Week 31: the countdown hasn't begun

Announcements in church yesterday morning, Peter and I hadn't seen each other since he left for work somewhere between "Goodnight, baby. I love you" and 5:30 am. We met at church, and there seemed to be a million-and-one things we had to tell each other. He was staring at the 8-week old baby a couple rows ahead of us, I was sure of it. And he confirmed it with a gentle rub across my hard belly and "I cannot wait to have a little baby around again." Fatherhood looks so good on him.


In Peter's mind, this little girl's named. He even talks to her by name. But I'll have to see her little face before deciding for certain. (And no, we aren't sharing names this time either!). What we do know is that she's healthy and seems happy and feels to be more active than her brother and sister were, combined. I'm praying praying praying she's busy growing locks, because I have a secret little obsession with babies with heads full of hair.

Heartburn last pregnancy-- excruciating. Heartburn this pregnancy-- nonexistent.

Is that a myth like heart rate and a swinging pendant over the belly determine gender?

I'm up 20 pounds, things in my middle are quite rounded out, only I haven't seemed to grasp that this baby is due in 9 weeks. I keep saying that. 9 weeks.


I keep asking myself when I will realize the calendar has been ticking. So, it doesn't really tick, but it seems like week 31 might be the point when one would begin nesting, washing the little pink things and hanging them to dry. Planning day trips, night trips, weekend-getaways, holidays-- anything to pass the time. Reminding her husband the third crib needs assembled, the names list needs finalized, and I want a pedicure.

But sometimes it slips my mind I'm pregnant. Did you ever think that was possible? 31 weeks with child number 3, and you occasionally forget you're pregnant? But I only said I occasionally forget. Because there are the frequent punches that are so strong I've sometimes wondered if she can kick her way out. And then it's time to buckle my sandals. Hold your breath. If I could fasten them with my toes, I would.

Forgetting doesn't mean we're not excited. We're beyond excited, and I'm drinking this in.

I love being pregnant.



Pregnancy with one child-- something I've never experienced. 3 pregnancies and this is my first time carrying just one. Isn't that something? All the kicks and punches, the hands and feet pressed so hard against me you can almost make out the tiny fingers and toes. With every breath, sustaining the life of this little child. Pregnancy encourages me to sit taller and sleep straighter and eat better. I strive to grow in holiness, it's an incentive to stretch my patience.

Little bit of life.

I once read that a successful blogger posts a minimum of 3 times a week. Three times a week. 

I also read that black is a slimming color on women in their third trimester.

We're off to Ohio today, spending the weekend with dear friends and family. It's out last trip down, and bittersweet, to be sure. We haven't been able to see everyone we wanted to see, and have really made a small dent in the long list. Life can be difficult like that sometimes.

Sebastian and Katharina are quite good at keeping us on our toes. They are 10 months now. Don't blink.

10 months. . . that sounds so much

 older than 9 did.

Sebastian loves stealing food from his sister, eating tiny things, and chewing forks and knives. (See the trend?) He loves to dance. He can climb stairs, stand in his high chair, and feed himself two fistfuls of peas at once. He gives delicious kisses, will snuggle any time of day, and finds nap-time an important part of his routine. 

Grocery shopping suddenly got a whole lot better.

Katharina's mobility level went from 4 to 10 in a matter of weeks. She's a stair-climbing pro, and rolling-off-the-bed master. She's taken several steps in the front yard, unaided, then promptly falls to the grass. She's a girl of many gifts, quite the performer, and Grammy recently taught her to say "uh-oh", and in the proper context! She has different hand motions for different songs and will repeat letter sounds back to Mama. Perhaps her most-loved trick is her "scary face" (will try to post a video later). She dances to anything that sounds the slightest bit like a beat, and likes to read stories, eat, and eat.

They are part Willeke, after all.

Peter recently started work at a golf course, which, on top of his cabinet work, gives him 13-15+ hour work days, which we are thankful for. His skin has turned a handsome red-brown, and his hands are rough and blistered. He rises before the sun, and goes down long after it's set. He's a hard-working man. 

I am so much better than I deserve. This pregnancy has been great, and we can't even believe we have just 11 weeks left. I'm savoring this time with family, and surprisingly, keeping just busy enough.

Life is good, God is great. We have much to be thankful for.