Friday, February 27, 2009
27 week update
Our little guy now weighs about as much as a head of cauliflower- 2 lbs- and is about 14 1/2 inches from head to toe. He should be sleeping and waking at regular intervals, although it seems I feel his kicking sporadically all day long and even more at night. I haven't noticed any patterns or predictability! James can open and close his eyes, and even suck his fingers. His little brain continues to develop, and should be very active by now. His lungs are still immature, but if he were born today, he could survive with lots of medical help. I have my 28 week check up at the doctor next Friday, and then I start seeing the doctor every 2 weeks instead of 4 weeks. James will be here before we know it!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Invisible Mom
A wonderful friend of mine forwarded me an email with the below story attached. I have tons of friends that have recently had their lives changed by a new baby and are new moms. I think this story is very encouraging...
Invisible Mother
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.' I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone! One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.' In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.' I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.' At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.' As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Invisible Mother
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.' I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone! One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.' In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.' I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.' At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.' As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The nursery is painted and ready to be decorated!
Dave is quite the handyman! Here is a list of all he did to get James's room ready...
1. moved an electrical outlet which required him to cut a hole in the wall
2. fixed the hole in the wall
3. peeled off a really old wallpaper border that had about 10 layers of paint and texture over it
4. re-textured the wall where the wallpaper was
5. painted the entire room
6. measured and cut trim for a chair rail
7. installed the chair rail
So, below are pictures of his work. We will start putting all the furniture together and decorating the room over the course of the next couple weeks. Our goal is to get it all done before the Spring so that Dave can focus his attention on things that need to be done to the outside of the house (yard, paint, etc). I am so proud of my handyman of a husband! He's worked really hard!
1. moved an electrical outlet which required him to cut a hole in the wall
2. fixed the hole in the wall
3. peeled off a really old wallpaper border that had about 10 layers of paint and texture over it
4. re-textured the wall where the wallpaper was
5. painted the entire room
6. measured and cut trim for a chair rail
7. installed the chair rail
So, below are pictures of his work. We will start putting all the furniture together and decorating the room over the course of the next couple weeks. Our goal is to get it all done before the Spring so that Dave can focus his attention on things that need to be done to the outside of the house (yard, paint, etc). I am so proud of my handyman of a husband! He's worked really hard!
Friday, February 20, 2009
26 week update
Baby James now weighs around 1 2/3 pounds and measures 14 inches long (the length of an English hothouse cucumber) from head to heel. The network of nerves in his ears are better developed and more sensitive than before. He may now be able to hear our voices. He's inhaling and exhaling small amounts of amniotic fluid, which is essential for the development of his lungs. These so-called breathing movements are also good practice for when he's born and takes that first gulp of air. Also to note, his testicles are beginning to descend into his scrotum — a trip that will take two to three days. I am only 2 weeks away from transitioning into the 3rd trimester!
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Dave visits the orthpaedist
Last week, Dave went to see a specialist for his knee. He has been having some knee pain since October when he got fouled during a soccer game. Since he's fortunate to be married to a Physical Therapist :), I have been able to help him with some rehab in the past several months. My diagnosis has been hamstring tendinitis. Dave wanted to see the specialist to make sure we were on the right track and if maybe something else was going on other than the tendinitis. Fortunately, the doctor concurred that the hamstring tendon is the culprit and no other measures are needed except rehab and time. Unfortunately, he said the time element could be up to a year for hamstring tendinitis. The picture below is Dave wearing some very fashionable "shorts" that the doctor's office provided so the doctor could get a good look at his knee. Isn't he darling?
Valentine's Day
Yesterday was Dave and my fifth Valentine's Day to spend together. We tried to recall all of them and how we celebrated... our very first one, Dave bought tickets to the ballet, and we went out to a nice restaurant in downtown Fort Worth. Since then, we have celebrated by staying in for the evening and planning a fun meal to cook... usually something we wouldn't cook normally. We've made sushi and picked up sushi; we've cooked lamb chops; and last night we grilled some delicious steaks accompanied by baked potatoes and a yummy spinach salad. Since I can't drink, we had blood orange sparkling apple cider (very delicious!) to celebrate the occasion. Dave has never failed to send me or bring me roses. This year I got a bouquet of all red roses... my favorite! Though we don't celebrate Valentine's Day with lots of bells and whistles, we love the opportunity to be together and love each other.
Table for two in our cozy kitchen:
My beautiful roses:
Table for two in our cozy kitchen:
My beautiful roses:
Thursday, February 12, 2009
25 week update and belly shot
Our baby boy is now 13 1/2 inches long and weighs about a pound and a half... about as much as an average rutabaga. If you're like us, you don't come across rutabagas very often... or ever... so below is a picture. James is definitely longer than he is wide, but he should now start gaining baby fat and his wrinkled skin will smooth out as he gains weight.
Here is my most recent belly picture. I am definitely looking pregnant now! I am standing in James's nursery which is still in the process of being completed. Currently, you can see the wall paint that Dave has been working so hard to finish. This weekend, Dave is planning to work on putting a chair rail up in the room to give the walls a more finished look.
Here is my most recent belly picture. I am definitely looking pregnant now! I am standing in James's nursery which is still in the process of being completed. Currently, you can see the wall paint that Dave has been working so hard to finish. This weekend, Dave is planning to work on putting a chair rail up in the room to give the walls a more finished look.
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