Halfway there!

Baby is about the size of a banana and weighs roughly 300 grams. Baby's organs are continuing to develop, and teeth are forming. Baby can swallow (mmm, amniotic fluid-slash-urine... So tasty) and hiccup!

Baby likes: horseback rides, long walks, kicking Mummy, fruit, lemon water and hearing people speak to him or her through Mummy's belly.

Baby dislikes: wheat, dairy, chocolate, sugar (sometimes), and being stationery for too long.

Looks like Baby wants to go outside in the rain! Meh, works for me :).

I spoke with my lovely midwife today about my ultrasound results from last week--I love my midwives! They're so sweet, helpful and encouraging.

She confirmed that I do indeed have complete placenta previa, as far as can be seen from the scan pictures. She said that there is a *chance* that the placenta might move to a better position as the pregnancy progresses. I have been referred to an ultra-specialist type obstetrician at Royal Columbian and he'll schedule the ECG and further scans to monitor the placenta. BUT the great news is that I get to stay with the midwives! I thought that once they passed me along to a doctor that they'd be through with me, but evidently that's not the case! Apparently I will split my monthly appointments between the OB at RCH and the midwives AND they will actually be there for the delivery, even if it ends up being a scheduled cesarean! So great! I'm also able to deliver at Ridge Meadows instead of having to go out of town--yay!

She warned me though that if I start bleeding at any time I will need to go to the hospital immediately and will most likely be on bed rest until the baby comes. Yikes! Prayerfully that isn't the case :).

We bought a heart rate Doppler on Craigslist yesterday to listen to Baby, but it's pretty fuzzy. Apparently Baby is the size of a banana now--so, so big!

We had another ultrasound on Thursday (19.5 weeks), and even though this was the fourth scan we've had, it never gets less exciting to see our little one swimming around :). The technician was able to determine Baby's gender but we don't want to know; surprises rule!

However, there was some less-than-exciting updates that will require us to continue to be monitored. Firstly, the tachycardia is still present with Baby's heart rate being around 179 bpm. This means that Baby will most likely need an echocardiogram done in utero in the next few weeks to determine if there's an issue there.

Secondly, I currently have placenta previa, which means a guaranteed cesarean section unless the placenta moves (unlikely). Boo! Buuuut, obviously whatever is best for the baby we will do! Thankfully I haven't had any of the regular previa symptoms, which is great because that would result in being on bed rest and hospitalisation and possibly delivering the baby quite early. We're praying that the placenta moves in the next few weeks as the cervix is currently completely covered. We would appreciate your prayers for that too!

... So maybe a July baby..?

Baby sure is active these days! I know it's early but I'm very much feeling the unmistakable movements of our little one..! It has gotten to the point where whenever I sit down (which is, admittedly, not that often--mostly just at meal times, haha!), within a minute or so Baby has started his or her karate (or soccer or tap dance) regiment. AND David has been able to feel Baby move too, which is a super cool experience for both of us. Keep dancing, little babe!

So as most of you know, I am the barn manager at Timberline Ranch, a Christian horse camp in rural Maple Ridge. Being pregnant hasn't really posed too many issues in the barn, except for the following:

-I no longer ride the young and green (read: unpredicable) horses;

-my Q-Baby Wrangler jeans are now held together by an elastic band connecting the zipper and the button.

One of my fellow wranglers told me sweetly today that she thinks I have 3-4 more weeks in these jeans before I have to shelf them until post-partum. I think that's really, really pushing it, especially considering how much I've popped these past couple weeks..!

One of the Fjord mares in the barn is pregnant and also due in the summer. The campers this week have gotten a real kick out of the fact that Sarabi and I are both soon-to-be mamas. Sarabi's foal moves like crazy in the afternoon and it's so cool to see her belly swell and collapse with each movement. The campers gather around her, fighting to fit their hands somewhere on her abdomen. Admittedly I don't envy her the overwhelming physical attentions :).

I've been feeling Baby move a ton since last week, and David got to experience it last night, too! He or she is already pretty active and strong... And only half a pound. Lord, have mercy.

We're going skiing this weekend... Well, David will ski and I'll leave my snowboard at home to avoid temptation. I am SO GLAD that I have a pair of cross country skis and snowshoes to keep me occupied! The sun is supposed to be out all weekend, so it should be a fantastic trip :).

So far all of this is fun!

Ok, I've clearly been absent for far too long! It's been my intention to blog about my pregnancy (and beyond), but because we haven't had access to a laptop or desktop computer for the past 3ish months, and the fact that I couldn't fathom the idea of doing any significant amount of writing on my iPhone, the idealistic goal of blogging each minute of my pregnancy has fallen to the wayside. Now that we've moved into our new house and are starting to feel somewhat settled, I am now determined to blog more often--if only for my own records!

So, where to begin? I was 19 weeks yesterday (what?! That flew by!) and have been through a plethora of happy baby symptoms. I'll do a super quick instant replay of the past few months for you...

(Note: we're dealing with pregnancy here. Not always a lot of elegance. At times I will provide too much information. You've been warned.)

November 21st: life begins!

November 22nd: our specialist tells us that we can probably start "trying" again in the new year (ha ha... Little did everyone know!)

December 10th: Six pregnancy tests confirm what I had been suspecting for a few days--baby is coming! I'm nearly 5 weeks and due August 13th. We decide to use the local midwife clinic as our healthcare providers.

From week 5-14 I feel pretty nauseous and discover I've developed a pregnancy-induced wheat sensitivity. Yay... But to be honest, I don't even care--we're having a baby!

Week 10: first ultrasound! Baby's heart rate is high so we return at weeks 13 and 16 for further monitoring. Each time the heart rate has been lower, with it being around 170-180 at week 16.

So that's the dealio so far! We have another ultrasound later this week and I can't wait to see how our little squirrel has grown! I've begun to feel Baby move and it's the coolest feeling ever :).

David received a very old copy of "The New American Baby Book", published in 1954, as a gag gift for his birthday. Reading through it has proven to be quite the treat, so I will conclude these posts with quotes from this, erm, outdated model of perfect pregnancies and happy families. Enjoy!

"You will want to look your best when in the hospital. After the baby is born a party atmosphere prevails. Relatives and friends come to see you at visiting hours, and you will remember this time as the happiest and gayest of your life.

"During the months of waiting you will have done some sewing for yourself as well as the baby, an the result may be several becoming bed jackets, a delicate nightgown or two, and a bathrobe or dressing gown. Some women prefer to wear pajama tops instead of nightgowns and bed jackets. If you can 'sew a fine seam' there is no telling what dainty garments you may have designed for yourself. Some women go so far as to bring to the hospital their own hand-embroidered coverlets and pillow slips for the bed."

I'm on it!

"You are to be my holy people... Do not follow the crowd in doing wrong... See, I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared" (Ex. 22:31, 23:2, 20).

Holy.
Set apart.
Protected and directed.

Some days I spend so much time asking for the things of the crowd--the unholy, unsanctified world--that I forget who I am.

I know who I am ...

Forgiven. Being made Perfect. A Gift of Grace. A Child of the King. Beautiful. Accepted. Spirit-filled. Anointed. Honoured. Loved. Set Free. Blessed.

But if I REALLY comprehended the intensity of my indentity then I would spend my hours looking for this angel who is bringing me to my prepared place instead of looking for ways to make myself more like the crowd.

Houses. Jobs. Cars. Bills. Vacations. RRSPs. Insurance policies.

It's so simple yet we choose to make it something unattainable--perhaps a feeble effort to justifify inactivity and complacency?

"Worship the Lord your God..."

why?

"...and his blessing will be on your food and water..."

okay... liking it...

"...I will take away sickness from among you, and none will miscarry or be barren in your land. I will give you a full life span."

HELLO!

After all he's given, what he asks is so little and what we receive is so grand. We are kings and queens sitting lazily in the charred fields of a barren land. Forgive me, Oh Lord, for I do know what it is I do... awaken this little bird into flight. My eyes will search for that angel of yours and follow him into your arms.

You have my heart.

My writer’s voice has strep throat
Each word raspy, faltering and hoarse
My own pen mocks me
as I strain
Clearing my paper again and again
No.
I cannot blame this on an illness…

My writer’s voice has worn out

from neglect

If I were an Ibex I would use my antlers for good and not evil.

But then again, it sure would be fun to ram something with those gargantuan spikes.

when you love something you set it free. if it returns to you, it's yours forever; if it doesn't, it never was.

recapture.
That is the word of my soul. Yet its purpose is not to cling to what has past and changed; instead, it seeks to remind me of what I had and was and to find a moment where that memory can tip its head to look at me from within my open hand, and before I have the chance to grasp it tight, away it flies, to land upon a fence post nearby and gaze again at me. And as I start to lean towards, it flutters out of reach, and hops once, twice, to take its flight to distant tree

This blog has undergone some pretty drastic renovations...
not that I regret that it has turned into a storage spot for some of my poetry, but I miss the purpose it once served as a spot for reminiscing of what the Lord had been doing in me.
not that poetry isn't a reflection of the what is ordered and what is awry in the spirit.

haikus are poems
I love, for they are simple
and misunderstood

frick, there I go again!

I guess I wouldn't really know where to begin if I were to revert back to my old blogging ways of this being more of a place for open journalling, inspiration and encouragement. Again, perhaps it still is all of the above, yet just within a situation shrouded in the ambiguity of things.
I think one of the main reasons why I blogged in the other style is because i knew that i was a part of a type of online blogging community that included my closest friends, such as Jess L, Shannon, Jill, Jeff, Christine, Katie... to name a few.
not that I blogged for you. But I guess I sort of did. My inspiration for a blog often arose out of a word, phrase, idea, or entire post of one of yours.
it's wierd how life changes (*note: I'n not sure how to spell "wierd/weird." I should get on that.)
not weird in a bad way.
just different, I guess.
not different in a bad way.
but sometimes bad, i guess.

sometimes i feel like i've come so far, only to turn around and realize i've been standing in the same spot all along.

The Knot

What moves with the sleeves raised to greet the secret eyes
Lips and nails to fend them off
Who belongs there?
Have they raised a red olive tree? We can’t think nothing leaves
… and then we said magenta
He wasn’t listening
It is you, the romantic paper doll
…in paper cups
A little curiosity, some awe,
Black and white blasts of colour
Are no longer silhouettes
To life. An Ambiance.
Also add fine photographs haphazardlyThe urge to get it all
Baby, it’s cold, in days as well
Ask any sexy and enduring collection of luxury stuffed in shoe boxes
The flower girl, your very own, starts the moment
Could you wish the romantic recapture that retreats in abiding pleasureSlow down, but for a moment—I’m breathing in…I’m breathing out—
Let the ocean be scrumptious cocoa—to enter and for the whimsical,
Beautiful without a fragrance, a promise: recapture that
Shade as your sand disappears.

Am I One Alive?

I am not yet formed; I remain a shadow
The waters slap at my skin
They roll and lap and swirl within me too
My lungs breathe these inky pools
Before I am
But am I
one: alive? Or yet to be
Silenced either way
I drink you in with every breath
And you need only close your eyes to have me
disappear
But I cannot escape you
Unless it is in forceful extraction
Or pains that push me down
Either way I am subjected
To your wants, your needs, your pleads
These deeds you do
That do me in
or in me do a death
Either way I am subjected to acceptance
or rejection
If I could choose
I’d drown in these prison waters
To keep the pain
from you

Salmon Run

Not much more than nine years on my hide
you took me on a five hour drive
to the riverside once oft visited
by you as a lad, with your Daddy, I suppose

Your hands pointed here and O! over there!
Remembering a limp tire swing slung over
that old Maple's arm
and how the glassy water reached to pull you in

Then you would surface like a slimy fish-boy, laughing
And your Daddy laughing too
Cupping your hands within his own in the shallows,
patient as the minnows hurry through your fingers
until
you catch the pudgy one
and your father drops it in his mouth,
swallowing it alive
your eyes open
wide.

You are remembering.

But now there's pain within those eyes
and your wide shoulders droop with a burden unfamiliar to you
Like a vagrant stranger roosting on your porch
As you skip
a stone that
shatters
any smooth reflection.

And
your
memories

sink
with the rock, for these waters
do not gush with what you recall when you were nine

Your Daddy's gone and you've returned here
Like the salmon run upstream
Past times struggling as you fight the current
nearly drowning in the change

But you have spawned my own memories
and so I revisit with my son
that he may be immersed in his own wonders
His mirth drenching my distress of finding my seasoned mind’s pictures do not match
these sketches here

So wade these ancient waters here with me
Even if those hundred seasons passed by

still, as your Daddy rooted you on this shore and
you carved me
in the bark
So my son's son will bleed his name into the sap
beside his Daddy's and mine and your Daddy's and yours
And we'll all drink from these

As the river runs

Where does this dormant dragon choose to sleep?
Within the flames of desire’s volatile heat?
Where ashes are birthed to rise up to their feet
To caress the air and then begin to weep

Like dark streaks from eyes to cheek
Mourning that this beast withstands such fire
Content to leave his passion to inspire
Emptied tongues that cease to speak

If he knew that opening an eye
Could arouse a fleet of intensity
Stronger than unyielding gravity
[Beauty of butterfly]
That chases apathy into the sky

And frees him to be alive inside
The fire that threatens to subside

She does not strive to capture beauty
for far too much already
is imprisoned on their mantles and
in their lacquered frames or
between the dusty pages lining shelves
which hide that which weeps
behind glossy covers
for far too much already
has been raped and shamed hanging
naked from their walls
all that stood glorious holds
its breath refusing to die by
their lusting hands
and she cannot rest
until beauty sets her
Free

Deactivation

May there be joy within the sacred places
Between the anxious wrinkles of their faces
Behind the shrieking baby’s fears
And the stranded widow’s tears
Beside the raging torrents of the falls
And in the lurking falcon’s calls
Upon the graves of silenced men
To tell the secrets of now and then
That wring your spirit dry
Shriveling a wanton cry
Which knows no flame of inspiration
Stifled in its desperation
To smile and smile and smile, more
With the face than inner core
Clouds shift and shudder as they burst
But muddied waters immobilize this thirst

The Wall

Outwardly calm here on the floor
My charging heart begins to drum
I hear you breathing by the door
As expected, you have come

I slip my magazine aside
While you fumble with the lock
Like a mouse I cannot hide
And you the snake begin to stalk

Your grip is firm and rough and cold
But warmth settles like a dust
In my core as I do as I'm told
To satisfy your raging lust

For as I caused your thirst
So I quench you until
Your dry tongue starts to burst
As it tastes its fill

Over my chest you run your hand
Disguising a caress
With a touch I can neither stand
Nor hasten to repress

For a blink I think
You are attracted
To my hips
But I am distracted
By the whispers from your lips

Away my thoughts drift into the hall
I see you, and me, and my face is on the wall

I see the blanket's patterns; red
And white intertwine around
I lose myself in each thread
As I count the stitches bound
Together forming paths of pink
That run from end to end
Nothingness that lets me think
This moment here is all pretend

I see you push your body off my own
From the wall I want to scream
At your voice that drips a honeyed tone
To awake me from my detached dream
Your words contain both fear and threat
I "cannot tell", you say I'm "fine"
You know our secret will not get
Divulged, for shame, in truth, is mine

In my soul I know it's true
That I could never think to tell
Of what goes on with me and you
And how my life is living hell

My ugly frame I twist and clutch
And shudder your thick scent away
Tomorrow again I'll know your touch
But for now I slip into the gray

As you leave this darkened room
I feel a tear begin to fall
One half stifled in my tomb
One half raining down the wall

Today was my last Writing for Publication class. The professor gave us the same assignment he gave us day one: start with "I write" and carry on from there, for 5 minutes. Go. Incidentally, last night I re-discovered my journal and delved somewhat into this question of writing. Anyway, the first section was my class assignment, and the second was my journal entry. Merci.

I write because I can, because I want, because I love. If the trees didn't so persistently torment me into inspiration, I would not write. If the lake were not so green and blue and greeny-yellow-blue, I would not, could not write.

I write because I like to find
Rhyming words of different kind.
From yellow chicks hopping in their nest
To when the sunlight takes its rest,
I write.
For if I didn't I might
Explode.

Freed from stifled thoughts, my words sometimes dance or drip or stumble or collapse onto pages and books and volumes. I write because who listens? No one can listen, no one will listen. The pages listen, for in their silence they cannot interrupt me.

I write to be remembered. I write because I fear I will forget. And if I forget me, who then can recall me? I desperately write to leave my mark, my authorship, my name up something no one can interrupt. I will not go away. That is why I write.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hear your whispers, but there are voices all around me... and they are friendly voices. But they are not listening. No, indeed they babble on and on and never cease. There, again! You speak too, but I don't know if I like it. It's so different, and I truly fear that which I do not know.

I think I write because I want people to listen to me. When you're filling lines and pages and volumes with ink and words and sentences, no one can interrupt you. They can put down what you've scrawled and walk away, but even then the pages cannot escape your thoughts. Why am I so determined to leave my mark, to sign my work, to claim my authorship? LISTEN TO ME! I always feel unheard. You'd think for someone so desperately longing to be heard that I would be one who listens well to others and to the Lord. Not so. Always speaking but never heard. Truly, I am both blind and deaf.

"I will not forget you. I have swept away your offences like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me for I have redeemed you" (Isaiah 45:22)

He will not forget me! Why should I be so concerned with leaving a mark? I have been cleansed and redeemed...

So I stop my desolate wanderings and sit and cry, my face angled away from the city lights before me. Sometimes this is me returning.