Today is the Third Monday of Lent, and I’ve had ample opportunity to reflect on how Lent has been thus far. One on hand, it’s been a harder Lent than usual, thanks to random bouts of Braxton-Hicks contractions, the effects on me physically, mentally, and spiritually that being this pregnant has had, and a few other struggles with myself. Despite that, it has been absolutely phenomenal – I can see clearer and clear the things that separate me from the love of Our Lord but rather than feel overwhelmed by it all, I feel humbled knowing that God is helping me root them out and cast them into the fire, so to speak.

Little One’s pregnancy makes this Lent extra challenging because I’m a hormonal cup of tea and often have false labor. I’m sure you can see how that alone makes for a tired, frustrated person; and it is so easy to use that as a scapegoat and just be nasty to everyone around me. Some times I feel like it’s a giant drag to be faithful to my prayer routine and my Lenten disciplines; but it is at those times particularly that I know I need to pray and do them, and it is in those times that I find the deepest blessings and reap the greatest fruit.

I’m not entirely sure what’s going to happen when Little One decides to breathe air, but I know it will be vital for me to stick with my prayer routine and Lenten disciplines. And I know that God will give me the grace (and energy) to do so, as long as I remain open to Him. He has so much to give me, beyond my imagination; as long as I stay open to Him. He has yet to lead me into error or away from Him … but like most humans, I still find it hard to be open to Him. Or at least, be fully open to Him. I still care (too much) about what other people think, and I know it’s something I need to deal with. And I know what’s keeping me from actually dealing with it – maybe I should spent the remaining part of Lent whittling it away.

Thanks for all the birthday wishes. I had a great birthday – McNuggets, a bubble bath, and an early bedtime. Novel concept alert: going to bed early counteracts the 50978347683758274871895 times I wake up at night for the restroom, so I actually am (slowly) starting to feel less sleep-deprived. I still am ready for Little One to arrive, don’t get me wrong!

If you could spare some prayers for Major Dad, he has a surgery on Friday. Nothing life threatening, but surgery isn’t fun (from what I’ve heard, at least). We’re also starting to get into that “stay put, Little One!” frame of mind, since Greg’s parents will be taking care of Elise when we go to the hospital. Everyone would prefer to only have Grandma take care of Major Dad post-surgery as opposed to him AND a very active little toddler.

I’m feeling more rawr about the whole ELISE IS BEHIND drama that has been brewing. In a nutshell, she’s not performing with the OTHER KIDS in terms of speaking. I’m sure some of you know, Greg was a late-talker (three years old before he said ANYTHING other than babble!), so for Elise to be following in his footsteps is not surprising to us. Greg saw a speech therapist who said that he was exceptionally bright and had nothing wrong – he just didn’t want to talk. Therefore, we’re very leery about this immediate “SHE NEEDS AN EVALUATION AT TWO” jumping to conclusions stuff. Dr. S knows about Greg’s late talking (I was on the cusp, didn’t start until 18 months) but still wants her to be evaluated “just to be sure” – unless she has more words in six months.

Personally, we don’t see the need to have an EVALUATION at two just because she doesn’t have a 15+ word vocabulary.  She is communicating, just not with words. We do keep tabs on her in terms of what she is doing/saying/mimicking – she is developing in the sense that she is starting to imitate us when we make words (she babbles in the tones we talk in, for example if I say “bye!” to Greg, she’ll say “bahh!” in the same tone I did), she can learn sounds animals make (“baa”/”moo”/”ooo ooo oo” – monkey, ). Her receptive language is extremely good, her hearing is fine and so are oral motor skills – perhaps she just doesn’t want to talk.

Our biggest fear is that if she did go to an EVALUATION at two she’d get diagnosed with something that she didn’t have, then have to deal with labels and such. A family member had a misdiagnosis of the developmental kind and holy cow; I saw first hand how much that can affect a person’s life, even 20+ years after the misdiagnosis! We’re not in any hurry to walk down that road, that’s for sure!

At any rate, we have a plan for the upcoming six months, to encourage her to talk should she be ready and wanting to but not force her. Her next appointment formal is in six months, and her ped while being very thorough has respect for parental authority and responsibility; so even if she doesn’t show “improvement” that he’s looking for, I don’t expect a lecture/tons of wank from him.

And am I an ornery pregnant lady, too.

My hide is a little chappy because once again, we’re getting into that territory of “Elise is not doing X at her age, I’d like an evaluation done when she’s 2 if she’s not doing it by then.” We don’t agree that if X isn’t happening by 2 that Elise needs to be sent for evaluation. Once I feel mentally ready to discuss it here, details forthcoming; but until then, pray for us.

In addition to it being St. David’s Day, the first of March, the beginning of Spring around here, it’s my birthday! A little shameless promotion, if I may. It’s been kind of a rough day for me, mainly thanks to the above. My plans for the day include going to McDonald’s for some chicken nuggets (I know, fast food is horrible but I’ve been craving those suckers for months now), a giant bubble bath with a good book, and going to bed early.

I sure do know how to rock, don’t I?

I just finished with our 37-week check-up and we are AWESOME.

- Little One is totally head down, and the ‘bump’ at the top of my uterus is actually LO’s butt. How cute.
- I’m still gaining weight (I think I’m almost +30 for this pregnancy) but that’s not cause for concern.
- The weird pains on Tuesday were indeed Braxton-Hicks contractions.
- My blood pressure is right where it should be.

We’re just now waiting around for Little One to decide it’s time to breathe air.

An older nurse took care of my vitals today, and we were talking about general pregnancy discomforts and whatnot. I mentioned that I felt better at this point with Elise’s pregnancy than this time around, and she asked how old Elise was. I told her 18 months, and she replied “Oh, my goodness; you are going to have your hands full.” We get that a lot any more.

But before I could say anything, she continued on with “and you know what, you’re going to be just fine.”

I totally wanted to give that nurse a hug, but I figured that may kind of weird her out. I think she picked up on my grateful “thank you for not wanking!” response, though.

Exspectantes posted a post yesterday afternoon that really has me thinking. Her thoughts on making a home, especially why it’s so important to her.

I suppose this isn’t shocking to anyone, but my mom is the typical ‘Type A personality’ (which is something her and I get a lot of laughs out of). I’m somewhat Type A, but not to the extreme my mom is. Growing up, I remember coming home from school and finding her washing the ceiling, the walls, that sort of thing. She stayed home with us kids until we were in school, then worked part-time. Somehow, she ALWAYS found time (and energy!) to keep the house in amazing condition. Now that I am All Grown Up and Taking Care Of My Own House, I’m shocked at how much there is to keeping a house. She made it look so easy.

I suppose most people think that my need for keeping house is somehow tied up in my growing up environment (kind of – I hate clutter but I will NOT be washing my walls; unless it’s delinting the bathroom – and even that is just using a dry rag) or the fact that as a stay at home Mama, I’m bored and therefore keeping house is something to do. Or that I have some weird fantasy that’s rooted in deep nostalgia and keeping house is a way of venting that. For me, keeping house – cleaning it, making meals, clutter control and so on – is more than just making it safe for us to live in or not be tripping over all sorts of stuff. Greg and I are firm believers in the sense that the home is more than just a place to sleep, eat, and stay clean; but rather a place to come and retreat to. A place where everyone may not get along all the time, but we all love each other immensely and are a family.

The things that are required of me to run the house, I try to remember to do those as little acts of love. Much like St. Therese of Lisieux’s “little way” – doing the most mundane (and sometimes smelly tasks) with love. It doesn’t make things smell better or be less boring; but it helps to keep my focus as to WHY I am actually doing what I am doing. Delinting the bathroom isn’t high up on my list of likes (shocking, I know) but doing so keeps us from breathing lint and avoids that “did I just walk into a belly button?” feeling. And I know no one will be all “Wow, Mama, you delinted the bathroom! Thank you!” but just knowing that it’s clean for them is enough. Running the house takes my focus off of meeeeeeeeeeee and puts it where it belongs – on my family. It’s a constant self-sacrifice.

Sometimes, I do lose focus and things tend to pile up around here. Sometimes I let things go and make sure we’re clean and fed – I’ve been in that mode all week, actually. Clean clothes, clean dishes, food, no safety hazards, check. Part of the self-sacrifice is letting go of my perfectionistic tendencies and letting things be if I can’t physically do it, or ask Greg to help me out. It’s all about balance, which of course is right up my alley.

Running the house is more than something “to do” or something I have to do, even. It’s a way for me to show love in little, unseen ways; to root out things like perfectionism and pride, and live my vocation fully.

All the pain from yesterday has subsided. Which I guess is okay, Greg can testify that I was pretty crabby by the end of the day.  I think it stopped sometime overnight, because I haven’t noticed it today. That’s about 14+ hours of pain – yuck.

On the upside, Little One did drop (a lot) last night. Ironically enough, I feel bunches more comfortable and could probably make it to April, if I had to. While I’m not ashamed to say that I hope I deliver soon; I’m glad to finally be considerably more comfortable than how I have been. Granted, there’s always the downside of living in the bathroom; but I’m not too annoyed by that (yet).

Tomorrow is the 37 week appointment, the Group B Strep test and the time we figure out what position Little One is in. Then I get to do the weeklies until delivery. My little partner in crime (well, the one on the outside at least) will be staying with Grandma due to me getting the GBS test. Considering Elise’s love of the trash, I figured it would be best to have her not come. Otherwise she would most likely have the entire trash emptied out in the time it takes to do the test! It will be weird to not have her with me – she’s been to so many OB appointments that she knows the routine, and gives me directions on where to go next. I’m sure the nurses will miss her but since this is the last of the tests, she can come with me next week.

And speaking of Elise, her 18 month checkup is on Monday (which is also Mama’s birthday, I just now realized!). I can’t believe that she’s already 18 months old. She’s so adorable and smart, and I am truly blessed to be able to stay home with her and watch her grow. Her newest accomplishments (in addition to climbing) is drinking from a lid-less cup and expanding her animal sounds vocabulary to include cows, dogs, sheep, and monkeys. She’s also experimenting with running (Lord help me!) and is extremely affectionate. She gives all her little doggies and other stuffed critters kisses before bed, and she always wants to give Jesus kisses whenever she sees any image of Him – crucifixes, the Sacred Heart, etc. She also does ‘praying hands’ and folds her little hands whenever she sees Greg and I pray, which is a very good thing, indeed.

Something that has become glaringly obvious this Lent is how I react to stress. Different kinds of stress produce in me different reactions, and not really any of them are good.

When I’m tired. I’m a basket case of emotion and crying all over the place.
When I’m in pain, my short temper comes out to play and is sent to everyone in my path.
When I’m worried, I basically shut down.

And so on. I’m more tempted to want to give up on my Lenten fasting from my two time sinks when I’m stressed, as well.  I’m so grateful that I’m picking up on these little quirks of mine early into Lent, so I can spend the next few weeks working on getting it all under control. Especially with delivery in the next 3.5 weeks (hopefully!). I think I’ve been having Braxton-Hicks contractions all morning, and they’re not really very comfortable. I’ve been struggling today, dealing with that and a very cute little Elise, who wants to climb up everything in sight. :S

Thankfully, dinner is crock-potting (lasagna) and Greg only has a couple more hours left of work. I have a lot of little prayers to get me through the day and did some good old fashioned de-compressing during Elise’s nap. But, I definitely need to find a good way to deal with stress, especially when I’m in some pretty good pain. :/

In the last 48 hours, I have slept for 10. I wish I could say it was due to labor but alas, it’s due to insomnia + RLS. The worst was waking up Friday morning at 5am and not falling asleep until … 2am, this morning. Thank God Greg and his mom are doing shifts in terms of taking care of Elise and working on the house. I’ve been sleeping off and on all morning, making sure that I’m at least fed and watered. I think this is how it will be when Little One gets here, minus Greg working on the house. But having Greg in charge of … almost everything and me just recovering and taking care of Little One.

Thanks be to God, Little One is old enough that if I go into labor between now and … Thursday, we won’t have to be relocated to a larger hospital up the Interstate. The local hospital can take babies 36 weeks and older. I’m trying not to think about being pregnant for potentially a month more (or longer). I really hope Little One has the same idea Elise did, which is coming early.

My mom is convinced I’ll deliver on February 25th. Unless things start doing … anything in the uterine department, I’m thinking Little One will be a March baby. I’m hoping for the first part of March as opposed to the last part. The scary thing is that if Little One were to go overdue, we could technically have an April baby. God help me if I go overdue.

Back to bed, I’m beyond exhausted.

I’m happy to say that today has been oodles better than yesterday. I still am not sleeping very well (which may be part of the reason why I feel so unsteady lately), but fidelity to my little prayer routine has really been beneficial in getting through the humps of hormones and whatever the Other Side cares to launch at me. And a little pity party doesn’t always hurt, either.

Part of the reason why I am not sleeping well is due to Restless Legs Syndrome. Long-time readers/people who know me well know that I have RLS, quite badly; as well. At the worst, I was seeing a neurologist to manage it and it absolutely interfered with my life, being the key factor as to why it took me six years to finish my Bachelor’s, and why my GPA is so horrifically low. When I was pregnant with Elise, it basically went away and hadn’t really been a problem. Until now. Every single night is basically an RLS hell, to the point where I am almost in tears and seriously do dread going to bed at night.

Whether or not my RLS is back to stay is unknown. Pre-pregnancy the neuro diagnosed my RLS as idiopathic, aka, she had no idea what was causing it. Why it went away during Elise’s pregnancy until now is beyond me, but I’m hoping maybe this is more of the RLS that is tagging along with the pregnancy, and once I deliver I can get some relief. I can manage it by extreme amounts of pressure (as in, tightly wrapping my legs up) but 99% of the time it’s not effective enough to help me sleep. It basically takes the edge off. Kind of like Vitamin B6 and my morning sickness.

Something that I’m trying not to think about is what if it doesn’t go away once Little One arrives and I am stuck in severe RLS land. The medications used to treat RLS (at least, the kind that I needed and would most likely need again if this continues) are not at all baby-friendly. Not to mention, I am so tired of taking various medicines, I’m ready to be done!

I should interject here that the RLS I did have and currently am experiencing is too severe to be affected by including various vitamins in my diet or whatnot. Been there, tried that, doesn’t work. The neuro believes my RLS is caused by something in my brain that is hindering the proper absorption of iron. Interesting, no? And yes, I just had my anemia check with Dr. M and I’m peachy-keen in that department.

The nice thing about the resurgence of my RLS is that I’ve returned to having some fascinating conversations with St. Bartholomew the Apostle. I’ve made him the unofficial patron saint of RLS sufferers, given his current patronage of against neurological disorders and twitching. Not to mention being flayed alive can’t feel very comfortable; so I reckon he has an idea of what it’s like to have RLS.

Lent officially begins today, and I’ve already had a rough day. I think it’s one part due to pregnancy hormones and one part due to the Other Side not liking what all is going on. Greg, Elise, and I all made it to Mass for our ashes (Elise thought our ashes were OH SO FASCINATING, thank God she didn’t realize that she had ashes, as well!). A very good way to end the day, if I can say so.

I’m trying not to be weary of Lent already, or at least the unrelenting temptations and assorted battles that I have had to face today thus far. I know that I have an entire Heavenly army to help me along my way, not to mention the grace of God is far stronger than anything the Other Side can send my way, but I almost feel like I’m being kicked while I’m down.

Tomorrow is a new day, a new “NOW” to turn back to God and to cling to Him. As long as I keep focused on God, it will all work out in the end.