Single, Pregnant, and Hanging Out By The Beer

...Or married, pregnant, and waiting for my husband by the frozen pizza, but I guess life is all about perception.

There is a point in every woman's pregnancy (I'm assuming... I'm only one woman and I've only been pregnant once) when she becomes aware of just how formidable her baby bump is. Fortunately, that moment was not today for me, and so I was mostly able to laugh at the woman who actually made the above mentioned comment in Kroger. My moment was a couple of weeks ago while I was waiting to get my car inspected. The old man sitting next to me, who was emphatically shouting wrong answers to the episode of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" playing in the waiting room, told me I needed to have at least two more kids. I needed one to replace me, one to replace my husband, and one "for America." That was my moment. I will hold it near to my heart always.

Today, however, was not my moment. Matt and I finally decided to go grocery shopping (we'd made it about a month since our last visit, so I was pretty excited about this) and were nearing the homestretch of our trip: The frozen food aisle. Belatedly Matt decided it would be nice of us to feed our cat too, so he backtracked to go grab the fat cat's economy sized bag while I manned the cart.

I realized two things during his brief absence. Number one: Those women who push their kids around in the shopping carts that look like race cars should not be, under any circumstances, deterred. I was deciding whether or not I should actually grab the hot pockets I was eyeing when said woman and her daughter came barreling through. Fearing for my life, I did what any self respecting pregnant woman: I dove to the other side of the aisle. Right by the beer. (They can sell beer in grocery stores down south.)

Trailing the crazed race cart soccer mom was a woman, probably in her fifties, strolling nonchalantly down the aisle while chatting on her cell phone. No cart. No basket. She wasn't even looking at anything. I deduced that her weekly mall walking group must have excommunicated her, and so she was forced to roam the aisles of Kroger instead.

And as she passed, in a tone that was clearly not intended for whomever was on the other line of that pink smart phone, she said "single, pregnant, and hanging out by the beer." The second thing I realized was just how annoying some people could be.

I didn't even bother pulling out my signature, casually wave my left hand to expose my diamond rings move (picture John Cena's five knuckle shuffle). I didn't deem her worthy.

Not only was my back turned to the miller light behind me, but I was also holding three different types of hot pockets. (I put them all back.) Apparently I was such an advanced alcoholic that just being in close proximity to light beer was soothing. Naturally.

So though today was not my moment, it was the moment I decided to make a t-shirt that says "Yes, I'm pregnant. Yes, I'm married. No, I'm not nursing an alcohol addiction."

Not really. It was funny though.

God Is Even Larger Than Declan

Happy Monday, everyone! (No, that is not always an oxymoron.)

Today I went for another check up with the specialist, and I have no other words to describe said check up but  these: Praise Jesus, He is good. God is really the Great Healer.

I'll keep you in suspense a moment longer while I post adorable pictures of my highly photographed son:

I'm not sure how the image translates here (I'm useless when it comes to our home scanner and these are pictures of the ultrasound taken on my phone), but they were cute enough to post anyway!

Back to the appointment! I'll be honest, in a lot of ways I prefer meeting with the specialist to meeting with my regular doctor at times, so I was looking forward to today. These specialists are, well, specialists, and so I always feel a little more informed when I leave this office. Today was the exception in a fantastic way!

After just about passing out during the ultrasound (apparently laying on your back for long periods of time cuts of your circulation during pregnancy. Woops.), I met with the doctor. She told me that Declan looks perfect. In fact, everything looked perfect.

The unidentified mass which started all of this craziness in the first place-- the mass they'd tentatively identified as a fibroid-- apparently may not have been a fibroid at all. It seems to have completely disappeared. She said she couldn't explain it, but that it was only good news. She went on to say that the brightness on Declan's bowel had also completely resolved itself. On top of all that, apparently one of the other doctors had noted they'd spotted some sort of prominence on Declan's brain. Nobody ever mentioned this to me, praise God, because I definitely would have been worrying then. She said she couldn't find that anywhere either. She looked through all of my previous ultrasound pictures and had no idea what the doctors were even seeing, because he looked perfect. Unless it was my carefully regimented diet of cookies and milk, there is no real medical explanation for all of this.

His growth is more than right on track (he's four pounds as of today, and he's been bonding with Mommy's lungs as of late), and all of his organ scans look excellent. She said she couldn't explain how it happened, but that I officially have nothing to worry about. In fact, barring some other complication, this was my last check up with the specialist!

I cannot express how thankful to the Lord I am right now. In my daily weakness, I let doubt and anxiety creep into my heart. I've found myself putting more faith in unclear indications on ultrasounds and clipped notes from busy doctors than in God's assurance to me that Declan is HIS child. The thing I repeatedly forget is, as much as I already love my precious baby boy, God loves him more. And as much as I might think he's safest in my arms, he's never left the Lord's. What tangible creatures we are; how ruled by concrete notions and logic are we. Praise the Lord for His unseen touch. Praise the Lord for the wise doctors and medical attention He's provided me and my son, and most of all, Praise the Lord for who He is.

I'm Pretty Proud of My Husband

So, typically when I post it involves some form of baby update, but today my post has a different topic: I'm really proud of my husband, and sometimes I don't think he gets enough credit for all that he does.

On Friday I had the pleasure of watching Matt receive an award from Radford for being an outstanding student in the Secondary Mathematics department. Matt's adviser, who has been a wonderful mentor and friend to Matt, wrote some very kind words that I'd like to echo: Matt is the math teacher we all wish we'd had. I don't just say that because he's cute (although he is). Matt has a genuinely unique ability to communicate information to people-- even people who generally would not, on any planet, understand aforementioned information. (i.e me; if I can understand math, most anyone can)-- in an engaging way. I actually had a lot of fun trying out various tests/quizzes this past semester just to see how I'd do with some top notch instruction. I scored 100% on my first test. I made Matt score it and write "Good work" complete with smiley face at the top of the page. (I'm not kidding; it's hanging on our refrigerator right now.)

More than that, however, Matt actually cares about his students. All of his students. Even the students that aren't always ideally behaved. This semester I've watched Matt, on two occasions, bake cookies for all of his students; I'm pretty sure he taught five periods worth of students. I've watched him agonize over grades, scrambling to find ways to help out his students, whom he believed in from day one. I've watched him get out of bed every morning, earlier than he had to, in order to provide extra help for any students who wanted it.

And before Matt was thrust into this new situation at Salem High, I watched Matt show genuine respect for and patience with students who had not been shown that respect and patience much before. He prayed for and reached out to young men and women who had been, in all honesty, mostly swept under the rug and pushed out the door by the system. Matt does his job joyfully every day, and it's definitely not for the money.

At the end of every day Matt comes home and, somehow, still finds the energy to be my best friend. He's always been a huge help around the house, but particularly throughout our pregnancy. I couldn't ask for a more faithful and loving companion; if I did, I'd have two of him. I can't wait to watch Matt be a father. In some ways, I think he was born for this. Declan, you can't read yet (we'll work on that come July), but you couldn't have a better Dad.

So, essentially I've taken a whole blog post just to brag on my husband for a minute, but he really does deserve it. Thank you, Math Man!