Every little thing

Every little thing now feels like a miracle. Today I got the news that my second genetic blood test came back negative, which means no sign of risk for neural tube defects. For those of you not in the baby world, this means, no big chance of having a child with severe developmental problems or physical and mental defects at birth. I breathe a sigh of relief, but it is so much more than that.

How could this baby not have a major life-threatening problem? How could this baby be so healthy and growing at a perfectly steady rate? How could there be a baby inside me??

It is a miracle every time I think of it.

You might say these thoughts are morbid or pessimistic, or even creepy. But these are the true thoughts and fears of motherhood. The books warned me about it. What they don't tell you about is the sheer joy and elation when your baby seems to be coming along fine! It puts everything else in perspective.

I am feeling good and also grateful. I am achy, yes, and growing a huge belly and boobs at an alarming rate. Things hurt in places I have never felt before. I'm not even sure what all is in there, even after the informative and beautiful National Geographic video I watched called "In the Womb." I have trouble sleeping and wake up at 4 a.m. for an urgent trip to the cereal bowl with three Charlie horses in my leg at once! My clothes don't fit; I can't move the driver's seat back far enough so I don't have to worry that a sudden airbag deployment will crush my tummy...

BUT THE BABY IS HEALTHY. Ahhhhhhhh. Thank you Jesus!

All is well.

I have not experienced morning sickness. This is incredible in itself. I am doing okay with pain management, despite not being able to take most of my helpful pain meds that usually quell my fibromyalgia. I am really enjoying all foods, without heartburn, and still able to put my leg up on the bathroom counter every morning to stretch. Though bending down for the damn soap, which I drop EVERY DAY in the shower is getting a little challenging.

Scott and I are in midst of a several-month cleanse and purge of the house. Calling all garage salers - come May, there will be one big-ass yard sale on Mom's front lawn in Laconia. The only things that will survive the purge are items of rare beauty, blessed practicality, or deep love. Oh, and the baby warehouse I have amassed over the last 14 years.

Baby will get his/her own room. The rest of us will jam ourselves and our belongings into the other two rooms of the house.

BUT THE BABY IS HEALTHY!

Oh, and we thank God and the universe, and all the well wishes and cosmic goodness being sent our way from you and all you represent.

Coming soon into our future: maternity jeans; the dreaded putting together of the crib and IKEA bookshelves; carpet cleaning ala a rented Rug Doctor; finding out the sex of the baby (hopefully!) next week; the need for an old-lady shelf grabber thingy so when I can no longer bend over and get back up, I can still retrieve everything I've dropped; soap-on-a-rope!; an expected spontaneous purchase of a little outfit in pink (or blue) after finding out the sex; and as "What to Expect..." predicts, "continued absentmindedness." Niiiice.

Oh, did I mention I can feel the little booger moving around now? It's week 19 and I feel him/her every day. Not kicking or anything like that, but just moving. My little rock. My little fishie. My little Bun.

I am singing to him/her every day and also playing the lullaby tapes that will one day lull him/her to sleep (God only hopes).

So that's me and the Bun, in a nutshell. "Where he kept her very well..."

Love, Ally