Growing on up.

Something has happened to my tummy.  At the very top, right under my ribcage is a bump.  A weird lump of something that wasn't there last week. Yes, I know, I'm pregnant and this is to be expected as my organs are re-arranging to make way for the tiny little bean growing up inside of me but when your internal workings begin to shift and move its just a little... weird.

I've been poking it and rubbing it since it made its move a couple of days ago and making others do the same as it really just intrigues me.  Unfortunately for Allison, she is one of the only people who I am close enough with at work and is subject to my freak-outs more often than not.  It is unfortunate, as well, that our cubicles do not have doors and anyone can walk by and see what is happening in said cubicle.  And, when some one walks in to a cubicle to see one woman rubbing another woman's belly, it looks slightly suspicious.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm just feeling Debbie's pregnant belly" Allison explained as she laughed. 

"What!?  You're not pregnant, are you?"

"I certainly hope so, because if not I'm really sick and gaining way too much weight" was my reply. 

It turns out that our co-worker went to another after this rendez-vous and whispered, "Did you know that Debbie is pregnant?"  "Well, yes" replied Paula "I heard that."  "She's just so... young!"

Paula laughed and explained really, I'm not that young.  When I walked by again, Paula stopped me and told me that JoAnn was very worried about me, and that I should go calm her down.  Turns out, JoAnn was certain I was no more than 20 and didn't know I was married.  When I spoke to her directly, she was visibly relieved that I was older than she thought. 

It was kind of strange, I must admit, to be deemed "old enough to have children".  I've never really felt old and never really thought of myself as anything but still very young.  Some of my friends had "quarter life crisises" as we liked to call them when they turned 25.  Even more have all but lost it when they've realized that 30 is just around the corner.  But really, those numbers never bothered me.  I have so much more life to live, so much more to learn that none of that ever really mattered to me. 

Things keep happening, though, that remind me that I am practically, dare I say it, a grown-up.  That didn't occur to me when we got married or bought a house, or even when I got pregnant.  I loved those things.  They seemed natural, like what was happening was exactly what was supposed to be happening. 

I still don't feel old just... just too young for some of the things that are happenin in my life to be happening. 

I found out today that a friend from college had a miscarriage over the weekend.  My heart aches for her and knowing that she has had to go through that is just devastating.  Even though I've gone through it myself, I just don't feel old enough to know others the same age as me who have had it happen as well.  Its more comfortable to think of mine as a fluke, not something that happens to people my age.  A friend of Mike's from high school confided in me that she is taking fertility medications in hopes of having a second child.  It doesn't seem like all that long ago that a pregnancy was something to be terrified of instead of praying and dreaming and wishing for. 

My mom always told me not to rush things, that everything would happen in due time and not to grow up too fast.  I didn't listen to a word she said (what high school girl things her mom knows anything?) and still dreamed of when I could move out and start a life of my own.  Well, it turns out she was part way right (I'm still not old enough to admit she was completely right).  I was right to be excited for so much... meeting my husband, getting married, buying our first house... all of these things were just as wonderful and amazing as I thought they would be.  But, as life gets better, the tragedies become bigger.  Worries no longer revolve around gas in the car and what to do on Saturday night, but divorce and death and so much heart ache.  Days after the miscarriage happened, I kept saying that I felt so small and that life felt so huge.  I think that's where age starts to set in; when you really start to feel it.  It's when you finally realize just how small and young you are. 

Dear Lord, grant me patience. Grant it to me right now, please. Amen.

I am not a patient person.  My nails are smudged moments after painting them, commercials irritate me to no end and ...Christmas?  Forget about it.  I cannot tell you the last time the husband and I waited until the 25th to exchange gifts.  Not possible. 

So, I'm sure you can guess how I feel about the situation at hand.  The first time I was pregnant, it seemed as though I wouldn't have to wait.  We officially decided that we wouldn't work to prevent pregnancy the weekend before Christmas and found out the day after New Year's that I was pregnant.  Perfect.  No waiting, no worrying, everything seemed to be going exactly how I wanted it to. 

Well... we know how that turned out.

Then came the waiting.  Waiting to stop crying, waiting to stop feeling like the world had ended.  Waiting to be okay, waiting to be able to try again, waiting for it to happen. 

And now, here I am again.  Fourteen weeks have passed, and I have another twenty-six weeks of, you guessed it... waiting.

I don't want the baby to be here tomorrow by any means, but I'm still impatient.  I wanted to make it to my second trimester.  Done.  Now, I'm waiting to feel the baby move.  Then, it will be my next ultrasound, the third trimester, classes, showers...  so many things to be excited for, so many things to wait for. 

This moment is all that any of has, though.  I need to work on being excited about right now; about sitting here with the dogs and the cat while Mike is at Eric's playing Halo and being by myself.  This is beautiful.  This is a happy time, and I need to remember to be thankful and live what I have and love what I do.  I just wish I would have started that yesterday.

1 Head-On, 1 Drive-By

Paperwork is my job.  No, it's more than that.  It's a religion; I'm a pastor.  For 8 hours a day, I live it, breathe it and do it.  I speak the language.  "Do we have it documented?"  "Sorry, that's not what the regulations say."  "We need to make sure we have that in the file."  It's what I do, and I love it. 

I was getting ready to complete paperwork with a client today, looking things over one last time, making sure I had the correct lines highlighted and my initials on every page that needed initialing when a co-worker entered the room.  I was engrossed in what I was doing, and I didn't even glance at her as she walked by the table until it happened. 

At first, I had no idea what happened.  Had she dropped something in my chair?  Was there a spider on me? 

Then, it dawned on me.  She had stood next to me for just a moment... reached out... and... RUBBED MY BELLY.

"I'm sorry. I just had to do it. It's so cute!"  She had reached out her hand and rubbed my rounding, fattening, crazy little belly. 

Those of you who know me, I am sure, have heard me speak of how terrified I was of this day.  I don't like to be touched, especially by people who are not in the "circle of trust".  I hate it, in fact.  This woman is definitely not in the circle.  On the outskirts of the circle, at best.  But not in the circle.  I've thought many times of how I would react to this occassion:  Would I rub her belly back?  Slap her hand away?  Blow my crisis whistle?

Instead, what I did was jump up out of my chair and pull my shirt tighter so she could see it better. 

"Ahhh!  I know, right?  It's getting a little bigger every day, I think!" 

I became that girl.  I didn't even discourage the behavior.  In fact, I relished in it.  We discussed a friend of hers who is exactly a month ahead of me and showing much more than me and I felt myself get so excited.  This is happening.  This is real.  People know it, people can see it and people are (almost) as excited as I am. 

Maybe I won't feel the same way in three months, but it made me smile when she reached out for just a little rub as I walked out the door.