The people came, the food was eaten, the gifts were unwrapped, the blessings were said.
Childhood BFF who is herself 22 weeks along (Hi Mel!) flew down from Portland, Or., for the event, which she had helped to co-host and coordinate long distance. Friend Naomi opened her . . . → Read More: it’s raining friends
The thing about the hospital visit Thursday night is that I had to have my bubble burst. So it’s really okay. I’m in the same position I’ve always been, between full-on western medicine and birthing in a field; somewhere on that spectrum, to the best of my ability.
Last night we went on the hospital tour. They say you should do this tour in your third trimester, so we waited until now. I wonder if I’d done it earlier, if I might have chosen a different path.
Insomnia again. Went to bed at 11. Up again since 1. Now it’s almost 3. Have nearly cleaned out the Tivo of the shows I watch when Scott is not around. The really bad shows (Bachelor, Desperate Housewives). Shows that one can only bear with the fast-forward button in hand, in the middle of the . . . → Read More: is this normal?
My elusive pregnancy superhero alter ego “Can-Do Girl” reappeared yesterday. She’s also known as “TCB Girl,” in a nod to The King and his lightning bolt logo, and Husband’s sharing of said King’s birthday.
But I digress, perhaps as one does when chemicals flood one’s brain.
I can only assume that the hormone cocktail of . . . → Read More: can-do girl reappears
This Tuesday will be the final meeting of my/our childbirth preparation class. I’m going to miss it. In four short weeks, I’ve grown attached to our little cadre of pregnant couples, earnestly doing our Zen breathing together, practicing our hypnobirthing techniques, and drinking our pregnancy tea.
Inspired by my clothing rant this morning, I unearthed my black-and-white bias-striped and fringed shawl from my clothing vault.
The shawl is a few years old, and was startlingly fashionable (dare I say “Rock Star”) when I bought it… With the passage of time, it had burrowed to the bottom of the scarf drawer, hiding . . . → Read More: in which i simultaneously console and redeem myself
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