A Day Full of Blessings

Well, today was overflowing with goodness. It started with some quiet reading time. I got engrossed in a book from my mother, Woman-Haters, by Joseph C. Lincoln. Absolutely hilarious! A must read! It is a comical book about two lighthouse keepers who had bad "woman-experiences" and they vow to avoid women at all cost. Needless to say, it doesn't happen.

This cheerful read was followed by the visit from my kids and husband. After some sensational homemade chicken soup for lunch, we played Uno. Cora and I then took naps and had some snuggle time. But really the highlight for me was the wheelchair ride they took me on. Seth and Cora took turns careening me up and down the long hall way at top speed. They do not push in straight lines, nor do they like to go at sensible speeds. They loved to run me into the wall and posts but I would steer them out of the way at the last moment, seemingly on only two wheels. All of us laughed and laughed when Cora sat on my lap and Seth somehow clung to the back of the chair like a monkey. John sprinted our wheel chair menagerie down the corridor - squeals of delight ensued. I felt like a puppy with my head out the car window. My bed-head hair flapped in the breeze like giant ears, but I did manage to keep my tongue in my mouth. I am sure we made quite the sight. Their visit was topped off with root beer floats. Then, Amy stopped by with a dinner for my family to pop in the oven after their visit with me.

Tai made a surprise visit with (absolutely fantastic tasting) eggnog to celebrate the New Year. The New Year treat was complete with plastic champagne glasses and noise makers, which Seth and Cora will love tomorrow! And then the evening charge nurse, who is an avid quilter, stopped by with books and books for me to look through. She even brought a star quilt she is working on for me to see which was absolutely stunning! It was made out of warm rust and cream and brown batiks. Her hand quilting puts mine to shame, at 11 stitches per inch.

And so, maybe this hospital business isn't so bad. I am so grateful to be here and not in Burlington. It feels much safer than being at home. And I am grateful for the love everyone gave me today. I am grateful for encouragement. Most of all, I am grateful Darren was not born in 2010.

Back in the Slammer

Today, 10 years ago, I married John - I have never been more blessed. It has been 10 wonderful years; 10 years that seem too short. I hope to savor the next 10. I hope to shed as much joy in John's life as he has in mine. And today, five years ago, our marriage was blessed with the birth of our first child, Seth. It seems so incredibly hard to believe that it has been five years already - so cliche but so true.

And today I had an ultrasound that showed my daily contractions have been getting worse, and have progressed the dilation of my cervix. I now have zero length left and am all the way effaced. I'm only 27.5 wks. And so they are throwing me in the slammer again. Thankfully, they did say I could come home for birthday cake and some anniversary snuggles, but I'll be at DHMC first thing in the morning.

DHMC seems more like the "Martha-Stewart" kind of slammer and less like the "Cool-Hand-Luke" kind of slammer. At least at DHMC I'll be able to see my kids and husband most days. So, even if the food is sub-par, there are blessings in everything.

Blustery

About 22 months ago I lost a pregnancy in the second trimester - a little girl we named Josie Rose. I had experienced tragedy before, but nothing like that. My whole body seemed to grieve, aching from the milk that came in and the surgery that followed. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head forever, letting the world slip away.

I mourned and for the first time in my life, I stopped making things. For weeks. For months. I made absolutely nothing. A close friend calmed my panic and assured me that it would come back. I was terrified of how still my hands became. I was scared of how bleak everything seemed - how nothing excited me - how I felt my body was no longer good for creating, but only for carrying death. But my friend was right. The sun began to dawn against the darkness, and warmth slowly replaced my numb heart. I began to have faith again. And joy. And I did start to make things again. I even found solace in creating, and my felting business saw steady growth.

This pregnancy was a bit of a shock, to say the least. Certainly I wouldn't make it to the end. Yet, here I am .... still pregnant .... this time with a little boy. Now just over 27 weeks, I am pushing 7 weeks of bed rest. But bed rest is taking its toll on me and I am slowly feeling a never ending listlessness settle over me. I am determined not to let myself slip into a dark despair as I did last time - despite my health, or Darren's. Today was the most intensely uncomfortable day I have had since I was in Burlington and my whole body aches. I feel as blustery as the weather. Still, I chose to see the good around me.

I was given a beautiful block print of a mother and child this Christmas and it is propped on top of my bookshelf until I can get it framed. It was such a sensitive gift, given with a little note that said "think happy thoughts". So I cling to that. And I sit now in complete darkness (except for the glow of my computer) with my kids running around frantically waving glow sticks. They laugh and laugh; it is good to have such happiness in the house. John made one of my favorite meals to make me feel better and he stayed home today. The kids had delightfully rosy cheeks after being outside. And I love the weight of the quilts over me. Tomorrow I may feel up to working on something.

Post Christmas Dread

Well, I tomorrow I will have reached the 27 week mark! I am getting more bulbous by the day - I rejoice in that! At my last appointment I had remained status quo, with no progression, and my contractions have slowed considerably! The medicine (or dutiful bed rest, or prayer, or a little bit of all for them) is paying off! So tonight, I am going to reward myself by going to the Christmas Eve candlelight service, where I will sit as the rest of the congregation stands to sing. John offered to bring a reclining lawn chair; maybe it would be better to cut a whole in the ceiling and be lowered down on a mat.

Darren and I were just sitting back and enjoying the peaceful moment of quiet, admiring our Christmas tree. This year I went a little crazy with making gifts and ornaments. Each of the kids are getting a homemade stuffed animal. Cora is getting elaborate sock puppets. Seth is getting an hand sewn odedama set (aka Japanese bean bags with a target).

And I made a ton of Christmas ornaments - something on the order 35 to 40 ornaments, in fact. And most of them have been exceedingly time consuming and tedious. I like these the best, not because they are putsy, but because they usually come out the most beautiful. Here are some of my favorites from this year ...

A paper quilled holly leaf

A needle felted gnome

a paper quilled poinsettia

a sequin kimekomi ball

a paper kusudama ball

a drum made from a toilet paper roll, candy wrappers and toothpicks

I have had a nice time just quietly enjoying the season, thinking how fortunate and blessed I really, truly am. But as I lay here, sipping my decaf, still on bed rest, I have a distinct sense of post Christmas dread. What, oh what, am I going to do if I am not making things for Christmas? It will seem so anti-climactic to make Christmas ornaments. Or Christmas presents. Seth's birthday is only five days away. And my anniversary quilt is getting close to being done. So it is back to netflix and books I go. I can always paint, or draw, or use my watercolor pencils. But what I really want to do is just get back to my normal life. John says that two months is really nothing in the grand scheme of things and it will go quickly .... but he isn't sitting on the sofa.

Quilting Obsession

I have a complete addiction to all things fiber related. Mostly to textiles. I have spent most of my life loving them, and I have spent the last 10 years reading about different techniques and their origins. I have books on textile history. I have countless instructional books - most of which give technique instruction rather than project instruction. I am not so interested in recreating other people's designs. For me, that takes away a lot of the creativity that I love. It takes the versatility out of mixing and matching techniques and materials.

Mostly, I love natural fibers - wool, specifically - and I have become a felter, selling my art through the League of NH Craftsmen. You can see some of my felting at www.mhfiber.com. I love the ability to make "paintings", sculpture and 3D pieces. I love the combination of something artful and functional. I love the softness of its lines. However, it is difficult for me to wet felt while laying down.

With bed rest, I have been trying to get my 10th anniversary quilt hand quilted - also difficult to do while laying down, but easier than wet felting. I think I might just barely squeak it out by the 29th - nine days from now. But with the excitement of finishing a quilt, comes the even greater excitement of starting the next one. (Oh, how I love starting projects! Sometimes I'm not the greatest at finishing them.) And with the idea of starting a new one, comes the countless hours of looking at other peoples work, allowing me to pull from here and there to create something completely new and completely my own. This is one of my favorite stages in the creation process. Here are some that I really love. I have found myself coming back to them. I might really like the color, or the layout, or even their scrappy nature. (I tend to lean toward scrap quilts.) I might like the block. Or I might just like it, at least today, without even knowing why. Sometimes it is a mood thing.

http://www.quilt-lovers-guide.com/patterns-for-sale.html

http://www.filminthefridge.com/2009/06/22/no-willpower/

http://www.alicekayquilts.com/Largo%20Bears.jpg

http://www.berrimapatchwork.com.au/teachers.cfm

http://www.bellabellaquilts.com/workshops_landscape.html

http://www.alicekayquilts.com/Border%20Quilt%20001.jpg

http://www.quiltsinthegardens.com/otherquilts.php

http://barbperrin.com/EmptyNestTwo.aspx

http://barbperrin.com/NinepathHourglass.aspx

http://www.quiltsbywendy.com/workshops.asp

http://lorispuffnstuff.blogspot.com/

http://quilterb-bethsblog.blogspot.com/2009/10/old-forge-oh-my.html

http://www.seawaytrail.com/quilting.html

Birth and Rebirth of a Nerd

I am a nerd. Maybe dork is a better term since I only did mediocre in high school. As a kid, I always found myself doing things I liked because I liked them. I largely ignored my peers' opinions, and really couldn't care less about what adults thought. But I didn't blare my awkward leanings either. I just quietly did them. I composed music lot. I did math puzzles. I loved reading classic literature. I loved poetry. I wrote. I drew. I could never stop building or making things. I observed nature a lot. I skipped class a lot to do my whims ... to the point of almost failing out. If I was interested, I'd excel. If not, I didn't even bother trying. And if I didn't like my teacher - forget it.

My AP Chem teacher and I had a mutual disdain for one another. I repeatedly told her I hated chemistry but loved bubbleology as I washed the chemistry dishes. It drove her nuts, so I nettled her more. Her husband, my Earth Science teacher, pushed me toward engineering. I didn't really like his class either, but he let me make stuff in class ... how tricky of him ...

So I chose Mech. E. in college because I'd get to make stuff. I like making stuff. All kinds of stuff. Out of anything. My formal training as a nerd began. My junior year, I was surprised to find out bubbleologists are real (technical term: two phase fluid dynamics) ... and I wound up in grad. school .... studying bubbles. I didn't go to grad. school because I was ambitious or super smart. I went because it seemed fun ... a lot more fun than getting a job, in fact.

I stopped practicing engineering when I had Seth, and I have been moved from the world of geekery to the world of parenting. And while you don't have to be removed from geekery to be a parent, some how I just got that way. Only about 10% of engineers are woman, and most of them work. I moved across the country and none of my new friends were stay-at-home-engineers. Some of them are wives of engineers, but they don't share my love for all things nerdy. And over time, it became socially inappropriate for me to call up my friends' technically inclined husbands to go out for a beer - especially sans children. In the beginning of my staying at home, I was met with blank stares when I'd make engineering related comments. I'd follow with some feeble explanation. But slowly I morphed into a publicly "normal" stay at home mom.

But here is my confession: I am a nerd-incognito. At home, I still veer toward to the dork in me. My children know about incipient boiling. They know all sorts of random trivia facts about phase changes and have seen countless fluid flow videos on youtube. I can only read so many novels and watch so much drivel while on bedrest; I have started surfing the internet for "interesting" things. I guess the argument that it is drivel, albeit geeky, could be valid.

Today, my geeky tendencies have been rebirthed for the public to see. I found the blog of Vi Hart (http://vihart.com/) and fell in love with her videos of Math Doodles. Her perspective on art and music are interesting .... for what they lack in quality, they gain in freshness. So amuse a poor engineer on bed rest and go check out her site. Heck you might even watch them with your kids, if you have some. Show them the positive light of being a geek ....

Out on Parole

I had a hearing with the ultrasound officer yesterday and the evidence that my cervix remained constant for a whole week allowed me to be released from the hospital - I am out on parole - at least for now! I have completed the steroids for the babies lungs and am taking weekly injections to prevent further preterm labor. The local NICU is now able to take Darren should I go into unstoppable labor and need it. So I am home and enjoyed the comfort of sleeping next to my husband, morning snuggles with the kids and the giddy laughter of all of us being back together again.

After leaving the hospital John stopped at Barnes and Noble to get a coffee for the 2 + hour drive home. I made the mistake of going in. I was on my feet no more than fifteen minutes .... but after literally laying down except to go to the bathroom across the hall for over a week, and not being on my feet for close to five weeks, fifteen minutes seemed like running a marathon. I (hopefully) still have weeks of bedrest and the consequential atrophy ahead of me. I barely had the strength to get back to car! Heaven help me for the recovery of this pregnancy!

But really, I was struck with sensory overload. Being in public after 46 days of bedrest was a challenge. It was pandemonium. There were cars everywhere - everywhere! People were driving so fast and so aggressively! And lights! Flashing lights, bright lights, colored lights, lights to come and lights to go, lights to show you when and where and how! And people! Thousands of people rushing all over the store. Bouncing like popcorn. Out of elevators, down escalators, criss-crossing and whizzing past each other, invading my personal space. Endless amounts of brightly colored books stacked from the floor to above my head in tightly packed aisles. Toys and games of all different shapes and sizes. Marketing images assailed me from all directions - glaring, sharp, suffocating. Christmas music, snippets from a hundred different conversations, negotiating parents, crying children all reached my ears simultaneously. The store seemed like a giant machine without any purpose or rhythm. All the parts were grinding and clunking, but the parts weren't working together. It was counter productive.

I didn't have a panic attack. But I calmly observed a total confusion that didn't make sense to me. It was interesting to see the chaotic American Christmas shoppers from this light. I hope they aren't missing the beauty of the celebration to come. Friends, I hope you all take a moment to quiet your souls.

Advent

My childhood met Christmas with delicious excitement, a candlelight service and a short night of sleep. I rose before dawn and snuck down to see the Christmas tree and what seemed like thousands and thousands of presents.

At some point, and I am not sure exactly where, the superficial joy of Christmas morning faded, and I began to savor the richness of Advent more. I starting finding solace from the deaths, losses and disappointments I encountered over the years. The loss of John's grandparents. The loss my grandmother. Multiple pregnancy losses. Watching the struggles of friends, family and neighbors as they fought life's battles. The degradation of human dignity is not softened by old age, nor by death's swiftness, as I once thought. I don't believe we were meant for death or even suffering.

There are four weeks of advent: the week of hope, the week of peace and love, the week of joy , the week of remembering God upholds his promises. This year, while on bed rest, I have clung to advent. I remember that the neither death nor struggle can conquer me because of the faith I have in my God. This advent I cling to the belief that God is good, powerful, righteous and just. I pray that belief is not shaken by the outcomes of this pregnancy or by Darren's long term health. Rather, I pray God's character is revealed through a focus on the blessings rather than the struggle. I want to throw the fetters of pessimism and negativity. I want to see the goodness in the world around me - even doctors I don't trust.

I cherish the events and traditions we have started to take the focus off of the things found under the tree. Christmas is richer than that. It is a time for hope, joy, compassion, peace, love, optimism, faith, spirituality and reflection. Still there should be fun. And I still delight in old school candy canes, glasses of eggnog, steamy cups of hot chocolate after a snowball fight, mad dashes down the hill on a sled, the sound of skates on ice.

Snuggles Rock

What a nice to thing to see Seth and Cora today - I got a whole hour to snuggle Cora when John took Seth out for some bed rest errands (aka books and some comfortable lounge pants). Let me tell you - snuggles rock. They melt away all the drear of the day. So make sure you all snuggle your kids today, or your husbands, or both. Touch is such a wonderful thing.

The kids thought my room was little "hospitally", so we made some snowflakes and hung some window stickers and even a small pack of lights for the window that were given to us by the cleaning staff. Now it seems a little cheerier. Seth enjoyed jello and watched a bit of skiing on TV. Cora mentioned she thought that when we get to take Darren home we should strap him to the roof of the car so he can have some fresh air ... fresh air will make him stay healthy.

But just seeing John was the best of all. Not even saying anything, just letting our eyes meet and linger. I love that man.

And so I am grateful that we were blessed with tolerable weather so they could come. And I count the days until they come again.

A Shower Makes the World Brighter

When the world seems bleak, take a shower. I was awarded my first shower, complete with a geriatric stool, and it was glorious. My contractions have slowed and I am biding time. After being gooped up for two days, a shower is refreshing, invigorating, lovely. I relaxed, and had drastic mood improvement.

The last two days were wrought with big news and lots of stress. My hopes of being back at Dartmouth-Hitchcock were squashed. Apparently they closed their NICU due to an anitbiotic resistant bacterial infection and they won't be open again for weeks at best. Thank goodness I did not squeak in there with a little premie! I just missed it! I knew God was good.

The food is way better here. That is not to say that I wouldn't accept a double order of fresh Thai spring rolls and an order of drunken noodles (sometimes called spicey noodles) from a visitor - there is a great Thai place on Church St.

And I do have to say that a hospital bed is way more comfortable than a sofa for long term lounging. Maybe I should consider new living room decor.

Off for yet another ultrasound and then I will quilt when I get back. I am still hopeful of finishing my anniversary quilt before the 29th. We'll see!

Arrested and Doing Time

I am 24.5 weeks along in my pregnancy.

I was arrested.

Charge: dangerously incompetent cervix.

Found guilty.

Sentence: solitary confinement at Fletcher Allen Hospital in Burlington, VT - 2 hours from Canaan.

Length of time to serve: from now until I have my baby.

At my appointment yesterday, our fears of not being able to come home were realized. During my routine weekly visit they found my cervix funneled open still further and is only 0.6 cm long. I was having contractions. Normally, Dartmouth-Hitchcock is the hospital people are transfered to instead of from, but true to form, things never go my way. They had a bed for me, but the NICU beds were all full, so they transfered me to Fletcher Allen in case I deliver. Hopefully I'll be back at Dartmouth-Hitchock before Christmas. They are hoping a NICU bed will open up there so I can be closer to my family and with my established doctors there.

Darren is completely healthy and fine. He measured out to be 1lb 11 oz (7oth percentile!) last night. He is vivacious and kicking a ton. Unfortunately, there is no way to measure his lung development. At this point every day in the (very slow) slow cooker counts.

The hospital food begins. I couldn't cut my chicken last night. It was too rubbery. I literally had difficulty stabbing it with my fork and the knife was useless. But the mashed potatoes were real and the overly roasted veggies were passable.

I am a gooped up pin cushion. I am gooped from the 3 ultrasounds, the babies heart-rate monitor and the contraction monitor. I am a pin cushion from all the shots and IVs they have given me.

And so the plot has thickened.

I feel like Edmond Dantes and am glad this will last (hopefully) 14 weeks and not 14 years. I imagine I have a stone to carve the wall: "God will give me justice".

In all honesty, I have often feel smote by God. (Did you know that the past tense of smite is smote? I just learned that a few minutes ago.) But, for the moment at least, I don't ..... even though I would like to feel angry, I don't. I just feel terribly alone. So God, if you are reading this blog, I wouldn't mind if you showed up here right now.

Good Old Bob at J&B Auto

There are few things I miss from Minneapolis aside from people (most of whom are no longer there) and good restaurants. I love living in a small town and I am grateful I made the effort to integrate into the community for so many reasons. My children have been loved here. The librarians know my library number by heart. John Dow greets my kids by name at the Hardware store. People wave and stop to talk to you in town. They remind my kids to stay away from the street when I'm not looking. Janet and Bub joke around with my kids at the Center Store. Aaron and Dave honk their horns and wave hello every time they pass the house and we are outside. My neighbors are neighborly (in a good way).

Today I am glad for good old Bob of J&B Auto in Enfield. Bob poured the concrete for the foundation of the addition and did a great and reasonably priced job. He once saw me taking the wall jacks off the side of the house by myself and stopped to help me. He owns J&B Auto and is a good neighbor to have.

I was born in November, and in NH that means you need to get your car inspected and registered. I sent my mother-in-law to do the job six days late. I also needed new tires, and an oil change. The inspection and oil change were done promptly. When the tires didn't get delivered to the shop in time for her to leave to pick up Seth from school (Cora is throwing up), good old Bob said he'd settle up the account with John or I and that my South Dakotan mother-in-law didn't need to worry about it. I ask you, would that happen in Minneapolis? And would you get asked if you or John need anything on the phone - from the auto shop guy? Man, I love this town.

Being on bed rest has deepened my convictions about focusing outward, serving and being a part of my geographical and church communities. I hope John and I can contribute to the lives of the people around us. I want to expresses our love for the people around us in a (continuous) way.

So make sure to go to J&B Auto. Or you can call him if you need concrete work done. Bob is very fair and honest.

Darren Saves the Day

Today is the second Sunday of advent and all of my family went to church leaving me in the comfort of my bed, all snuggled up in my fleece sheets to finish the Count of Monte Cristo and to read all of Daddy Long Legs for the millionth time in my life.

Fifteen minutes after the service started at church I was imagining all of my friends and family; in my mind they were all smiley and warm and singing peaceful Christmas Carols. My house seemed heavy with silence. It oozed loneliness. It dripped in solitude.

And just when I was about to feel really and truly sorry for myself, Darren started kicking with a vengeance as if to say "hey, Mama, what am I chopped liver?" I smiled in spite of myself, patted my now bulging belly and said allowed "yeah, your right kiddo. We're in this together, aren't we?"

Then, I drifted into a deep, and definitely unneeded nap.

My Memorable Bed Rest

Well, I have completed three weeks of complete bed rest. And there are lots of things I will remember about it. Of course there is the usual discomfort and anxiety and boredom that will be ever etched in my mind. But I imagine that my children will have different memories of it than John or I will.

After two and half weeks of laying down, the moon was full and I had not been out side for all that time except to go to my doctors appointments. For me, this is amazing. I don't think I have ever stayed inside for so long, and it was killing me. John very graciously offered to put me in the car and drive the mile up the street to where the moon would rise over the far side of Canaan St. Lake like a great Christmas ball in the inky sky. Cora will probably remember that I was disobeying orders. "Don't worry, Mama, I won't tell the doctors you are being VERY naughty." But I will remember the quietness in the truck as we sat all toasty warm and watched the moon in awe. I will remember the moment Seth silently watched the path the moon etched on the lake and quietly whispered "Look at the moon path. It is painted with millions of dancing stars."

I will remember my dear friends who came over for Thanksgiving bringing a delicious turkey. And I will remember the rare moment of being able to sit quietly talking, Jon, Lara, John and I. Our children were all outside and I will remember wishing I were out side too. When the seven kids came inside, they looked rosey cheeked and winded as they informed us that they cut down some trees. If I had been outside, would the children remember this as the year they all took out the hatchet and saw and cut down some trees in the woods? Probably not. It is good they could have a moment to romp outside unfettered to just be wild and free. And it is good no one got hurt in the process.

Seth may remember bed rest as the time that he and Ben went outside with the hoe and smashed the pumpkin to death in the front yard. He'll probably remember it with the glory of orange, gooey bits flying through the air in slow motion. Maybe he'll remember the sheer joy of monster mashing it with seeds splatting on the porch steps. He might even remember it all to "Chariots of Fire" in his head. I, on the other hand, will remember bed rest as the time Seth went crazy and made a huge mess in the yard that I couldn't clean up. How very Tom Sawyer of him. How embarrassing.

I will remember the countless hours of drivel spent on the coach. But Cora will remember that it was the time when I let her sleep in my arms instead of on her bed. She'll remember taking the back sofa cushions off to make a nice nest for herself where we could snuggle under the "soft" blanket with a toasty rice sock, all warm and safe.

John may remember this time full of angst, but it will be softened by knowing it was the year I made enough homemade ornaments to finally start decorating the back of the Christmas tree.

I'll remember it as the year I missed advent at church with my friends, but it will also be the time that I came to realize there is good even in the most mundane activities.

Thanksgiving Day

Yesterday I had the most difficult doctor's appointment I have ever had in my whole life. It seems my cervix just is not wanting to cooperate with Darren (the name we have chosen for our son) and me. It just keeps getting shorter and shorter. But the end of my cervix is still closed, even if it is threatening to pop open at any moment. The conversation with the doctor that followed the ultrasound was the hardest one I have ever had.

I can't really describe the fear and frustration and angst that I have; I am not feeling peaceful or calm. Today is Thanksgiving Day. I am trying to remain positive .... and thankful. And when I think of a thing I am thankful for it doesn't seem to outweigh my dread of the impending three months ahead of John and me. But it does help to think of ALL the things I am grateful for collectively. That seems to keep me sane. So I will share it with you, in no particular order.

I am thankful ...

1. to be married with John, who has been unbelievably tender and loving and supportive during this pregnancy and during all of the issues I have had since Cora was born.

2. to feel (and see) Darren kicking so fiercely and that I am (already) 22.5 weeks along

3. for my children who are handling having a prone mother rather well

4. for everyone at Christ Redeemer Church who has so faithfully cared for us with food and childcare and emotional support .... really there has been such an overwhelming love from them all that I can't count my blessings from church

5. for a God who has been faithful to me even when I have not been faithful to Him.

6. for Jon and Lara who are coming over to celebrate Thanksgiving with us .... and for providing turkey even though Lara is 8+ months pregnant.

7. to have all the friends who have just popped in for a visit or who have called to check up on me

8. to be able to type and read and do little projects .... which has helped to combat boredom

9. for my mother-in-law

10. for warm socks and lots of blankets to keep me warm

11. for high speed internet

12. to hear Cora's contagious laughter and for her wrinkled up nose

13. for a house full of craft supplies

14. for Seth's never ending supply of pictures to cheer me up.

15. for good books

16. to have five brothers and sisters

17. for my rooster that reminds me another day has passed with his crow

18. that there is music in my life

19. that John took me outside to watch the moon rise the other night and for Cora who said "Don't worry, Mom, I won't tell the doctors you are naughty."

20. for laughter

21. my children have such a carefree life

22. my sense of smell is serving me well and I can smell and taste great food (another reason to not want to go to the hospital)

23. for a blog that can help me to refocus

24. for a God who has blessed me with all these things.

The Travellin' Blues

What do I think of computers? Really. On one hand, it is my one link to humanity. On the other, it sucks the life out of me and fills my mind with complete drivel. I have watched at least 14 movies in the last week and a half, mostly lame chick flix because I am afraid to watch something too scary or depressing. But cheesy movies are depressing in themselves. Did I really just watch 126 minutes watching that? Ugh!

What I want to do is take a trip. I spent the better half of the last two days planning my next trip to all the places I'll go when this pregnancy is over and we are all healthy and happy. Patagonia, the Shetland Islands, Cape Breton, Sitka, AK, Peru. And the hikes I want to do! Maybe all this dreaming is inspired by the book I am reading: There's No Toilet Paper ... on the Road Less Traveled. The cover proudly claims it's "the best of travel humor and misadventure". It makes me think of the culture shock John and I have had. And, oddly enough, most of the funny things happened in the US rather than abroad.

It probably started when I first met John. John was invited to a wedding of a high school friend in SD and he invited me as his date. I dressed up in heals and a trim, fitted little black dress that showed my knees and had a slit up the back. It was sleeveless and very chic. But I was introduced to all of John's friends with shocked stares. All the guys were wearing jeans and ropers. And the women were wearing jumpers. But a few years later I married John anyway .... and there were jeans and jumpers at my own wedding.

Then we traveled down south. John and I stopped at a gas station on a back road. It was miles from anywhere and we were starving - but luckily there was a Waffle House across the street. The sign was half lit, and there were two guys sitting out front in overalls with a REALLY nice hound laying at their feet. It was our only option for miles around, but when I went to pay for my gas I merely asked the attendant if the restaurant served anything besides waffles. I was met with an icy glare and a stream of tobacco juice into a soda can .... ten seconds of silence .... I feel strange .... twenty seconds of silence ..... I start to squirm ... forty seconds .... What did I say? .... more tobacco juice ... then finally ..... "Yous ain't from around heh', are ya mam?" It turned out, I had a juicy burger and some sweet potato fries for supper that night.

Then there was the time we were about 10 miles into Wyoming, just leaving South Dakota for Devil's Tower. They were blasting the road out ahead and we were stopped for half an hour waiting for a pilot car to lead us through the construction. A very lean man, probably in his thirties, but who looked about fifty, was holding the stop sign. Wearing a yellow reflective vest with no shirt underneath, he finally came to talk to us. He smiled, showing all three teeth through his scruffy beard, and proceeded to give a slow but steady 25 minute talk, allowing us to get very few words in edgewise. "Got a f----- smoke? 'Scuze me mam. I didn't realize there was a lady in the car. See yous all from SD. That's good. Ain't never been there myself, but hear its nice." I stifle a smirk knowing we are only a few minutes from the border! Really? "Too many f------- foreigners, 'scuze me mam, comin' in here and sh---- up the place, 'scuze me mam. Where are you headed? Devil's tower, I suppose. Been there once. D---- sister got married at the top. We had to f ----- rope up, and shinny to the d----- top, 'scuze me mam, for that there ceremony. Never did understand it. Sure you don't have an f------ smoke? 'Scuze me mam. S-----. I could use a d---- smoke, 'scuze me mam. Well, sure glad you ain't no stupid foreigner. They don't know the ass of the cow from the front. Their always lookin' at a d--- cow and asking 'Are them bison?'" Here he stopped to spit in the dirt. "Sh--, 'scuze me mam, I jus' look and them and say 'No, they ain't'". And so his ramble went on for a half hour. Along came the pilot car and we waved a hearty good-bye and laughed for a hours afterward.

Then there was the West TX hole-in-the-wall gas station a few mi. from the Mexican border where we stopped to use bathroom. I was suddenly and obviously the only white person in the room. It smelled horrible. Everyone stopped talking. I smiled and tried to look nonchalant, but was stared at by at least 10 Latino men. I quickly went to the bathroom and locked the door. I prayed that John would come in after pumping the gas. I again noted the stench. I quickly used the nasty bathroom. What was that smell? There was a knock on the door. I froze. Silence. "Kathleen?" Phew, it was John. I went out and realized the smell was from the very large, very real tiger that was in a chain link cage in the middle of the gas station. A hand painted sign on plywood read "Picture with Tony - $10".

And so I let my mind take me off of bed rest for a time. I'd like to just go into town and get some ice cream. But the sun seems a little more cheerful from the sofa as I read and dream of all the funny and a little unnerving things that may happen on our next trip. And I wonder - what culture shock you have experienced? (Laura, you better not say that it is coming to my house!)

The Sentence and a Dedication

At 21 weeks of pregnancy, I was diagnosed with an incompetent cervix. Complete bed rest lays before me until I deliver - hopefully in 3.5 months. I have all sorts of questions about what this means for my health, for the health of my baby and for the dynamics of my family which includes Seth and Cora who are only 4 and 3. I don't know how things will pan out. I don't how to iron out all the details.

But I do know that I am not going to lay on the sofa and let myself pine away into a mental abyss of despair and nothingness. I can't do much while laying on the sofa. But this blog is a (very small) way I would like to give back to all the people who have helped John and me get through this with meals, books, conversation, surprise smiley visits, thoughtful notes, little gifts and flowers. And so this blog is dedicated to you, reader. And I dedicate it to my friends and family and neighbors.

Because I cannot drop by for coffee like I ordinarily would, I hope this blog can be an interactive sight. To get the most out of it, please feel free to leave thoughts, comments and responses.