Our Active Baby

I am now entering my third trimester, counting down the last three months until “peanut” arrives. And people aren’t asking me how far along I am as much as when my due date is. I rather like that because I can’t always remember what week I’m in. Just saying “April 21st” is much easier.

So, yes, I’m now showing. I wear some maternity clothes. I haven’t weighed this much in nearly fifteen years. But, thankfully, nothing is swelling. The nurses I’ve seen remark that I’m still wearing my rings and except for feeling quite fat, I don’t seem to have grown bigger anywhere else. Which just means I need longer shirts, not bigger ones. But the baby and I are trying to keep in shape even as I grow out of shape. Certainly not running any marathons, but we walk on nice days (I like cold air) and we do pilates nearly every day. It keeps us stretched out and the baby enjoys it. I tell her we’re going to do our pilates and she starts kicking.

The baby is quite active, but he has quite a bit of room to move around in right now. A woman at work yesterday asked me if I noticed the baby more active at certain times. She said her daughter always like to kick and wiggle when she was on conference calls. I’ve noticed my baby likes to kick and squirm before and after I exercise. And he turns summersaults at night. At least, that’s what it’s felt like lately. Ed and I settle down to watch an episode of Castle or something before bed, and the baby starts having a party. The same is true when I read a few chapters in a book before I fall asleep. I’m hoping this doesn’t mean this baby is a night owl. That’s not going to work well with his father’s schedule. Ed goes to bed early because he gets up early. Even though I get to sleep a little later, I head to bed, too. I intend for the baby to do so also.

Other things are coming together. Except for a couple of the things, our spare room has only baby things in it now: a stroller, a highchair, a mattress, a little chair, a box of odds and ends I’ve been given. Still need a crib and changing table/dresser; but I’m on the lookout. We’ll have a car seat soon. Meanwhile, I’m plowing ahead on “before the baby comes” projects that need to get done. And praying the Lord will show us how He’s going to make our ends meet if I quit working, which is our hopeful plan.

After singing in a Christmas service last month, my friend Allyson’s three-year-old Laurel overheard a woman at church tell Allyson that her little girl was such a blessing. Later, Laurel came up to Allyson and said with a big smile on her face, “Mama, I’m a blessing!” What else can you say to that but, “Yes, Laurel, you are.” For it’s true: Children are a blessing. So even though my “nursery” won’t be as adorable as many I’ve seen and the fears of provision for the future sometimes overwhelm me, this I know: this baby is a blessing. And, as the Psalmist said, “I have never seen the righteous forsaken or his seed begging bread.” Amen.

(Note: we don’t know if we’re having a boy or girl, so while Ed exclusively uses masculine pronouns in high hopes of the first Camus boy of this generation, I try to use my pronouns inter-changeably – hence the “she” and “he”.)