Yes, I am still alive.
My blog, on the other hand, seems to be dying a slow death. The good news is I have a longstanding track record of eventually reviving her. I may desert her unintentionally for a month here or there, but she can always count on me coming back.
Don't you like how I just made my blog female? But if she weren't a girl, she certainly would have gotten fed up with my wordiness a long time ago and found a way to delete my ramblings. Wait- it does seem like there have been some times when I've started writing some post and a mysterious "error" occurs and deletes everything I've spent the last hour sharing. Hmmmm-definitely something to think about.
Remember that calm, sweet baby I raved about carrying last time I posted? Well, it turns out I didn't give him/her enough credit for the punch it can pack. Definitely, not as strong as big brother Park was in the womb, but still enough to keep me on my toes. Regardless, I'm treasuring each (pounding) movement as the days draw closer until we meet face to face.
I'm currently closing in on 35 weeks, which has suddenly brought me to the realization that I actually have to BIRTH this child. If you are one of those precious women who "sneezed" your baby out, I truly am happy for you. But just to be real, after 5 and 1/2 long hours of all natural pushing with Park, all that jazz about "not remembering the pain" definitely does not ring true for me. And although I'm choosing a drug free birth again this time around, 4 years hasn't been long enough to erase some vivid mental images that I'd assume not recall.
God and I have had some serious tutorials on the verse, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
I'm clinging to that one for dear life.
And on another positive note, most of the trauma I remember was not the actual birth, but the postpartum pain. And every loving girlfriend I have has PROMISED me that the second child recovery is night and day better than the first. If they are lying through their teeth, please don't tell me unless you are volunteering to birth my baby.
And if that is the case, I totally accept your offer.
Park is going to make the best big brother. We were in the car the other day when I caught a glimpse of him talking in a low voice and acting something out. When I asked what he was doing he shyly replied that he was practicing shushing his brother and giving him his "pa" (our family love name for pacifier.) "This little guy can get loud, but I have just the right touch," he declared. Clearly, this kid has no confidence.
It truly was so sweet that I decided to just skip over the whole conversation about how it could be a sister. It's like talking to a wall.
But just so I don't paint a skewed picture, I should also mention that as precious as he is, he is still learning that patience is a virtue. (But, then again, who isn't, right?) Chris and I have been discussing with him the importance of waiting on things and not demanding our own way. A few days ago I had a chance to reinforce this lesson when he was waiting by the door for Chris to get home from work.
"Where is Daddy? He's never going to get here and I'm ready to play with him!!! I have been so patient, but this is the slowest family I have ever had!" he exclaimed.
Confused as to what he was referring to, I asked him to clarify and here was his response:
"Well, Daddy's truck is so slow and our baby is taking forever to get here, too. Being patient just makes me tired!!... (thoughtful pause)... But, NOT the kind of tired that means I should go to bed early, though."
I know the feeling, little man, but some things are worth the wait.
And for the record, he was the kind of tired that required an early bed time. Or at least I was the kind of tired that required him to have an early bed time.
(After getting some time to play with daddy, of course:)
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Yes, I am still alive.