First day of spring

I've been reading on the news and in my email about all the violence and destruction in the world. Fighting has started again in Darfur, trapping at least 8,000 refugees in the middle of it. My 40daysforLife email included the testimony of a woman whose daughter died because of a faulty abortion. The assualts on life are so varied, but they're all disturbing and in their own way devastating. Sometimes it seems like a miracle that even one of us manages to live. So I take comfort in the coming of Spring. The message of Spring is that life is persistent. There is hidden energy and vitality in the most basic forms of life that survives not only intentional destruction, but also clumsy attempts to help.

Take these crocuses for instance. I transplanted them last year with the help of a three-year-old and a four-year-old who had never worked with plants in their lives. We were all rather rough on the bulbs, which also endured a lot of neglect this past summer because I had morning sickness and wasn't really worrying about watering my plants. So imagine my joy when I looked out Monday morning and found them blooming whole-heartedly.

The same goes for this pot, which actually has garlic in it! I found a couple cloves of garlic sprouting in my vegetable drawer last spring, so I stuck them in a pot to see what would come of them. Nothing did, and I was convinced that I'd killed them, but I left them be, and loe and behold, I have the beginnings of an herb garden. The tulips beneath the recycling bin are once again making their startling appearance. Last year they ate their way through three layers of cardboard to make their debut. This year I intervened a little earlier, but they were doing fine without me. I guess with all of this life bursting forth, there's even hope for my bleeding heart bush. I really thought I'd killed this one because I hammered it with a stunning combination of abuse and neglect, failing to water it appropriately but digging around its roots just the same, not to mention putting it in such an unappropriate location (bleeding heart bushes need shade). About the middle of August it started dying. I was certain I'd killed it. But here it is, slowly coming back. See the tiny little pink leaves? It's so encouraging to see nature doing what nature does best: grow. Life is so resilient. It has power behind it. As we go higher, life seems to get more delicate, or perhaps attempts at destruction become more deliberate, and yet we really do survive so much. The grace of God will not let us perish entirely.

Coming together.

While I'm waiting for dinner to get done, I might as well do something productive. I'm pretty sure that I'm going to go to bed early tonight. I might get more sleep that way. Who knows?

Gradually things are coming together in preparation for baby. I'm working on my birth plan and beginning my conditioning exercises (What, just beginning? Yes, I've never managed to exercise with consistency, so now in this last month, I have a lot of stretching to do.).

Baby's little needs are gradually starting to come together too. For instance, if you look closely, you can see a pack of diapers, an enormous stack of onsies, and some sleepers all stacked on the second shelf of the changing table. The bottom shelf has three sheets, four blankets, and four receiving blankets. I will probably need more receiving blankets, but that's enough to start with. The two bags on top of the changing table will not be there permanently. One is mine for labor and one is baby's. They're not fully packed yet, so I can't put them away.

The crib has a sheet on it and the bumper is installed. Don't worry, you experienced moms, I will take the comforter off before I put baby in. Baby is going to sleep in a bassinet in my room for the first several months anyway. Oh, shoot, I forgot to take a picture of the bassinet. Maybe next time. Meanwhile, I am fully into the last stages of pregnancy. You wouldn't know it to look at me (at least that's what I'm told), but I have 3 weeks and 4 days until my due date. I have no memory capacity to speak of. I can't type anything right the first time. I am exhausted. I make funny noises when baby kicks me in the solar plexus. I am almost always hungry (finally), and I have a lot of heartburn. In fact, to fix the heartburn at night, Mom and I have rigged up this monstrosity of furniture. Or at least I thought it was a monstrosity the first time we put it together. There are seven pillows and one stuffed dog sitting there, arranged in imitation of a recliner. Does it work? Well, napping during the day has become more comfortable, but I'm still not sleeping at night. I don't want my whole schedule to get turned around like that, but I'm beginning to wonder if it's healthy to fight it.

Mom says I need to put together a list of what I still need so that people can get that information off my blog. Maybe tomorrow.

Home again, home again, jiggety jog.

It's good to be home, I suppose. I was getting a bit restless on the east side of the mountains. I ran out of things to do. When I'm home, I know I will never run out of things to do. There is always something that needs to be done.


I love being over there. Coastal people will think me crazy for preferring the dry side of the mountains, but I do. The sky is so much bigger and farther away in desert places. It's blue more often too. The colors are brighter, the air is clearer, and one can see for miles in any direction. I didn't realize how much I missed that. Here in Kitsap County, hills rise up in every direction. They're beautiful green hills with mountains peeking up between them and ocean at their bases, but they're everywhere. Neither the ocean nor the sky seem infinite. There is beauty, but there's no space. I missed space and sagebrush and big, blue sky. But still, it's good to be home.

Plus, I have four weeks and five days before baby arrives, and I haven't even signed up for a childbirth class yet. I think I've been falling behind. Baby has had me under the weather so long that now that I feel better, I'm only just beginning to realize how much work preparing for baby is. I have shopping lists that keep growing -- diapers, rubber pants, booties, baby towels. I have a nursery in chaos. I have heartburn to manage. I have a dog to train. What is Max going to think when baby comes?


But one thing I do not need to worry about right now is onsies, those essential baby garments that every baby needs from birth to six months at least. Check these out:

And last but not least:

These were made by the ladies at my first baby shower. Instead of playing games like "Guess how many squares of toilet paper it would take to encircle the mom-to-be," my cousin Amy thought it might be fun if the ladies all designed personalized onsies for me. Plain white onsies with four colors of fabric paint, and I have onsies enough for a week, or at least for three days, depending how much baby excretes. They really are cute, but my favorite is the one directly above. It was made by my best friend Desiree, and baby will wear it on Sunday afternoons while she watches football with Daddy.

But baby reminds me to conclude. I'm trying to reintroduce exercize into my schedule, and the clouds outside are parting. A perfect time to walk the dog.

Vaya con Dios.

Jennifer