I'm not good at the mushy stuff

Oh I love the mushy stuff. I get weepy at all the right movies, I cry at books and I sniffle over weddings. I well up at baby commercials too. I just can't write the mushy stuff. I can't get out the feelings of overwhelming joy or awe I go through almost every day. I read my friends blogs that are full of these wonderfuly introspective words about all the things new mommy hood brings them. Me I just whine because my nose runs 24/7.

It hit me today that I can honestly say that I'm having a baby next month. December is almost over and in just a few short weeks I reach full term. It was like a ton of bricks got dumped on me. There is next to nothing done. Our friends have still not dropped off the stroller, we have no crib and hardly any cute tiny clothes. Hell I have to un earth my suitcase and figure out what is going to the hospital with me yet.

Then I wonder what I'm going to say to my son when I see him face to face for the first time. I do talk to him now, though not that often. It's been hard to say things to him because I don't know him yet. And the first time I tell him I love him and how much my heart hurt when I thought he'd never come along I want to look him in the eyes.

I also feel so deeply for my friends who are still struggling through the painful field of infertility. I know their pain so deeply and I also know that as happy as you are to see one of us graduate your still say "Why her and not me?" You wish your friends well and love them with all your heart but it's still deeply painful. I want this for them almost more than I want it for myself.

Tonight he dances in my belly and sets my shirt bouncing and I'm enjoying the smell of the cheesecake in the oven for Christmas Day dinner and watching the fire in the fireplace and I know next year he will be here with us.

T minus 10 and counting

Today was my second to last monthly appointment. After my next appointment I begin the bi weekly ones. This is scary because it signals that this is it, we are at the end of the up hill battle. Any moment now he could decide he wants to come see the world and his mommy and daddy. It's scary as hell.

You can see my shirt jumping around when he's in a fighting mood now and I feel him through out the day without having to strain to do so. I've even been treated to having a tiny foot stuck in my ribs. That was fun doing 70 on the freeway.

My doctor tells me that my blood pressure is great, that I've passed that hellgate of the gestational diabetes test and that my weight gain is below what she felt was the safe high for me. So over all he's doing well in his mommy and I'm doing a pretty good job taking care of him and protecting him.

To touch or not to touch.

Peanut's daddy and I attended his family's company Christmas party last evening. Let me start off by saying that it's still relatively small in size, many of those in attendance worked for Mr. Daddy's grandfather and two had worked for his great grandfather. Current employee's as well as retired old guard are all there as well as family. Also this party comes with an open bar and no inhibitions.

In years past I would get toasty with the sales guys, dance with the wives and office girls and come home with sore feet and a smile on my face. This year I was not sad I couldn't drink with the guys or dance all night long but there was a twinge of regret for being more of an observer than anything else this year. Of course this was made easier by the fact my normal drinking buddy had actually moved on to another company. To my surprise he saw me before I saw him. The first words out of his mouth were "Lemme get you a drink!"

So grinning from ear to ear I told him this year was not able to and that a consolation was he was actually not attending and then I told him why I couldn't drink. He was thrilled and then in a pattern that repeated through the night his hand went to my belly, then stopped short and hung there in a question mark. Laughing I told him it was ok to touch.

It was funny watching these guys, most of them my father age, all repeat the same dance. Their instinct was to touch yet at that last second they also realized there may be a personal space issue if they should. I told each laughingly that they could go ahead and touch.

These guys are family and my son is the second in line to the 5th generation who will eventually walk in the doors of a company my husbands great grandfather started. It was a continuance of life last evening that was striking as I watched my husbands youngest cousin's 4 year old dance her heart out. There out on the dance floor was the next generation, the one behind ours. My son will join her soon and Mr Daddy's other cousins twins (grats again guys!) won't be far behind.

The former employee, by the way, was there because the company he now works for sells to his former company and in a tradition that goes 25 years back sales people and other companies that work closely with the business are invited to join each year. So he, of course, pulled rank and attended with his sales guy. As we left I told him we'd be there next year and I'd be sans kid and I expected him to help make up for this year.

Advent

It's been a while. Not because nothing is going on but because I've just never been good at updating these things.

Baby Boy is flipping, rolling, punching and kicking to his hearts delight. You can see him and feel him from the outside now. Every day I grow bigger and not just my stomach. My butt and thighs are expanding too, as if they needed any help.

Third trimester has begun. It's a scary thought to be this far along now. It's far more real to me.

Dance

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake
But it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart
Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out
Reconsider
Give the heavens above
More than just a passing glance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
(Time is a real and constant motion always)
I hope you dance
(Rolling us along)
I hope you dance
(Tell me who)
I hope you dance
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)
(Where those years have gone)

I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
Dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance
(Time is a real and constant motion always)
I hope you dance
(Rolling us along)
I hope you dance
(Tell me who)
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)
I hope you dance
(Where those years have gone)

(Tell me who)
I hope you dance
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)
(Where those years have gone)

whomp bang

He's getting stronger by the day, sometimes I think by the minute. By Thanksgiving I think family and friends will be able to feel him on the outside. He seems to find my lower belly the funest part of things. It's no longer a little flutter it's an all out whomp stomp now.

I'm eating like a starving person. Tonight at dinner I wiped out my plate and even though I felt gorged on food I felt like I could continue eating. I really hope my better sense continues to find me or I'll look like Violet in Willy Wonka soon.

Oh the things my husband says.

On the way home from our ultrasound showing the little wing dang doodle Husband and I talked about having a boy. I asked him if would have been as happy if he'd found out it was a girl as he was when he found out he was a He. His response?

"Well it's sorta like really wanting an Xbox 360. I mean you really want it but you find out you're getting a Playstation 3 instead. I mean, well, it's still really cool and you can do neat stuff with it so you're still happy."

I wait for a few moments then ask him "So, you're comparing our son to an Xbox 360?"

"I can't talk about anything with you!"