April 6, 2014 - Week 17
As the title suggests, this post will just be a smattering of things. So, smatter away I will!
Smatter #1: Sickness
If you are observant, you will notice Week 16 was not lucky enough to get a baby post. This is because I was busy being miserable with a cold. I really cannot complain too much, though, I suppose. I was only miserable for a handful of days and God looked upon me favorably and kept me from the third and most vicious part of my sick cycle, The Cough.
When I get sick, I go through three stages. The sore throat, the congestion, and the cough. At each stage, I declare that it is the stage that I hate the most, but this is not really the truth. I hate the coughing the most. The sore throat that comes from drainage is miserable due to it making eating, drinking, and talking extremely unpleasant. The congestion is miserable because it makes my nose raw from using up a box of tissues each day and the periods of panic from not being able to breathe through the bubbles in my windpipe. But, the sore throat usually only lasts for a day or so, and the raw nose is greatly relieved by my newly discovered solution of applying Burt's Bees lip balm to the irritated areas. The Cough on the other hand... It can last for weeks. It makes sleeping impossible. It hurts everything from my throat down to my stomach. It has no cure, except time. I hate The Cough.
This time around, I was praying so hard that I would not get The Cough, that this cold was mild enough to warrant skipping stage three. Not only did I have the memory of my last battle with The Cough still in mind [twas absolute misery, I tell you], but I was already feeling slight effects of my nose blowing and throat clearing on the muscles in my lower abdomen. By day 3 or 4, I was even becoming mildly concerned that the constant force being exerted down there would somehow result in the kpluBlet being unceremoniously spewed out of my belly button. Yes, that sounds like a drastic and unrealistic scenario, but I seriously entertained this concern as being 1.7% possible. I am coming to accept that the most prominent pregnancy symptom I am experiencing is Utter Lack of Reason. *shakes fist*
But, God is good. I didn't even get a mild case of The Cough. My uterus stayed in its appropriate environment, as did the kpluBlet, and my belly button remains intact. Disaster averted.
Smatter #2: Movement
Flutterings. Quickenings. Popcorn poppings. Butterfly frolickings.
Nothing.
It's so hard to be patient!
I keep moving the marker for what needs to happen for me to be at peace. First, it was the first appointment. Then it was the ultrasound. Next came the initial blood work. Then the second appointment. Recently, I can finally start seeing a neat curve-like shape to my abdomen, and so of course that means I have increased my requirements for peace of mind to physically feeling movement from the kpluBlet. Nothing yet.
I'm not overly concerned as the range of time when you first recognize baby movement seems to be a pretty wide range of time. I'm not concerned, but I am impatient. Since I cannot install a window to look inside my uterus whenever I have the urge, I tell myself that I will just have to settle for the feelings of life inside of me. The feelings are bound to come sooner or later, but why oh why can it not be sooner? I realize more and more each day how impatient of a person I am. I need to go read the last chapter of a new book. Be right back.
Okay, I feel a little better now.
Smatter #3: Gender
Aside from the birth itself, I think the only thing left to fully, completely make this pregnancy real to us is finding out whether the kpluBlet is a boy or a girl. This is sure to be an unsurprising statement but, I am impatient. Finding out the gender will mean getting to see the kpluBlet once again on an ultrasound. Finding out the gender will mean getting to officially name our little half-Asian. Finding out the gender will mean the baby shopping can commence. It will be quite the day.
Speaking of baby shopping, going to the zoo on a fine Sunday afternoon makes for a perfect stroller-scouting opportunity. There were strollers galore! In this particular setting, however, I was limited to Jason's favorite instruction of "Look with your eyes, not with your hands," as the multitude of parents apparently would not have appreciated me testing out the various functions of their strollers. Or snacking on their child's bag of Cheerios. Sigh.
Smatter #4: Energy
I have felt absolutely incredible this week. Lethargy and the blues are a thing of yesterweek. Curling up on the couch with zero desire to do anything is no more. I feel like my normal self for the first time in a while. No more cold symptoms. The sun is out and Jason and I go out for a walk or spread out towels in our "backyard" and read for an hour. I literally feel myself rejuvenating. LIT-erally.
Pregnancy seems to go in these weird week-ish cycles. Twinges are present one week and are gone the next. Odd stomach sensations come one week and leave the next. Feeling like a hot air balloon tethered to the ground one week and feeling pleasantly deflated the next. Wanting a nap every 3 hours one week and managing to not take a nap all week the next. Worrying you won't make it to the bathroom 9 times a day one week and then experiencing Normal Person Bladder Control the next. The cycle-like feeling is really odd, but also anxiety-deflating. Knowing there's a very good chance that some little abnormal sensation is going to pass within a week keeps me from allowing myself to freak out for no particular reason.
This week, and hopefully for the ones to come, I am fully and completely energized. It has been lovely with a capital L. I physically and mentally feel great. God is good. Now if kpluBlet would just learn some Morse code and tap out a few messages, I would be absolutely satisfied. But alas, in all of our baby brainstorming sessions, we have not come up with a method to teach the kpluBlet Morse code except through Morse code...
Who knew a tiny little onion-sized person would be sitting inside of me right this minute?
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
Oh, little one. You're so tiny and hidden away and yet you seem to affect every little part of our lives, even now. I can only imagine how much more true this will be once you arrive and we get to solemnly shake hands. You will rightfully assume that you are the center of our world.
So, here's the scoop, kpluBlet. Here is how the world will work. Puma will chase the balled-up tissues. You will chase the Puma. We will chase you. Got it? Okay, good.
Life will be ever so bright when your cuteness arrives.
***Now that our secret posts and real time have caught up to each other, and since our secret posts aren't really much of a secret anymore, this shall be the last of them. Our normal life ramblings shall pick back up from here on out [which means Jason will finally blog again!].***
4.22.2014
4.17.2014
Secret Things #10: Mirrors
March 23, 2014 - Week 15
This week's task: Mirror gazing.
I cannot stop myself. Every time I go into the bathroom [*mutter mutter*I hate peeing*mutter mutter*], I have to look at myself in the mirror. I examine myself from all sides. I hold my stomach in as much as I physically can. I completely relax my stomach and try not to crinkle my face in disgust. I scrutinize the tiniest difference that I can notice from the last time I was in the bathroom [approximately 15 minutes ago, it often feels like].
I have a problem.
I want to look different. I want to look pregnant. I want to see the outward evidence that I have a person actively growing inside of me. I want a perfectly symmetrical and round stomach protrusion that shouts to the world that I am going to be a mom.
But.
But if I cannot suck in my gut as much as I used to or if I see an extra cm of "fat" nudging itself over the waist of my pants or if I notice the silhouette of my back is slightly lumpier than I previously remember it being... I come running out of the bathroom to Jason in despair that I look ugly and gross.
What is wrong with me?
I have never considered myself as having low self-esteem. In fact, I think I often esteem myself higher than probably is deserved [or is that just low self-esteem butting its head in?]. I like to think that I am just straight forward with myself, whether it is about my personality or my skills or my looks. To time-stamp my current opinions on these matters, I will resort to bullet points.
This week's task: Mirror gazing.
I cannot stop myself. Every time I go into the bathroom [*mutter mutter*I hate peeing*mutter mutter*], I have to look at myself in the mirror. I examine myself from all sides. I hold my stomach in as much as I physically can. I completely relax my stomach and try not to crinkle my face in disgust. I scrutinize the tiniest difference that I can notice from the last time I was in the bathroom [approximately 15 minutes ago, it often feels like].
I have a problem.
I want to look different. I want to look pregnant. I want to see the outward evidence that I have a person actively growing inside of me. I want a perfectly symmetrical and round stomach protrusion that shouts to the world that I am going to be a mom.
But.
But if I cannot suck in my gut as much as I used to or if I see an extra cm of "fat" nudging itself over the waist of my pants or if I notice the silhouette of my back is slightly lumpier than I previously remember it being... I come running out of the bathroom to Jason in despair that I look ugly and gross.
What is wrong with me?
I have never considered myself as having low self-esteem. In fact, I think I often esteem myself higher than probably is deserved [or is that just low self-esteem butting its head in?]. I like to think that I am just straight forward with myself, whether it is about my personality or my skills or my looks. To time-stamp my current opinions on these matters, I will resort to bullet points.
- Personality
- Does not interact with people well.
- Withdrawn in unfamiliar situations.
- Weirdly spazzy in familiar situations.
- A tad boring/dull/uninteresting in social environments.
- Content.
- Humor borders on pleasantly quirky to downright odd.
- Judgmental and quick to form opinions or impressions. [I feel inclined to point out that they are often quite accurate... See? I esteem myself quite highly. :D]
- Skills
- Slow to learn but intelligent with a very high capacity to learn.
- Randomly observant.
- Little ambition.
- Excellent muscle memory.
- Terrible at running.
- Looks
- Short extremities.
- Asian...ish.
- Round face with average features.
- Thick torso.
- Good back.
- Squat knees.
- Cup ears.
- Nice hands.
In summary, I am an unexciting person who has excellent insides and a physical appearance that holds steady between meh and nice. I think this is an accurate summary. It may not sound like a glowing review but I do not think it is disparaging either. It just... is. That's me. I'm okay with being okay.
I realize, however, that this may sound like I do not think very highly of myself or that I am wallowing in some degree of low self-esteem, especially when it comes to the bottom line of how I view my physical appearance. And I cannot decide whether this is the case or not. It is true that I do not consider myself to be "gorgeous" or even just "beautiful," but I do think I can have my "pretty" moments. Generally, though, honestly, I look at myself and come to the conclusion that I look "decent." And I don't think "decent" is bad. It is fine. It is okay. It is neither awesome nor horrible. It is.. acceptable.
Is this low self-esteem? I don't think so. I am not esteeming myself higher than I deserve, but I also do not feel like I am degrading myself. I am even reasonable enough to fully accept that physical appearances have a huge component of subjectivity from one person to the next and that others [i.e. Jason] can honestly believe that I am beautiful without me thinking he's completely full of it.
SO. What in the world does all of this have to do with my pregnancy mirror gazing? Yes, I may have strayed off topic a bit, but what else is new. What all of this has to do with my mirror gazing is that, apparently, despite my straight forward opinion about my looks and subsequent acceptance of them, I somehow keep letting my brain feel ridiculous things and my mouth say ridiculous things, things that I often do not even believe [when I truly think about them]. I am not gross. I am not ugly. It is one thing to believe I am [which would be an entirely different problem, but luckily that is not the case for me], but it is an entirely different and even more ridiculous of a thing [in my opinion] to not think this and yet allow my mouth and brain to spew it out at random moments of insecurity. It is just downright silly.
I can't suck in my stomach as much anymore because all of my insides are being jostled about and there is that tiny issue of a person growing inside of me. That extra cm of "fat" around my waistline is currently noticeable by no one, unless I make Jason stare it at for 15 minutes, and even if it was, again, there's a person growing inside of me. And don't even get me started on the "lumpy silhouette" discussion... [Note: The lumps are there, but they currently have zero affect on my overall appearance.]
I greatly dislike when my normally rational brain starts making irrational declarations that it may or may not contradict 15 minutes later on the next bathroom trip. This must stop.
I must remember the bottom line. I am who I am. I am pregnant. I may not feel like I look my best at times. I may never think I am gorgeous. But I know I will never truly think I am "gross and ugly." The lies must stop coming from my mouth. And this applies to post-pregnancy as well.
Additional note: I do not look pregnant yet. I have not gained any weight yet. In a moment of impatience at my own body, I may have googled "What does a pregnant Asian look like?" I can neither confirm nor deny this happening.
Addendum to additional note: I did google that. I did. Conclusion? They look like Asians who are pregnant.
Who knew a tiny little apple-sized person could stay so perfectly hidden inside of my body?
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
SO. What in the world does all of this have to do with my pregnancy mirror gazing? Yes, I may have strayed off topic a bit, but what else is new. What all of this has to do with my mirror gazing is that, apparently, despite my straight forward opinion about my looks and subsequent acceptance of them, I somehow keep letting my brain feel ridiculous things and my mouth say ridiculous things, things that I often do not even believe [when I truly think about them]. I am not gross. I am not ugly. It is one thing to believe I am [which would be an entirely different problem, but luckily that is not the case for me], but it is an entirely different and even more ridiculous of a thing [in my opinion] to not think this and yet allow my mouth and brain to spew it out at random moments of insecurity. It is just downright silly.
I can't suck in my stomach as much anymore because all of my insides are being jostled about and there is that tiny issue of a person growing inside of me. That extra cm of "fat" around my waistline is currently noticeable by no one, unless I make Jason stare it at for 15 minutes, and even if it was, again, there's a person growing inside of me. And don't even get me started on the "lumpy silhouette" discussion... [Note: The lumps are there, but they currently have zero affect on my overall appearance.]
I greatly dislike when my normally rational brain starts making irrational declarations that it may or may not contradict 15 minutes later on the next bathroom trip. This must stop.
I must remember the bottom line. I am who I am. I am pregnant. I may not feel like I look my best at times. I may never think I am gorgeous. But I know I will never truly think I am "gross and ugly." The lies must stop coming from my mouth. And this applies to post-pregnancy as well.
Additional note: I do not look pregnant yet. I have not gained any weight yet. In a moment of impatience at my own body, I may have googled "What does a pregnant Asian look like?" I can neither confirm nor deny this happening.
Addendum to additional note: I did google that. I did. Conclusion? They look like Asians who are pregnant.
Who knew a tiny little apple-sized person could stay so perfectly hidden inside of my body?
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
This week's ridiculous milestone is your ability to sense light. I don't even know what to do with that. The fact that I could shine a flashlight on my stomach and you could sense it through your little closed eyelids is... mind boggling. You're only 4 inches long! You are such a cool baby. When I read about this flashlight trick, I thought for sure it was a joke. Several internet articles later, I decided there must be some truth in it. I then proceeded to pound down the bathroom door to excitedly tell your daddy. He was impressed but did not nearly express as much enthusiasm and awe as I did. This may, of course, have had something to do with him being in the bathroom... Who can say really? Either way, please expect some random bursts of flashlighting over the course of the next few months. We apologize in advance.
Also, please do not feel rushed to grow quicker or show yourself sooner just to fulfill my desires to have a pregnant belly. Grow at the pace you're supposed to. I will attempt to get a handle on my impatience and illogical/irrational thinking now so you will be subjected to as little of it as possible upon your arrival. Oh little kpluBlet, we like logic. We do. You will, too.
I need to go pee again now. I blame you, but in the ever-est of good ways. Sprout on!
4.14.2014
Secret Things #9: Origins
March 16, 2014 - Week 14
I was adopted when I was just a wee little chubster. I resembled not one of the 5 other members of my family. Sure, Evan was Korean, too, but we never looked at all alike, in my opinion. Completely different coloring. Completely different facial structure. I like to tease that surely he must be from North Korea. Surely.
It never bothered me that I didn't look like any of my family members. You don't need physical resemblance to create a loving environment. I always loved that there were so many differences in my family. I liked to think that we were this tiny little traveling circus from around the world. We were all unique. It was really neat.
But the other day, the thought came to me again: I don't know anyone who looks like me [on a more specific basis than "Asian"]. I can't look in a mirror and think, "I have so-and-so's eyes. When I smile, I look like so-and-so. So-and-so gave me their nose crinkle." I still don't consider it a necessarily negative thing. It doesn't bother me in the least. It's just a random thought. A passing thought.
But then, I had this brilliant, super exciting thought: Come September, I will meet someone who will inevitably resemble me. A flesh and blood relation. Someone I will look at and immediately see a part of myself, whether in the eyes or the smile or the nose crinkle or maybe even just in the chubbiest of chubby arms and legs. I will be able to see me, for the first time ever, in someone else. I find this exhilarating.
I'm going to have a blood relative!
On a slightly related note, my parents recently sent me a copy of the papers they had for me from when I was first born and adopted. I hadn't seen them in years and getting to read them was like reading them for the first time, especially in light of the baby kpluBlet. I'm not sure who enjoyed reading about baby Sharayah more, me or Jason. What we found particularly entertaining were some descriptions of my habits that were formed all the way back when I was adorable and that have continued on to this very day.
Example 1: There was a note that read, "Kicks her quilt off while sleeping." Yes. I still do that. All the time. It is absolutely necessary or else I just may die underneath the blanket from either overheating, smothering, or a nasty case of the "I can't untangle myself from the sheets and am about to fweak out!" I cannot confirm that these are the same reasons I did this as a baby, but I have strong suspicions.
Example 2: This little tidbit was also jotted down as notable, "Cries at the beginning of a bath, but feels refreshed later." I have yet to decide if it is hilarious or unbelievably saddening that, 27 years later, this still describes me to a T [or is it tee? or tea? or TREE!]. I suppose nowadays I manage to keep the tears in check, but "You aren't the boss of me!" and "You can't tell me what to do!" are at the top of my shower refusal arsenal. I just don't like taking showers! But I like being clean! It is a complicated, conundrum-filled life I live. Poor Jason has to be the Shower Salesman or the Shower Nazi, depending on which tactic that particular day requires. The Salesman tries to remind me of how glad I'll be and how refreshed I'll feel once I shower [and he's always, always right]. The Nazi just throws me in the shower [reminiscent of the early days of my babyhood, no doubt]. Apparently, some things never change.
Who knew a tiny little lemon-sized person could give me such a strong sense of my own identity?
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
You may now be able to suck your thumb in the cutest fashion ever. There will probably come a day when I may need to tell you to stop sucking your thumb, but that time, little guy, is not now. Suck on! Be adorable. Grow your limbs. Fuzzify your little body. Be who you are meant to be.
I know it probably doesn't mean much to you now, but you're going to look like the perfect meld of your daddy and me. Trust me, you have a good thing going on. I believe my baby self to be of the "Oh my word, you're so cute I want to steal you!" variety, and your dad is absolutely adorable with his gorgeous eyes and dimples. You are bound to be perfect.
You will never have to wonder where you inherited your tiny little nose from or who gave you your tiny little cup-like ears. Just look at me. Look at your daddy. God used us to make you. It may not have much significance to you right now, but, trust me, we consider it the greatest of blessings to call you wholly and completely ours.
I love you, you little blood relative o' mine!
I was adopted when I was just a wee little chubster. I resembled not one of the 5 other members of my family. Sure, Evan was Korean, too, but we never looked at all alike, in my opinion. Completely different coloring. Completely different facial structure. I like to tease that surely he must be from North Korea. Surely.
It never bothered me that I didn't look like any of my family members. You don't need physical resemblance to create a loving environment. I always loved that there were so many differences in my family. I liked to think that we were this tiny little traveling circus from around the world. We were all unique. It was really neat.
But the other day, the thought came to me again: I don't know anyone who looks like me [on a more specific basis than "Asian"]. I can't look in a mirror and think, "I have so-and-so's eyes. When I smile, I look like so-and-so. So-and-so gave me their nose crinkle." I still don't consider it a necessarily negative thing. It doesn't bother me in the least. It's just a random thought. A passing thought.
But then, I had this brilliant, super exciting thought: Come September, I will meet someone who will inevitably resemble me. A flesh and blood relation. Someone I will look at and immediately see a part of myself, whether in the eyes or the smile or the nose crinkle or maybe even just in the chubbiest of chubby arms and legs. I will be able to see me, for the first time ever, in someone else. I find this exhilarating.
I'm going to have a blood relative!
On a slightly related note, my parents recently sent me a copy of the papers they had for me from when I was first born and adopted. I hadn't seen them in years and getting to read them was like reading them for the first time, especially in light of the baby kpluBlet. I'm not sure who enjoyed reading about baby Sharayah more, me or Jason. What we found particularly entertaining were some descriptions of my habits that were formed all the way back when I was adorable and that have continued on to this very day.
Example 1: There was a note that read, "Kicks her quilt off while sleeping." Yes. I still do that. All the time. It is absolutely necessary or else I just may die underneath the blanket from either overheating, smothering, or a nasty case of the "I can't untangle myself from the sheets and am about to fweak out!" I cannot confirm that these are the same reasons I did this as a baby, but I have strong suspicions.
Example 2: This little tidbit was also jotted down as notable, "Cries at the beginning of a bath, but feels refreshed later." I have yet to decide if it is hilarious or unbelievably saddening that, 27 years later, this still describes me to a T [or is it tee? or tea? or TREE!]. I suppose nowadays I manage to keep the tears in check, but "You aren't the boss of me!" and "You can't tell me what to do!" are at the top of my shower refusal arsenal. I just don't like taking showers! But I like being clean! It is a complicated, conundrum-filled life I live. Poor Jason has to be the Shower Salesman or the Shower Nazi, depending on which tactic that particular day requires. The Salesman tries to remind me of how glad I'll be and how refreshed I'll feel once I shower [and he's always, always right]. The Nazi just throws me in the shower [reminiscent of the early days of my babyhood, no doubt]. Apparently, some things never change.
Who knew a tiny little lemon-sized person could give me such a strong sense of my own identity?
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
You may now be able to suck your thumb in the cutest fashion ever. There will probably come a day when I may need to tell you to stop sucking your thumb, but that time, little guy, is not now. Suck on! Be adorable. Grow your limbs. Fuzzify your little body. Be who you are meant to be.
I know it probably doesn't mean much to you now, but you're going to look like the perfect meld of your daddy and me. Trust me, you have a good thing going on. I believe my baby self to be of the "Oh my word, you're so cute I want to steal you!" variety, and your dad is absolutely adorable with his gorgeous eyes and dimples. You are bound to be perfect.
You will never have to wonder where you inherited your tiny little nose from or who gave you your tiny little cup-like ears. Just look at me. Look at your daddy. God used us to make you. It may not have much significance to you right now, but, trust me, we consider it the greatest of blessings to call you wholly and completely ours.
I love you, you little blood relative o' mine!
4.10.2014
Secret Things #8: Loved
March 9, 2014 - Week 13
The world should know what an incredible husband I have. If you already know this or you wish to not know about this, then you have my permission to ignore this particular post.
Some days, for no particular reason that I can fathom, I have these overwhelming feelings of lethargy. Just thinking about having to get up and go do things is exhausting. I am 92% sure that the lethargy is 83% in my head. The fact that my laziness is taking advantage of my pregnancy is not surprising in the least.
Luckily, I am absolutely, wholeheartedly loved.
Jason and I are a grand team. I present him with problems of all sizes. I curl up in a ball. I tell him the world is coming to an end. And, without fail, he makes me look him in the eyes and asks, "Who solves all your problems?" and then goes and solves them. Whether it is piggy-backing me to the bathroom, doing all the dishes, making dinner or going grocery shopping all by his lonesome, or getting the bed ready for sleepy times, he solves every big, small, seemingly gigantically important problem that I deem [in my moment of sleepiness, grumpiness, laziness, etc.] to be absolutely unsolvable. He solves them again, and again, and again. He even gets out of bed and warms the frigid toilet seat for me in the middle of the night. Yes, that is love. And no, that is not TMI.
He holds me when I'm grumpy. He prays for me when I'm stressed. He crazily dances for me to make me smile [just like in Babe!]. He spins simple animal tales to help me go back to sleep.
And he asks for absolutely nothing in return.
I don't know how he does it. He never complains. He never hints that I might be taking advantage of this whole pregnancy thing. He never even hesitates or sighs when I make yet another silly request of him ["I don't want to put on my pants. Will you do it for me?]. Some days I feel like I am unfairly using him and his selflessness, but he never seems to feel used. He always seems genuinely willing to do whatever little thing I could possibly desire. How in the world do I deserve this man?
He dances with me to calm my worries. He brings me the case for my contacts when I want to take a nap but don't want to go to the bathroom to remove my contacts. He covers my desk with water bottles so I don't have to get up during work to get a drink. He brings me snacks whenever I have munchies, no matter what time it is. He feeds the birds, for me. He takes care of all cat-related tasks, for me. He does the laundry. He takes care of every smelly job. He volunteers to do any unpleasant piece of housework that I don't like to do.
And he does all of this while going to school, working on his research, providing for our family, and planning for our future.
The world should know what an incredible husband I have. If you already know this or you wish to not know about this, then you have my permission to ignore this particular post.
Some days, for no particular reason that I can fathom, I have these overwhelming feelings of lethargy. Just thinking about having to get up and go do things is exhausting. I am 92% sure that the lethargy is 83% in my head. The fact that my laziness is taking advantage of my pregnancy is not surprising in the least.
Luckily, I am absolutely, wholeheartedly loved.
Jason and I are a grand team. I present him with problems of all sizes. I curl up in a ball. I tell him the world is coming to an end. And, without fail, he makes me look him in the eyes and asks, "Who solves all your problems?" and then goes and solves them. Whether it is piggy-backing me to the bathroom, doing all the dishes, making dinner or going grocery shopping all by his lonesome, or getting the bed ready for sleepy times, he solves every big, small, seemingly gigantically important problem that I deem [in my moment of sleepiness, grumpiness, laziness, etc.] to be absolutely unsolvable. He solves them again, and again, and again. He even gets out of bed and warms the frigid toilet seat for me in the middle of the night. Yes, that is love. And no, that is not TMI.
He holds me when I'm grumpy. He prays for me when I'm stressed. He crazily dances for me to make me smile [just like in Babe!]. He spins simple animal tales to help me go back to sleep.
And he asks for absolutely nothing in return.
I don't know how he does it. He never complains. He never hints that I might be taking advantage of this whole pregnancy thing. He never even hesitates or sighs when I make yet another silly request of him ["I don't want to put on my pants. Will you do it for me?]. Some days I feel like I am unfairly using him and his selflessness, but he never seems to feel used. He always seems genuinely willing to do whatever little thing I could possibly desire. How in the world do I deserve this man?
He dances with me to calm my worries. He brings me the case for my contacts when I want to take a nap but don't want to go to the bathroom to remove my contacts. He covers my desk with water bottles so I don't have to get up during work to get a drink. He brings me snacks whenever I have munchies, no matter what time it is. He feeds the birds, for me. He takes care of all cat-related tasks, for me. He does the laundry. He takes care of every smelly job. He volunteers to do any unpleasant piece of housework that I don't like to do.
And he does all of this while going to school, working on his research, providing for our family, and planning for our future.
Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church...
More than any other thing in this life, Jason is how I see Christ's love. I know I am loved beyond measure.
One thought that gives me a severe case of the warm fuzzies is that Jason is not only doing all of this for me, but also for the little person inside of me. I think my heart will crack a little bit [in ohsuchagood way] when I see Jason loving on his little half-Asian. It may be the thing I am looking forward to the most. He will be an incredible dad. Gah.
One thought that gives me a severe case of the warm fuzzies is that Jason is not only doing all of this for me, but also for the little person inside of me. I think my heart will crack a little bit [in ohsuchagood way] when I see Jason loving on his little half-Asian. It may be the thing I am looking forward to the most. He will be an incredible dad. Gah.
Who knew a tiny little pea-pod-sized person could already be so loved?
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
You have fingerprints. That is insane. If you are a little girl, you already have half of our grandchild inside of you. That is even more insane. You become more miraculous every day.
Here's your first lesson in love, little one. Listen up. This is the truest thing I know. Love, in its purest form, is never earned or fully deserved. Love just is. It often has little to do with us. It has everything to do with the giver of the love, whether the giver is God or your parents or your spouse. This kind of love is the same on the bad days as well as the good days. It is just as strong when you've messed up as when you have worked hard, behaved well, and done everything "right." It is completely undeserved and yet you are wholly deserving in the eyes of the giver. It is a fantastic mystery.
You are loved beyond measure. You don't ever have to understand it. Just accept it.
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
You have fingerprints. That is insane. If you are a little girl, you already have half of our grandchild inside of you. That is even more insane. You become more miraculous every day.
Here's your first lesson in love, little one. Listen up. This is the truest thing I know. Love, in its purest form, is never earned or fully deserved. Love just is. It often has little to do with us. It has everything to do with the giver of the love, whether the giver is God or your parents or your spouse. This kind of love is the same on the bad days as well as the good days. It is just as strong when you've messed up as when you have worked hard, behaved well, and done everything "right." It is completely undeserved and yet you are wholly deserving in the eyes of the giver. It is a fantastic mystery.
You are loved beyond measure. You don't ever have to understand it. Just accept it.
4.07.2014
Secret Things #7: Education
March 2, 2014 - Week 12
I'm all about being educated about various things. Learning things, knowing things, preparing yourself for things... It's all good. You don't know that word? Look it up in a dictionary [online or otherwise]. You don't understand that issue? Research its origins, familiarize yourself with opposing opinions.You don't know whether an owl's face really is like a giant ear? Do some light owl reading [and supplement it with Ze Frank's questionable factoids]. You don't know what to expect when it comes to this scary, unfamiliar thing called pregnancy? Google it!
Oh wait. No. Don't do that. It's a terrible, terrible idea.
Yes, I realize there is a ton of good, helpful information out there. But, let's be real. It's the internet. And the internet can be such a cesspool of negativity, horror stories, and contradicting "expert" advice. Being the overly imaginative, what-if scenario type of person that I already am, I need no help in coming up with reasons to freak out. Does a twinge in my left side have a significant meaning? If I'm no longer feeling as hungry, does this mean I'm no longer pregnant? Will I have squashed the baby if I wake up in the middle of the night and I'm sleeping on my stomach? If I haven't gained any weight whatsoever, does that mean my baby isn't growing?
So many questions. So many variables. So many unknowns.
But, I have reached a decision. No more interneting of symptoms. No more googling of what ifs. No more wasting time wondering if that random person's experience is something I should be concerned about as well. Pregnancy seems to be different for everyone. Imagining the worst changes nothing. These are facts. I like facts. I must remember these facts.
It sounds illogical, but I am choosing to remain minimally educated. For my sanity, it seems like the most logical thing to do. Ironic.
BUT. Back to the aforementioned owl education, and other random, non-pregnancy-related, life education. Jason and I have started the training of the little kpluBlet, as education can never start too soon! Whether the topic is about sports or animals or school subjects or holidays, I find it immensely entertaining to hear Jason expound about Life to the kpluBlet in such a matter-of-fact-way. One particular description that I enjoyed was how a giraffe is "like a dog and an ostrich put together." Another tidbit worth mentioning [despite its unsurprising nature] is how "Math is good. We like math." Jason is going to be an incredible dad. I can feel it in my bones.
Who knew a tiny little lime-sized person could begin its trek to brilliance so early?
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
Obviously, we are going to have to re-explain the world to you all over again once you're capable of comprehension and aren't just floating around in a sea of vibrations from our voices. Obviously. But you have no idea how exciting that prospect is to us.
The way you see and experience and learn about the world will be completely unique to you. It's a fascinating place. I can't wait to rediscover things with you. We will gurgle at each other. We will munch on our fists together. We will be the captive audience for your daddy's stories of Spike and Chewy. We will have educational adventures galore! Just you wait.
And just so you know, I personally think it's a disservice to the giraffe to be imagined as a dogstrich. I'll let you draw your own conclusions when you arrive.
I'm all about being educated about various things. Learning things, knowing things, preparing yourself for things... It's all good. You don't know that word? Look it up in a dictionary [online or otherwise]. You don't understand that issue? Research its origins, familiarize yourself with opposing opinions.You don't know whether an owl's face really is like a giant ear? Do some light owl reading [and supplement it with Ze Frank's questionable factoids]. You don't know what to expect when it comes to this scary, unfamiliar thing called pregnancy? Google it!
Oh wait. No. Don't do that. It's a terrible, terrible idea.
Yes, I realize there is a ton of good, helpful information out there. But, let's be real. It's the internet. And the internet can be such a cesspool of negativity, horror stories, and contradicting "expert" advice. Being the overly imaginative, what-if scenario type of person that I already am, I need no help in coming up with reasons to freak out. Does a twinge in my left side have a significant meaning? If I'm no longer feeling as hungry, does this mean I'm no longer pregnant? Will I have squashed the baby if I wake up in the middle of the night and I'm sleeping on my stomach? If I haven't gained any weight whatsoever, does that mean my baby isn't growing?
So many questions. So many variables. So many unknowns.
But, I have reached a decision. No more interneting of symptoms. No more googling of what ifs. No more wasting time wondering if that random person's experience is something I should be concerned about as well. Pregnancy seems to be different for everyone. Imagining the worst changes nothing. These are facts. I like facts. I must remember these facts.
It sounds illogical, but I am choosing to remain minimally educated. For my sanity, it seems like the most logical thing to do. Ironic.
BUT. Back to the aforementioned owl education, and other random, non-pregnancy-related, life education. Jason and I have started the training of the little kpluBlet, as education can never start too soon! Whether the topic is about sports or animals or school subjects or holidays, I find it immensely entertaining to hear Jason expound about Life to the kpluBlet in such a matter-of-fact-way. One particular description that I enjoyed was how a giraffe is "like a dog and an ostrich put together." Another tidbit worth mentioning [despite its unsurprising nature] is how "Math is good. We like math." Jason is going to be an incredible dad. I can feel it in my bones.
Who knew a tiny little lime-sized person could begin its trek to brilliance so early?
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
Obviously, we are going to have to re-explain the world to you all over again once you're capable of comprehension and aren't just floating around in a sea of vibrations from our voices. Obviously. But you have no idea how exciting that prospect is to us.
The way you see and experience and learn about the world will be completely unique to you. It's a fascinating place. I can't wait to rediscover things with you. We will gurgle at each other. We will munch on our fists together. We will be the captive audience for your daddy's stories of Spike and Chewy. We will have educational adventures galore! Just you wait.
And just so you know, I personally think it's a disservice to the giraffe to be imagined as a dogstrich. I'll let you draw your own conclusions when you arrive.
4.02.2014
Secret Things #6: Miracles
February 23, 2014 - Week 11
It is official. I HAVE A PERSON INSIDE OF ME. I'm not entirely sure what to do with that. I feel like jumping on our bed, but A) I don't know if that's becoming for a parent-to-be (?) and B) I am still questioning whether every little thing I do is good for the kpluBlet. Because there IS a kpluBlet. We saw him/her. I saw the dancing. And stretching. And fist pumping. And leg crossing. And heart beating. I saw it. It is real. God is breathtaking.
This week has been filled with many held breaths and fears and stomach jumblies and too many crying-for-no-reason episodes and worries and now... Such joy. We saw our baby. Everything in the world is good. God is faithful.
Unbeknownst to me, apparently water gorging is recommended before going in for an ultrasound. So, being the ridiculous people that we are, Jason and I did a practice water-gorging run the night before our appointment. Why did Jason participate you ask? Because he is that awesome of a father-to-be. I love him so ridiculously much. So, we sat. We drink 32+ ounces of water. And then we waited to see how long we could keep from running to the bathroom. It was quite the experience.
What was gained from this practice run? I discovered that chugging that much water in such a short period of time elicits a very odd sensation. I could eventually feel the water in my bladder, my stomach, and my esophagus all at the same time. I do not advise it. It's weird. Secondly, I discovered that there exists a very real fear of accidentally peeing yourself and not being able to do anything about it. I did not know this prior. I have never had that fear. For a 12-hour period this week, I experienced this fear. It's a tad awkward.
Luckily for everyone involved, no change of pants was needed. All of my dignity remains intact. Whew.
This passage has never seemed so real to me as it does now, now that I have seen the absolute miracle of a life inside of me. Me. Who am I? The honor of being such a tangible part of such a miraculous work of God leaves me speechless.
God, Who laid the foundations of the earth, Who has caused the dawn to know its place, Who has given the horse its might, and Who has commanded the eagle to mount up and make its nest on high, has spoken a tiny little being into existence and has granted us the honor of raising it to live the life purposed by Him. It is mind blowing, and we do not take the responsibility lightly. Lord, help us to never take this responsibility lightly.
Who knew a tiny little fig-sized person could seem more miraculous than the creation of the entire heavens and earth?
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
The miracle that is you absolutely astounds me. To see all 2 inches of you, your little hands, your little feet, your little belly... There are no words. Some may say that your growth and development and very existence is just a biological process, something that just is. I cannot see it that way. I can only see you as the most wonderful, deliberate, miraculous creation, personally created and formed by God Himself, wholly and truly perfect in His image. You could never be anything less.
Every day we pray for you and your continued health and growth. I admit, I sometimes allow my worrisome nature to take over as I think about all of the developments you have yet to go through and all of the time that remains until we get to meet you and hold you. But more and more, I am trying to rely on the knowledge that God has a personal, specific interest in you and that His hands are forming you. Because that is the bottom-line truth: You are being formed by the same God who commands the seas of the world. It's crazy, I know. Who am I to doubt His power and authority?
So, grow, little one. And know that, even now, months before you ever take your first breath of air, you are loved incredibly. I hope it's cozy for you in there. <3
It is official. I HAVE A PERSON INSIDE OF ME. I'm not entirely sure what to do with that. I feel like jumping on our bed, but A) I don't know if that's becoming for a parent-to-be (?) and B) I am still questioning whether every little thing I do is good for the kpluBlet. Because there IS a kpluBlet. We saw him/her. I saw the dancing. And stretching. And fist pumping. And leg crossing. And heart beating. I saw it. It is real. God is breathtaking.
This week has been filled with many held breaths and fears and stomach jumblies and too many crying-for-no-reason episodes and worries and now... Such joy. We saw our baby. Everything in the world is good. God is faithful.
Unbeknownst to me, apparently water gorging is recommended before going in for an ultrasound. So, being the ridiculous people that we are, Jason and I did a practice water-gorging run the night before our appointment. Why did Jason participate you ask? Because he is that awesome of a father-to-be. I love him so ridiculously much. So, we sat. We drink 32+ ounces of water. And then we waited to see how long we could keep from running to the bathroom. It was quite the experience.
What was gained from this practice run? I discovered that chugging that much water in such a short period of time elicits a very odd sensation. I could eventually feel the water in my bladder, my stomach, and my esophagus all at the same time. I do not advise it. It's weird. Secondly, I discovered that there exists a very real fear of accidentally peeing yourself and not being able to do anything about it. I did not know this prior. I have never had that fear. For a 12-hour period this week, I experienced this fear. It's a tad awkward.
Luckily for everyone involved, no change of pants was needed. All of my dignity remains intact. Whew.
For You formed my inward parts;
You covered me in my mother’s womb.
I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well.
My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.
This passage has never seemed so real to me as it does now, now that I have seen the absolute miracle of a life inside of me. Me. Who am I? The honor of being such a tangible part of such a miraculous work of God leaves me speechless.
God, Who laid the foundations of the earth, Who has caused the dawn to know its place, Who has given the horse its might, and Who has commanded the eagle to mount up and make its nest on high, has spoken a tiny little being into existence and has granted us the honor of raising it to live the life purposed by Him. It is mind blowing, and we do not take the responsibility lightly. Lord, help us to never take this responsibility lightly.
Who knew a tiny little fig-sized person could seem more miraculous than the creation of the entire heavens and earth?
Dear Tiny Little Half-Asian kpluBlet,
The miracle that is you absolutely astounds me. To see all 2 inches of you, your little hands, your little feet, your little belly... There are no words. Some may say that your growth and development and very existence is just a biological process, something that just is. I cannot see it that way. I can only see you as the most wonderful, deliberate, miraculous creation, personally created and formed by God Himself, wholly and truly perfect in His image. You could never be anything less.
Every day we pray for you and your continued health and growth. I admit, I sometimes allow my worrisome nature to take over as I think about all of the developments you have yet to go through and all of the time that remains until we get to meet you and hold you. But more and more, I am trying to rely on the knowledge that God has a personal, specific interest in you and that His hands are forming you. Because that is the bottom-line truth: You are being formed by the same God who commands the seas of the world. It's crazy, I know. Who am I to doubt His power and authority?
So, grow, little one. And know that, even now, months before you ever take your first breath of air, you are loved incredibly. I hope it's cozy for you in there. <3
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