I had originally planned for H to be Health, Happiness, and Humor, a powerful and interdependent triad of life pillars. But then you daddy reminded me of Honesty. And he was right. Honesty is more important. He knows me better than I know myself.
There's really not all that much to say about honesty. It is perfect in its simplicity and yet can take a lifetime of work to perfect.
In short, be honest. Be a person your friends can trust. Be a woman who can be relied on.
White lies are the easiest, the most alluring pitfall to honesty. In most cases, you can convince yourself that telling the white lie is better for all involved, that you are being compassionate by sparing someone the truth. The problem is that it is a short, easy step from white lies to gray lies, the lies that you convince yourself are still fine to tell, mostly to keep yourself out of trouble. You lie to save others from trouble, you think, don't you deserve the same benefit? Though your soul can tell the difference, and there is always, ALWAYS the feeling of remorse buried somewhere within (after all, if you are having to lie about something, should you have really done it in the first place?), gray lies are the foggy bogs you can lose yourself in. And then you fall. Into the black lies. The thick inky darkness that you can no longer save yourself from. Black lies are like an addiction. They are like a parasite that feeds off of you that you cannot rid yourself of without cutting into your life like a surgeon. You have to bleed yourself to save yourself from black lies.
And remember, it all started with little, innocent white lies.
Again, it's simple. Value others enough to be honest. Honesty is about respect, respect for others and respect for yourself. It takes a lot of strength to be honest, and very few people ever master the art 100%.
Know the dangers of dishonesty. Know that you can lose yourself. Know that the damage you do with a lie can take years to repair, that the cracks that result from a lie can sometimes never be repaired at all.
Trust is a delicate thing, and yet there will be times when all you have left is trust, trust in the people you love, the people who love you. In those times, that trust must be strong enough to sustain you, to give you a life line through troubling or disastrous events.
Know this all and prepare for it. Be honest and you will know yourself. Be honest and others will know you. Be honest and you will have the foundation of trust you need to support you, to support those you love, when you, when they, need it most.
Just be honest.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Wait, Wha--??
This was in my weekly pregnancy email this morning:
At Week 33, Your Baby Could Come at Any Moment!
Since more than half of all babies come early, yours could come at any time now!
Ummm...excuse me??? I mean, I know I'm getting close, but ANY TIME NOW?? It's not that I can't wait to have Alina here, safe, healthy, snuggled in my arms . . . it's that I still need those 6ish weeks I have left to prepare myself, my house, my car, my life, for the arrival of baby girl.
I guess I'd better get a move on, huh?
Another sign that it's getting close: today is the last Monday I will work until December.
That's right. I am taking off Mondays in August to give myself a little downtime . . . as TH put it, "quite possibly the last me-time" I'm going to get for the next 25 years. Holy hell.
I can hear "The Final Countdown" beginning it's first distinctive notes in the soundtrack of my life!
At Week 33, Your Baby Could Come at Any Moment!
Since more than half of all babies come early, yours could come at any time now!
Ummm...excuse me??? I mean, I know I'm getting close, but ANY TIME NOW?? It's not that I can't wait to have Alina here, safe, healthy, snuggled in my arms . . . it's that I still need those 6ish weeks I have left to prepare myself, my house, my car, my life, for the arrival of baby girl.
I guess I'd better get a move on, huh?
Another sign that it's getting close: today is the last Monday I will work until December.
I can hear "The Final Countdown" beginning it's first distinctive notes in the soundtrack of my life!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
G is for Gratitude
It is easy to complain.
There will always be things for you to complain about. Things that don't go your way. Things that seem unfair. Things that are out of your control. And there's something about human nature that makes complaining satisfying. People often use it as a way of bonding. The phrase, "misery loves company" . . . there's something to that. Not only do people who are upset want others to understand their frustration, their victimization, but others, too, want to offer support, want to participate, want to feel equally offended and victimized. Complaining is a socializing activity.
The bad thing about this is that, as we've talked about before, your attitude manifests itself in your life. If you build a life of complaint, of dissatisfaction, of commiseration, you will create a reality ruled by those emotions. You will find a way to complain about everything, to be dissatisfied with everything. It's kind of like sliding down a hill--it's easy to do, but the more you do it, the lower you get and the more accustomed you get to sliding rather than climbing.
There is an alternative to complaint. And remarkably, it too is a habit that can come as naturally to you as complaining. All it takes it practice. That alternative is gratitude.
Be grateful. Be grateful for everything in your life: big, small, good, bad, easy, hard, all of it.
Why do this? Why put forth the effort to be grateful when the alternative, complaint, comes so naturally? Easy. You have one shot at life, and you can make your experience here whatever you want it to be. It can be filled with dissatisfaction. Or, it can be filled with satisfaction. You can reach the end of your days and feel like you never quite got what you wanted or deserved, or you can reach the end of your days fulfilled, content.
Seems like an easy choice, right? And that's the amazing thing! It IS an easy choice!
When you choose to respond to life gratefully, you choose to create a life for yourself that is satisfying and filled with blessings. That's not to say that your life will be easy, or that you will never face challenges or disappointments. It's won't be, and you will. But--and here's the key--be grateful for the challenges, for the disappointments, too.
Every challenge you face, every disappointment, every tear, every experience, good OR bad, brings something into your life, teaches you something, changes you. Be grateful for those experiences and the lessons you can take from them, for they are what make you human. The most wonderful lessons in life--compassion, patience, perseverance, joy, love--they are ALL learned from facing challenges. If you don't believe me, think about joy. How will you ever know what true joy is, the unbridled elation, unless you have also known the lack of that joy, the frustration, the tears? As Emily Dickinson put it, it is only those who have been defeated who truly understand the triumph, the joy, of victory.
Life offers no guarantees. You are not entitled to anything, as much as you want to believe that you are. Everything that comes to you is a gift, whether you recognize it as such or not. Be thankful for what you have. Be grateful for what you have earned and for what you have been given, unearned. It is these gifts that fill your life, that define your life. The literal gifts, the tangible gifts, and those gifts that are harder to appreciate . . . sometimes even harder to notice at all. Be grateful for both the busy afternoon and the quiet afternoon. For time. For beauty. For adventure. For opportunity. And yes, for challenges, frustrations, and tears. Each of these enriches your life in some way.
Every night when I lay down to sleep, I say my prayers. They aren't the typical prayers you might expect, prayers of supplication, prayers FOR something. I don't believe in a God who withholds things until you ask for them.
My prayers, uttered only within the quiet of my mind, start like this: Dear God, thank you for all the wonderful things you have given me today.
And then I think about the day and thank God for each and every event, good or bad. Regardless of how the day went, regardless of my triumphs and failures, joys and frustrations, smiles and tears, I end the day with gratitude for them all.
For it is only in expressing sincere gratitude that you can come to find the blessing, the benefit, of everything.
There will always be things for you to complain about. Things that don't go your way. Things that seem unfair. Things that are out of your control. And there's something about human nature that makes complaining satisfying. People often use it as a way of bonding. The phrase, "misery loves company" . . . there's something to that. Not only do people who are upset want others to understand their frustration, their victimization, but others, too, want to offer support, want to participate, want to feel equally offended and victimized. Complaining is a socializing activity.
The bad thing about this is that, as we've talked about before, your attitude manifests itself in your life. If you build a life of complaint, of dissatisfaction, of commiseration, you will create a reality ruled by those emotions. You will find a way to complain about everything, to be dissatisfied with everything. It's kind of like sliding down a hill--it's easy to do, but the more you do it, the lower you get and the more accustomed you get to sliding rather than climbing.
There is an alternative to complaint. And remarkably, it too is a habit that can come as naturally to you as complaining. All it takes it practice. That alternative is gratitude.
Be grateful. Be grateful for everything in your life: big, small, good, bad, easy, hard, all of it.
Why do this? Why put forth the effort to be grateful when the alternative, complaint, comes so naturally? Easy. You have one shot at life, and you can make your experience here whatever you want it to be. It can be filled with dissatisfaction. Or, it can be filled with satisfaction. You can reach the end of your days and feel like you never quite got what you wanted or deserved, or you can reach the end of your days fulfilled, content.
Seems like an easy choice, right? And that's the amazing thing! It IS an easy choice!
When you choose to respond to life gratefully, you choose to create a life for yourself that is satisfying and filled with blessings. That's not to say that your life will be easy, or that you will never face challenges or disappointments. It's won't be, and you will. But--and here's the key--be grateful for the challenges, for the disappointments, too.
Every challenge you face, every disappointment, every tear, every experience, good OR bad, brings something into your life, teaches you something, changes you. Be grateful for those experiences and the lessons you can take from them, for they are what make you human. The most wonderful lessons in life--compassion, patience, perseverance, joy, love--they are ALL learned from facing challenges. If you don't believe me, think about joy. How will you ever know what true joy is, the unbridled elation, unless you have also known the lack of that joy, the frustration, the tears? As Emily Dickinson put it, it is only those who have been defeated who truly understand the triumph, the joy, of victory.
Life offers no guarantees. You are not entitled to anything, as much as you want to believe that you are. Everything that comes to you is a gift, whether you recognize it as such or not. Be thankful for what you have. Be grateful for what you have earned and for what you have been given, unearned. It is these gifts that fill your life, that define your life. The literal gifts, the tangible gifts, and those gifts that are harder to appreciate . . . sometimes even harder to notice at all. Be grateful for both the busy afternoon and the quiet afternoon. For time. For beauty. For adventure. For opportunity. And yes, for challenges, frustrations, and tears. Each of these enriches your life in some way.
Every night when I lay down to sleep, I say my prayers. They aren't the typical prayers you might expect, prayers of supplication, prayers FOR something. I don't believe in a God who withholds things until you ask for them.
My prayers, uttered only within the quiet of my mind, start like this: Dear God, thank you for all the wonderful things you have given me today.
And then I think about the day and thank God for each and every event, good or bad. Regardless of how the day went, regardless of my triumphs and failures, joys and frustrations, smiles and tears, I end the day with gratitude for them all.
For it is only in expressing sincere gratitude that you can come to find the blessing, the benefit, of everything.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The Bump
No, not the big bump that is my stomach.
The little bump.
The one that pushes my stomach out,
halfway between my bellybutton and ribs.
The one that wiggles back and forth.
That pushes and withdraws.
That slides to the right and left.
The one that makes me sit for hours
with my hand on my stomach
and a small, private smile on my face.
Is it your head, baby girl?
Am I cradling your thoughts, your dreams,
your delicate hair?
Or is it your tooshie?
Am I already holding your cute bottom,
that fits so perfectly into my cupped hand?
Being able to cradle your sweet body in mine,
my hands already know your perfect curves.
You have never seemed more real to me.
Never more precious.
The little bump.
The one that pushes my stomach out,
halfway between my bellybutton and ribs.
The one that wiggles back and forth.
That pushes and withdraws.
That slides to the right and left.
The one that makes me sit for hours
with my hand on my stomach
and a small, private smile on my face.
Is it your head, baby girl?
Am I cradling your thoughts, your dreams,
your delicate hair?
Or is it your tooshie?
Am I already holding your cute bottom,
that fits so perfectly into my cupped hand?
Being able to cradle your sweet body in mine,
my hands already know your perfect curves.
You have never seemed more real to me.
Never more precious.
Monday, July 20, 2009
32 Weeks
In the beginning, everyone told me how fast this pregnancy would go. They were wrong . . . the first trimester d-r-a-g-g-e-d by, each day filled with worry and hope and counting the days and minutes until my next appointment, my next reassurance that everything was fine.
Then I heard that time would slow down in the third trimester, until every day, every moment stretched to eternity, waiting, wondering when labor would start, when baby would come and change our lives forever. Wrong again. If anything, time has certainly sped up! I cannot believe I am 32 weeks pregnant today! I cannot believe we only have 8 weeks to go until baby girl's official due date. It seems like we still have so many little details to take care of, and so little time, on a day-to-day basis, in which to take care of them. I'm sure our busy schedule has a great deal to do with how quickly time is traipsing along--each day filled to the brink with work and chores and travel and guests and showers and don't-forget-our-baby-to-do-list! (I can honestly say that, as difficult as it has been in the last couple of weeks keeping up with our own lives, I would MUCH rather have it be this way than the alternative . . . I tend to go CRAZY when there's nothing to do!)
Over the weekend I took my last trip home before baby girl makes her appearance. It was a strange feeling, driving back home, the same drive I've made a million times all through college and grad school and the rest of my 20s; sleeping in the bed I've slept in since 8th grade; getting ready in the bathroom I got ready for homecoming and prom in; and knowing it was the last time I would ever be in these areas without a daughter, seeing the big, round proof of her in the mirror I used to look into to get ready for dates with her daddy.
My mom's two best friends hosted a shower for us, and it was gorgeous! These ladies are decorating and crafting extraordinaires, and no detail was missed. There were tiny rubber duckies with pink bonnets tucked into flower arrangements, diaper cakes, name tags with little pink ribbons glued to the corner of each one, a clothes line with various baby goods strung across the fireplace (including an adorable sparkly pink tu-tu and a neon-green plastic baseball bat . . . the first time someone has correctly acknowledged the dichotomy that will be Ali!), a "flower arrangement" that was actually diapers and socks and washclothes, and a table full of delectable food, including cupcakes with pink sprinkles, finger sandwiches, veggies, fruit, cheese, chips, crackers, the works! I was totally blown away by their preparations and so touched that they would go through so much for our sake.
After visiting with all the guests, we played a cute game that I had never seen before: tiny plastic babies had been frozen into the middle of ice cubes. Each guest got a cube, and the goal was to be the first to "birth your baby"--free your baby from its protective "liquid" home--without using your mouth. It was hilarious to see a bunch of women trying to rub these little babies out of their ice cubes (and one woman just got up and poured hot water on the cube . . . I think she kind of missed the point). My sister was the first one to free her baby, and then she even took mine and freed it before anyone else had managed to get theirs out! I told her she must have missed her calling as a midwife.
We were definitely "showered" with gifts; everyone was so generous! We got much of our essential gear and tons of sweet books and hooded towels and so-soft blankets. I just can't wait to wrap her up and revel in her cuteness. The best part of the shower was having three of my four grandmothers together, having them take part in the celebration. I am so, so thankful to the hostesses for that wonderful afternoon.
Here are the stats for week 32!
How far along?: 32 weeks
Total weight gain: 19 lbs
How big is baby?: we only got to listen to her heartbeat at the last appointment, but the book says about 4 lbs, and we all know she's bigger than average . . . so . . . 4.5 lbs?
Maternity clothes?: Yes, and the number that fit are dwindling. I got a last-minute infusion of larger-sized hand-me-downs from my cousin, so I'm hoping that saves us from having to buy any more!
Stretch marks?: Still none . . . keeping my eyes peeled, though.
Sleep?: Some nights good, some nights not so good. The other morning I awoke around 5 with the worst nausea-burning-pain up behind my ribs. The only thing I can figure out is that she had kicked my stomach way up into my chest!
Best moment this week?: Being home with my family for the last time and having my mom, dad, and sister be able to feel Ali move.
Movement?: She is a mover and a shaker! TH finally got to feel one of her side-to-side rolls last night and he flipped! It is so much different than her punches and kicks. I'm hoping with all the head-down, head-up flipping she's still doing, that she settles in the next few weeks into a permanent head-down postion.
Food cravings?: Nope.
Labor signs?: Nada. Which is good. Don't think about that stuff for AT LEAST another 5-6-7 weeks, baby girl!
Belly button in or out?: Still in for the most part. Depending on what she's doing in there, sometimes the top lip will stick out. Other times, when she's moved around to a different position, it will be all-inny (and pretty deep!) again. Silly baby.
What I miss: Being able to walk without moving from side-to-side
What I'm looking forward to: Getting all her new gear organized and put away into her nursery
Milestone: Hitting the single-digit weekly countdowns! Almost there!
Then I heard that time would slow down in the third trimester, until every day, every moment stretched to eternity, waiting, wondering when labor would start, when baby would come and change our lives forever. Wrong again. If anything, time has certainly sped up! I cannot believe I am 32 weeks pregnant today! I cannot believe we only have 8 weeks to go until baby girl's official due date. It seems like we still have so many little details to take care of, and so little time, on a day-to-day basis, in which to take care of them. I'm sure our busy schedule has a great deal to do with how quickly time is traipsing along--each day filled to the brink with work and chores and travel and guests and showers and don't-forget-our-baby-to-do-list! (I can honestly say that, as difficult as it has been in the last couple of weeks keeping up with our own lives, I would MUCH rather have it be this way than the alternative . . . I tend to go CRAZY when there's nothing to do!)
Over the weekend I took my last trip home before baby girl makes her appearance. It was a strange feeling, driving back home, the same drive I've made a million times all through college and grad school and the rest of my 20s; sleeping in the bed I've slept in since 8th grade; getting ready in the bathroom I got ready for homecoming and prom in; and knowing it was the last time I would ever be in these areas without a daughter, seeing the big, round proof of her in the mirror I used to look into to get ready for dates with her daddy.
My mom's two best friends hosted a shower for us, and it was gorgeous! These ladies are decorating and crafting extraordinaires, and no detail was missed. There were tiny rubber duckies with pink bonnets tucked into flower arrangements, diaper cakes, name tags with little pink ribbons glued to the corner of each one, a clothes line with various baby goods strung across the fireplace (including an adorable sparkly pink tu-tu and a neon-green plastic baseball bat . . . the first time someone has correctly acknowledged the dichotomy that will be Ali!), a "flower arrangement" that was actually diapers and socks and washclothes, and a table full of delectable food, including cupcakes with pink sprinkles, finger sandwiches, veggies, fruit, cheese, chips, crackers, the works! I was totally blown away by their preparations and so touched that they would go through so much for our sake.
After visiting with all the guests, we played a cute game that I had never seen before: tiny plastic babies had been frozen into the middle of ice cubes. Each guest got a cube, and the goal was to be the first to "birth your baby"--free your baby from its protective "liquid" home--without using your mouth. It was hilarious to see a bunch of women trying to rub these little babies out of their ice cubes (and one woman just got up and poured hot water on the cube . . . I think she kind of missed the point). My sister was the first one to free her baby, and then she even took mine and freed it before anyone else had managed to get theirs out! I told her she must have missed her calling as a midwife.
We were definitely "showered" with gifts; everyone was so generous! We got much of our essential gear and tons of sweet books and hooded towels and so-soft blankets. I just can't wait to wrap her up and revel in her cuteness. The best part of the shower was having three of my four grandmothers together, having them take part in the celebration. I am so, so thankful to the hostesses for that wonderful afternoon.
Here are the stats for week 32!
How far along?: 32 weeks
Total weight gain: 19 lbs
How big is baby?: we only got to listen to her heartbeat at the last appointment, but the book says about 4 lbs, and we all know she's bigger than average . . . so . . . 4.5 lbs?
Maternity clothes?: Yes, and the number that fit are dwindling. I got a last-minute infusion of larger-sized hand-me-downs from my cousin, so I'm hoping that saves us from having to buy any more!
Stretch marks?: Still none . . . keeping my eyes peeled, though.
Sleep?: Some nights good, some nights not so good. The other morning I awoke around 5 with the worst nausea-burning-pain up behind my ribs. The only thing I can figure out is that she had kicked my stomach way up into my chest!
Best moment this week?: Being home with my family for the last time and having my mom, dad, and sister be able to feel Ali move.
Movement?: She is a mover and a shaker! TH finally got to feel one of her side-to-side rolls last night and he flipped! It is so much different than her punches and kicks. I'm hoping with all the head-down, head-up flipping she's still doing, that she settles in the next few weeks into a permanent head-down postion.
Food cravings?: Nope.
Labor signs?: Nada. Which is good. Don't think about that stuff for AT LEAST another 5-6-7 weeks, baby girl!
Belly button in or out?: Still in for the most part. Depending on what she's doing in there, sometimes the top lip will stick out. Other times, when she's moved around to a different position, it will be all-inny (and pretty deep!) again. Silly baby.
What I miss: Being able to walk without moving from side-to-side
What I'm looking forward to: Getting all her new gear organized and put away into her nursery
Milestone: Hitting the single-digit weekly countdowns! Almost there!
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Baby's First Hiccups
Dear Baby Girl,
You got your very first hiccups today! (Well, as far as I can tell it was your first time.) You were quite agitated about 2 hours after lunch, squirming and rolling all around in there. And then *boom* a little bounce. Not your typical rolling movement. More like the little punches you used to give me when you had more room.
And then *boom* another bounce.
Then *boom* another.
And *boom* another.
They lasted about 2 minutes. Two minutes of little, perfectly timed bumps. You were still squirming a little in-between the perfectly timed thumps. I could tell that you didn't really like having the hiccups . . . or that you were just a little disconcerted about what was happening.
I, on the other hand, thought it was perfectly adorable.
Love,
Mom
You got your very first hiccups today! (Well, as far as I can tell it was your first time.) You were quite agitated about 2 hours after lunch, squirming and rolling all around in there. And then *boom* a little bounce. Not your typical rolling movement. More like the little punches you used to give me when you had more room.
And then *boom* another bounce.
Then *boom* another.
And *boom* another.
They lasted about 2 minutes. Two minutes of little, perfectly timed bumps. You were still squirming a little in-between the perfectly timed thumps. I could tell that you didn't really like having the hiccups . . . or that you were just a little disconcerted about what was happening.
I, on the other hand, thought it was perfectly adorable.
Love,
Mom
F is for Flexibility
There is an old fable about an old, thick, strong oak tree that was finally blown down by a powerful storm. Amazingly, the thin little reeds all around it were unharmed by the storm's fury. The oak tree asked the reeds, "How is it that I, a strong, thick tree, was blown over by the wind, but you thin little reeds were able to withstand it?" The reeds answered, "Instead of trying to stand up against the strength of the wind, we simply bent with it and survived."
I'm not talking about physical flexibility here baby girl, though you've already shown us in your ultrasounds with your feet up over your head that you are certainly very flexible right now! I'm talking about mental flexibility. The ability to bend with the currents of life. To go with the flow. To not get bent out of shape when something comes along that you weren't really planning on.
The ability to be flexible is perhaps one of the most challenging traits to master. If you set your mind on a goal, are determined, do everything you can to make that thing happen . . . it is so, so easy to become frustrated and upset when unforeseen circumstances come along and throw you for a loop you didn't expect.
That's why it's important to remember these two adages:
"Expect the unexpected," and "Over prepare, and then go with the flow."
If you learn to expect unforeseen circumstances to arise, then you won't be so caught off guard when they do. Few things in life go exactly as you had planned. There are simply too many variables, too many things left out of your control. Pretty much all you can do is prepare as much as you possibly can, and then be flexible.
There is the danger, of course, of being too flexible. If you never stand up for yourself, if you never speak up for what you want, you will be walked all over your entire life. There is a time to stand firm, and a time to be flexible. The key is to learn which time is which. When you are unsure, evaluate your priorities. What are you really trying to achieve? What is really the most important outcome to you? And most importantly, is it possible? Sometimes, no matter how much you want something, the strength of the wind blowing at you will simply be too strong for you to fight against. Pick your battles, and know when being flexible is really the key to success. It may simply be a question of biding your time or finding an alternate path.
You see? You even have to learn how to be flexible about being flexible.
If you can master the art of flexibility, of knowing when to stand firm and when to go with the flow, you will face so much less drama, so much less frustration, than if you try to fight every battle.
Know your priorities; know them well enough to know which are worth the fight and which aren't. Know yourself, but don't let that self, that ego, get in the way of your own happiness.
PS--physical flexibility is important, too. It will prevent many a pulled muscle.
I'm not talking about physical flexibility here baby girl, though you've already shown us in your ultrasounds with your feet up over your head that you are certainly very flexible right now! I'm talking about mental flexibility. The ability to bend with the currents of life. To go with the flow. To not get bent out of shape when something comes along that you weren't really planning on.
The ability to be flexible is perhaps one of the most challenging traits to master. If you set your mind on a goal, are determined, do everything you can to make that thing happen . . . it is so, so easy to become frustrated and upset when unforeseen circumstances come along and throw you for a loop you didn't expect.
That's why it's important to remember these two adages:
"Expect the unexpected," and "Over prepare, and then go with the flow."
If you learn to expect unforeseen circumstances to arise, then you won't be so caught off guard when they do. Few things in life go exactly as you had planned. There are simply too many variables, too many things left out of your control. Pretty much all you can do is prepare as much as you possibly can, and then be flexible.
There is the danger, of course, of being too flexible. If you never stand up for yourself, if you never speak up for what you want, you will be walked all over your entire life. There is a time to stand firm, and a time to be flexible. The key is to learn which time is which. When you are unsure, evaluate your priorities. What are you really trying to achieve? What is really the most important outcome to you? And most importantly, is it possible? Sometimes, no matter how much you want something, the strength of the wind blowing at you will simply be too strong for you to fight against. Pick your battles, and know when being flexible is really the key to success. It may simply be a question of biding your time or finding an alternate path.
You see? You even have to learn how to be flexible about being flexible.
If you can master the art of flexibility, of knowing when to stand firm and when to go with the flow, you will face so much less drama, so much less frustration, than if you try to fight every battle.
Know your priorities; know them well enough to know which are worth the fight and which aren't. Know yourself, but don't let that self, that ego, get in the way of your own happiness.
PS--physical flexibility is important, too. It will prevent many a pulled muscle.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Alina in 3D
As mentioned in the previous post, this last Saturday we took our families to a 3D/4D ultrasound. True to form, baby girl was camera shy and spent the 45 minutes hiding her face behind any body part she could use, including her legs and feet. So while we are just going to have to wait to meet her to find out once and for all what she looks like, I am already in love with her adorable toes, chubby hands, and awesome arms.
Besides getting to see Ali in such round detail, the most amazing part of the appointment was . . . HAIR! That's right folks, Ali officially has hair. Hair! Fairly long hair in fact. Enough to stick out from her head in a little tuft. It seriously blows my mind. There is HAIR in my abdomen. Hair. Isn't that wild???
Enjoy the pics. I know I'm in love with them.
Check out my big toe! It's the only part I can really stretch out anymore...
I like to explore my little world with my hands. Hmm . . . what is that? Oh! Another hand!
Check out my guns, mom! I'm going to grow up strong, just like you!
Ok, I'm done with the photo shoot. Time to hide my face behind my legs AND arms!
Besides getting to see Ali in such round detail, the most amazing part of the appointment was . . . HAIR! That's right folks, Ali officially has hair. Hair! Fairly long hair in fact. Enough to stick out from her head in a little tuft. It seriously blows my mind. There is HAIR in my abdomen. Hair. Isn't that wild???
Enjoy the pics. I know I'm in love with them.
Here I am with my foot up over my head. What can I say? I'm running out of room in here!
Check out my big toe! It's the only part I can really stretch out anymore...
Here's my arm, mom. Don't you just love my cute little fat wrist??
I like to explore my little world with my hands. Hmm . . . what is that? Oh! Another hand!
Ok, I'm done with the photo shoot. Time to hide my face behind my legs AND arms!
Monday, July 13, 2009
Busy, Busy, Busy
Life has been moving at a frenetic pace here lately. My work has devolved into two solid weeks of fixing someone else's (well . . . technically MANY someone else's) stupendous mismanagement of a relatively easy project. Add to that the beginning of our childbirth class, an extra doctor's appointment, the approach of a freelance deadline, and the onset of our 7-week stretch of no free weekends, and I feel like a juggler in a circus--no sooner do I release one pin than another three are already in the air, headed directly at my face.
Let's take it one step at a time.
#1: Childbirth class. It's begun! TH and I are taking a Bradley class. Now, those of you who are familiar with the Bradley method are already thinking one of two things: (1) Ah, yes, the beautiful practice of natural childbirth, without any of those dangerous, meddlesome, unnecessary medical interventions so frequently forced on unsuspecting mothers these days, OR (2) Holy crap, is she CRAZY?? Who on Earth would willingly choose natural childbirth when we have such wonderful advances in modern medicine that you can actually enjoy the birth process without screaming that you want to die or kill someone else?
Actually, you would both be wrong. Yes, the Bradley method is focused on "natural" childbirth (and I use that term here only in it's Bradley vernacular to mean "limited to no unnecessary medical intervention, including pain medication). But I'm not. What I mean is, I'm not all about natural childbirth. I'm not anti-epidural. Confused about what TH and I are doing in that class? We are of the mindset that knowledge is power. We want to go into every important situation in our lives armed with the most knowledge possible so that we can make educated decisions for ourselves. Ignorance is no excuse for poor decision making, nor does it give you leave to embrace the victim identity when something unwanted happens to you. So, we decided that an 8-week Bradley class was going to teach us a lot more about the labor and delivery process than a 4-hour session at the hospital. Plus, I'm going to have a lot of laboring to do before I get to the point where I may or may not beg for pain relief. Plus, the Bradley method focuses very heavily on husband interaction and "coaching," which TH and I both found appealing. It gives TH a way of feeling empowered and connected to what's going to happen, as opposed to sitting on the sidelines, feeling helpless while I wince in pain.
And after our first class, we are so happy with our decision! We have learned several exercise and relaxation techniques, and are having fun practicing them at home. Husband-guided relaxation, responsive massage, etc. have all been (A) wonderful for me, and (B) have given us a sense of responsibility and seriousness about what is going to happen nine weeks from now (wow, NINE weeks!!).
#2: An extra doctor's appointment. So, I failed my one-hour glucose test. Dang. What that meant was that I had to return for the three-hour test. This was stressful not only because it was the last step before an official diagnosis of gestational diabetes, but also because my boss has become less tolerant of all of my doctor's appointments and now here I was, not coming in 15 minutes late, but having to miss three hours of work! Luckily I have been working so much overtime due to aforementioned crazy work project that she gave me an "free" half-day off, so I just used that. The appointment itself wasn't that bad--I took some knitting and a book, and the 45 minutes or so between draws passed relatively quickly. The only bad part was looking like a heroin addict with all the track marks in my two arms. And it was clear that some of the nurses knew how to draw blood without much pain or bruising, and some did not. But I made it through, bruises notwithstanding, and got the results the next day: passed! Woohoo! I failed the one-hour again, but then my blood sugar levels dropped quickly back into the normal range. I was told to simply continue my healthy diet and I would be fine. Yay! It's a good thing I haven't really been eating many sweets this entire time.
#3: The approach of a freelance deadline. Not really much to report here. The money is good. The work is easy. It's just a question of finding the time (and motivation) to do it while still feebly attempting to maintain that little thing called "a life" and "quality time with TH," both of which I am already well aware are on the endangered-species list as it is. Remember NINE WEEKS??
#4: Our 7-week stretch of no free weekends. That's right. As of right now, my weekends are officially booked until August 22. Hah! The wonderful part of that is that they are "booked" with visiting family and friends, both of which are wonderful things to have on our schedule. Two weekends ago we had TH's 30th birthday party, complete with a perfect view to our town's fireworks show from our roof. (Yes. I got on our roof. At 30 weeks pregnant. I was careful. Let's move on.) Last weekend we traveled to Dallas to visit our families to celebrate TH's birthday and his brother's birthday, which happen to fall on the exact same day, seven years apart!
I love being home, especially now that my grandparents have moved to town from Georgia. But the weekend was so jam-packed that I was literally overwhelmed by the end of each day. Friday evening we had a big dinner at my parents' house, where I was called "Octomom" (that's right...because I'm "HUGE!!!") by an obnoxious little twit who is due one month behind me (my family thinks she "oops forgot her BCP" in order to lock-down her then-BF, now-DH) and then told by same twit that I shouldn't be drinking Gatorade because of "all the salt" while she shoveled five pieces of bread, an "eating for two" helping of lasagna, and two servings of ice cream with hot fudge into her mouth. Now, I know that Gatorade is not the best thing to drink if you're not actually working out a lot (it is designed to replenish sodium), but in all the research I've done on pregnancy nutrition, never did I see Gatorade=the devil. Oh, and let's not forget: I wasn't drinking Gatorade. I haven't had one in months. She just thought she should tell me that rule. She then spent the rest of the evening lifting up her shirt and talking about how she's getting "dark hairs" and pimples on her belly. I kid you not.
Saturday my parents, my in-laws, my grandparents, my sister, and of course TH and I went and had a 4D ultrasound done of baby girl. TH and I really wanted to find a way to involve our parents in this process since they are not really around for much of the preparation excitement. True to form, baby girl was once again camera shy! She was actually bent in a full pike position--both her head AND her feat were up by my ribs. She used her legs and feet to hide her cute little face, and finally when convinced by our gentle prods to move them out of the way, she immediately buried her face in in arms. And then, at the end, the feet came back up. That's right. We have a shot of her hiding her face behind her legs AND arms. What an adorable little stinker. The tech told us we have a serious cuddler our hands. Baby girl, we can't wait for you to get here and bury your sweet little face in our arms and necks and chests! Our parents and grandparents teared up at the sight of her on the screen; they felt so lucky and blessed to be able to see her (and her appendages) in such detail. They can't wait for you to get here, Ali!!
After the ultrasound, TH and I went to Babies 'R' Us with the in-laws. They wanted to buy us our stroller system for the shower next weekend and figured it would be easier if we were there showing them which one, how registries work, etc. When my mother-in-law saw the stroller we picked out, she frowned and eventually asked us if we needed more time to reconsider our choice. Then she said she had been hoping we would have picked something a little more "sophisticated." At that point, my patience and endurance were wearing thin. The look I gave TH prompted him to take over and do most of the communicating with his parents from there on out.
That night we had the big birthday dinner at the in-laws house. Russian food is both the most delicious and most horrible food I've ever had, depending on the dish. Luckily being pregnant gives me free reign to be picky about what I eat, and no one was trying to force jellied meats or caviar on me as is typical for family meals at their house. By 10 p.m. I was exhausted and it was time to cut the party short. Luckily we were taking TH's grandparents home and they were ready to leave too, so we didn't even have to blame our early departure on me.
Sunday we got up and drove an hour north to visit my other grandmother and take her out to lunch. Then we turned around and headed home, for a total of about five hours in the car yesterday. Add to this packed weekend two nights of tossing and turning on an air mattress and then a futon, and I know you will believe me when I tell you I am SO happy to be back home, back to our normal crazy lives, back to my bed, my cats, my relatively calm pace.
So, as you can see, our lives have been busy, busy, busy. So much for taking these last two months to slow down and enjoy our free time before our lives change forever!
Let's take it one step at a time.
#1: Childbirth class. It's begun! TH and I are taking a Bradley class. Now, those of you who are familiar with the Bradley method are already thinking one of two things: (1) Ah, yes, the beautiful practice of natural childbirth, without any of those dangerous, meddlesome, unnecessary medical interventions so frequently forced on unsuspecting mothers these days, OR (2) Holy crap, is she CRAZY?? Who on Earth would willingly choose natural childbirth when we have such wonderful advances in modern medicine that you can actually enjoy the birth process without screaming that you want to die or kill someone else?
Actually, you would both be wrong. Yes, the Bradley method is focused on "natural" childbirth (and I use that term here only in it's Bradley vernacular to mean "limited to no unnecessary medical intervention, including pain medication). But I'm not. What I mean is, I'm not all about natural childbirth. I'm not anti-epidural. Confused about what TH and I are doing in that class? We are of the mindset that knowledge is power. We want to go into every important situation in our lives armed with the most knowledge possible so that we can make educated decisions for ourselves. Ignorance is no excuse for poor decision making, nor does it give you leave to embrace the victim identity when something unwanted happens to you. So, we decided that an 8-week Bradley class was going to teach us a lot more about the labor and delivery process than a 4-hour session at the hospital. Plus, I'm going to have a lot of laboring to do before I get to the point where I may or may not beg for pain relief. Plus, the Bradley method focuses very heavily on husband interaction and "coaching," which TH and I both found appealing. It gives TH a way of feeling empowered and connected to what's going to happen, as opposed to sitting on the sidelines, feeling helpless while I wince in pain.
And after our first class, we are so happy with our decision! We have learned several exercise and relaxation techniques, and are having fun practicing them at home. Husband-guided relaxation, responsive massage, etc. have all been (A) wonderful for me, and (B) have given us a sense of responsibility and seriousness about what is going to happen nine weeks from now (wow, NINE weeks!!).
#2: An extra doctor's appointment. So, I failed my one-hour glucose test. Dang. What that meant was that I had to return for the three-hour test. This was stressful not only because it was the last step before an official diagnosis of gestational diabetes, but also because my boss has become less tolerant of all of my doctor's appointments and now here I was, not coming in 15 minutes late, but having to miss three hours of work! Luckily I have been working so much overtime due to aforementioned crazy work project that she gave me an "free" half-day off, so I just used that. The appointment itself wasn't that bad--I took some knitting and a book, and the 45 minutes or so between draws passed relatively quickly. The only bad part was looking like a heroin addict with all the track marks in my two arms. And it was clear that some of the nurses knew how to draw blood without much pain or bruising, and some did not. But I made it through, bruises notwithstanding, and got the results the next day: passed! Woohoo! I failed the one-hour again, but then my blood sugar levels dropped quickly back into the normal range. I was told to simply continue my healthy diet and I would be fine. Yay! It's a good thing I haven't really been eating many sweets this entire time.
#3: The approach of a freelance deadline. Not really much to report here. The money is good. The work is easy. It's just a question of finding the time (and motivation) to do it while still feebly attempting to maintain that little thing called "a life" and "quality time with TH," both of which I am already well aware are on the endangered-species list as it is. Remember NINE WEEKS??
#4: Our 7-week stretch of no free weekends. That's right. As of right now, my weekends are officially booked until August 22. Hah! The wonderful part of that is that they are "booked" with visiting family and friends, both of which are wonderful things to have on our schedule. Two weekends ago we had TH's 30th birthday party, complete with a perfect view to our town's fireworks show from our roof. (Yes. I got on our roof. At 30 weeks pregnant. I was careful. Let's move on.) Last weekend we traveled to Dallas to visit our families to celebrate TH's birthday and his brother's birthday, which happen to fall on the exact same day, seven years apart!
I love being home, especially now that my grandparents have moved to town from Georgia. But the weekend was so jam-packed that I was literally overwhelmed by the end of each day. Friday evening we had a big dinner at my parents' house, where I was called "Octomom" (that's right...because I'm "HUGE!!!") by an obnoxious little twit who is due one month behind me (my family thinks she "oops forgot her BCP" in order to lock-down her then-BF, now-DH) and then told by same twit that I shouldn't be drinking Gatorade because of "all the salt" while she shoveled five pieces of bread, an "eating for two" helping of lasagna, and two servings of ice cream with hot fudge into her mouth. Now, I know that Gatorade is not the best thing to drink if you're not actually working out a lot (it is designed to replenish sodium), but in all the research I've done on pregnancy nutrition, never did I see Gatorade=the devil. Oh, and let's not forget: I wasn't drinking Gatorade. I haven't had one in months. She just thought she should tell me that rule. She then spent the rest of the evening lifting up her shirt and talking about how she's getting "dark hairs" and pimples on her belly. I kid you not.
Saturday my parents, my in-laws, my grandparents, my sister, and of course TH and I went and had a 4D ultrasound done of baby girl. TH and I really wanted to find a way to involve our parents in this process since they are not really around for much of the preparation excitement. True to form, baby girl was once again camera shy! She was actually bent in a full pike position--both her head AND her feat were up by my ribs. She used her legs and feet to hide her cute little face, and finally when convinced by our gentle prods to move them out of the way, she immediately buried her face in in arms. And then, at the end, the feet came back up. That's right. We have a shot of her hiding her face behind her legs AND arms. What an adorable little stinker. The tech told us we have a serious cuddler our hands. Baby girl, we can't wait for you to get here and bury your sweet little face in our arms and necks and chests! Our parents and grandparents teared up at the sight of her on the screen; they felt so lucky and blessed to be able to see her (and her appendages) in such detail. They can't wait for you to get here, Ali!!
After the ultrasound, TH and I went to Babies 'R' Us with the in-laws. They wanted to buy us our stroller system for the shower next weekend and figured it would be easier if we were there showing them which one, how registries work, etc. When my mother-in-law saw the stroller we picked out, she frowned and eventually asked us if we needed more time to reconsider our choice. Then she said she had been hoping we would have picked something a little more "sophisticated." At that point, my patience and endurance were wearing thin. The look I gave TH prompted him to take over and do most of the communicating with his parents from there on out.
That night we had the big birthday dinner at the in-laws house. Russian food is both the most delicious and most horrible food I've ever had, depending on the dish. Luckily being pregnant gives me free reign to be picky about what I eat, and no one was trying to force jellied meats or caviar on me as is typical for family meals at their house. By 10 p.m. I was exhausted and it was time to cut the party short. Luckily we were taking TH's grandparents home and they were ready to leave too, so we didn't even have to blame our early departure on me.
Sunday we got up and drove an hour north to visit my other grandmother and take her out to lunch. Then we turned around and headed home, for a total of about five hours in the car yesterday. Add to this packed weekend two nights of tossing and turning on an air mattress and then a futon, and I know you will believe me when I tell you I am SO happy to be back home, back to our normal crazy lives, back to my bed, my cats, my relatively calm pace.
So, as you can see, our lives have been busy, busy, busy. So much for taking these last two months to slow down and enjoy our free time before our lives change forever!
Monday, July 6, 2009
30/30
Today is a big day! I am exactly 30 weeks pregnant, and it's TH's 30th birthday! Time to C-E-L-E-B-R-A-T-E!
I can't even begin to tell you what it means to me to have such wonderful milestones for the two people who mean the most to me in the world on the same day. I've been trying to come up with the words to describe what TH's 30 years have meant, what he's been through in his life, what I've been through with him, how far he's come in the 14 years that I've known him. But it's too big. I am overwhelmed at the prospect of capturing those sentiments in words. All I can say is that 30 years ago, the world was much less fun. The world, not just me, is blessed to have the presence of his soul.
I am likewise overwhelmed at the prospect of framing what these last 30 weeks have meant to me, what Ali and I have been through together, how far she's come, what she's done to me in such a short time, how she's changed me.
I always knew these two, Ali and her daddy, were kindred spirits.
So today I celebrate you both.
And I love you both.
And I thank you both for what you've brought to my life. What you've given me. Who you are, and the promise that you represent for what's still to come.
Happy 30th to you both.
I can't even begin to tell you what it means to me to have such wonderful milestones for the two people who mean the most to me in the world on the same day. I've been trying to come up with the words to describe what TH's 30 years have meant, what he's been through in his life, what I've been through with him, how far he's come in the 14 years that I've known him. But it's too big. I am overwhelmed at the prospect of capturing those sentiments in words. All I can say is that 30 years ago, the world was much less fun. The world, not just me, is blessed to have the presence of his soul.
I am likewise overwhelmed at the prospect of framing what these last 30 weeks have meant to me, what Ali and I have been through together, how far she's come, what she's done to me in such a short time, how she's changed me.
I always knew these two, Ali and her daddy, were kindred spirits.
So today I celebrate you both.
And I love you both.
And I thank you both for what you've brought to my life. What you've given me. Who you are, and the promise that you represent for what's still to come.
Happy 30th to you both.
Friday, July 3, 2009
E is for Excitement
For my 22nd birthday, I wanted to go sky diving. You daddy, bless his heart, was terrified yet supportive, an emotional theme of his in our many years together. My dad was less supportive. He told me I was going to die while screaming and clawing at the air.
I was all swagger, all smiles, until I was in the plane, looking at the ground get smaller and smaller, looking at the land become smoother and greener. Surely this was as high as we'd go, right? I checked my altimeter. 7,000 feet. We were heading to 14,000 feet, and we were only halfway there. I had a brief "oh shit" moment.
The other jumpers laughed and joked around. My instructor told me about his wife being pregnant with their first child. My mind was pulled off our altitude, and I relaxed again. This was going to be awesome! That lasted until we hit 14,000 feet, until the first jumpers pulled the door to the tiny plane open, leaned back, and leapt into space. It wasn't the soaring kind of leap you see from cliff jumpers, where the body is launched into the air and seems to hang suspended for a brief moment before arcing gracefully back down to earth. No, when these jumpers jumped, they were sucked violently down and away from the plane, becoming tiny specks in the blink of an eye. My "oh SHIT" feeling returned with a vengeance. What had I gotten myself into?
And then it was our turn, shuffling awkwardly to the yawning door. I had told my instructor I wanted to flip out of the plane. Heck, if I was going to sky dive, might as well go all the way, right? My heart was pounding in my ears, and it may have been deafening if I weren't already deaf from the screaming wind.
Then the countdown. And then we jumped. As soon as we left the plane, I understood that the wind I had felt before was nothing compared to the wind that accosted us as we plummeted back to earth, spinning and flipping, not knowing which way was up or down. It rushed by so forcefully I couldn't actually manage to catch any of it to breathe. I wondered vaguely if I would have a heart attack or pass out from lack of oxygen first. I was frantic, trying to calm my racing heart and breathe and at the same time look around me, take in the fact that I was actually free falling right then--sky diving! Then I saw the cameraman, and actually managed to wave wildly at him, giving him two thumbs up.
Then we pulled the rip cord, and someone turned the wild wind machine off. The world was suddenly still. I was floating. The early-morning fields were golden. I've never experienced anything so serene. Before I knew it we were approaching the landing target, my feet were back on solid ground, and I was shouting with adrenaline and glee! Freaking AWESOME!
Now, was jumping out of a perfectly good plane the safest thing in the world to do? Probably not. There was always the chance, however small, that my dad would have been right and I would have died screaming, clawing at the air, waiting for a chute that never opened. But there will always be those chances, no matter what activity you're talking about.
Every moment in life, every decision, every action, comes with a chance that it will turn out badly for you. You can't escape this. So why live your life under it's thumb? Why make all of your decisions out of fear, fear of what if? Never let fear be the thing that keeps you from doing something.
The fact is, baby girl, that life is short. It seems like it's long, but before you know it your days and weeks and months and years will fill up. It's up to you what they fill up with. Choose excitement. Choose the things that make your heart race, that make your adrenaline surge. These moments give you something to look forward to, give you something to smile about, give your life a passion and a vibrance those who play it safer never know, never understand.
The flip side to this is not rushing blindly into excitement. You still have to be smart enough, thoughtful enough, to weigh the chances of "what if" against the excitment itself. Some of those equations won't balance favorably. And it's up to you to decide where your cutoff is.
Remember the adage, "Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take but by the number of moments that take your breath away." That morning I jumped out of a plane, my breath was quite certainly, literally taken away. And all those mornings, when your dad and I bungee-jumped in Mexico, scuba dived, zip-lined, tried to hang-glide off that hill . . . the night we snuck into the tower in Dallas and got locked out on the balcony after it closed for the night . . . when we crashed our scooter in Rome . . . walked to the Eiffel Tower and then wandered around Paris at 2 in the morning, lost, loving every second . . . all the trips we've taken when we could have been saving money . . . all the races I've done, riding my bike, one of 10,000 riding from Houston to Austin . . . transferring colleges to be with my high school love . . . sticking with him through every fight . . . saying yes to him and his offer of companionship for the rest of our lives . . . finally taking the leap to express our love for each other, to personify our life, our relationship, by having a baby, by having you . . . those moments and a million other memories that decorate the course of my life, ALL of them took my breath away.
Find the excitement in life. Be daring. And though you will be scared every.single.time. (trust me . . . I promise you I was scared for every last one of those memories), you will create a life that makes you smile as you fall asleep, the adrenaline slowly seeping from your veins.
I was all swagger, all smiles, until I was in the plane, looking at the ground get smaller and smaller, looking at the land become smoother and greener. Surely this was as high as we'd go, right? I checked my altimeter. 7,000 feet. We were heading to 14,000 feet, and we were only halfway there. I had a brief "oh shit" moment.
The other jumpers laughed and joked around. My instructor told me about his wife being pregnant with their first child. My mind was pulled off our altitude, and I relaxed again. This was going to be awesome! That lasted until we hit 14,000 feet, until the first jumpers pulled the door to the tiny plane open, leaned back, and leapt into space. It wasn't the soaring kind of leap you see from cliff jumpers, where the body is launched into the air and seems to hang suspended for a brief moment before arcing gracefully back down to earth. No, when these jumpers jumped, they were sucked violently down and away from the plane, becoming tiny specks in the blink of an eye. My "oh SHIT" feeling returned with a vengeance. What had I gotten myself into?
And then it was our turn, shuffling awkwardly to the yawning door. I had told my instructor I wanted to flip out of the plane. Heck, if I was going to sky dive, might as well go all the way, right? My heart was pounding in my ears, and it may have been deafening if I weren't already deaf from the screaming wind.
Then the countdown. And then we jumped. As soon as we left the plane, I understood that the wind I had felt before was nothing compared to the wind that accosted us as we plummeted back to earth, spinning and flipping, not knowing which way was up or down. It rushed by so forcefully I couldn't actually manage to catch any of it to breathe. I wondered vaguely if I would have a heart attack or pass out from lack of oxygen first. I was frantic, trying to calm my racing heart and breathe and at the same time look around me, take in the fact that I was actually free falling right then--sky diving! Then I saw the cameraman, and actually managed to wave wildly at him, giving him two thumbs up.
Then we pulled the rip cord, and someone turned the wild wind machine off. The world was suddenly still. I was floating. The early-morning fields were golden. I've never experienced anything so serene. Before I knew it we were approaching the landing target, my feet were back on solid ground, and I was shouting with adrenaline and glee! Freaking AWESOME!
Now, was jumping out of a perfectly good plane the safest thing in the world to do? Probably not. There was always the chance, however small, that my dad would have been right and I would have died screaming, clawing at the air, waiting for a chute that never opened. But there will always be those chances, no matter what activity you're talking about.
Every moment in life, every decision, every action, comes with a chance that it will turn out badly for you. You can't escape this. So why live your life under it's thumb? Why make all of your decisions out of fear, fear of what if? Never let fear be the thing that keeps you from doing something.
The fact is, baby girl, that life is short. It seems like it's long, but before you know it your days and weeks and months and years will fill up. It's up to you what they fill up with. Choose excitement. Choose the things that make your heart race, that make your adrenaline surge. These moments give you something to look forward to, give you something to smile about, give your life a passion and a vibrance those who play it safer never know, never understand.
The flip side to this is not rushing blindly into excitement. You still have to be smart enough, thoughtful enough, to weigh the chances of "what if" against the excitment itself. Some of those equations won't balance favorably. And it's up to you to decide where your cutoff is.
Remember the adage, "Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take but by the number of moments that take your breath away." That morning I jumped out of a plane, my breath was quite certainly, literally taken away. And all those mornings, when your dad and I bungee-jumped in Mexico, scuba dived, zip-lined, tried to hang-glide off that hill . . . the night we snuck into the tower in Dallas and got locked out on the balcony after it closed for the night . . . when we crashed our scooter in Rome . . . walked to the Eiffel Tower and then wandered around Paris at 2 in the morning, lost, loving every second . . . all the trips we've taken when we could have been saving money . . . all the races I've done, riding my bike, one of 10,000 riding from Houston to Austin . . . transferring colleges to be with my high school love . . . sticking with him through every fight . . . saying yes to him and his offer of companionship for the rest of our lives . . . finally taking the leap to express our love for each other, to personify our life, our relationship, by having a baby, by having you . . . those moments and a million other memories that decorate the course of my life, ALL of them took my breath away.
Find the excitement in life. Be daring. And though you will be scared every.single.time. (trust me . . . I promise you I was scared for every last one of those memories), you will create a life that makes you smile as you fall asleep, the adrenaline slowly seeping from your veins.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Dear World,
Shutthefuckup.
I am pregnant, not terminally ill. Please stop looking at me with pity.
Yes, it is hot. Of course it's hot. It's summertime in Texas. It's hot for everyone. Quit asking me, "How are you surviving in this HEAT????" as if I am performing a miracle. I am surviving the same way everyone else is: air conditioning. I work inside, in a nicely climate-controlled 72 degrees. Heck, most days I even wear a little sweater. I'm not a day laborer. Those are the people you should pity. I don't need you to tell me how miserable I should be because I'm NOT MISERABLE.
Last night we met some friends for dinner. There was a wait, and one open seat on the bench. A 90-year-old woman, literally hunched over with the weight of her 90 years, looked at the open seat, looked at me, and said, "I don't know which of us is worse off." Um, with all due respect, grandma, I'm going to go with YOU. Did I really just get compared to a 90-YEAR-OLD??
And while we're at it, let's talk about the comments. Yes, I'm big. I'm pregnant. I'm growing a big baby. It's my job to give her some room to grow, and she's still has another 5 or so lbs of adorable fatty smooshiness to add to her frame. So, Captain Obvious, there's really no need to say things like, "Wow, you're big!" And while we're at it, "Look at you! You're.............getting ready!" is a notably valiant attempt at sidestepping the "You're getting big" comment, but really you stepped right into the middle of the sentiment itself. And the face you give me when you ask when my last day of work is, and I tell you I still have three more months to go....yeah...not a good poker face.
So, to be perfectly clear: I'm surviving fine. There's nothing wrong. Yes, my ankles swell on some days, and sleep is getting a little uncomfortable, and my husband has to rub my back a little more than usual, but to be perfectly honest I had a harder time training for triathlons than I've had being pregnant, so if everyone could just stop with the negativity, with the pity, with the oh-you-poor-pregnant-thing, that would be great. Because quite frankly, it's making it a little bit harder to maintain my PollyfuckingAnna attitude.
kthanxbye,
the quite-happy-thank-you-very-much pregnant lady
I am pregnant, not terminally ill. Please stop looking at me with pity.
Yes, it is hot. Of course it's hot. It's summertime in Texas. It's hot for everyone. Quit asking me, "How are you surviving in this HEAT????" as if I am performing a miracle. I am surviving the same way everyone else is: air conditioning. I work inside, in a nicely climate-controlled 72 degrees. Heck, most days I even wear a little sweater. I'm not a day laborer. Those are the people you should pity. I don't need you to tell me how miserable I should be because I'm NOT MISERABLE.
Last night we met some friends for dinner. There was a wait, and one open seat on the bench. A 90-year-old woman, literally hunched over with the weight of her 90 years, looked at the open seat, looked at me, and said, "I don't know which of us is worse off." Um, with all due respect, grandma, I'm going to go with YOU. Did I really just get compared to a 90-YEAR-OLD??
And while we're at it, let's talk about the comments. Yes, I'm big. I'm pregnant. I'm growing a big baby. It's my job to give her some room to grow, and she's still has another 5 or so lbs of adorable fatty smooshiness to add to her frame. So, Captain Obvious, there's really no need to say things like, "Wow, you're big!" And while we're at it, "Look at you! You're.............getting ready!" is a notably valiant attempt at sidestepping the "You're getting big" comment, but really you stepped right into the middle of the sentiment itself. And the face you give me when you ask when my last day of work is, and I tell you I still have three more months to go....yeah...not a good poker face.
So, to be perfectly clear: I'm surviving fine. There's nothing wrong. Yes, my ankles swell on some days, and sleep is getting a little uncomfortable, and my husband has to rub my back a little more than usual, but to be perfectly honest I had a harder time training for triathlons than I've had being pregnant, so if everyone could just stop with the negativity, with the pity, with the oh-you-poor-pregnant-thing, that would be great. Because quite frankly, it's making it a little bit harder to maintain my PollyfuckingAnna attitude.
kthanxbye,
the quite-happy-thank-you-very-much pregnant lady
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