You Capture - Feet
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
You Capture - Feet
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
I will say that being pregnant again has helped, especially as Angel's due date came and went (Feb. 18). But there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about her, and wonder how differently our lives would be if we were parenting a one-month old instead of anticipating the arrival of our little princess. Obviously, we are overjoyed that she is joining our family, but there is a void in my heart that will truly never be filled. Our first baby didn't join our lives. The anniversary of her due date was difficult, to say the least. I am thankful that so many remembered, and honored her. If you haven't told many people, that's okay. But if you have, can I encourage you to share the due date and allow people to celebrate the life of your baby? It helped me so much that people remembered.
On being pregnant again, there is immense fear. I cannot lie. Each day, I pray that she continues to grow, and anticipate as well as dread doctor appointments, as I pray that we'll hear her heartbeat, but dread that we will not. On the days where the fear becomes overwhelming, I have to remind myself of the truth that God is in control and He designed my body to conceive and carry children. The truth is very powerful, but I cannot deny that there is fear. I think He understands this, and sends me peace when I cannot find it otherwise.
(disclaimer: these were answers to questions she had, not me boasting of my current pregnancy)
Sunday, March 21, 2010
"What are you talking about?? We looked for that thing for 2 months! It's brand new!"
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Well, I'm not sure that's what happened, but we're getting our girl!
This picture is hard to see, but the technician was able to get another shot that was very clear. I'd been studying ultrasound pictures and when I saw the second picture she got, I was confident I was looking at 3 lines. Oh yes, I'm going to have a daughter!
She lived up to her name, Tiny Dancer, by being quite active and moving around a ton. She also wanted me to tell you she said hi.
I know I'm biased, but I think she's just beautiful.
Little Princess, Mama and Daddy love you so, so much!
Thursday, March 18, 2010
I drink my caffeinated tea, with my doctors approval, because if I didn’t, I would have a caffeine-withdrawal migraine.
After the tea, I have to pee. A lot.
I am tired most of the day, wishing I could crawl under my desk for a real quick (2 hours?) power nap. But work calls, and I answer the phone, answer a question, answer the call (from my boss) to manage, schedule, insure, follow up, and finally leave.
I collapse. But only into the recliner, which is fully reclined otherwise I can’t breathe. Usually I’ve taken off any constricting undergarments by this time, otherwise I really can’t breathe. The Bella Band holds up the pants that are too big, and the pants that are too small. But it makes me itch. Don’t get me started on the bra.
I eat dinner, which could be cereal or pasta or something without meat. If I was really ambitious, I would go to the grocery store to buy the ingredients for the salad that I have been craving, with cheddar cheese and full-fat Italian dressing. But when I’d get home, I’d look at it in the fridge and I wouldn’t want it anymore, so why bother.
I take out my contacts, brush my teeth, pee a few times, and say “I’m going to bed”. Then I go in the kitchen and eat something else. Maybe yogurt. Or cottage cheese, but only if I shake it up first because if I just take the lid off and see that it needs stirred, I will gag.
I’ve not done any housework because my husband loves me and knows that it takes everything in me to shower and get to work on time, and I am so, so lucky. He’s done the laundry, the dishes, and painted the nursery. He plays fetch with the dog, and makes sure he eats dinner.
So, my snack. I eat, sometimes a couple different things, usually drink some water, or some tea, and pee a couple more times before getting comfortable with my preggo pillow. I can’t sleep on my stomach. I can’t sleep on my back. It’s not comfortable to sleep on my right side because of how it pulls on my (ever-growing) stomach. So the left side it is! But then my shoulder goes numb. So I play on Twitter a little bit, chatting with friends, checking Facebook and playing Simon on my cell phone (if you have an iPhone, you need the Simon app.).
It is now 1 hour since I’ve laid down, and I am more awake than any time during the day. I get up to, you guessed it – pee, and then lay back down and pray with my whole being for some sleep.
Two or three hours later, I wake up in a sweat. Hormones, love ‘em. Of course I go pee because I’m up, and I lay back down, hoping it was just a quick break in sleep. But, hahaha, no. 2 hours and 11 trips to the bathroom later, I fall back asleep. Usually I dream about something related to food. On Sunday night, I dreamed about tomatoes and it was a beautiful, glorious dream, with perfectly ripe tomatoes overflowing in my kitchen.
The alarm goes off and I start again.
AND I LOVE IT. Every glorious bathroom-trips-in-the-middle-of-the-night-can't-eat-anything-can't-eat-enough-can't-sleep-dreaming-of-food-sciatic-pain-uterus-stretching-pain-back-pain-forgetfullness-more-bathroom-trips-minute of it.
Oh yes, Tiny Dancer. Mama loves every minute of it.
Friday, March 12, 2010
I'm prettttty sure it's going to need some adjusting.
Because I don't want to be a complainer (because, HELLO? I KNOW I am so fortunate and blessed. I KNOW this.), I will leave you with a couple of pictures from the wedding I shot 3 weeks ago.
Jon & Heather's mother's lit their candles for the lighting of the unity candle, and Jon lit his daugther's candle. After Jon and Heather lit the Unity candle, Izzy came up and added hers. It was precious and I cried.
Monday, March 8, 2010
I wondered during the car ride there how the introductions would go. I was hopeful I wouldn't interupt a conversation, or feel awkward to say "hi" when so many had already arrived.
But as I walked in the door, she walked past the door. Our eyes met, (I think mine probably looked like this*) and we hugged. And it was so sincere and I felt the connection I'd heard others talk about.
We sat beside each other, she in a chair and me on the couch, and we talked about our babies and Joel and loss and our husbands. We talked about names for the babies growing in our bellies and about how we both think it's important to give our children names that will fit them as babies and as teenagers and as professional adults, even as a Supreme Justice.
Oh, the pressure.
And then we talked traditions. About how the girls on my mom's side of the family have middle names that end in "ette" (Annette, Lynette, Suzette, Colette, Mynette, Janette, Yvette, Danette. Oh yes, this is true.) and I asked her what her middle name is.
SaraJOY, what is your middle name?
Ah, there's no going back now. We'll be friends forever, because she knows I'm a complete ditz.
Heather was so beautiful. She had strawberry blond hair that flowed down her back and she carried her height well. Girls really did want to be her, and their boyfriends probably wanted to date her.
She came to my room almost every Sunday night, to study for American Sign Language. We had taken 3 semesters of ASL together and had become frequent study partners, giggling at the terrible acting in the silent video we were forced to watch each week. Back and forth, we’d practice our words, sentences, and eventually paragraphs.
But on this night, she didn’t come to study ASL. She sat down on our green, tattered couch, and without the usual “how are you, how was your weekend” banter, she asked me why I cared about her. She asked why I chose to study with her, when I had “bible study friends” in our class. She wanted to know why I would let her in my room with her “damn” and “f’ing sign language” comments.
“Uh….. I don’t know. I just like you?? I think you’re funny and we have fun together.”
“Am I your project? Are you trying to “save” me?”
“Heather! You know me better than that! I’m not that kind of person. I just thought we were friends. Why are you asking me this now? We’ve known each other for almost 2 years…”
“I went home this weekend (Cleveland) and I was telling my mom about you. She said you were only my friend because you wanted me to know Jesus. She said you didn’t actually want to be my friend, because no one actually wanted to be my friend. She said I was your “project”. God, my mom is such a bitch”.
And I started to cry. Big, wet tears streamed down my face. I had grown to love this girl, this seemingly spunky, fun, outgoing girl, who really didn’t think she was actually worthy of real, genuine friendship. I couldn’t speak because I didn’t have the words to say. She had, in fact, started as a “project”. Yes, I wanted to get to know her so that I could invite her to bible study. I wanted to share my Jesus with her, not because I felt bad for her, but because I cared about her. But she went from being a “project” to being a real friend in a very short amount of time. I couldn’t admit this to her. She would be mad and I would be embarrassed. I already was embarrassed. I had been called out on my evangelism, or lack thereof. I still don’t know.
“So, my mom was right. You DON’T care about me. How could you do this to me!? I thought we were friends!”
“Heather, we are friends. I don’t know what to say. I do care about you as a person, I think you are a sweet girl, and I appreciate your friendship. There isn’t anything else I can say. You know me, you know how I am. This isn’t fair of you to assume….”
I had to stop. It wasn’t fair of her to assume that she was right? She WAS right.
She grabbed her bag, stormed out of the room, and didn’t say goodbye. I sat on the same green, tattered couch that we’d had some of our best conversations on, and mourned the loss of my only real non-“bible study” friend. I couldn’t defend why we’d become friends in the first place. She’d been hurt too much to hear my side of the story.
The semester was over the next night, and she made sure she changed her schedule so that we weren’t in the same class during our final semester of ASL.
Many emails and attempted AIM conversations later, she graduated.
I never spoke to her again.
I don’t know where she is, or who she is, but she taught me more about Jesus in the short time she was in my life than any of my “bible study” friends. She was real, she cared real, she loved real, she exemplified real. And I didn’t.
And I will never, ever forget the pain that not being real caused her. And the pain that it caused me.