My Pregnancy: Week 6

My Pregnancy: Week 6Once upon a time I wasn’t pregnant. Before that I was a hospital chaplain, which means I offered support to families in a variety of ways, from spiritual and emotional needs to basic needs like providing a chair to sit in after the loss of a loved one or coloring with the kids while mom and dad received serious news. I also worked in social work as a house parent of an emergency cottage with my husband. We housed children removed from their homes due to abuse and neglect until more permanent decisions on their care could be made. I also completed research on topics of grief and loss, religion, and gender from a sociological perspective.

In the midst of that I took a few years off—nearly three—once we had our first babe. He’ll be four before year’s end. Our other guy recently turned two. The older is fully a boy, no more chubby feet though he still comes to me for cuddles. The younger is full of sweetness and mischief, tenderly saying “but I love you” any time I have the audacity to place him in time out. They play together sweetly most of the time. I’ve noticed they also play well alone. This past year I worked at the hospital and both enjoyed work substantially and missed them dearly. The endless effort of organizing and packing and getting them to childcare and back home and rushing in the evenings and rushing in the mornings and packing lunches proved not worth it to us for now, especially with the cost of childcare. So I just recently returned back home full time.

Hubby is a teacher. He went to school to be in ministry and also focused in education. He currently serves at an alternative school for kiddos who fight, do drugs, or otherwise have behavioral challenges that have temporarily removed them from the mainstream school. He’s with me on things like cloth diapering and breastfeeding. He’s an awesome dad who gets up extra early to get work done before school so he can come straight home to be with us in the evenings. We see ten years in the short distance ahead.

We like camping, hanging out with our families (both of which are big and loving and close to our hearts). We watch documentaries on Netflix and veg out to Parks and Rec and the like. My mom is, among many other talents, a seamstress. I never took to sewing but have gained recent interest in the hobby. I’m also dabbling in blogging and participate daily in the art of making it through, minimally, mindfully, and with a heart intent on choosing joy.

I enjoy pregnancy. I’m not fond of the morning sickness and exhaustion. I do not look forward to the heartburn and unpleasantly stretched feeling that will come in just a handful of quick months. Overall though, I take to pregnancy well and am ever aware this is likely my last. I treasure the fleeting kicks, the wiggles in the night, the little connection I get to have with the babe before anyone else. I talk to my baby, alone with an overpriced hot chocolate, leaning over my Target basket while I stroll the isles “alone” early on a Saturday morning while the hubby is with the boys. It’s one of the first memories I have with both boys, en utero, and I fully intend to do the same come this fall.

Our two boys came to us via c-section. After 19 hours of almost entirely unproductive labor, my son never dropped and my cervix never ripened.  As I started to have complications, like fever, very high blood pressure, and decreased fetal movement, we moved quite quickly to the operating room. After careful consideration, we expected our second little guy to come via c-section. He did, but 4 days earlier than we scheduled due to preeclampsia. In the end both all of us were healthy and safe and overflowing with warm mushy feelings. Number three is on its way and we can’t wait to see how he or she surprises us along the way until the end.

Annie is a mom of two toddlers with a kumquat on the way. You’ll find her downing heaps of breakfast foods and nauseous at any sign of a vegetable within ten yards. That’s a real problem when you’re a vegetarian.

 

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