My favorites:

I am not sure why I am telling you all this other than it's relevant to our body and I do believe you will be curious about it one day.  It is also an important life-lesson - this being gentle with yourself.  Neko Case satirically sang to me yesterday, "Don't make mistakes or be human." I suppose what's difficult here is knowing what is or isn't a mistake for us.  The next lesson in parenting, no doubt.  Your father wisely said to me that just because I had learned to cope with anxiety in other areas didn't necessarily mean I would be a pro at it in all areas. 

I am so future-oriented.  When I pull up at the grocery store, I am memorizing my list and remembering my totes.  When I check out, I am plotting the route back to the car.  When I start the engine, I already know which way I'll be leaving out of the parking lot.  I am so incredibly anticipatory that I live almost never exactly in the moment.  I read a journal entry last night that began with, "I know I am disappointing my future self by not writing more about pregnancy."  I may have learned to live with the tendency to be disappointed in my daily self, but the notion of taking cautionary pains to keep a future self from being disappointed is so revealing to me.   Who can we be but exactly who we are?  If there were a wish granted me today, it would be that all notions of future planning and expectations be blinded and that for even one day, I could be in the now.  Alas, as it stands, I am writing this, but anticipating tonight's plans.  What I think must be the lesson here is that I must learn to accept myself in the now - the self that can never fully grasp the moment - and that in that acceptance and kindness for who I naturally am is where I might find the stillness I crave. 

You've started hiccuping this week.  I notice it in the mornings when I slowly rouse and remember you are there.  I subconsciously rub my belly and feel these consistent flutters.  You are head-down, which is great news.  Before I used to feel only one movement, and now when I feel a kick to the ribs, I also feel a great pressure on my pelvis - you must be stretching out.  You are roughly the weight of a pineapple and your taste buds are developed.  The Midwife says either you are big for your age or I have a lot of extra amniotic fluid. I've had heart-palpitations and shortness of breath come on quite suddenly this week, which knocked me out for a good day.  This was also, no doubt, an onset for the anxiety.  

We received your first books this week from Aunt Erin and Uncle Adam - and GOOD ONE's too!  I set them carefully on the bookshelf and imagined you making a huge mess of them.  It's your right.  Your dad, a few glasses of wine into the night, stopped me this week and said that he suddenly was very excited to have a baby, and that it felt very good to feel.  Indeed, my child.  Very good to feel indeed.

Now our lives are changing fast.

I hope that something pure can last.

(Arcade Fire)

My nieces Clara and Victoria, and my oldest sister Monica

My mom and her yummy ice cream cake

Me with my twin nephews, Vincent and Isaac

My Gma Ruth

My gorgeous niece, Victoria

Ze Belly.

Come on! Really? 

Ouch, my hearts!

Monday feels a bit bitter in my mouth. More water please,

Heya Scout,

Time has become stranger and stranger.  I feel as though I woke up and was suddenly 7 months pregnant.  However, those first 7 months felt like an eternity.  Similarly, the remaining 9 weeks feel like forever while simultaneously not containing enough days to get all the preparations ready for your arrival.  

You know, I always thought I would be an anxious pregnant person.  While I cannot confess to euphoric peace or a general feeling of deep calm, I have really not been too anxious about you and your development.  It's been an interesting exercise (and no doubt good preparation for birth) to trust my body to do its natural thing.  Speaking of birth, we finished up those birthing classes and just last night took a breastfeeding course at the hospital.  This means I am 100% prepared for your arrival and will now know what to do at all times. Of course it does.

The last few weeks have been rough.  We lost Denise, we've traveled an insane amount (tomorrow we leave for LA - which will be our fourth trip to CA in 6 weeks), and we've entered the 3rd trimester almost unaware.  A new fatigue surrounds my body and slowly drips into my soul.  I find myself, like the first trimester, wanting to hide from social obligations and failing in my attempt to conjuring up energy from empty wells.  Within this fatigue, I've found more voices of self-judgement and am endlessly confronted with the opportunities to forgive myself and be gentle with these days.  I've cried more in the last two weeks than the entire pregnancy.  I have felt so lonely and miss my sister, my Red, my inner sanctum of women, yet rarely have the energy to pursue or endure social things.  I've had the motivation to work on projects, but my body stubbornly refuses to move.  A human being is interesting to encounter when she confronts her own incapacities.  

You are moving like a banchie! I can see your limbs kicking and feel you stretching out into my ribs.  I am still shocked by it, but also making myself take comfort in its assurances of your well being.  I am still taking warm baths nightly, but have also found that swimming at our local pool is nearly the only time I find I am completely comfortable.  Your dad has been a saint to me, even if he's not given up whiskey...and I've had to confront my dependence upon him head-on.  He's begun to hand me my seat-belt when I get into the car (he's held the door open for me for years now), and I found it so considerate and kind, as it is extremely hard to twist at the waist for such activities.  It's not been pleasant to be so dependent, as your mother is a very independent lady.  You've been content with my diet so far, as I've not had any huge cravings.  Still, fruit of all kinds has been on my radar, as well as soft-serve ice cream, which is uncommonly hard to find in this city.  

There is a lot to ponder...a confusing sea of dread, fear, excitement, and curiosity awaits.  In atypical fashion, I've found I'm more comfortable skimming the surface of all that is to come.  I suppose something wise inside of me knows that there is no way to dive in yet, my fins aren't ready.  I've learned that people speak more negatively of newborn-life than positively, and I've learned to not judge them for it.  Parents, no humans...are simply not careful enough about what they say to others - as if their experience is the ultimate truth for everyone. "Forget about trying to get her on a feeding schedule..." or "My baby sleeps through the night at 6 weeks!" or my recent favorite analogy, completely unsolicited from a near stranger, "Being pregnant is like waiting in line for a scary roller-coaster.  You are anxious as you watch others scream and think about how intense it must be as they all flail about.  But then you get on, and it's even more intense then you could have imagined."  How is that, IN ANY WAY, supposed to comfort a new mother?   It makes me want to steal us all away to figure it out on our own, which we will.  

Enclosed above is a California Poppy.  While in the state of CA, they are illegal to pick.  As a child, I would go with my family to the Poppy reserve close to our house, and we would stare at the fields of orange blowing in the Antelope Valley wind.  We will be going there Friday, and I hope you'll sense the magic.  Here in WA, poppies grow like weeds.  Joel doesn't even care about them!  I see them all the time and have never allowed myself to pick one.  Today, in our very own yard, I saw one and immediately picked it.  It was a sacred moment.  It sits here with us as I write to you.

The Voice