightened-sounding) voicemail messages for them to call me back ASAP. My poor mom, being at school, couldn't call me (I was coherent enough to leave my number (which is just a button to her on the phone at home), but it didn't occur to me that it'd be long-distance, so she wouldn't be able to call back), so she called my dad and sister (who were both home for fall break) to get them to get more info. But she spent a while in agony, I'm sure, wondering what was wrong and with whom.

Anyway, so the midwife called and we talked through my symptoms and she said that I should put in a pad and she'd call back in 30-45 minutes to see if there'd been any more bleeding. She thought that it _probably_ wasn't an emergency, but this would let us know with at least a little more certainty. So I did that, then called VNB back (he'd called twice while I was talking to the midwife). Sweetie that he is, he was literally already on his way home. Sure, there was a big guy from headquarters coming the next day that they had to prepare for, and sure he's currently doing like three peoples' jobs...but one teary phone call from me that something _might_ be wrong, and five minutes later, he's in his car on his way home. I know I mentioned the other day how great he is, but it definitely bears repeating.

Then there was nothing to do but wait. I didn't have to lie in bed or anything, but I really wasn't good for that much, so I ended up just sitting in our Lay-Z-Boy. Monkey (the cat) very astutely climbed onto my knees and lay down, purring. No attempts at getting me to pet her, no rubbing of any kind. She just climbed up, laid down, and purred. There is very little in the world that is more soothing than a cat who is actually not being needy.

I'd like to say that I spent this time singing praise songs or reading my Bible or something similarly "religious," but I didn't. Mostly I sat there talking to my belly, telling it to kick its mamma. Baby was always very obliging, if a little weaker than normal. I couldn't really think much past that and trying to stay as calm as possible.

But the time finally passed and the midwife called back and there hadn't been any more bleeding, so it probably wasn't anything serious. We could get an ultrasound to see if the placenta had moved or something, but otherwise, there was really very little they could do to try to figure out what had caused it. Medically, she thought I was fine to go to work. Emotionally, she thought I was fine to stay home.

About that same time, Aunt Mom called back and got the scoop, then Elianna called and while I was talking to her, my dad called and VNB came home. Poor VNB was very patient in letting me field phone calls before he'd even gotten the whole story. But he finally did get the whole story and we talked about the sonogram. Since it wasn't necessarily going to show us anything (the bleeding and pain weren't ever anywhere close to bad enough for it to make the midwife think it was a placental abruption or previa, which were the only things that the sonogram _would_ be able to show), and since we'd basically have to go to the sonogram place and sit there, hoping they had a few minutes to fit us in, we decided against it and in favor of just taking the day off.

We both had conference calls for work we could sit in on from home, so neither of us lost the _entire_ day's work, AND we (mostly he) ended up getting a lot of the house back in order (it was still a mess from moving everything out of the nursery for redecorating - not everything has found a new home yet). That was a BIG stress reliever for both of us.

I spent most of the rest of the day in my bathrobe, forcing myself to eat and go to the bathroom when I needed to. Part of me would rather just not look than see that there might be more blood, but I'd always convince myself to go eventually, and there was never anything there to be worried about. Occasionally, someone would call to check up on me (or I'd have visions of emergency c-sections and months in neo-natal intensive care for a baby born three months premature) and I'd get a little teary again, but mostly my brain just rested and regrouped.

Eventually VNB and I went out for dinner, then spent a nice, quiet evening in. I think I might have finally found a pillow combination that is actually conducive to sleep, so after a few minutes of feeling like I was too wide awake to ever sleep again, I blinked and it was like four hours later. That convinced me that I _could_ sleep, and I did (very well) for the rest of the night. Today VNB and I are both back to work, like normal, and I feel fine. Baby is back to kickboxing as hard as s/he can (and that's pretty hard, let me tell you), and the day that started out so terribly, turned out for good.

I'm still very glad that it's over though. And I hope that we never have to do that again.

Is This Parenting?

So I just got back from a funeral. I only remember meeting the guy who died twice, but his sister is a dear friend of mine and was one of my bridesmaids, so I went to the funeral. Dennis was the same age as my older brother (32) when he died suddenly and unexpectedly of what they suspect was pneumonia.

My first memory of him was from high school. His family had moved into the Laurel area shortly after my family had left, but he was in Sunday School one of the times I came back to visit. I don't remember really talking to him, but I remember thinking he was kinda cute. Many years later (and yet still many years ago), I played piano for his twin sister's wedding. At the reception, he ended up sitting at my table for a while. We chatted/flirted during the reception until near the end when he finally asked if I was ever going to dance. I told him I'd dance if anyone would ever ask me. So he asked (after a minute where the thought that was clearly going through his head was, "It can't be that simple"), and we danced. The next Sunday, his mom told me that he'd said I was the prettiest girl at the wedding.

So, while those are both very pleasant memories, I really didn't know him at all. But I still found myself crying during the funeral. Partly it was because my bridesmaid gave the eulogy, with tears in her eyes and voice the whole time, and I'm definitely a sympathy crier. Partly it was because Baby hormones make my crying proclivity much harder to keep in check than normal. But mostly, I think it was because I was imagining myself in the situation of having to bury my child. It didn't help that one of the songs played was "Held" which talks about the unfairness of a two-month-0ld dying in their mother's arms while she prays.

I've heard my mom and dad talk about that thought a couple of times and brushed it aside as silly thinking...but the full horror of it really hit me while looking at the family sitting in front of that box.

Is this what parenting really is? Thinking about all of the "what ifs?" What if they get really sick? What if something goes wrong? You're warned about midnight feedings and colic and dirty diapers, and you get to experience through friends' kids the joys of playing and watching them grow...but is this really the secret that is parenting? The horror of "what if?"

But the thing is, as hard as it would be for us to lose this baby at any point in his or her life...wow...that's hard to even type...as hard as it would be, "we" would still be a "we." I'd still have VNB with me. I wouldn't have to go through it all alone.

But if it were him...and I had to somehow raise our baby alone...



Part of me misses the time when I could quit my job, sell my house, and move to Baghdad on a "whim." (And part of me is now ashamed at what I must have put my parents through when I did that.) Because then I wasn't tied down...there was no one else to consider. Sure, that meant that no one had my back when I could have used some help...but I was truly independent. Now I'm not. Now I have a husband and soon a child to care for...and to worry about.

I know that God gives grace in the moment, not in advance...which is why this is so scary right now. I'm sure that, in the moment, I'd be able to handle whatever happened. But the choice between being in Heaven with 'my Boyfriend' and being here on Earth with my husband (and child)....well that's a hard one. And it didn't used to be.

But the verse that keeps coming to mind is Mark 8:38 - that we can't know what it means to _really_ live until we throw away our lives for the sake of the Gospel. While it was "easy" enough to 'throw away' my own life...it's not so easy to think of doing the same with the alien growing (and kick boxing) in my belly or with the Very Nice Beloved for whom I'm so grateful.

I guess this is where we mimic Jesus' prayer the night before He died and say, "Father, if it's possible, I'd rather this didn't have to happen.....but the bottom line is that what I want most is for Your will to happen, whatever that is."

Sometimes that's easier said than done though...

Believability

So, on my way to a meeting at church last night, I stopped into the local McDonald's for 50 grams of protein, otherwise known as two double cheeseburgers. That's half my daily required total right there, boieee!

Anyway....so as I walk into the place thinking about how late I am and that I don't have time to use their restroom, I notice (at approximately the same time that he notices) an acquaintance from grad school. Basically, he got a grad assistantship at the research lab that my advisor directs (and where I'd worked as an undergrad), so while I was going part-time and working full-time, he was going full-time. I don't think we had any classes together, but he was always (overly) friendly whenever I was around the lab.

So it was one of those slightly embarrassing/uncomfortable moments of him greeting me like we were best friends and me being glad that I remembered his name. Not that there was ever anything socially or otherwise wrong with him...he just always seemed to be more familiar with me than I felt I was with him. Just one of those "not really on the same page" kinds of friendships.

But that's all beside the point.

Anyway...so I haven't seen this guy, I guess since before I went overseas...so it would have probably been Jan or Feb of 2003...over three years ago. Now, before then, my "story" was rather, shall we say, unusual - "rocket scientist," owned her own house at 23, KC-135 flights, business trips to Europe and Japan, saw a total solar eclipse while standing next to Scott Carpenter, lumps, had a former astronaut/Harrier pilot/Marine Colonel for a boss, not to mention a career high of 17 cats, worked on the Space Station Program, and that I was as involved as I was in my church.

But now you add to that...chucked it all, moved to Iraq for a year and a half with a humanitarian organization, fixed schools, fed the hungry, then came back, finished my MS, met a guy, went to Africa for a few weeks, married the guy a year after meeting him, and am in the process of having his baby 11 months after that while working for the same company I used to work for before going overseas, currently on the Space Shuttle Program, but hopefully switching to the Orion (Shuttle replacement/Moon landing) program soon.

Dude. Why does anyone believe me when I tell them this stuff? I mean, seriously?

Granted, every bit of it is true...but still...

It's like I'm Walter Mitty or something...only not making it all up...

Catching Up....For Two

Sorry it's been so long. I've had lots to say, just never got around to saying it. And, of course, now I'm drawing a complete blank. So I'll go with the "joke" part that I still vaguely remember. Maybe the rest will come back as I type.

I'm sure most people have heard or have said themselves that, when pregnant, someone is "eating for two" now. Well these are the variations that I've heard (or said) so far in my own pregnancy:

- After hearing that I had backed into a support post in a parking garage (with no damage to the garage, and minimal damage to my car), Aunt Mom told me I needed to be careful because I was "Driving for two" now. Much to my own personal amusement, since it was over email.

- After giving up his (slightly more comfy) chair to me at a staff meeting, a co-worker explained that it was because I was "Sitting for two" now. Much to the amusement of the staff sitting around.

- While watching CouponMaven (who is also pregnant now! Woohoo!) play hackeysack with GIJoe and some others during the clean-up after some friends' wedding, and while marvelling at the fact that a) she could hackey in the first place (even without a big, fat, baby belly, I was never coordinated enough to hackey much), b) she could hackey while in 2"-heeled boots (wide heels, so it wasn't like she was in much danger of falling or anything), and c) she could hackey while pregnant, I commented that we were mostly amazed because she was "Hackying for two." Much to the amusement of the others waiting around with us at the time.

I think I had a couple more examples, but they're lost to me at the moment. Feel free to add pithy comments. Only rules are that your examples have to take the form of "verb-ending-in-ing for two" and shouldn't be _too_ risque. PG or less, preferably.

In terms of catching people up (for two), things are good right now. As you can see in my previous post, VNB has been very good to me lately, despite having huge amounts of extra stress at work (a co-worker quit, leaving him responsible for two full-time jobs, which has been exacerbated by inexperienced underlings, honeymooning and vacationing staff, and other staff just not showing up). At the same time though, we're about to pay off the last of our big (non-school, house, or car-related) debt, the nursery is slowly coming together (all that's really left is to put up one last small strip of border and re-install the closet doors), which means that the rest of the house is losing its clutter, bit-by-bit (schweyah, schweyah), which, with the addition of a dishwasher that actually works means that the house is cleaner and less stress-inducing. Plus, I'm feeling _worlds_ better and can do lots more. And the "discussion" VNB and I had after the first childbirth class really helped out with getting us on the same page about the baby and how we're both coping emotionally. It really feels like we're a team now. And that's a very safe and comfortable feeling, which very much adds to my general sense of peace and contentment.

Baby is going to be either a boxer or a dancer, I'm not sure which. All I know is that if these kicks/punches/pirouettes get any stronger, I'm gonna get bruises. My fundal height measured a bit small this past appointment (which might mean that the original due date was closer to accurate, although according to the "Woods method" we heard about in class last night, we're looking at sometime in early February!), but this time the midwife didn't "yell" about my weight gain (which was unexpectedly high - 6lbs in three weeks instead of a pound a week as recommended), she just asked if I felt like the baby had gone through a growth spurt. With the round ligament pain (basically uterus growing pains) I was in the week or so prior to the appointment, and the fact that I am suddenly unmistakably pregnant, regardless of my clothing (as opposed to possibly just having a big belly and/or wearing a really big shirt)...and then given the fact that pants that just last week would zip up with lots of room in the belt now have _much_ less room in the belt _and_ the zippers are at about half-mast (maternity pants with panels in the zippers so that they can be opened as you grow)...well...I'm guessing that there was some sort of growth spurt (although you'd never know it from my former waist-line measurements, which have been increasing very steadily). Everyone still comments on how small my belly is for 5.5 months though (I, of course, feel GINORMOUS and wonder how much bigger it's possible for me to get without my belly ripping off).

But there have been moments of terror too - like when Baby was kicking especially hard and I spoke gently, but firmly to him/her about how s/he needed to stop kicking his/her mommy so hard...only to realize that a) I was one of those crazy women who talk to their bellies, and b) I was going to be someone's _MOMMY_!!! That seems like a silly/trivial realization....but it was a moment of sheer terror/wonderment.

Now that I'm obviously pregnant in just about any piece of clothing, it's a little easier for me to deal with being "big" for the first time in my life. I don't have to worry about people thinking that I've put on a lot of weight for several reasons. For one, other than the big belly (and possibly my hips/butt), I haven't really. I mean, my bust is definitely more...ample...but not weirdly so, and I haven't really added any (or at least much) weight in my face (which is usually the first thing to fill out when my weight fluctuates). Plus, I can still fit into two of my five Sunday dresses...and one of them has only recently left the rotation and then solely because it was getting too short to be worn on stage with the burgeoning belly....which really makes me wonder at how much those clothes must have hung off of me previously that my waist can be almost a foot bigger than normal and _STILL_FIT_ into the dresses. But for all that I tease VNB (and he _HATES_ it when I do it) about me being "fat," I'm really just not. Pregnant, yes, fat, no. It's good now that I don't have to worry anymore about people mistaking that distinction. Of course, it makes me see exactly how vain I was/am about my figure, but VNB probably doesn't mind that too much as it'll be a good impetus for me to get it back, post-pregnancy.

What else? I dunno....I'll take some pictures once we get the nursery really "complete" and will make sure to add in some "look at how fat I am" pics too. :) But for now, I need to be be eating lunch (for two).

A Very Nice Boy

** Mush Alert **

Once upon a time, there was a Very Nice Boy. He grew up in North Carolina, but moved to Maryland for his job, post-college. He started going to a church in Maryland where no one said hello to him. Then I went overseas and he left that church, then came back and made some friends there. Then I came back when he was about to leave again, but he stayed.

My pastors were the first to tell me about him, but I thought he was too young. But he was refreshingly forward and cute, so when we started talking, it was pretty much all downhill from there for both of us.

In an amazingly sweet and thoughtful way, he proposed and became my Very Nice Betrothed. With minimal angst, we prepared for marriage and eventually had a perfect day when he became my Very Nice Beloved.

Since then, it's been about as blissful as expected (which is to say, not always bliss), even with unexpected things like it taking months for me to find a job and then discovering Baby before I started that job. Just the existence of Baby, added to my extreme sickness those first few months made life difficult, but he took good care of me through it all, which hopefully I repaid in kind when I could during that time, in addition to afterwards when his arm was broken, and especially now that I'm feeling better and his work has been so hard.

For all that neither of us was prepared for Baby to come so soon, he's been incredibly supportive of my desires for natural childbirth with midwife support. And when I felt like he wasn't really "into" the baby, he proved me wrong by painting and decorating the nursery, then by setting up the crib (as a surprise) one day during his third 60+-hour work week in a row (with several more expected). That same week, he fixed our broken garbage disposal AND got me a new dishwasher (ours put more dirt _on_ the dishes than it took off...which, when combined with a backed up sink, made for a pretty messy kitchen).

Fixed garbage disposals and new dishwashers may seem commonplace when talking about proposals, weddings, and babies (and surprise cribs, including bedding sets which had to be sent in secret from Grandma and Grandpa (his in-laws) in TN), but when everyone's stressed about the messy house and your VNB is working himself ragged, those kinds of commonplace things...and especially the time and energy they took to arrange, get, and install...are really some of the sweetest and most romantic guestures someone can make.

But sweetest of all, really, was the fact that my VNB, who at first had a really hard time sleeping with someone else in the bed, and with whom there have been many discussions over the appropriate amount of blanket and bed space to consume, discovered last night that he couldn't get to sleep without me there too.

Yeah...I'm a little crazy about him. He's even enjoying the childbirth classes we're going to! And still finds me sexy, even with my ginormous (well, to me anyway) baby belly.

Am I glad I waited all those years? Yeah. He's definitely been worth it. But mostly I'm amazed at how perfectly He brought us together, and at how good He is to me by giving me VNB. My baby's gonna have a great daddy. :)

** End Mushiness **

I (Don't) Vant to Suck Your Blood

So I wasn't sure when I came back from Iraq if I could give blood (like I had pretty regularly prior to going). I had to get the malaria vaccine prior to going though, so I figured it was a pretty sure bet that they wouldn't take my blood. Since they didn't have my address or phone number anymore when I got back, they didn't call, so I didn't try.

But after I'd been at least out of Iraq for a year (although I'd been in Jordan that time a year previously), VNB was going, so I tagged along. Turns out, they wouldnt have taken my Iraqi-tainted blood, although my Jordanian-tainted blood was ok. But then I remembered that I'd just gotten back from three weeks in Nigeria. So it was another year (ending August 21, 2006) before I'd be eligible again.

Fast forward to now. There's no donation center anywhere near my work, so I wasn't really stressing about it too much...but then the building decided to organize a blood drive. Easy, convenient, close...but I wondered if I'd be eligible while pregnant, so before I signed up, I checked out their website.

You guessed it: nope. Come back six weeks after the baby's born.

Now, I gave like two days before either going to orientation or going overseas, but it'll still be February-April of 2003 since I've given blood and March of 2007 before I'm eligible again. Four years of them refusing my blood.

And I'm O+ - not universal, but the next best thing. And it's not at all that I begrudge the Baby my blood or anything...I guess I'm just wondering what I'm being protected from or supposed to learn by not being able to give blood for so long.

And I'm kinda upset because I was hoping to catch up to my dad someday (who's on like his fourth or fifth gallon by now), but a four-year hiatus won't help with that much (neither will the fact that they consistently forget to mark my card).

Anyway...they don't want me, and I feel rejected. Somebody who wouldn't have otherwise given needs to go out and give in my place since I can't.

Language Practice

So while wasting time at work today, I was playing Dominoes online at Yahoo! Games. You play against another person and there's the ability to chat with them while you play. Well, to begin with, someone who was just "watching" threw some Arabic (that I could actually read and understand) up, so I responded in transliterated Arabic (Arabic, but in English characters). They responded, but the font was so tiny, I couldn't make it out.....that was kinda cool though.....

But as time wore on, my opponent dropped out and another one joined. This one asked me how I was in French. I responded and we had a long conversation about what we did and were I lived, all in French! I was very proud of myself, especially when I remembered to ask where this other person was. When I found out they were in Algeria, I asked if they knew Arabic too! They did and asked if I wanted to speak that instead. I said it was fine, but I wasn't very good and I only spoke Iraqi. They asked if I knew the Classical (or Modern Standard) Arabic....I said no, just Iraqi.....and then we switched to English and I got back to work (or....um....blogging....) after the game ended.

I feel very sophisticated being able to carry on conversations in French, Arabic (well, sorta), and English! :) I'm actually kinda proud that my middle/high school French was as good as it was and that I managed to keep from mixing up the two languages! :)

Anyway, I was proud of myself and thought I'd share.

As Stewart says, "Look what I can do!"

Big, Fat Fatty McFatterson

My father-in-law had some vacation to kill, so he called up last week asking if we had any projects he could come up and help us with. Since we'd bought the paint for the nursery during the Labor Day sales, he came up to help with that. He was tasked (by my mother-in-law, who couldn't come) with taking pictures of me and VNB, the nursery, and our cat (their grandcat) Monkey. Well, here's a picture of me and Monkey (the only way to get her to stay anywhere is to have her "momma cat" (that's me) nearby).


Good Lord, do I look HUGE!!!!!!! And that's just my hips! We're not even talking baby belly. It's like I've grown to mammoth proportions....and there are still FOUR MONTHS to go!!!!

Granted, I'm slouching and that doesn't help, but I don't really look much less house-sized in this pic of me and VNB.


But I'd only gained four pounds this past month when I saw the midwives yesterday, so I didn't get yelled at this time. But goodness gracious....I'm going to be the width of an elephant if this keeps up!

Sir Mix-A-Lot wasn't kidding when he said all those years ago, "Melissa's got a big ol' butt (oh yeah)!"

But the nursery's mostly painted (we've just got a few more touch-ups to do, then a border to put up before putting all the stuff back), and I've got two of my three baby registries up now (Babies R Us for the nursery set and Amazon for books). So now it's just a matter of convincing VNB that we need to take the time to go to Target and set that one up and we're as ready to go as we can get.

Moms & Dads for Modesty

I've had considerable time at work lately to surf the internet and have been led through a friend to damomma.com (the author had severe morning sickness, FAR worse than my own), which led to theparentingpost.com (because damomma posts there weekly), which led somehow (who knows how) to rocksinmydryer.typepad.com (another "mom" blog, this one from a Christian perspective), which led today to her friend Jules' blog www.everydaymommy.net.

Jules is a mom who has become increasingly concerned about the immodest clothing that stores are putting out for little girls to wear. Since apparently "mom" blogs are very important to marketers (moms buy a _lot_ of stuff), she's starting a petition of sorts. Basically, if you agree with the Mission Statement, you leave a comment on her website saying so.

Here's the statement:

Moms & Dads for Modesty Mission Statement

• As a Mom or Dad for Modesty I believe in common-sense modesty for girls and young women.
• I believe in refraining from sexualizing our girls and young women.
• I believe that it is unwise and unfair to taunt boys and young men by permitting my daughter(s) to dress in an immodest manner.
• I believe that true beauty comes from within and I strive to teach my daughter(s) this truth.
• I will loyally shop at retailers that provide girls' and young womens clothing that is modest, affordable and stylish.

Here's the campaign logo, hopefully linked to her site. You're welcome to take this .gif for your own site, just make sure you link back to hers too for "signing" purposes. I'm gonna try to put this on my sidebar too, but it might take some work.


So, regardless of your religious affiliation or non-affiliation, if you're tired of seeing things written across the bottoms of little girls, even if you don't have any of your own, leave your support for this initiative on Jules' site.

Good News!

It's not often that you hear of hope in Iraq. Most of the stories are about violence or war, simply because war, death, and violence are more sensational than life.

But this story gives you a taste of the life that is still occurring behind the violence. In the midst of destruction, people are helping each other to start businesses and rebuild homes, not to mention trying to achieve their dreams.

The people in Iraq aren't _just_ Shia or Sunni or Arab or Kurd - they're also just _people_ who want to live in peace. And more people are working toward that goal than are working toward civil war and destruction. Unfortunately, LIFE just doesn't sell as many newspapers as death. That doesn't mean it's not news though.

Due Date Bingo

Ok, so the due date has been changed (since the sonogram) from January 24th to Jan. 15th.

Now's your chance to see how good you are at predicting things. This is what I propose: write a comment for this post and include enough info about yourself that at least I know who you are (you can still comment as "anonymous," just make sure you say something so I can figure out who you are), and then your prediction for the baby's birthday. You can predict more than once, but only your latest prediction will be counted.

I haven't figured out yet what the winner will get, but if I think of something, I'll let you know (or give me ideas in your comment).

If you're worried that someone else has picked your day, then you can just be more accurate by adding in a time.

Keep in mind that first babies often come "late" and at the least convenient time possible. Those two may be competing factors, however since I will be 10 hours short of what's required for the Family Medical Leave Act as of the morning of January 15th. BUT, coming later makes things far more inconvenient for VNB since his store's semi-annual inventory is the two weekends prior to the 24th (he's supposed to turn in his final paperwork on the 23rd).

So, to be "convenient" for me, the baby has to come after 9 or 10 AM on the morning of the 17th. To be convenient for VNB, the baby should either come early (as in the first week of Jan or so), or very late (as in its original due date or later).

I was three weeks "late" according to the doctors (but right on time, according to my mom), and VNB was two weeks early.

Old wives' tales say that birth is approximately 5 months after "quickening." Well, I've been feeling movement for about two weeks now (first time I was pretty sure of what I was feeling was on Sunday, Aug 14th, putting baby right at its due date).

Let me know if there is any more information you'd like prior to making your guess, and I'll put a link to this post itself on the side so that you can come back later on to add/update your comment.

The First Shoe

I know that the saying is "waiting for the other shoe to drop," but the implication of that isn't really accurate for me. It implies or connotes that something bad has already happened, and you're just waiting for the rest of it.

Well...nothing bad has happened...at all...and it makes me nervous. Other than a few unexpected delays (and one unexpected lack of a delay!), my life since I've been back in MD has been as close to "charmed" as it could be. Met and married VNB, finished my MS, got a job, and got pregnant with a very healthy, normal baby.

I think, especially with the baby, I'm just sitting here, waiting for the bad news that is sure to come. I think the main problem is that I've watched too many "Birth Day"s on Discovery Health where babies are conjoined, or moms need emergency C-sections, or they're having quadruplets and three don't make it, or...something. But those things are very compelling, and even without them, all you hear about is pregnancy problems - premature labor, pre-eclampsia, hypermesis, toxmoplasmosis, etc., and those are only confounded by birth defects, SIDS, Downs Syndrome, and childhood cancers (to name a few). Not to mention all of the birth/baby horror stories that everyone seems to have (mom didn't know she was pregnant until about 7 months, then baby came in about 5 minutes - no urban legend, I _know_ these people). Then you add TV births to that where the woman is standing there normally, grabs her side, announces that the baby is coming "RIGHT NOW!", and five minutes later is pushing, whether Worf is ready or not.

It's like with the war in Iraq and elsewhere. No one ever tells the good or normal stories. Just "this is how to prepare for the bad that might happen" or "these are the horrible things that have happened in the past or are happening now." You only hear about the stories with "drama." Gestational diabetes-related inducements, poorly-delivered pain meds, midwives that don't make it in time, (potentially brain damaging) umbilical cords wrapped around the head....and those are just the stories for me and my three siblings (in no particular order).

Don't get me wrong...every baby's birth and every pregnancy before it has "drama" just from the mere fact of what it is - bringing new life into the world - but you don't hear about the ones (like mine, apparently) that go "by the book." Perfectly healthy, perfectly formed, take a normal amount of time, don't have any complications...

Now granted, something could still happen to me and/or Baby. We're only half-way there...but I think this "focus on the bad to prepare for the worst, just in case" mentality that we all seem to have is the main reason that I haven't really felt that "connected" yet to the reality of this Baby. I mean, we're preparing the house, I'm taking my pre-natal vitamins, I'm eating right, we're getting ready to register, etc., etc.....but it just hasn't seemed that real, like I'm still in shock or something. Maybe because, deep inside, I'm preparing for the worst "what ifs" babies have to offer by just not letting myself get attached.

Now that Baby has become a Mexican jumping bean that likes to tap dance on my bladder (and smush intestines) from time to time, it's harder to ignore, especially now that I've _SEEN_ him or her, even if just in profile. But it's still not quite "real" yet. I'm sure this is a normal process that will get better once we settle on names...but I guess I'm still waiting for that first shoe to drop so that I can spring into action and fight something more real than "your life is about to change drastically forever and never be the same (or even remotely close) again."

In the meantime though, it's time for "second breakfast." I think I'll have soup.

"Lullabies"

So I began my day, as usual, going through the email that arrived since I left work last night. As usual, several of my emails were "Baby" emails - websites I've registered on that send me emails giving me info about the development of baby, and other useful information. I usually read whatever sounds interesting from the initial email, then follow interesting-sounding links below each story until I run out of things to read. Well, today, one of the links was to the words to "typical" lullabies. As this is something I've been contemplating recently, I checked them out. There were several I hadn't heard of, but I was...surprised...at some of their choices for "favorite" lullabies.

For instance, the song "Clementine." You know the one - "Oh, my darlin', oh, my darlin'..." Yeah, well, read the verses. She's a beautiful girl and her boyfriend is the one singing about her. She goes down to the river to drive in some ducklings, trips and falls in. He can't save her because he can't swim. Her dad commits suicide because of her death. She fertilizes the roses in the churchyard now. He dreams about her in wet clothes, but won't hug her like he did in life because she's dead now and he's got to draw the line somewhere (you think I'm kidding). Artificial resipration could have saved her. And he missed her till he kissed her sister.

Wow. Yeah, there's a gem that I'm _SURE_ to sing to MY kid.

The other one that really caught my attention was "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot." ("Comin' for to carry me home...") That song is all about laying down your burdens to die and being carried home to heaven. Now, I want my kid to have the hope of heaven...but this song sounds a "little" defeatist to me for new life to hear. My child is not a slave in a field picking cotton. It's a newborn baby living a comfortable life in middle-class America. It's got healthcare, its parents have good jobs, it has a house and will have plenty of food and clothing. IMO, the "burdens" of dirty diapers and momentary hunger aren't enough to call for the "Sweet Chariot" to come.

Another interesting choice (although not one I necessarily disagree with) is "Amazing Grace." They include five of the seven verses, and leave off the one tacked on by an anonymous writer which has come to be known as the "last" verse ("When we've been there ten thousand years...") since it a) has nothing to do with the rest of the text, b) wasn't written by John Newton, and c) like with "Swing Low..." has to do with death more than life, so again, not something I want to associate with my newborn. So I wholeheartedly agree with this choice, although it wasn't one that would have come to mind without their suggestion.

Other than that, their list is pretty much just full of standards (Brahms' Lullaby, Rock-a-bye Baby, Twinkle, Twinkle, etc.). But watch....now nothing but "Clementine" will come to mind when I'm singing to Baby.

Baby's First Pictures!

Not a great quality photo (quick digital pic of the printed sonogram which was uploaded to my computer as a .tif, saved as a 24-bit .bmp, then exported as a .jpg...it's been a long morning!), but a great pic nonetheless! That's Baby Jones at approximately 19 weeks (further along than we'd previously thought), and yes, s/he is sucking his/her thumb!

Baby was _very_ compliant for his/her pictures yesterday, both moving and staying still (at least for a while) on command.

There were waves at the camera, acrobatics, "running" motions, and yes, thumb-sucking. It was all very exciting!

In addition to the profile view shown above, we also got close-ups (at least on the screen, we only took home profiles) of the following:
- 1 multi-lobed brain
- 2 eye sockets
- 1 nose
- 2 lips
- 1 chin
- 1 spine (fully-formed)
- 1 heart (with four working chambers!)
- 1 bladder
- 2 kidneys
- 2 arms
- 2 legs
- 5 fingers on each hand

The pulse was 129 which is apparently right in the middle, so no old wives tales for us about fast or slow heart-rates meaning a particular sex. Speaking of which. We did _not_ see whether baby was a boy or a girl. VNB doesn't want to (although his resolve is wavering at the moment), and I'm ambivalent, but even if _we_ knew, we wouldn't tell anyone else. I have a horrible phobia concerning roomfuls of pink clothing. I literally get chills and look away when I pass "Libby Lou's" at the mall. So yellows, greens, reds, blues (and VNB wants purple - his school color).....just not loads of pink.

But the doc said that everything looked perfect! It certainly was amazing to see all four chambers of the heart pumping up a storm!

It's slowly starting to hit me how different life is going to be forever after this. I think that really started on the MS trip when I wasn't allowed to tote and lift like I normally do. Plus, I got to watch the two ladies each with two small kids who weren't able to help much at all due to baby duty. As that's always been my preferred role in situations like that, it's going to be different sitting on the sidelines. It's not that I won't be working (I've chased enough babies in my day to know very differently)...but I won't be working like I've worked all my life.

And while I've been ready to give up 9-5 _office_ life pretty much since the day I started it, it's...weird...for me, with my dreams of going to the Moon and being an aerospace engineer, (not to mention my degrees), to set all that aside. It's not that it isn't worth it, it's just...weird. To have had so much angst over finding a job....only to be pregnant by the time I started it! My company has already verbally said that they'll let me take as much time as I need, then work with me as much or as little as I want to afterward, so I'll be able to keep a foot in the door...but it won't be the same as if I'd worked full-time all that time.

The diapering, feeding, living with a baby doesn't worry me...but the being at home all day does a little. In one way, I can hardly wait for it! No more waking up at 4:45 in order to ride in with VNB and save oodles on gas! No more "nice" clothes every day! The ability to keep the house clean(er)! And cook! And do stuff at church when asked! To read! To have some "alone" time where I don't feel guilty about being in another room from VNB since I _like_ being with him! To be able to hang out with my friend Catnip who works nights now and never gets to see anyone! But at the same time...being home, with just me, never-ending housework, and a squalling baby almost all day, almost every day! Having people think that I just sit around and eat bon bons since I'm a "stay-at-home mom" now! Feeling trapped inside the house (especially since all of this will begin in the middle of winter!)! I've been there and done that (although minus the squalling baby) before and made it through...but it's still nervewracking coming up to yet another season of it.

Life is going to change drastically. And, unlike the waist that is completely gone now (I'm getting to the point where I pop out of my shirts, not in the bust area (well, there too), but in the belly area!), there's not even a chance of getting the old one back. And it's not that it won't be completely worth it...but it'll be different...and different is always scary. At least a little.

Pics from the Trip

This one was taken one morning at the hotel in MS. I had run downstairs for some milk prior to gathering our stuff, putting on my shoes, and heading out to the bus, when my Min of Music decided that this was the most hilarious thing he'd seen in a long time - me, barefoot, pregnant, and in the "kitchen." You can't really see how big I am, but it's still a pretty funny picture.

This one spotlights not only VNB's broken arm, but my burgeoning belly. Granted, I'm sitting down, but you can tell that I fill up my shirt more than I have in the past. This is also, incidentally, the next-to-last day of the trip (the last day was just the drive home), and I was feeling pretty poorly those two days. So if I look like I haven't eaten much and am a little pale....well....I hadn't and I probably was.

Oh, and this is the "new" hair cut....except that it was about four inches shorter when I got it.

Home Again!

Well, we're back! It was an exciting trip, all around. And yes, "exciting" is one of those words with multiple meanings and connotations.

First off...Scot, I meant to bring my cameras, really I did....we just simply forgot, so you'll have to rely on the pics of others (to be supplied momentarily).

If you want a good blow-by-blow description of all the action, check out our Minister of Music's blog: www.pursuingyahweh.com. But I'll give you a nice summary.

The trip down was uneventful. I only entered the bus bathroom twice on the trip - once on the way down, and once to change later on in the week. I felt great most of the days, with only a couple of mornings of ickiness, and only a couple of all days of ickiness (close to the end of the week when I was tired and probably not drinking as much as I needed to).

We got down there earlier than expected (which made the hotel staff nervous), but gave us extra time to settle in and rest before the first night....well, except for VNB and a few others who joined the pre-production crew to finish getting the stage and site set up.

Each afternoon threatened thunderstorms (with several following through on their threat), but it only rained out one event - the main community festival on Saturday evening. Even that was just postponed to Sunday afternoon (we'd built in a little spare time, so we waited to leave for FL until later than planned).

While we were in the process of re-prepping the stage (after a short shower) just prior to Sunday's event, a gust of wind decided to fill the sail (the backdrop) and cause the light trusses to topple. I and another person were in the middle of the stage, while most others were off or on the outskirts. Fortunately, someone looked up just as the toppling began and was able to warn us all. Being in the middle of the stage with backdrop behind me, choir risers and railings to my left, people, instruments, and audio paraphernalia to my right, and stage falling forward, there was no way for me to safely escape, so I just watched where things were falling and avoided everything. My SCUBA "control your panic" training definitely came in handy in those moments. Even so, I took my time walking out of the rubble to keep my slightly shaky limbs from tripping over something. I think everyone else was far more concerned about me (and baby) than I was (especially those who saw me inside as the trusses fell)....but as I reminded Pastor D, I lived in Baghdad for a year and a half. This was just an accident. There, they're aiming for you. :) (That's a joke, btw....I never felt endangered while there and logical reasoning said that I was never a target.)

Anyway, so after a minute or two to collect ourselves (and with people starting to show up for the fair), several of us started the clean up, while the rest went on with the rest of the fair (face painting, moon bounces, hot dogs, hamburgers, snow cones, popcorn, etc.). About 20 minutes into the clean-up, VNB found a box lid, tripped over it, and ended up chipping the Radius in his left arm up by the elbow. Now, if you ever talk to _him_ about it, be sure you say that the story you heard was that he single-handedly held up the collapsing stage to protect his wife and unborn child. That's _much_ nicer for his ego than tripping over a box lid.

So....while the clean-up continued and the fair (sans musical entertainment) went on, VNB and I sent to the emergency room. We were literally in and out within an hour! And the only even remotely "sub-standard" service that we got was that they didn't give him a percoset or anything to tide him over until he got his pain med prescription filled. But even that was livable. It was definitely uncomfortable for him on the bus the next few days, but we both survived (I have yet to get a cast to the face during the night). Plus, it gave me a small taste of what it's going to be like with baby (except that with baby, I'll be able to sleep during the day too instead of having to keep going) - he was up frequently during the night, for more meds, to change position, etc., and he needed help dressing and bathing (at least initially).

The worst part was that, due to the pain meds, we decided that it just wasn't smart for us to take the equipment truck and drive to NC for his friend's wedding. So, the team stepped up and drove the truck for us, and we just went back with the rest of the group on the bus.

But God was good to us, and the trip was an unmitigated success. Really. Let me count the ways (in no particular order):

- All of the concerts that we performed were great.
- We were able to encourage the FBC Nicholson folks, the teachers at Nicholson Elementary School, and all other concert audiences (not to mention others).
- The gust of wind happened before the concert rather than during (lots more people on the stage (all with their backs to the parts that started the fall), and audience in the area onto which everything fell).
- Someone looked up just as things started to fall and had the presence of mind to warn everyone else.
- No one was seriously injured (one boy got a slightly bonked head and a skinned knee, but nothing serious or requiring treatment).
- My past experiences (and the grace of God) allowed me to not panic, which would have been the worst thing for me and for baby.
- We had removed the heavy stage lights prior to that point (they would have made it all fall faster, giving people less time to get out of the way, not to mention the extra glass clean-up and huge expense of replacing all of the bulbs).
- An awning was there to shade the audience chairs, and it graciously sacrificed its life to provide an extra couple of seconds for the last people to get out of the way.
- The whole experience spooked our minister of music enough that we didn't set up the stage/backdrop at the other churches we went to, reducing set-up/tear-down time and aggravation. :)
- VNB's arm is "just" chipped, and chipped in a spot that isn't serious.
- VNB and I are married now, so there was someone around to take care of him (he'd be in serious trouble otherwise - pants don't button themselves, you know).
- He didn't break his arm until I'd gotten over the worst of the morning sickness, making it so I had the energy/lack of nausea to take care of him.
- The rest of the choir was gracious to help us out with getting the equipment truck back and unpacked, even though VNB could only give directions, not help physically.
- Instead of coming home Sunday night and having to be back at work the next morning, we had Friday through Sunday in which to rest and recouperate from the trip.
- While we didn't end up getting to see his family (since we didn't go to the wedding), my folks were able to join us in MS and Daddy even got to sing with the choir!
- My folks being there meant that their pop-up trailer was there and was available for use as an air-conditioned spot for the pregnant and otherwise infirm of the trip (well, and as our Min of Music's "green room").
- We got to see through the testimony of one of the youth on the trip how God is already being glorified through Jay's death.
- It allowed our Min of Music and fam to be with his extended family as his 10-yr-old niece undergoes surgery to remove an egg-sized tumor from her brain stem (today - Monday, Aug 14th).

M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I (Part II)

As I sit here valiantly trying to keep my eyes open at work (and having a very sleepy brain try to rationalize that it's ok to shut the door for a few minutes of shut-eye), I figure I'll let y'all know that I probably won't be blogging much for the next week-and-a-half or so. Our church choir is headed down to MS tonight. We'll spend about three days there with our adopted church, leading a crusade, doing some rebuilding work, and having another "block party" event to give people a little break from life. After that, we work our way back up to MD pretty slowly, with a day in FL, and a couple of days in GA.

VNB and I are riding the bus down with the rest of the crew, but will become the equipment truck drivers once we leave MS. That'll allow us to peel off from the main group on our way through NC. One of Ryan's high school friends is getting married on the 12th in his hometown. We'll finally make it home on the 13th just in time to unload the equipment truck.

Like the time around my birthday, this will be a very in-law-intensive time. My folks will be meeting us in MS (they should be arriving any time now, actually) and will be there with us, then we'll stay with his folks while we're in NC. That's not a bad thing at all...but still stressful since we're both still adjusting to all that married life entails.

But by far the biggest stressor for me is the bus ride down there. We'll be on a nice charter bus with a bathroom...but I've literally had nightmares about the trip - all 21-22 hours of it! My actual nightmare included things more like driving too fast and running into things, but I think my real fears have to do with adequate food (having the right thing to quench the cravings), and being sick. Next to that is the realization that just about everyone in the choir has known me for years and years....which means that they're going to be smothering me with worry and attention. While it's nice that they care.....well....that could be difficult for me who somehow managed to hide my pregnancy from them (despite the constant and sometimes overwhelming sickness) for most of three months. On the way back (when we're in the truck), my main fear is the need for pit stops. Since we're not staying with the group the whole way anyway, maybe it'll be ok for us to stop whenever we need to.....but maybe it won't.

The last fear was only cropped up last night. Until then, I hadn't hit that "always hot while pregnant" milestone. I was still my normal, cold-blooded self. Well, being outside in the heat doesn't really bother me that much (honestly), but I had serious trouble while at the maternity clothes outlet at the mall last night (ironic, huh?). I'm sure the mall's A/C was on power-save mode, but just all of the sudden, I was so hot I couldn't see straight. I quickly finished my business in the store and sat down on a bench in the walkway. After a few minutes, I thought I was cool enough to keep going....well, after walking a little further, I knew I wasn't. I was never actually light-headed or anything, just exhausted and overwhelmingly hot. After finishing all of my business in the mall, I sat in what was clearly (from my travels) the coolest spot available for probably 30 minutes. At the end of that time, I was actually almost chilled and did much better on my way out. But that, of course, brings up lots of fears about how I'm going to do in the early August heat and humidity of MS! We'll be outside a lot of our time there, sometimes doing relatively hot work (singing under lights, canvassing neighborhoods, clearing debris, etc.). It's gonna be hard!

And to think...when I signed up for this trip, I wasn't even married yet!

But it's going to be a great trip! I'm really looking forward to seeing everyone again, and to seeing how much progress has been made since I was there last. We'll also get a chance to actually go into downtown New Orleans to see what it's like there. I've never been there before, so I'll have nothing to compare it to, but I'm sure that the damage will be evident.

I probably won't be posting much, but if you'd like to follow along on our travels, check out my minister of music's new blog: www.pursuingyahweh.com. He's promised to post daily updates.

Now I just have to figure out how to stay awake for the next 2.5 hours!

Random (and Not-So-Random) Thoughts

First off, Scot, I don't think anyone's taken a picture of me since the wedding...hopefully there'll be a couple taken this next week or two that I can share. But really...for all that 5.5" is a lot, as long as I keep my unbuttoned pants adequately covered, no one would notice a thing. As a friend pointed out on Sunday as I was showing off my "big" belly, "Now you look like the rest of us!" So...I'll post a picture when there's one to be had, but don't expect it to look _too_ different from "normal" me.

That's leads me to another thought...a realization, really: I'm a very little person. I've always thought of myself as pretty average....but I'm beginning to suspect that I'm actually very small. For instance, when I get "regular-length" pants, they drag the floor, even when I'm wearing 2" heels. And, even though my belly is 5.5" inches bigger around than normal, no one would notice unless they saw my unbuttoned pants or I pointed it out to them. I'm not complaining (although, all you non-miniature people out there would be surprised at how difficult it is to find clothes that fit)....I've just never really thought of myself that way.

Which begs the question, "why are so many people intimidated by me?" I mean, if I'm microscopic, why does my company president look like a scared little bunny whenever he talks to me? That's not even a "rocket scientist" thing because he's one too (or some kind of engineer anyway, but he started an aerospace firm, so I think that lets him into the rocket scientist club). I will continue to be fascinated by this phenomenon until it ceases to be true.

But I'll leave you with something to think about as the entire country complains about the heat. Right now, there are ~150,000 US servicemen and women (not including the Brits and the rest of the multi-national forces) who are in Iraq. Today it is 109° F in Baghdad. Temps this week will range from 111° to 115° F. And that's still not the hottest part of the summer. At the end of this month, temps will range into the 120s, 130s, and even possibly the 140s (yes, it's happened....I've been there - and if it doesn't get that hot, people complain because then the dates don't ripen). During that time, these ~150,000 servicemen and women will wear their DCUs (desert cammo uniforms) or their new BDUs ("desert-colored" battle dress uniforms) which are long-sleeved, usually with a t-shirt underneath, and whose pant legs either tie around their ankles or are tucked into their boots. They're made of heavy, thick material to provide protection and last in difficult circumstances. When they're in a vehicle, they're required to add to that a heavy, dark, flak helmet, and 60 lbs of "battle rattle" (flak jacket), not to mention their weapon (usually a rather hefty M-16). If they're on guard duty, they'll often be in direct sunlight for hours at a time, and if they're guarding (or in) a tank (which can be cooked on, even in cold weather), they get even more heat. So keep that in mind as you complain about the sweat that develops as you walk from your air-conditioned car to your air-conditioned house. Yes, the humidity is lower there....but even factoring that in, they've still got it worse!

Happiness Is...

- being able to stay in bed until 3PM on Saturday
- not feeling sick 24/7
- actually feeling _good_ (i.e., normal) some of the day most days
- buying adorable maternity clothes
- being surprised when VNB picks out a sexy "hot, pregnant mamma" dress for you to wear on a date five months in the future
- owning pants that can be buttoned without discomfort
- getting to _wear_ adorable (and comfortable!) maternity clothes!
- being at work without fear of popping out of your shirts (even with a tank underneath, that's still embarassing), or people seeing your unbuttoned pants
- knowing that in six months, I won't have to commute to an office every day!
- icee pops

Guitar Envy

All you guitar enthusiasts out there, check out this site (REALLY - it's worth the time): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbndgwfG22k. This guy is amazing! He's excellent when he plays "normally" too (check out "Fusion").

Maybe if I play more often than every couple of months, someday I'll be as good as him.








Yeah, right!

Hand-Raising

I've often thought about doing this, but haven't done it until today (when I was waiting just as fast as I could for a response from a colleague before I could really continue my work). I searched bible.gospelcom.net in the NIV for every reference to "hand" (which included any form of the word or any other word (like "HANDsome") which included it). My intent was to verify something that I'd long suspected: that the Bible doesn't talk about raising your hands in PRAISE (as is all the rage among progressive churches today), but rather in PRAYER.

Well, I was mostly right. Out of 1409 references to the word "hand," there is only one that says that we should raise our hands in praise:

"Lift up your hands in the sanctuary
and praise the LORD." (Ps. 134:2)

But there are twelve that say to lift your hands in prayer: Exodus 9:29; I Kings 8:38, 54; II Chronicles 6:12-13, 29; Ezra 9:5; Psalm 28:2; Psalm 143:6; Isaiah 1:15; Lamentations 2:19; Lamentations 3:41, I Timothy 2:8.

(The VAST majority were things like "lift a hand against" and "held in His hand," etc., but there were several regarding raising your hand in an oath and a few other miscelaneous ones).

So I guess I feel vindicated (although I wish that ONE hadn't been there)....but now I have no excuse to pray with my hands anywhere but in the air.

And on a slightly side note, this isn't to say that it's wrong for people to raise their hands while singing a "praise" song in church or where ever, since many of those are directed to God and are therefore prayers. I'm just saying that when we're "told" in church that it's Biblical to raise our hands in praise...well....yeah, that's in there once...but it's in there a whole lot more to raise your hands in prayer.

Heaven is a Wonderful Place...

So Jay's funeral was last Thursday. Except for the soloist who only just barely kept it together (yes, me), it was rockin' - literally. It started out with some of his favorite (rockin') praise songs, mellowed out in the middle for the sermon, and ended with one of his favorite Christian punk songs, followed by a song (sans words) written by two of his brothers and the boy who was driving. For not having any screaming, it was about as punk/core as you can get, and I'm sure it surprised a few of the older folks who came....but I and others could just see Jay rocking out with them.

Discussion afterward with my mom (she, Link, and Elianna came up for the funeral) prompted her to say that, despite her being labeled as "charismatic" when I was a child because she didn't say that it was abhorrent to God for people to raise their hands while praising...she still just didn't see heaven including music like what she'd just witnessed.

I just sorta laughed, because I didn't really know what to say. Being one whose music selection is extremely mood-based, and ranges from children's music to rap, and the heavier side of rock and everything in between, with healthy sides of 40s swing and "classical" (and an appreciation for well-done music of other styles), I could see how their song was worshipful...but I also "grok" plain hymns with piano/organ. I think heaven will get on my nerves (kinda like the local Christian radio stations), personally, if I don't get doses of all of them from time to time.

So in thinking about it over the last couple of days, I've come to this conclusion. On the day of Pentecost, when Peter was preaching and 3000 were saved, the Bible says that each "heard in their own language." It doesn't say that Peter spoke in tongues (as some would have you believe, although, Biblically, there's a place for that too...it just didn't happen on that occasion that we know of)...it says that each individual person _HEARD_ in his or her own language. So the French guy standing next to you would have heard in French, while the Arab woman behind you would have heard in Arabic what Peter was saying in...Greek? I dunno. Whatever language he was speaking in.

I think Heaven will be like that. The "Heavenly language" won't be Spanish as our Hispanic pastor (jokingly) says...it'll be more like Farscape's translator microbes where everyone speaks their own language and everyone else just understands it. And the music won't be one particular style that every tribe and nation will suddenly agree on....you'll hear what works best for you....so someday my mom can be standing next to Jay as he headbangs, and can sing her alto straight from the hymnal with an orchestra, and both of them will _HEAR_ in their own (musical) language.

And it won't just be music either. A Christian artist/speaker that I know often asks "when did 'worship' become a genre of music?" To worship someone is to bring attention to them for what they are or have done. We are always worshiping someone/something - it's just human nature. Often its ourselves....sometimes it's someone like Michael Jackson or the Beatles or a thing like money. But worshiping God doesn't necessarily include music at all. I think in Heaven, there will also be painters and sculptors and engineers and teachers and preachers and lawn mowers and chefs who are doing their jobs in such a way as to say how amazing God is.

So while Jay and my mom are rocking out, there'll be someone next to them that they will see as worshiping in their respective ways, but who will actually be gardening and seeing them garden too. And God won't see (or hear) any of it, because the form of the worship is irrelevant....He'll see/hear what's coming from our hearts as we praise and worship Him in our own ways.

But that's just my opinion/imagination. Jay knows for sure.

Potty Humor

Here's a little potty humor to (hopefully) brighten your Friday afternoon.

Just remember, the alternative to laughing about it is to cry...or, you know, not share with the world at all, but really, what fun is that?

So I just had two distinct urges: 1) I had to pee, 2) I had to barf. The conundrum confronted me when I reached the ladies room. Which first? The smell of peeing often makes me gag which leads to barfing, but the action of barfing could possibly lead to peeing. Being a girl, those two actions require facing two opposite directions in relation to the toilet. Hence my dilemma.

Sensing that perhaps the barfing was the more urgent of the two (and being the one over which I have less control), I did that first and was able to hold in the other momentarily.

Now, I'm feeling _MUCH_ better and am happily (and hungrily) finishing off my lunch.

Ah the joys of future motherhood!

He Gives and Takes Away

Before anyone gets too worried about me, VNB, or the baby, we're all ok.

Monday, VNB and I set our plan into motion for telling our church about the baby. Our plan was to purchase the flowers for the altar and have it put in the bulletin that they were given by us in honor of "the surprise blessing we expect to receive at the end of January." We got a beautiful arrangement in a cute, white basket with pink carnations and blue.....somethings.....amid daisys and other filler.

Saturday, VNB and I got up at our "regular" weekday time (~4:45) and drove to Smith Mountain Lake in VA for his annual family reunion. After breaking the big news to his family (he was wearing blue, I was wearing as close to pink as I get), I rode with him on the wave runner once (he drove very gently), rode in the boat as he water skied, but otherwise, sat in the shade with the "adults." :) Except for my feet sweeling near the end of the day, it was a beautiful, fun, relaxing time. While VNB took one last spin on the wave runner, I floated in the lake while chatting with VNB's sister to cool off my feet. We then cleaned up, said our goodbyes, and began our trip home.

It took us five hours to get there, but after a long-cut, it took six hours to get home. When we were about 15 minutes away, we got a phone call from one of our friends from church. Three of the newly graduated from high school boys at our church had been involved in a car accident, two were flown to shock-trauma in Baltimore, one was dead on the scene. One of the boys I've known since the day his parents adopted him when he was a baby, the other two I've known since they were stinky middle-schoolers. I've been their youth worker/counselor, their teacher, and their friend for many years.

I'm also very good friends with each of their families. The family of the boy who was adopted (the Morrises) have been very close with my family since we first moved to MD in 1982. His dad can play any instrument with strings and has been heavily involved in the music ministry for many years. His mom is one of the sweetest people on earth and works tirelessly in the church. His little sister was in the Sunday School class I taught for several years. Jonathan himself has always been very head-strong.....but if focused on something always excels. He was in the front passenger's seat and apparently hit his head pretty hard on the window. Half of his face is swollen with bruises, in addition to other scrapes, cuts, and bruises. He's still in a lot of pain, and isn't doing very well emotionally.

The family of the boy who was driving (the Alcotts) became friends of mine when I was teaching that Sunday School class of 3rdand 4th graders. Tim's dad, Gary, taught the 5th and 6th graders, and his little sister Jenny was in my class. His older brother Drew was in the youth group and one of my favorites because of his....mischeviousness. While I was overseas, Gary emailed me every single week to keep me up-to-date on the happenings of the church and of his family. That simple action was one of the sweetest things anyone did for me while I was away. It kept me close to the happenings at "home" and definitely gave their family an even softer place in my heart. Tim was driving when the car went too fast around the corner, flipped, and hit a tree. He's probably in the best condition, and was even able to visit the family of the third boy yesterday. Both he and Jonathan were released from the hospital very early on Sunday morning. He's got scrapes and bruises, but is otherwise physically ok. I'm sure the emotional battle is only just now beginning, despite being taken aside already by the third boy's twin and told that it wasn't his fault. Their family was coming home from buying snow cones a few miles from their house. The boys were in the lead car with Drew directly behind them. He saw the whole thing. He either called his family immediately, or they were shortly behind him. He's been troubled with drugs and other rebellious actions over the past few years. This is a very precarious time for him, too.

The family of the boy that died (the Groves) have been friends of mine for most of the last 6-7 years. I've been camping with them, Sherry (their mom) helped me to make some of my bridesmaids' dresses, I just sang at their oldest son Johnny's wedding a few weeks ago, and I've worked with them at many youth events...they're just a cool family with tireless energy for youth activities and church work. Hardest hit, of course, was Jay's twin brother, Jeff. The whole family is doing well, although there's naturally still some shock. I think his middle brother, Paul, is the one still the most in shock. He and Drew have been drug buddies off and on for years, but Paul's never left completely, always coming back in between (and sometimes during) bouts of addiction. But the whole family was at church yesterday because they knew that they needed the comfort of their church family, and that we needed them too.

So, after driving for 11 hours, and spending five hours on the lake, VNB and I headed to shock trauma to be with the families and the youth who were there. We ended up getting home around 2AM.

The Sunday morning services, of course, were difficult. Three of our pastors had maybe 2 hours of sleep, combined, and those of us who knew were like zombies, which really confused those who didn't know yet. But the touchpoint that everyone kept coming back to both Saturday night and all day Sunday was that there was no doubt that Jay was in Heaven, rocking out in worship, just like he did here on Earth only in ways we could never imagine.

On the advice of several people, I called the Maternity Center's non-emergency line, briefly explained what had happened, and asked them to call me back. My stomach was tying up occasionally, and I was a little dizzy from time to time, but really, nothing serious. It's just a precaution due to the long, physically-demanding day, followed by a long emotionally-demanding night and next (several) day(s). They probably won't even want to see me - I'll just tell them in more detail the various traumas, then explain in more detail about what happened with my body, and they'll tell me to try to take it as easy as I can over the next couple of days.

So be praying for the three families. For the guilt that the surviving boys (Tim, especially) will feel. In many ways, it will be far more rough on them and their families than it will be for the Groves. Also, for Tim's brother Drew to be able to live with the images he's seen while being completely unable to help in any way, and for both he and Paul that this helps to bring them further away from addictions, and not back into them. And for me, not just that "Lime" is ok (I'm pretty sure s/he is)....but the Groves have asked me to sing at Jay's funeral. Especially with all the pregnancy hormones making me always on the verge of tears anyway, that's going to be rough. Lastly, for the Grove family - that they continue to be examples to all of us in their understanding of hope and blessing, even in pain.

VNB had been concerned Saturday night about the flowers that we'd already bought, but I think it ended up being a good thing really. It was a good counterbalance - new physical life, and new life everlasting. As Job said, "He gives and takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord."

I'm a Hobbit and I'm OK, I Sleep all Night and I Eat all Day!

So, since becoming pregnant, I've also apparently turned into a Hobbit. Not only am I getting extra hair growing in places I'd rather it not be (my eye brows have always been "full," but now they're starting to creep down my eye lids), but I also eat a lot and frequently.

For instance, for breakfast this morning (which I never used to eat), I had a bacon, egg, and cheese Hot Pocket Biscuit. For "second breakfast," I had a fruit cup. For "Elevensies," I had a bag of Doritos, and am now wondering what to have for lunch, with the expectation that I'll snack on it most of the afternoon, then have another largish meal just prior to leaving work around 4:30, followed by pre-dinner snacking, dinner, and after-dinner snacking when I get home. Whew...all this eating makes me tired!

Eliana will have to tell me if there were ever any straight-haired hobbits (beside herself, of course).

Now, to please my mom (and to blend in with the rest of the Fellowship), I must get really dirty and have a single tear trickle picturesquely down my cheek. And start talking in an English accent.

Cheers!

Oversight

VNB and I recently (finally) set up our official wedding album, and now have to figure out what other shots we want (several other prints of our choosing were included in the package in addition to the album itself). In looking over them today, I realized that I never told you guys a) that you can look at them online, or b) how to look at them online.

Anyway, if you want to view the "big day," go to www.theprosphotos.com. At the bottom of the page, put in February 2006 and my first name. That search only brings up our pictures.

If you really want, you can even order some for yourself online. Chris, I know you still check up on me every now and again - there's a good one of you, Kenny-O and my church's trumpeter, and my Futron friends, there's at least one group shot of many of us (although some had left by that point), and several of me talking to "the old man."

But in any case, for anyone out there getting married in the near future, The Pros was a good way to go for us. Photography was the one thing I didn't want to cheap out on, but they offered a very good package for exactly what I expected to pay for even a "cheap" ok-ish package. We went to a little presentation where we got to see examples of the work of several photographers, then got to choose the one that best fit our tastes. Plus, they give the added bonus of back-up photographers, in the case (as happened with ours) where they can't make it for whatever reason. The guy we ended up with was very personable and very good with the little ones involved, not to mention that his last name was Tribble! :) No Trekker can go wrong with a name like that! There are, of course, a few things I wish had been done differently, but a lot of that is due to the rush we had after the wedding due to the wacky tux hi-jinks pre-wedding, so I understand.


Anyway, if you're bored sometime and feel like looking at pics of people you may or may not know, this is a good way to fill some time!