Overdue

The due date has come. The due date has gone. Still pregnant. Yes, I know the statistics - many, many women go past their due date and it's no big deal and how you shouldn't be counting on it in the first place, yadda yadda yadda. Need I remind you how I've been measuring ahead for the last few months? Must I retell the stories of being asked four months ago if I was due to have that baby any day?

Stick a fork in me, people. I'm done.

I am beyond thankful for this healthy baby girl - for her (albeit, now torturous) kicks and jabs and nudges in my belly. I count my blessings daily (granted, it helps pass the time) of how she is miraculously still being woven in my womb by the very hands of God. And yet, let's be honest here, I'm desperate to meet her. People have been joking (myself included) for weeks and weeks how there is absolutely no possible way I will reach my due date. This includes the jests of Midwives, Doulas, other mothers and doctors. And (sounds of crickets chirping...) here I am.

Maybe it is also the fact that each night this week has been a giant tease. I get contractions off and on, get my hopes up, clean the house like a maniac one more time, and then go to bed only to find that I, once again, have to use both my hands to heave my belly up and topple out of bed another day. Last night was the worst yet...a good 9 hours of steady contractions at nearly 10 minutes apart...only to amount to a big heap of disappointment. Sigh. Ok, yes, I am fully complaining at this point. What can I say - it is depressing to get all excited, the adrenaline pumping, the giddyness of the "is this it?!" and the thoughts of how we will finally reveal her name to our family and friends...and again and again be put on hold.

In fact, that's exactly what it's like - being put on hold...times like, a million. You know the feeling - you've called the cable/electric/phone company, get the automated system, and then just sit and wait...only to get tricked by the voice that comes on to say how "valuable" you are to them and that surely you are the next person in line...wait, wait, wait...tricked!...wait, wait, wait...tricked again! Until, when you finally get to an actual person you've either entirely forgotten why you've called, or you've put them on speakerphone and now you are halfway across the room, or your child has started to wake up from her nap and scream and yell as soon as you get a chance to talk. Sigh. Yep - that's how I feel. I JUST WANT MY REAL HUMAN RIGHT NOW!

Ok, deep breaths.

I'm letting this go. No, really, I give up. This is my last strategy to get this kid out of my body. Complete surrender. I'm not vacuuming my carpet tonight. I'm not using the "fancy shampoo" thinking it might be the last shower I have for a while. And I dare not text my friends to remind them to keep their phones by their side so I can be the "girl who cried labor" one more time. No sir-ee. If this girl is coming, she'd better make it plain and obvious. Bring it on. I want some serious signs, sister. We're talking ACTIVE labor here. Let's do this. Until then...I'm praying, chilling, eating frozen yogurt, walking like crazy, and just making sure the house is picked up enough to not stumble over legos in the middle of the night. Fair enough?

God, if you could wrap up this whole "weaving a fearfully and wonderfully made being" thing soon, that would be extra great. We'd sure like to meet her. Thank you.

Anticipatience

It's six in the morning and I've already been up for a good hour. This is going to be one of those days when the phone is close to your side all day, when you move the kleenex box with you from room to room, and meal times come and go without your stomach even growling. It's a weekend wrought with emotion and eager to keep life moving into a new week that will bring blessings and trials of its own. In the present, however, I'm forced to live minute to minute and embrace the reality that one life I love is nearing its end on this earth, while another is on its way. My grandmother, my sweet Grammy, is in severely failing health. They've "called in the family" so to speak, and we all feel the presence of Christ drawing nearer and nearer. Meanwhile, my baby girl kicks in my belly, her due date only a few days away, and constantly reminding me why I need to be here and not on a plane to Kansas. I never suspected these dramatic life events would coincide, and it seems all too eerie and beautiful to be happening right now.

While we wait in this limbo, I can't help but coin a new term for what I'm feeling: Anticipatience. It doesn't need much definition. It feels like a bit of an oxymoron, being anxious about all things out of your own control. There is a lot of freedom in knowing you can't do anything about either situation, and yet, something so indescribably frustrating, something so natural yet inhuman to just be still and watch life come and go, literally. It gives a whole new light to "hurry up and wait". So, I sit here in anticipatience, trusting God and His perfect calendar.

Life is short. We all know this. We eternal souls in temporal bodies feel it most when confronted with circumstances such as this, (though rarely at the very same time). How do you sum up a person's life in a silly blog post? You don't. I won't even try. And quite frankly, I'm all cried out at the moment and it is all I can bear to just focus on making complete sentences. Let's just say my Grammy is extremely special to me. She makes the most beautiful quilts you've ever seen and absolutely hands down the best most ultimate lemon meringue pie in the universe. Her domestic talents are only exceeded by her spiritual gifts - her love of Jesus and the ability to worship Him through music playing the organ and piano like it is second nature (and truly I think it is). It weighs heavily on my heart to imagine this might be one of the last times I speak about her in the present tense. I love her. And while I know I should be envious of her drawing closer to meeting Jesus, I can't help but feel jealous of Jesus getting to see her before I do. I miss her.

While my heart is in Kansas, however, my ginormously pregnant body remains in California. The anticipatience I feel for my own baby grows steadily with each moment, each waddle, each flicker of a contraction. I want to meet her, I want to know her, and I want to start teaching her how to make the best lemon meringue pie in the universe as soon as possible. God is so good. I know this full well. I'm, once again, pretending to "hand over" what is actually already in His control and allow Him to usher in each minute with new mercies. Thank you, God, for keeping focus on our hearts as our hearts so easily lose focus of You. Thank you for my Grammy. Thank you for my daughter. Thank you for the certainty that no matter what, we celebrate life. If you ask me, that's worth the wait.

Eighth [Month] Wonder of the World

So, maybe I'm not the eighth world wonder, but to many, I appear to be the eighth month wonder. Yes indeedy, we are well into the eighth month of pregnancy - which, to many people, lends the encouraging sound of "getting close!" to the due date. However, that all changes when you put it in terms of weeks (about 5 to go) and sounds even more distant when you actually tell them the estimated date of baby's arrival: July 15th. Well, good lord, that's after July 4th - which we all know is the "middle of summer" and since summer is just barely beginning, she still has half the summer to wait for this watermelon of a baby to arrive!

That is at least my theory of what must spring through people's minds when they contemplate their calendar against the sight before them: my ginormous belly. To which they then respond with their gasps, their disbelief, and their downright boisterous predictions of either a) why I am so huge [Surely, I am carrying twins and don't know it.] b) when my baby will actually be born [Certainly this is my last stop before the hospital, right?] or c) continue on in telling me their own blood curdling tale of someone they've known who birthed an 11lb+ baby somewhere in the world [You don't come back from that one].

Let me explain my internal thought, which is almost always the same everytime: "Thank you. Are you serious?" That's about it.

I'm always glad when someone asks me about my pregnancy or baby, it is simply one of my favorite subjects, after all. And, I truly don't mind [or perhaps have become numb to] the "big" comments - I love how I look when I'm pregnant and I had very similar experiences when carrying my first baby and to be honest, pregnancy has done nothing but improve my self-esteem and appreciation for what my body has been created to do! But what continues to shock me, nearly every day, is the absolute lack of filter on what people have to say. (For the record, yes, the story is true that a lady actually pulled her car over and waved me over just to tell me how huge and uncomfortable I look while walking and that there is no way I'll last another five weeks. I mean, that is some EFFORT, lady!)

Pregnancy somehow has this superpower over people that completely eliminates the barrier for tact. It's like the belly creates a force field upon which people have no control over what comes out of their mouths. I'm not sure which is worse - blaming the belly for this "force field" theory I have, or admitting that I'm bringing a child into a world where stupid people abound.

The truth is, they are not all together wrong. In this wondrous eighth month of pregnancy, I have actually "measured ahead" an entire month. That means that my 30 week belly felt like a 34 week belly, and my 34 week belly felt like a 38 week belly and so forth. No wonder my back hurts! But, I am happy to report that as of yesterday, baby girl #2 is nearly back on track - only measuring about 1 week ahead of schedule! So - I hope you got it out of your systems, oh strangers-who-must-comment-on-my-size (I'm not counting on it). I'm nearing the "normal" range! :)

While people are placing their bets on how early I pop, I'm not setting myself up for any early evictions. This girl has a lease on this mama for a good 5 more weeks and come rain or shine or swollen ankles, she is welcome to come whenever she is darn good and ready (though prayers for a less than 11lb baby would be appreciated!)

While there are days I am certain this girl has 8 knees and 10 elbows in there...I know she doesn't have a calendar. We're on the home stretch, baby, let's do this!

Tick Tock

Everything is on a countdown these days. Countdown until Josh's last day at Biola (3 days). Countdown until his graduation (10 days). Countdown until his first day at his new job (15 days). Countdown until my last day at Biola (29 days). Countdown until baby #2 comes (58 days...give or take). Tick. Tock.

And clock just keeps on ticking.

First things first - Josh's departure from Biola. It will be very strange to return to work next week without him by my side. I take comfort in knowing that my time at work without him is limited as well, but it will be sad and strange to lose my carpooling buddy, my lunch companion, and my favorite distraction from work. Though we have worked in different departments, we are deeply ingrained in each other's work lives just as we are in our personal lives. It has been another level of sharing that not every couple gets to partake.

Josh hasn't only been my husband, but my co-worker for the last three and a half years that I've worked at Biola as well. In a way, we are "going our different ways" career wise - fortunately, for both of us, those "different ways" happen to be in the same direction, steered straight into building our family. :) Our roles our changing, and I'm sure this transition bears more adjustment than we anticipate - though all welcomed and eagerly anticipated!

Still, it will be strange to not have those car rides home together where we get to rant and rave like a couple of overly worked office slaves sharing mutual grievances at happy hour. It will be sad to lose those daily lunches (kid free, mind you) that we get to just joke with our fellow workers about who brought the worst leftovers or what meetings must we endure this week. And it will be awkward to lose those spontaneous moments of inside joking when you just know you "had to be there at work" when something hilarious happened.

And yet, the closure to this chapter in our lives is perfectly timed. I couldn't be prouder of Josh, venturing beyond what might be familiar and comfortable and ready to step up into the role of "full time breadwinner" for the Pardy home. I am blessed beyond belief to share a partnership with him, and inspired at his dedication to provide for his family. We are some lucky gals in this Pardy home, thankful to have a husband/daddy who is not only willing, but excited to take on the task of balancing work and family. His graduation from Biola with his Master's next week will only culminate the last 6 years into a final moment of recognition and appreciation for the time that we have spent there. Sort of the perfect ending, if you ask me. (Thanks, Lord!)

So, as we check off one of the many new ventures we are about to embark upon....So long, "co-worker" Josh. You will be missed. But, I'm sure glad I get to be next to you in the passenger seat of life...somewhere we will always get to take the carpool lane. ;)