The Calm Before the Storm

(No this isn't MY belly, I just think it's an amazing picture!)

This week has felt relatively non-crazy compared to the past month, and I'm sure compared to what the next month will bring.  I have often thought of this quote about the calm before the storm from the scene in The Return of the King, where Gandalf and Pippin stand overlooking Mordor from their perch in Gondor, on the eve of the great battle of their time.  I don't necessarily view the advent of our third child as being the "great battle" of our life, but it does carry an amount of uncertainty and small feelings of "will we survive this?" and a general understanding that "crazy" is about to be the word that best sums up our life for the next few months.

I'm officially full-term now (39 weeks) which, according to my doctor, means if I went into labor today there'd be no alarm or concern; rather, a cheerful "Come on in; let's get this baby out!"  According to my pregnancy books, though (okay, I admit, the only thing I'm reading these days is Pregnancy for Idiots), full-term means that the only thing really happening in my womb right now is that the baby is getting fatter and fatter.  I know this is important for body temperature regulation and all that but...did God really have to design a whole two weeks tacked on at the end of pregnancy with the sole purpose of getting fat?

That's kind of been a running theme of my life this past month, deeply pondering God's reasonings and purposes and timing for various things in my life and the lives of those I care about.  Some days His purposes and timing seem like a wonderful gift, perfect and miraculous, better than I could have planned myself.  Other days I wonder what He's up to.  Sometimes this wondering stems from deep hurts and loss; this month I lost two high school friends to death, one in an accident and another by suicide (unrelated incidents).  It's been hard to see families I care about suffering and questioning and mourning.  Other dear friends of ours endured yet another unfruitful round of infertility treatments, and as my belly swells large my heart deeply aches for their loss and their deep, noble desire to be parents.  Why, God?

We are also currently waiting and trusting (or trying to!) God regarding a potential job opportunity for Eric that would greatly improve our situation.  And by "greatly improve" I mean it would keep us from sinking under, as my various money-making jobs will be ending soon with the coming of this baby.  I am really trying to surrender our needs to the Lord and trust that He knows the timing, He is aware of the extent of our needs, and that more than anything He is ABLE to take care of us, new job or not.  That is a hard thing to accept some days, when I think I can see so clearly what would be the logical path--does God not see that also?  A silly question--I'm very aware that God sees this option and more, and that perhaps this IS the path but perhaps He has another plan for us.  As Eric reminded me last night, the thing we have to remember is that God is good.  No matter what happens or doesn't happen, our God is good and faithful and He loves us more than we can fathom.  He has been faithful for many years, sustaining us financially when things seemed hopelessly dire, and He is able to continue sustaining us if that is what He desires for us. 

In the midst of these thoughtful moments I have also begun preparing (finally!) for the imminent arrival of our baby.  I've been making lists for the hospital, an instructional manual for  whoever ends up caring for the kids while we're in labor (ahem--I'M in labor), figuring out what plastic bins marked "newborn, 0-3 mo" need to be dragged out of storage, procuring an infant carrier to be installed in the car (our old one isn't doing so well), borrowing a bassinet for the first few months, getting the kids' summer stuff out of storage and filling drawers with shorts/t-shirts/sandals/sundresses/ swimsuits... 

Those of you who know me well know I like to be prepared and organized and this may seem very typical for me, even though it is my third child.  The difference this time around is that if this were my first pregnancy all of this would have been said and done about two months ago, and I would be sitting around twiddling my thumbs driving myself crazy, counting and recounting burp cloths to make sure I really do have enough and cleaning the bathroom AGAIN and perhaps even baking five lasagnas to put in the freezer.  Now we're two weeks away (aka "any day now") and I'm casually staring to get my act together...car seat?  Check.  (That's the most important one, right?)  Onesies and sleepers in storage somewhere?  Check.  Surely someone will bring us a meal or two, right?  Check.

The one thing that I have noticed lately is that my nesting instinct it totally kicking in and I am CLEANING...like crazy.  Just yesterday while doing laundry I suddenly noticed how messy the laundry room is and wondered how long it's been since the floor was mopped in there and I would have done it right then and there if I hadn't been interrupted by a potty-related need.  Now it's been added on to my "to-do before baby" list, albeit somewhere near the bottom.

The interesting thing is that no matter how much I clean--even deep clean--the house gets messy again in a matter of minutes, which I know I should be used to by now but somehow it never ceases to amaze me.

For example, a few days ago I was typing an email when I heard a very strange hissing sound from the kitchen, followed by Ellie going "Uh-oh!"  Upon inspection I found my daughter had dragged a plastic storage bin into the kitchen in order to stand on it, in order to reach things on the counter she isn't supposed to be able to reach.  She had gotten into the cans of 7-Up sitting on the counter, dropped one, and it had exploded and sprayed all over the kitchen and Ellie.  I spent most of the afternoon scrubbing the walls and counters and the side of the fridge, as well as making numerous attempts at the floor; it took a number of tries but eventually my feet didn't stick and go "squelch, squelch" as I walked across the linoleum.

So I'd consider that a pretty deep clean of my kitchen, something that doesn't happen terribly often and felt good to have done.  That was two days ago, and today as I bent down (or tried to!) to retrieve Ellie's milk cup off the floor I noticed that the floor is yet again covered in things like milk spills and strawberry juice and dried rice and squashed green beans, all from the last day and a half.  It's simply amazing how often the house needs a "deep clean" when you have little critters--er, children! 

I know things are about to get crazy and that deep cleaning will be out the window and I'm okay with that.  I'm prepared to let certain things go, to not freak out if we live semi-pigsty-ish for a few weeks until we get our bearings.  After all I'm the only one in the household that really cares if the bathroom toilet has been cleaned in the past two weeks, right?

For the past few months I've been having contractions very regularly, but they have suddenly gone away.  The nice thing is that I'm not terribly uncomfortable, generally speaking.  The ligament pain has also subsided somewhat, making walking around a bit easier.  So on the whole I can't complain too much, except when I'm trying to put on my socks or shave my legs or spank one of my kids.  I'm very thankful for a healthy pregnancy and only a few minor bumps along the way (bad morning sickness and lots of Braxton Hicks contractions). 

Whether this baby is early, on time, or late, the longest they will let me stay pregnant is two weeks after my due date, which would put us on Memorial Day, May 26th, which also just happens to be my birthday.  (Everyone says "Awww" when they hear that...and each of them gets an eye roll and then a glare...it will not be "awww" if I am two weeks late, people!!)  So in any case, I will have a baby sometime in the next 26 days!

I guess that brings us back to God's perfect timing, huh?  That is one thing I do feel mostly at peace about...as much as I would like to control when this baby comes, I really can't do much about it, and since God made my body and knit this baby, then it's pretty much His territory anyway--I might as well let Him judge when this baby is fat enough to join the air-breathing world. 

For now, I'm back to cleaning.  Jack and I made Oatmeal Chocolate Chip cookies this afternoon while Ellie slept; there are now chocolate-finger smears all over the counter top where Jack and I indulged in warm chocolatey yumminess.  There are also a few milk spills due to the fact that I taught my son to blow bubbles in his milk today...something I might regret five years from now when we're sitting in a restaurant and he teaches his younger sibling to do it...but for today, we had fun, just the two of us.  Daddy will be home soon and we will share our cookies with him, show off Jack's new haircut (ala Mommy), and then I'm off to my weekly OB appointment for what I'm pretty sure will amount to a non-exciting report. 

Hope you all are enjoying your Wednesday.