Tuesdays Unwrapped: Peace is Relative

I don't know what I ate before I went to bed last night, but it did not encourage peaceful slumber.  Every drawn-out dream consisted of multitudes of people all talking at once, all requiring my services at once, all having issues at once.  In my dreams, I kept looking for Steve, only to find him sleeping somewhere.  (Hmm.  Is that really a dream?)

When I got home this morning, I discovered that Florianus had escaped from his kennel and absolutely ransacked the house.  There was trash from the front door to the back door (including about a week's worth of coffee grounds strewn hither and yon), torn up toilet paper was littered everywhere, and one of my tennis shoes was completely filled with urine.  This made me crabby.  Steve entered the door a few minutes later covered in ink and bearing tales of a woeful night of work complete with lazy coworkers and a difficult supervisor.  Fun stuff.

But there is nothing quite like climbing back into bed after venting these frustrations, snuggling up until the sheets get warm, and feeling all of the stress melt away as we enjoy the peace that comes from being together.    There is nothing quite like watching my sweet husband quickly drift off into well-deserved sleep, leaving me alone to lie there thinking and praying.  There is nothing quite like being shocked into near-laughter by the purposeful kick of the Baby.  Today I'm grateful for the blessing of our little morning "bedtime" routine and the peace and joy that it affords in an otherwise chaotic time.

(I'm in the picture somewhere...we need to get back into the swing of self-portraits. :-))

Join the Tuesdays Unwrapped Project at Chatting at the Sky.

Baby Talk

I went to the doctor yesterday for my 17 week appointment. Once I got over the initial fear and trepidation of what They were going to do to me or what They were going to look at or poke or talk about, I find that I look forward to these monthly visits because we get to peek briefly at the wee munchkin on the ultrasound, and I'm reminded that this really is happening. It's not just continuing to give mental assent to believing in a physical reality. There really is a baby in there. Yesterday we watched him/her kick, observed his/her tubby wittle tummy, and commented on the size of this child's noggin. Whether he/she is a He or a She is yet to be determined, however. The wee munchkin may have Steve's brain, but it has my modest tendencies.

While it is exciting to see the baby and be reassured of his/her good growth and health, the visits seem a little hurried and irreverent for something so amazing. I am blessed with a doctor who doesn't suggest weird things, or threaten to kill both of us with her whacked-out procedures, and I'm very grateful for that. At the same time, a lot of my hype for each visit comes to a crashing halt when, after filling up on information from books and websites during the month, our conversation consists of: Everything's splendid; The baby looks perfect; Yes, this is covered by insurance; Don't come back for another month; Goodbye. Sometimes I wonder if I'm not very assertive, or don't care to ask questions, but maybe there isn't a need to at this point. Oh well.

It's crazy to think that we're already 17 weeks into this adventure. After looking at pictures in A Child is Born last night, I showed Steve the difference between the first pictures we saw at six weeks when it looked (according to him) like a giant salamander and the ones for a baby of 17 weeks when it looks like a human being. According to one source, the baby is 5.5" long...and they compared it to an onion. That's all well and good, but I'd rather thing that it is the length of my palm. So wondrously sweet.