^^^ taken by Ryan ^^^
Ryan is really into standing on one foot lately. "Look, Mom! Conor can stand on one foot! Like a flamingo! Can you stand on one foot? Can Dad stand on one foot?"
I'm feeling mostly good at 39 weeks. My water is probably going to break either on the bike or on the (very mild) see-saw at the neighborhood playground. Almost every night all the thoughts come to my mind as I think, "Was that a contraction? Did it start in my back? Or is it just because this chair isn't comfortable? Umm what should I pack? Was last night really my last night of consecutive-ish sleep? Ahhh I wanted to labor during the day not through the night. I think the camera battery is dying. Ahhh Conor doesn't even have a toothbrush right now for me to pack for him! Oh gosh how do I explain that?!"
The contractions or back pain or whatever are put to sleep as am I, and Conor's lost toothbrush has been replaced by a new one.
The concept of meeting this son or daughter that I only know through a bud of unconditional love and plenty of kicks really just baffles me. Our home is full of excitement, but I'm also consumed by waves of anxiety. You know, I have never felt this anxious before a baby's arrival. The past two weeks have felt like the part in a game when the last of the sand is about to empty into the bottom of the hourglass. I keep finding myself pleading an edited version of St. Augustine's request, "Lord, let me meet this baby, but not yet!" Obviously the "Whatever God wants," level of saintly holiness has not been reached by me. Maybe it's because I know this is the comparatively easy part; this is the time I can get things done. I have two hands (most of the time)! I can sleep through the night (most of the time)! Maybe it's because I still can't hoist myself up out of the trenches just yet with my oldest only being three. Oops, forgot! Three and a half. Can't forget the half.
Really, maybe it's because I never felt like I found my footing in the past two years since having my second and starting to work soon after and just the hectic norm that's been our life. My tricks of the trade seem short-lived. I'm comfortable in mothering our children, I don't even have to think about loving them and I can do what I need to do, but whew, I haven't caught my breath. I'm hopping from one rock to the next, teetering and tottering and desperately trying to balance what I often forget can't be balanced without husband and divine help. I have both, which does allow for a quick inhale.
But maybe right now, right now on the cusp of three children three (and a half) and under that is my trick - standing on one foot. Like a flamingo. Or really, like a mom.