it's random

This could turn out to be a huge cluster of thoughts.  I'm not totally sure where they're going at the moment.  Sometimes I've got a definite theme of things I'm thinking that I want to get out in writing and other times it's as if there is a swarm of thoughts flying around my head and I'm desperately trying to grab just one or two to tie into a post.

For example, I'll just type the next 5 thoughts that come into my head:
1) I can't believe how much got accomplished today.
2) Boy do I feel like a fat face.
3) Sherman's farts stink.
4) If I can't get grandmommy's dresser out of Roscoe's room, where is his dresser going to go?
5) I wish I could share a conversation and a glass of wine with my husband by my side.

Usually this is the reason Mark can get exhausted when he's here and I'm in a talkative mood.  From what he tells me, my thoughts can go from polar bears to telephone poles to 'why do the dog's paws always smell like doritos?' in literally about 15 seconds.  But I can link them all to one smooth-transitioned thought process, and I'm sure you women out there reading this can do the same thing.  Something about our brains being a circuit of wires vs. the man's closet of neatly organized and separated boxes.

So since I'm this far into a post and have yet to settle on any of those swarming thoughts, I'll just go into detail on the aforementioned 5.

1) I have never felt so loved by a group of people than I did today.  The wedding doesn't even come close to this.  For some reason receiving gifts from family and friends for our baby just made me feel incredibly loved.  And I can't explain why.  As if that wasn't enough, mine and Mark's parents came over to the house to keep me company and help get gifts consolidated.  The moms brought the cradle from Andy and Beth's, and the dads got things into the attic, moved furniture around for me, and bathed the dogs (well, that was all Mark's dad. And that's a big chore, so he gets all the credit).  Mom helped me get Roscoe's room a little more under control, including hanging the curtains.  Mark's mom helped me organize all the gifts we received today.  We ate dinner and had some lattes.  And it was good.

2) Really, though.  I've had numerous people telling me things like "you look so good" and "you're all belly weight" and "you haven't even gained any weight in your face."  Thank you all, I am very flattered.  And for the most part, you're right.  I haven't gained a ton of weight everywhere.  But after looking at the pictures from the shower, that last common compliment is false.  Lies.  Seriously, I have Allan blood in me on my dad's side, and when Allans gain any weight, it is first evident in their face.  And I hate that.  And I can't wait for this baby to be born purely for the fact that my face can go back to normal.  I am vain for that.  And I know it.  So?

3)  The good thing about thought number 3 is that it doesn't need much expounding on.  If you've never smelled a sherman fart, come hang out with me here with sherman.  Once he lets one go, you'll be on your way, no matter how much you're enjoying my company.

4)  I haven't reached a conclusion yet, so there's nothing to say about this question.

5)  Because sometimes, at the end of a day like today, I would love nothing more than to curl up under a blanket on the couch in the quiet opposite the love of my life and unwind with a glass of wine.  We never get tired of that time together.  And there have been many times that we've lost track of the time in conversation and laughter.  I am thankful that I've been able to talk to him every day that he's been gone, but there's something about being in each other's presence and experiencing that comfortable silence that can last a minute or two.  On the phone, it's just not quite as natural and relaxing.  Well look at that, Mark is calling  me right now.  No lie.  Gotta run.

little fears in the dark

Almost every night this week, I've woken up out of a peaceful sleep with the almost crippling fear that I'll go into labor without Mark here.  We're so close to the end of his training, but the closer we get to it, the closer we get to Roscoe's due date.  The anxiety that can create, even in an easy-going person, is intense.

Now it isn't like the world would end for us if this did happen.  Hopefully I would have the sense to not ignore the signs thinking they'd disappear.  That'd be a typical Anne Marie reaction.  But I doubt Roscoe would care.  Instead I'd call my midwife and let her in on what I'm feeling, find out if it's labor, and then immediately call Mark.  He'd be on the way and then I'd call Mom to come over and hold my hand til he got here.

I just have in my mind the perfect picture that Mark comes home and I'm still pregnant.  Very pregnant.  And we get another date.  We haul my big ole pregnant belly to a restaurant and enjoy each other's company one last time as just us before even giving a thought to "I wonder if the babysitter is having problems" or "Did Roscoe finish his bottle ok?"  or "Gosh I hope he's not crying inconsolably right now."

It's funny-- once it's daylight and I'm up and around for the day, there are no problems or fears.  Even if I think I feel the tiniest 'feeling' down there, it's almost a relief.  Maybe I can call Mark and he can come home today and we can have this baby.  Something about daytime makes the thought not quite as scary.  As if I would be more in control of the situation if it started in the daylight.  What is it about darkness and nighttime that brings out the little childlike fears in us?

I'm trying to turn my mind from dwelling on my own thoughts to dwelling on truth.  And I'm talking Biblical truth, not scientific "truths."  I don't want or need to hear stats on the fact that first time mothers rarely deliver early.  That doesn't make my husband appear in bed beside me in the middle of the night.  And it doesn't comfort me either.  But truths-- like the fact that God already has a plan for me, and that whatever it is, it's good.  Like the fact that God cares for me.  He even cares about this petty little fear that wakes me up when it's dark.

Those truths don't make Mark appear out of nowhere either.  But, oh, the comfort....

morning stretches

I've been taking full advantage of as much rest and sleep as possible this pregnancy.  Partly because I feel like it's a good excuse to be lazy, but also because there have been too many moms encouraging me to.  So when I say that I stayed in bed until 9:45, it's not to cause jealousy.  Because believe me, I'm fully aware that I'm less than a month away from sleeping in 3 hour time increments.

One thing I'm loving right now--I think it's safe to say it's my favorite time of the day--is that time period in the morning when I'm awake but haven't started stirring yet, and I feel a little movement inside my belly.  I'll be lying there with my eyes open for about 2 or 3 minutes, just enjoying the feeling of the warm covers and the daylight trying to peek through our curtains, not really thinking about anything in particular.  And if I'm comfortable enough, my pregnant belly won't even be screaming out at me that it's in the way.  Then Roscoe will start to stretch out a little and change positions.  Why is it cute?  Why does it make me smile?!  (Now that's the BIG question, because no matter what time I wake up, nothing can really make me smile in the morning.)  So I put my hand on my belly and enjoy the 30-45 seconds of my son finding a more comfortable position.

I can't wait for Mark to be able to feel it.  Until then, it's nice having something all for me.  I can't wait to meet this baby and share him with everyone who already loves him so much.  I am so excited to see friends and family hold my child.  But (this will sound selfish and I don't intend for it to) the one thing I don't have to share is the feeling the baby's sweet movements throughout the day.  I look at it as one of those grace-given gifts from God to mothers.  In the midst of all the pains and annoyances of pregnancy, there's those little things that make it all worthwhile.

I really, really, really can't wait to meet you, son.

phase 2, get to work

We're halfway through Mark's training.  He graduated from Phase 1 yesterday and will begin Phase 2 Monday.  So with that comes crunch time for me.  I've GOT to get Roscoe's room under control.  I know we'll live if it's not completely ready by the time he's born, but there's still something inside me telling me to get off the computer and get things straightened up.  Here's where it's at as of right now.

I have to begin with this.  These guys seem to have worn out their good behavior on the first 3 weeks, in my opinion.  It's actually probably not them.  It's more my loss of patience.  I'm sorry, dogs, but I just don't get excited about nothing like you do.  When I get up to move from the computer to the bed to take a nap, I don't want or need you to jump all around me like I've just told you we're going for a ride.  At any rate, when I got up this morning and started to clean some stuff up, the settled down like this, as if things were normal again and they could FINALLY take a good nap.

My mom and dad and father-in-law came over last week to help get the crib into the house and assembled.  Yes, I asked for that help.  Pat on the back, please?

A little apprehensive about this new piece of containment.  It's almost like he thinks it'll be a punishment pen for him.  Well, at least he hasn't done anything worth punishment since we assembled the crib.

And now for the current state of the baby's room.  A few more pictures.....

Not too bad.... Yes, the crib is the current home for the exercise ball.  Keeps it from rolling around!

Oops, sorry...... Sometimes Sherman wants to make his presence known.  Yes, Sherman, we know you're in here...

Ahhhhh, beautiful mess.  Keep it pilin' up....  Yes, those are Christmas ornaments.  They never got put up in the attic and for some reason people don't want me climbing up a ladder and into the ceiling to put boxes away....

My dresser, also with all sorts of baby stuff thrown on top.

Well there's the pictures.  So for anyone who asks "you have the baby room ready yet?"

No.

RPG in 3D

As of right now I can't figure out how to capture the video of the ultrasound to post it on my blog.  I'll have to get my computer savvy mom or father-in-law to see if they can somehow.  It's about 25 minutes long, but I know there are some friends and family who live too far away who would love to see our little Roscoe...

Poor baby!  He's so scrunched.  He was head down, but apparently not happy with that position.  Since Friday he has turned butt down, head up, and all his limbs are crammed in front of his face.  I've got exercises I can do to correct his naughty behavior.  And the chiropractor I'm going to visit later this week has never been unsuccessful in turning a breech baby.  So I'm not too worried about it.

Hand in front of face, foot up at forehead.  And look at that face!!!!!  To quote my mother, "I could just mash him." (This is a southern compliment)

Forgive me for posting such obscene pictures on the internet, but this one should technically have been first.  The very first thing Roscoe showed us was this little pair.  I had been having those what if it's not a boy doubts recently.  He flashed this up at the ultrasound tech within the first 45 seconds of the ultrasound as if to say how dare you insult my boyhood, mother

"yeah, my dad works out a lot, but he's got nuthin' on these guns!"

Kinda looks like he's sniffing his hand.  Notice all the limbs in front of his face?  Seriously, kid, you doing yogo in there?

Open mouth :)  He's peeking out from behind his arm, I think.

Slightly open eyes.

Tiny little hand.  He's got his 5 fingers!

He's cramped so it was hard to get a clear face shot, but this was the best we could do.  Mark's mom squealed when we saw his face for the first time.  She said it looked just like Mark's baby picture.  I love it.  He looks like a little old man.......sooooo cute. 

Oh!  Did I mention he has hair?  There's a black and white picture of that.  But I've got to run to work so there's no time to post it.  I'll get that one up later.

planning stages for homebirth

I know that sometimes i come across harshly.  I tend to be very cynical and uncompassionate in many areas.  But it has never been my goal with my choice in homebirth to make any woman feel inferior if homebirth or midwives were not her choice in childbearing.  Labor and delivery is just a small part of the experience in having children.  It's not everything.  And whether a baby is born in a birthing pool with no drugs, or by cesarean section, it makes no difference in the baby's beauty or the miracle of life.

We are now a little over a month away from our baby's due date and that has me researching even more than before and planning what methods to use in facilitating as peaceful a homebirth as is possible.  I'm very excited about going through labor in the comfort of our own home.  Our bed.  Our lighting.  Our privacy.  As of right now the plan is to have a birthing pool in the living room (I told my midwives at our last appointment that if I believed in reincarnation, I'd consider myself a dolphin in a former life).  I also have an exercise ball that we can use to ease the pain of contractions and help the baby move down.

But I'm currently struggling with trying to balance the desire to have this baby any time now with the fact that I can't want that.  I need Mark here.  I've been very relaxed the whole pregnancy and perfectly ok with the thought of baby coming early, but the military threw a wrench in that one with sending Mark away for some training.  Yes, he would make it home in time if I went into labor.  But that's not the way we want it to happen.  If he comes home early, it just means he has to go back to finish the schooling.  So we need and want him to stay put.  But it's a lot harder than I thought it would be to keep myself from mentally "letting go" of the will to keep the baby in as long as possible (as if I'm in control of that anyway).  This little guy is getting heavy.  And he's now in the correct position for birth.  And it just feels like if everything were normal, I'd be willing him to come any time in the next few weeks. 

To those who are curious and asking that wretched question But what if he doesn't make it back in time and you're in labor?... Shame on you for making me acknowledge that question in writing.  But I have an answer.  My mom is Mark's stand-in.  If I were to go into labor, Mark would be immediately contacted and probably driving back home before he realized he was actually driving back home, and my mom would come to my house and be my coach until he got here.

So that's the plan.  And we don't know what will happen, but we rest in the fact that God does.  We're trying not to place our hope in our own plans and desires, but in the fact that what God already has planned--whatever that may be-- is best.  So now we wait and see.

2 more things. 

My last appointment (Friday morning), Elizabeth pointed out to me the position of little Roscoe.  I can locate his butt and back, and sometimes if I press on my belly just right, I can feel little bumps clustered together, making up elbows and knees and fists and such.  He hasn't moved from that position yet.  Last night I was lying in bed and he started moving around and stretching out.  I placed my hand on the side of my belly and something pushed against it and backed away.  Then he did it again.  But as I pushed against him, he pushed against me and kept that body part pressed against my hand.  I'm not calling myself an expert, but my mommy imagination likes to think that it was his hand pushed against mine and we sat there like that not budging for about 10 seconds.  I broke out in the biggest smile.  I can't believe that in a little over a month I will be able to hold his little hand in mine.

And to finish, a video I found this morning that made me cry.  Something about this is just beautiful.  Maybe it's the song, maybe it's her peacefulness in a homebirth of a 10 lb baby.  Or it could be the fact that I'm close to experiencing what she's going through.  Whatever it is, if you tear up you're in good company.

yes, it's the south. deal with it.

So I tend to consider myself pretty impartial when stuff comes up about the north vs. the south.  I'm not talking about the extremists, either (down here especially: all the rednecks, southern pride, yada yada).  I'm talking about the mild slams that the northerners-at-heart who reside in the south make against the southerners.  And the slams that the ignorant southerners who've never been north of.....oh..... north carolina... make against "them yankees."

I mean, give me a break... I grew up in Anderson, SC, and I slept in the same bedroom from birth until I got married.  So I'd consider myself pretty southern as far as "roots" go.  I've never moved from the south.  But..... the love of my life is from NH, and that's still what he considers his home (and I love that).  My awesome college roommate is from there as well.  I've got family-in-laws up in NH and ME and have visited numerous times now, and it is beautiful.  Gorgeous.  Enough to make a southerner jealous that we don't have those colors and beauty down here.  I'd love to live up north.  Seriously.

All that being said........  The south is used to ice storms and a winter that isn't nearly as wonderland-ish as the north.  Usually, our winter weather consists of freezing rain, sleet, with maybe an inch of snow for the whole season.  And when that inch comes, everyone's ecstatic.  I know, right?  Weird.  That's why we get made fun of.  And we may deserve it, but we really don't know any better.

So am I pretty impartial?  I tend to think so.

But I'm pretty tired of hearing people from up north mocking the southerners during this most recent snow storm.  Give them/us a break.  Everywhere got at least 6 inches (remember me saying that 1 inch is usually the most for the WHOLE season?), with a layer of ice over the top (because it can't be a true winter storm in the south without ice involved).  And then in typical fashion the sun came out and started to melt it-BUT WAIT-the sun went down and temperatures fell below freezing and *oh no* suddenly you have roads that are solid sheets of ice.  The city's 2 snow plows did a pretty good job of clearing the main roads, but that does nothing for the secondary and back roads, which weren't salted.

The roads are going through daily phases of turning to slush and then refreezing at night because the temperature is falling below 20.  Even my father-in-law, who has spent more time living up north than in the south, said that the roads were treacherous.  And that doesn't mean he isn't capable of driving in it, it means the south just isn't equipped for it.

So just BACK OFF all you mockers.

it's like having the strength of 10 men

One thing that you hear a lot about but can never fully understand until you experience it is nesting.  You hear of women doing drastic rearrangements to the house and such while their husbands are at work and your first thought is Why not just wait for him to get home to help you?  Is is that important?

Yes.  Yes it is.

That being said, here's my first over-the-top, couldn't-control-the-urge nesting story.

We have an antique organ that a friend gave to us that has been sitting in our living room.  However, the living room is too small for both that and the woodstove that we so desperately want to hook up.  Before Mark left last weekend, he was going to rearrange some things for us (consolidate books, get rid of the bookshelf, move the organ to its place, voila).  It didn't get done because the weekend was way too busy.  No big deal, thought I.  Someone in the family could come over and help things get moved around later in the week.

No.

It was Tuesday, and as I stood in the living room deciding what to do with my evening, the OVERWHELMING urge to get the organ OUT of the living room came over me.  Don't take it lightly when I say OVERWHELMING.  Before I even thought twice about it, I had all the books off the bookshelf and that space clear.  I took off the top piece of the organ and began sliding towels underneath the rest so it could slide easily on the hardwoods.  Success.  Organ in place.  This is the picture I sent to Mark (somehow I thought he'd be as excited as I was).

Reply from Mark: "how'd that get there?"

Now I can't say this popped my bubble, but for some reason I wasn't sensing any sort of excitement from his end. "I....uh... Moved it."  No response.

Later in the evening we were talking and he asked me (very kindly) to be careful not to end up in labor over something like this.  His next question sounded rhetorical, like he felt stupid for even asking it: "You didn't move the woodstove, did you?" ......... "Well......"

Come on, everybody, it was only 5 ft.

starting off

It's about time I started a blog, if for no other reason than for my own enjoyment.  I used to journal a lot, but lately find that my fingers can't keep up with my brain when I'm trying to record some thoughts in one of those nifty journals you pay way too much money for.  However, I was taught how to type by my mother, and she can put out about 90 wpm.  That may be a tiny bit of an overstatement, but it can't be too far off.

So I'm bean.  That's been my nickname since I was about 9 or 10, and it's stuck.  My nieces and nephews know me as bean.  In fact, a couple of them wouldn't even know who "Anne Marie" is if you asked them.  But chances are, if you're reading this, you already know that.  And if you didn't, don't be afraid to call me bean.  I find it quite natural to respond to it.