And HOLD...2, 3, 4

I'm up again. But at least it is for a reasonably exciting reason. How about 6 hours of straight, uninterrupted contractions at about 5 minutes apart? Even after a good walk to the mailbox at 10:00pm and four hours of here and there shut eye. That's something! Right? They're mild 1 minute plus contractions, but they have my interest now that they don't seem to be going away. Even though I'm really, really, tired, I thought I'd see if they'd die down if I sat up and moved around for a few minutes. Because right now, they are waking me up every hour. And so the girl, blogs.

Yesterday, I nested in high gear moving and flipping couches, ironing curtains and doing my best to make the playroom feel like home in our house. Because, I KNOW that the playroom is where I will live for the next 6 months of my life. After almost 8 years of trying to squeeze into an uncomfortable wooden kiddie chair or sit on a hard floor, I finally resolved to put some adult seating in the room and bought a cheap red gingham check couch on closeout. I should have done that years ago. Then I bought some ivory curtains, hung Mom's wedding quilt up in the room, blessed the couch with the cream colored blanket Ken proposed to me on, and hung one of our anniversary gifts to each other (my all time favorite picture) of a red barn in a wheat field right before a storm. I dare say the room looks "country".

The room tells a story. From the moment I said "Yes" to my Mr. Incredible, to the day we got married, to happy anniversaries. And surrounded by those four walls, is the chewy sweet center...our children. Don't let anyone ever tell you that the kitchen is the center of your house. The sweet spot in your house is where your children gather...the play room.

Escaping Alcatraz

It is early in the morning. Too early. The random contraction induced insomnia has begun. Part of it, I'm sure is that I'm still battling some sort of mild chest cold bug, but the other part is simply being uncomfortable and waking up to "Oooo...I wonder if that little number was anything to sit up about?".

I have an embarrassing confession: I simply have never experienced the early signs of labor before beyond evenly timed Braxton Hicks contractions. After three deliveries, I still have no cotton pickin' idea what uninduced labor is like. Hope will be my forth child, and I feel so inexperienced on this front. It is a weird feeling of disconnect.

Everyone tells me that labor on Pitocin is different. I even had a man at church tell me last week in full detail (father of four) how labor with Pitocin changes the way a contraction feels. I couldn't believe my ears! Even HE seemed to know more than me. I like labor on Pitocin. It's strong and unmistakable. So while I don't get overly excited over evenly spaced out Braxton Hicks anymore, I keep wondering if that "other" labor is around the corner. Or if I've become so dismissive over the years, that I'd even recognize it if we passed each other on the street.

As has become tradition in this house, I don't pack my bags. The clothes would grow stale if I did. I don't count days down simply because it is my little one's "due date". If my babies were library books they'd all emerge with overdue fines of at least $1.80 stamped on their noggins. And I can't say I get too worked up about pulling a blonde pregnancy move and entirely forgetting about my last OB appointment. I haven't seen the doctor in over a month. I know on Monday, he's going to look at me and say I'm as locked up as Alcatraz.

But I can't deny that there always remains a hope within me that one of these pregnancies will break the Knucker Hatch mold and arrive early. Maybe "Hope" is the one. She certainly is a rather quiet one. She's been flying under the radar this whole pregnancy; a mild womb potato minding her Ps and Qs. I would be surprised if she was the one that ended up kicking down the steel uterine door on the way out. If anyone ever does, I'm ordering them a trophy.

A Shower of Blessings

Yesterday, I hit a wall. Quite simply, I just felt like crud. My allergies were bad, while hot flashes, and a scratchy throat added to the uncomfortableness of my rotunda-ness. I had to prepare for leading my Women's Bible Study over the next two hours, despite my exhaustion and overwhelming desire to lay down. All of the voices inside my head were having a lovely pity party. The voices are familiar, and I know my weaknesses reveal themselves at about this week in my pregnancy. Knowing that it is not uncommon to hit that emotional and physical wall helps, but it doesn't remove the cruddy consuming feeling.

A couple of hours before Bible Study, I received a phone message from another leader stating that our study would be delayed a bit due to the church building being sprayed with insecticides. After an emergency order of pizza (I just couldn't do the grocery shopping that day), I headed into church. Feeling a bit better on a full stomach, I waddled into the building, praying that the smell of pesticides wouldn't knock me to the floor. A few deep breathes with my super sensitive prego nose, proved I was safe from sensory overload. I was surprised that I couldn't detect any chemical smells. Rounding the corner to meet the girls, my eyes quickly fell on the stacks of bags and pink tissue paper, along with all of the Women's Group surrounding an amazing spread of food. They all shouted a sweet, "Surprise!". I had been completely duped with the insecticide set up.


When you're on your fourth little one, you expect to have walked into the "Automatic Shower Exemption" zone. Especially when you were thrown a shower just less than two years ago, by the same group of ladies. I was completely surprised. After all of my preparation for the day, we never cracked open our books to review the week's lesson. Instead, I opened blessing after blessing for my little Hope. Some of them, homemade and knitted with love, works still in progress.

While I left the church that evening still feeling sluggish and yucky, my heart was at a full swell. And I was also entirely humbled. The Lord led me to this particular group of ladies four years ago. They have had such an immeasurable impact on my life. Rather than bringing me into an inner circle of my peers, He led me to a group of beautiful women beyond their childbearing years, with decades of God and womanhood under their belt. I have been soaking up their wisdom and experiences ever since. What a privilege it has been to grow and glean from the cream of His crop.

Fasting From Groceries

Grace in the middle of her nightly prayer: "...and I pray that You would help me choose something to eat tomorrow, because we have no food left..."

Guilty as charged. Behold, my fridge's mugshot.

Who says you can't sustain a family of five on frosting, a lemon, two onions, a bag of bagels, and diet Coke? And with a stack of cheese slices, the possibilities are endless! Tonight was "Finish It Monday". In other words, dinner is what is left in the freezer: Taquitos, Fish Sticks, Tater Tots, Peas and Rice. There is nothing quite like ketchup and sour cream on the same plate - let me tell you.

Truthfully, the thought of walking down aisles of groceries, pushing one of those mammoth carts with three kids inside, followed by a pelvis that I swear is being held together by a trembling strand or two of remaining muscle, makes me want to run to the fridge for a spoon full of frosting. Really, I think we could make it just a few more days on the corn, eggs, and bagels. Did I mention the 10 stale boxes of cereal? The cereal, peanut butter and Crystal Light packets buy me at least another week.