Or nesting? Who knows…

At the present time, I’m enjoying blaming all my shortcomings/weird behaviors on being pregnant. Forgot to pay that bill? Well, it’s because baby is taking all my brain cells.

At almost 32 weeks pregnant, I find myself in a neurotic state of nesting where EVERYTHING seems so DIRTY. I’m barely working, I spend lots of time cleaning, yet find myself appalled at the state of my apartment. You can decide what categories this morning’s activities fall into:

  • washing out the inside of the garbage can
  • getting on my hands and knees to spot clean the carpet in the baby room
  • getting on my hands and knees to scrub the silver casing around our sliding glass door. Why…? (it was pretty dirty though)
  • vacuuming the hair off the cat (okay, I made that one up)

And that’s just today. The other day I decided that after three years of living in our apartment, the inside of our kitchen cupboard doors needed to be washed. RIGHT NOW.

At the risk of being repetitive since I’ve posted a similar image, here’s another one.


Mommy’s Nursery

I was going to title this post, “Abrielle’s Nursery,” but the truth is, the nursery is for me. The mommy. This is the story of how my mom came for a nice, long visit and we took chaos and created order. How we transformed a former “man cave” into a nursery.

When hubby and I first moved into our apartment, he claimed our second bedroom as his “man cave” and video game room. This is code for, “Do not decorate here, Wifey.” I did not. I left the walls bare. I allowed dust to accumulate. I didn’t put curtains up.

The time of the man cave had to eventually end, and it ended last week (actually, hubby has been moved out of there for a while, but random junk was still scattered everywhere). I wish I had taken a before and after picture of the organizing/dejunking that happened. It was amazing. After we accomplished that, we painted one of the walls gray.

My mom painting the wall.

I helped a little.

The nursery theme is Babar; you may be familiar with this wonderful story.

I was hoping to frame a few pages from the Babar books. We made some great color copies and painted some wood frames from Craft Warehouse.

Me, painting

They turned out so cute!

Finally, my mom and I made some curtains for the window and our nursery adventure was pretty much complete (plus, we were out of time). And, my mom made a little blanket for Abrielle with the leftover curtain fabric.


5 Great Things About Having a Homebirth

Obviously, I have not had a homebirth yet. I will be 23 weeks on Sunday, but Abrielle’s due date cannot come soon enough. But…as I read all these “mommy blogs” and “pregnancy blogs,” I find myself feeling extra, extra happy that I will having a homebirth. They are preparing for things that I don’t even have to worry about! So here it is, another great list.

1. I do not have to choose “going home” outfits for Abrielle or myself. We will already be home.

2. All of my prenatal care has taken place in the living room of my apartment. Yes, I am a spoiled brat. Yes, my midwife is wonderful.

3. I do not have to pack a hospital bag or worry about which foods I could eat in the hospital. At home, I will eat what I darn well want (which probably won’t be much, but that’s beside the point).

4. I do not have to worry about the nurses not reading my birth plan. I have every confidence that my midwife and I are on the same page (ha, unintended pun!).

5. I do not have to worry about what to feed my husband at the hospital. We will be home and he can eat instant lunch like always (note: I do not feed him that, but it’s one of his favorite foods).

Losing Control

I really like being in control of my life. Or at least, thinking that I’m in control of my life. I make schedules. I make lists. I keep a very good calendar. I dejunk frequently. The illusion of control was a lot easier to maintain before I got pregnant. We were living on two incomes, and I knew I could always put in a few more hours if I wanted. Although I had frequent migraines, they could be managed (to some degree) with medication.

Being pregnant has definitely been one of the more humbling experiences in my life. I have always prided myself on not being a picky eater, yet suddenly I find myself with a plethora of food aversions. Italian food: out. Alfredo sauce: out. Greasy food: out. I don’t have control over what I could eat on any given day, or what might cause me to throw up. On top of food aversions, I’ve lost control of my ability to push through exhaustion and do all my house cleaning in one day. I am lucky to get the dishes washed on a daily basis.

Those things aside, pregnancy has made me realize how dependent I am. Fairly early on, I had to cut back my hours at work. I cannot financially take care of myself without my wonderful husband working so hard to pay all our bills. It’s scary to not even feel like I have good earning ability. My hours at work continue to dwindle as my pregnancy progresses. And then—I am carrying a little person, a little girl, who for the time being is safe inside me. But come July, she will enter the world, and I will only be able to control so many factors in her life. I will be dependent on the fact that God loves her even more than I do.

Who knows what this little girl will bring? It’s out of my control. Will she have ADHD or ADD? Will she have food allergies? Will she be an easy child or need extra care and attention? My fear of giving up control (because I obviously had control to begin with….right??) has caused me to emotionally pull away from God. A part of me is holding back. Can I trust you with my child, God? What a silly question! The real question is: can God trust me with His child?

Our pastor is preaching a timely sermon series called “Marriage and Children and Debts-O MY!” One of the first “lessons for parents” he preached about was this: Our children are not our property, they are our primary ministry privilege. God has given me the privilege of being Abrielle’s mother for however many years He has allocated to her and me. I may be her biological mother, but first and foremost, she is God’s child.


Ever since this last Sunday when I felt Abrielle move for the first time, I’ve become very greedy. I wish she would kick all the time now. In the midst of the tiredness, back pain, nausea, etc., feeling her move inside my belly is the best feeling and reward. Every kick brings a smile to my face. This morning I gave her a pep talk about moving around more and hubby said, “She’s probably sleeping.” Sleeping? She has plenty of time to sleep. Momma wants to feel some kicking!