Nicer Prego Pics

Just to show you how behind I am on blogging, here's some pictures taken by my friend Miss L, back in April, around 38 weeks.
She's an aspiring photographer, who I happen to think is doing quite well.
I know, well maybe, I believe one day I'll look back and miss my big tummy and be thankful pictures were taken of me being so large. I certainly enjoy the great pics of the kiddos.

Chilly children

Our A/C is potentially on the fritz. It's been acting up a little.

No thanks to pregnancy hormones causing the boss-lady to be extremely warm those last few weeks before giving birth.

Unfortunately, it was the children who had to pay the ultimate price. These pictures were taken the week before Brandon was born.
I do remember saying to Jim one time, "They'll be alright. At least they can put more clothes on. God help the neighbors if the opposite is our next option."

Sweet Rotundness

I remember being pregnant the first time. I subscribed to numerous websites that kept me updated daily on how big the baby was and what my body was going through and soon to go through. I sat in front of a computer quite a bit, so I got to fully experience and be aware of multiple bathroom breaks, hours of conversations revolving around being a mom soon, a sedentary life coupled with eating anything and everything I wanted, which, no surprise, led to weight gain, swelling and stinky feet.

Every little movement was noticed, every new physical and emotional feeling was discussed and every bulge was noted and embraced with pride.

Fast forward 5 years, two healthy and active kids running around, and a third pregnancy. I'll admit, it's been harder just finding the time to remember that I am pregnant.

My diet, on an average day, consists of left over peanut butter and jelly sandwich crust. My sleep usually plays second fiddle to whoever or whatever is pressing for that night. My activity level is so frequent that when the Dr. asks me to recall if there have been 10 baby movements within any 2-hr. stretch of time per day, I look at him and ask, "I know this baby is moving, but you're asking me to count it now?"

I couldn't tell you what baby parts developed at what week, how big the baby is now or even what his name will be.

Awful. Just awful.

There is no way around it though, really. This would be the reason why so many people have bought into the idea of birth order's significance. I certainly have.

There is good news in all of this...

It took 3 pregnancies to finally figure out the difference between a kick and a contraction. :)
It took 3 pregnancies to not obsess on the health of our baby. God is in control.
It took 3 pregnancies to realize my sweet rotundness and the benefits of...

thicker hair (coming from a fine, thin-haired person, this is a big deal)...

My belly over-powering my 'junk in the trunk'...

And the belly popper to signify this baby has cooked long enough, that's been popped for months now.

Each pregnancy has had it's ups and downs, and it makes me sad I haven't had the opportunity to really relish in this last one. The last time my body will ever go through the miraculous transformation of growing another life. The last time I'll feel the stretches, kicks, twists and turns of another precious gift I have yet to meet. The last time I'll wonder what his little face will look like or what his personality will be.

So my plan is to embrace these last few weeks, as much as I can. Sure, it is much more uncomfortable this time around and harder because of the level of activity that is demanded of me now. I plan to embrace the strong thick fingernails, the wedding band not fitting without hand lotion applied first, the mandatory pedicures because I can't reach my feet, people rubbing my tummy and me reminding my little ones about what it will be like when this baby comes and that they'll always be important and loved, no matter what.

Only 3 1/2 weeks to go until due date. Let the final stages of embracing begin.

Me & Maxine

Oh pregnancy. There are so many neat and wonderful things that happen to a woman's body and spirit when the miracle of life is growing in her womb.
And then, there's me when I'm pregnant.
My husband has so eloquently and carefully started referring to me as Maxine. Have you heard of Maxine? Well, if not, she's a Hallmark greeting card character that has a little, uh, shall we say, sass! She speaks her mind exactly the way she's thinking and doesn't really care two hoots what anybody else thinks.
Maxine might be a tad bit misunderstood, or at least that's how I feel when I'm pregnant. There's something about the filter over my mouth that goes bad. Let's say a "normal" person's filter would be fine enough to strain pulp from orange juice. Well, during the nine months of gestation, my filter starts to loose it's efficacy and soon it's only able to filter the equivalent of a manhole grate.
I'm not trying to be ugly. I'm not trying to make a point. I'm not even trying to push my "weight" around just to have my moment of getting what I want. There's something that just happens in my brain that cares less how it affects other people.

Not good. I know.
One time while working at FBA, my previous full-time and monetarily paying job, a male co-worker of mine and me were talking something work-related out. We had a pretty cordial and happy-go-lucky relationship, up until I got pregnant with Katherine. I don't remember what we were talking about, or what exactly was said, but he stopped in mid-sentence, looked at me through the corners of his eyes as if he'd never seen me before and cautiously said, "Listen, I'm not exactly sure what's happened to you, but when you are pregnant, you are, uh, a little, uh, spicy and mouthy."
Whatevah!

It must have been the same day during my break, that as I was walking across the parking lot of Wal-Mart in all of my 8 1/2 month pregnant glory, a retiree that had just moved down from "I own the world" acted like the waddling pregnant woman wearing a bright lime green sweater couldn't be seen and almost ran me over. I stopped traffic, turned square to him facing down the 2-ton vehicle, face bright red and declared loudly where everybody could hear, "Can you not see I'm trying to cross the road here?" while Vanna White-ing it by showcasing my larger than life physique.
Seriously, it wasn't like nobody noticed me.

But back to my man-hole grate size of a filter.

We had an aunt that we affectionately compared to Maxine also. Her name was Aunt R and she has left this earth to be with the Lord. (That's how us Southerners like to term it). Comparing her to Maxine was all done in jest and she embraced their similarities, but Aunt R was truly a cartoon character in real life.
It was a 10-12 times/day occurrence that Aunt R would take a drag from her Virginia Slim cig held delicately between her index and middle finger, and declare in her gruff smoker's voice, "Dammit!" It could have been over something as minute as her favorite show was over until next week, or the timer went off to alert her the cookies were done. Whatever it was, the response was always the same, "Dammit!"
Well, in addition to being compared to Maxine, Jim has also started comparing me to Aunt R. So much now seems to be THE END OF THE WORLD in my little mind and keeping it all in perspective is turning out to be an arduous task.
I'm even in the process of penning an email to my friends apologizing for my less-than-leadership response to a meeting I was co-leading last night. I wanted so badly to pull the whiners aside and say, "Seriously, nobody is forcing you to stay here. You don't like it, Leave!" Now, doesn't that sound like the leader Christ has called to be in this position. I think not. So, the fine particles that used to get trapped before, are now passing through along with all the crap the hurricane in my body has created.
There is one request I have. Pray. Pray for my husband to have the strength and wisdom to not send me off into public places without duct tape over my mouth. Pray for my children to have Godly wisdom in understanding their mother still loves them, just says some things that might be contrary to her previous ways of parenting. Pray for the Lord's hands to be gently placed over my mouth, with all fingers closed tightly to not let anything nasty spew forth. Pray for my friendships to endure my pregnancy, even when they had nothing to do with it.
I love my husband. I love my children. I love my friends and family and community. I just hope they can see past my mouth here lately and know, the old Kel will be back soon. Back to being concerned about everybody's feelings.
Amen

I'm still here

I have not fallen off the face of the earth.

I haven't given up on blogging. I have at least a dozen things I am dying to write about.

My fingers aren't broken.

Nobody in my house is tragically ill.

My marriage isn't falling apart.



BUT...



I am very tired. A lot. Crazy tired. The kind of tired where if I sit down for more than 5 seconds, I wake up to children eating fruit bars spread out on the living room floor. And they've been there for a while. Crumbs don't lie.

I am very busy with schooling, referring, co-coordinating, care-coordinating, cleaning, cooking (I use that term loosely) and normal mom-duty stuff.

And it's all because ...

Nathan is going to be a big brother!

Oh no! You thought I was blaming my precious, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, angel-baby of creating that much havoc in my life to cause me to experience narcoleptic tendencies? Please! I wouldn't do that in writing.


Katherine has had plenty of experience in the big sister department, so, true to her nature, she's been in full-time bossing mode. You know, for educational purposes. Nathan must learn these things for the little tyke following behind his footsteps. Although, something tells me the body-slamming method will be preferred over the bossing-everything-including-the-dog method.

It's pretty early to be lettin' the cat out of the bag, so to speak. I am only 8 weeks along and we've been diligent about waiting until that 1st trimester mark is over. But, we have two nieces who have been more excited than their little bodies can handle and they've started spreading the news for us. Our due date is May 8th.

I like the freedom of being able to talk about it earlier. There's so much going on right now, and I don't feel pregnant, so maybe others knowing will get me in the mindset of, "yep, this is really happening." Other than the clothes ALREADY starting to not fit, needing extra sleep and an occasional midnight snack that has been thwarted because of less-than-stellar stomach circumstances, nothing feels different.

We are very excited. Jim is crazy excited.

It's weird kind of, because I've always considered myself an even-number kinda gal. And there's no more man-on-man defense, it's moved to zone defense. We'll be officially outnumbered.

I already don't feel any pressure to get a room established and decorated. I'm asking questions to Jim late at night like, "Am I just being OCD about all this, or should this be picked up tonight?" In my mind, the car has been aged another 10 years by the time we'll pay it off (16 months). I've started realizing that all those things we worked so hard on in the house to get it "the way we wanted it", will soon be destroyed and we'll have to start over decorating and buying new furniture in about 15-20 years anyway.

But they're not bad thoughts and realizations. They don't make me anxious or sad or angry. They're just the precious reminder that those things are just that: things. My precious little babies are growing up.

We are creating a family! It's growing and forming right in front of our eyes.

What a gift! I couldn't be happier to have the honor of being given this task.

Thank-you Jesus for your subtle yet awesome revelations!

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you..." Jeremiah 1:5