Saturday, July 22, 2017

A Lesson I Learned



                 

Hello everyone.
You know it really is pretty funny how God works.
My dad always used to say "man plans, and God laughs."
While I don't think he's up there snickering and countering our plans, I feel the principle is very true. Quite often our plans don't align with what God has in store. 
But a lot of times that's a very good thing. Some of my plans could leave me destitute, bitter, and in a jail cell pretty easily. 
All this to say that God shook up one of my plans. I set out last week to start reading my Bible. Again. It's just terrible that I have to work so hard at something that's so good for me. But anyway, I didn't decide to read it every day, or read a certain amount every day, because I knew if I started out with a bunch of rules right off the bat that I'd fall on my face. So, thus far I've read about every other day, and even that much has drastically improved my mental wellbeing. 
See, I started this venture to learn how to be a mom. How God wants me to be. So I thought I'd go through the Bible and read about all the mom's. They usually get overlooked by the preachers, but God thought enough of them to tell their story. I'd just finished reading in Genesis, and I'm super familiar with Moses' mother, so I skipped some of those early ones to be visited later and went to 1 Samuel to read about Hannah. And it was good. I came away from it with the idea that we need to do right by our children in the Lord's will, whether or not it's convenient or pleasurable for us. Now I'm not planning at all to drop Henry off with pastor once he's weaned and come visit him once a year, but that could apply to anything. My middle sister for instance is wanting to possibly take a missions trip to Columbia once she graduates. All that's going through my parents minds right now (and mine, I'll admit) is drug cartels and gang wars and all sorts of terrifying things. But if Columbia is Gods will for her my parents are going to have to accept that. Or it could be on a much smaller scale. God flat out says to discipline your children. That's not really a pleasant thing for a parent. 
But I'm certain that's not what God had for me that day. He sat back and said "yeah, chapter one was good Mom, now go on to chapter two. That's where we really need to be." 
So I read chapter two. It's Hannah's prayer to God after he gives her a son. It basically talks about how mighty God is; how he kills and makes alive, he sets men in the positions they're in, and that he takes care of his children. 
The verses that struck me were 1, 3, and 9. 
In the King James, that's: 
...My heart rejoiceth in the Lord, mine horn is exalted in the Lord: my mouth is enlarged over mine enemies; because I rejoice in thy salvation. 
Talk no more so exceeding proudly; let not arrogance come out of your mouth: for the Lord is a God of knowledge, and by him are actions weighed. 
He will keep the feet of his saints, and the wicked shall be silent in darkness; for by strength shall no man prevail. 

There's a person I have to deal with fairly frequently that I honestly had a good deal of hate toward, for years. There's no avoiding this person, and I'm expected to treat them not just civilly, but warmly, and frankly, I was getting bitter by the second about it. This person has wronged me personally, and my family in so many ways and on so many occasions and I just couldn't find it in me to show Christian love toward this person. 
God knew that. He knew that when I prayed about this person it was in more of a bolt of lightning from the sky sort of way. Not that they would come to love and repentance in him. 
Hannah wrote these verses about her husbands other wife (wife in law?), because she picked on her relentlessly because Hannah had no children and she had several. That would be enough right there to make me fly into a rage. 
But here, Hannah doesn't run to this woman and say "look here, witch. I've got a son now too. Now what you gonna say, you ugly old toad?" 
She says she rejoiced in the Lord. She was happy with God and his salvation. And that he lifted her up above the woman who ridiculed her. It didn't come through any smack talk of her own. It came from her joyful contentment in him. 
She tells this woman to not brag and vaunt herself. That no matter how high and mighty you act up town, because of how much you have or what your last name is, God knows your actions and the motives behind them. 
God will take care of his children. He goes to bat for them, so we don't have to fret about it. The wicked will be dealt with. No one is going to get by on their own power. 

When I read those verses I just kinda sat back and said "ok God."
This is not to say that when that person does something, again, that it doesn't irk me. I still feel upset, it still hurts. But, so far anyway, I haven't been overcome with rage that festers and boils for days at a time. My anger hasn't caused me to sin anymore. 
And I've been praying for this person. Like truly praying. That if they don't know Jesus as their savior that they would come to. That if they do know him, that they would return to him and start living the way they should. That in either of those things that they would be convicted of their wrong doing and stop it. That the Lord would help me to be kind to them through it all .
Part of me feels like "and Lord, if all this could just happen tomorrow that would be great." But I'm sure God's smiling saying "I think we're going to learn patience next." 

Thursday, July 20, 2017

Scout and I on Creativity

Hello lovelies!
We've been rather creative around here lately, and I wanted to share it with you.
I made some curtains to cover my pantry shelf (it's a bookcase in my kitchen). I don't have a picture and I'm not willing to take one because the shelf is currently messy.
But what I really wanted to show you, is this-


It's a fairy garden. You might not be able to see it all, but I've got a little house in the corner, some boats sailing down the stream, a bench, a little gold tree of buttons and beads, some button tables, and a little bike. 
I was more than a little bit thrilled when it turned out. It took me about four days to convince Jarod that a fairy garden does not mean I believe in fairies and does not alter his masculinity at all to sit in his yard, and that it's for the sole purpose of decoration, but even je came to like it. 

Then it all got tore up. 
Destroyed. 
Picked apart piece by piece.

Not by Scout. 
By this little varmint. 
A woodchuck. 
No, I didn't kill it. Scout got him for me and had him laying in the yard when I got home one day. 
We will rebuild. 

Speaking of Scout, he's been rather creative too. 
He made these. 
Ten of them. 
One day I came home and found him gone, and upon some investigating, found him at my landlords house. Now my landlord was under strict orders to tell me if Scout ever causes him trouble. I apologized and told him I would tie Scout up for a fee days, since their dog Lady was obviously in heat. He assured me not to worry about it because Scout had been coming over all week and their dog was spayed. I still secretely wonder why they never told me my dog was roaming the countryside but oh well. 
Anyhow, couple months later, miss Lady can't jump into the pickup she's so fat. A call to the vet reveals it was a different dog named Lady that was spayed, and not this one. 
Obviously. 
They've both since madde trips to the vet, but their one batch of children was incredibly cute. 
I will admit, I was rather hoping Irvin would find home for all but one puppy, so I'd have reason to take one and add to our collection of five dogs scattered across various farmsteads, but they found homes for all of them. 
Irvin ended up keeping the brown one. 
They say he's lazy.
I can definitely vouch that he got that from his dad. 




Monday, July 17, 2017

Beautiful People Post

Hi everyone!
So today I'm doing something I haven't done in awhile. A Beautiful People post. And the only reason I can do this one is its about me, therefore I don't actually have to be working on any characters to participate. Although I'm not sure I'm half as interesting as some of my dispicable (my autocorrect just changed that to disposable...touché) characters. But, I'll do my best.

How do you decide which project to work on?
Well, generally there's not much of a method. I've gotten a bit better with age, but I'm definitely not a fine wine, so to speak. Basically if I've mulled over it for six months to a year and I have at least an inkling of a plot (characters come easy to me, but if I don't wait till I have that plot idea the story will die faster than a John Green character) then I'll start it. Basically though, whichever story excites me most, that's the one I start. 


  1. How long does it usually take you to finish a project?
You're assuming that I finish projects. This I can't really answer. I've got some stories that I'm still very much in love with that I've been working on for five years or more that still aren't finished, and then I've got some that I finished the first draft in a month (nanowrimo). I have exactly zero that are finished completely- edited, re edited, and all that jazz. 



  1. Do you have any routines to put you in the writing mood?
A routine? No. Certain things will put me in the mood at various times. Pinterest is a big one. And music. Lyrics or instrumentals. Also, reading a really good book gets me right fired up to go write one. 


  1. What time of day do you write best?
Time of day doesn't really matter, but all of my work has to be done. I cannot write worth a hoot if I know there are dishes in the sink and laundry that needs folded. Also, Henry's naptime generally helps. 

  1. Are there any authors you think you have a similar style to?
I don't know? I mean, one person read one story, and after telling me how much they hated me for it, said I reminded them of John Green. But that was only because some characters died (disposable, remember). My writing style isn't like him at all, in my opinion. So I reàlly don't know. 

  1. Why did you start writing, and why do you keep writing?
Is it arrogant of me to say I thought I could write it better? This was when I was super little, and it just seemed to me that the stories I loved always ended entirely too soon, the best characters didn't get nearly enough page time, and usually died, and the meh characters hogged all the glory. So I set out to remedy the cruel mistreatment of my favorite stories. I keep writing because....well I haven't been doing a good job of it for the last two years, but I keep muddling along because I still have so many stories and words bottled up inside me that need to come out and be shared with people. I want to keep people up at night with that sick excited feeling in the pit of their stomach while they turn to the next chapter. 

What’s the hardest thing you’ve written?
A job application resume. 
Seriously.
No, on a fictional field, I would say either my Iron Curse story for the Rooglewood Press contest a few years back, or my Blaze story. The Iron Curse story because I was writing within the confines of an already told story. Making a fairy tale retelling unique yet recognizable was hard for me. And Blaze because it was wrote in first person, and because I was trying so hard to make the emotion and symbolism of the story stand out on the page. I failed, by the way. It shall all have to be re done. All of it! 

  1. Is there a project you want to tackle someday but you don’t feel ready yet?
JAKE'S STORY. 
I love this story and I have tidbits of it written but I'm not ready to tackle it. First, because is a mess of random snippets that I'm not sure how to piece together. Second, I'm missing the all important plot. And last but certainly not least, I want it to be deep and powerful and emotionally disturbed, and it deals with things like addiction, and depression, and I'm just not ready to be that raw yet. 


  1. What writing goals did you make for 2017 and how are they going?
I had the goal go write. Which clearly has not been going well. But I'm still trying. I've started two stories so far and they both got shoved aside. The first one I just wasn't connecting with my main character, and the second one had no plot. Again. Maybe I'll get to them later though. I've got some ideas brewing however. Brand new and ready for action as soon as all the ingredients are rounded up. 


Describe your writing process in 3 words, or a gif!



Thursday, July 13, 2017

Henry B.

Hello everyone! 
This little munchkin is now three months old, and at the moment he's a whopping 14.5 lbs, and two feet tall. Only three feet to go and he'll be as tall as me. 

At one month old he somehow learned to roll over and did it all the time for several weeks. He must have got bored with it because he hasn't done it since. 

He does enjoy tummu time a but more now, though it's definitely not his favorite thing. He loves his playmat and bouncy chair. On the bouncy chair is a frog and a ladybug. 

He obviously prefers the ladybug.

He attended his first concert in June. Crowded Music and Tobymac. He slept through almost the entire thing and didn't mind at all when he was awake. 

Me and him went on his first fishing trip which must have been funny because he sat in his seat on the bank and laughed the whole time. 


Scout has claimed him as his own personal little person. 

He's not overly ammused when I say he's a cabbage patch kid.


His daddy gets mad when I say I dress him up like a doll, but that's exactly what I do for church every Sunday and the kid just gets cuter. 

In general, he looks exactly like me, but ever so slowly I'm starting to see some resemblance to Jarod. 

Overall he is an incredibly happy and content baby, though he is starting to teeth now so he doesn't feel very good some days. He's happy to be held by basically anyone, and sleeps long and hard in a little ball or with his legs splayed out like a frog. 

He's just not real sure about those darn rubber duckies.

He loves reading books, and being kissed by stuffed animals. 

It's possible I'm biased, but it's the verdict around here that he's the cutest thing ever. 

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

Full Time Homemaker


Hello guys! No, I'm not dead. Not hardly.
Just been super busy. 
The other day I was filling out a form for a magazine subscription and it asked for your occupation, so they could see who their reader base is. Unemployed was there but that just didn't seem to fit. I work all the time. Just not for a salary anymore. And retired wasn't quite right either. Then I finally found the right option. 
Homemaker.
I fell in love with that word. It gives what I'm doing a sense of purpose. Sometimes it's easy to slip into thoughts that I'm not doing enough. That staying ho!e taking care of the baby, spending time rocking or playing with him, is lazy. That it doesn't really matter in the scheme of things. That it's not that big of a deal. That the hours I put into keeping the house clean and attractive, fussing over my garden and plants, tending the yard, cooking meals, and trying to be a good steward of our finances really isn't that big of a deal. Its not real work. 
But that's simply not true. The Bible tells me 

Proverbs 22:6King James Version (KJV)

Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.

God has given Henry to Jarod and me. And right now while he's little and can't go out with Dad in the tractors, it's my job to start training him proper. And, surprisingly enough, at three months old, he's already trainable. I can tell him no, or no fussing when I know there's nothing wrong, and he knows he has to wait for me to dry my hands, etc. Before he can be held. 

It also says in Genesis 2:18 that the wife is a help meet for her husband. And Proverbs 31:10+ tells all about a woman who tends the home, family, land, money,etc to prosper her husband. 
I'm helping Jarod when he comes home after a long day and there's a warm, tasty, healthy supper waiting for him. I'm helping him when I take care of the yard and weeds myself so he doesn't have to worry about it needing done or the landlord being upset. I'm helping him by keeping the house clean. No one wants to work outside all day in the heat with all the farming sfresses, and then come home to a house that looks like a tornadon went through it. That's not even remotely relaxing.

So I am doing something worthwhile. It does matter. It is beneficial. And I'm loving every second of it. 

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

A Different Sort of Story


It started out a pretty typical Tuesday. Got up early and went with Jarod to do chores. Did some work with the cows before dinner and then went to drill alfalfa. The contractions that started after dinner weren't so unusual either. Coming only about twenty minutes apart, they were no different than the ones I'd been having the last several weeks, so I didn't pay them any attention.

 By three o'clock though, after about an hour in the tractor they were getting close enough that I thought to start timing them. About seven to ten minutes apart. Jarod had me get out of the tractor and sit in the pickup. He was ready to take off for the hospital right away, but my doctor told us not to come in until they were five minutes apart for at least an hour. So I waited and timed, and by five o'clock they were four to five minutes apart. Buzz the dog was in the pickup with me looking at me with these gigantic sad eyes that he has like "why are you whimpering like that?" So I called my doctor and told her the scenario. She said to go ahead and head home and get our stuff and then head to the hospital. So I called Jarod and we parked the tractor and I convinced him to go home before tearing off to the hospital. Most of our hospital bags were in the car already so we changed clothes and I grabbed a hair brush and we headed out. 
I called my mom on the way there and he called his aunt, so we had plenty of women panicking and wanting to follow us there but we held them off. It's an hour and a half drive to the hospital and it took us that long even though we were not going anywhere close to the speed limit. We got stuck behind some of those annoying people that drive 45mph in a 60 zone so that held us back. Jarod tried to make up for it in the open stretches, and I only tried to slow him up a couple times. Thank God we weren't driving at night because I would have been yelling at him that if he hit a deer with my Impala while speeding he would be the one needing a hospital.


We got to the hospital at seven and got admitted. It was rather strange. In the movies when a woman comes in during labor they all panic and rush her to a room. The lady who checked us in was the slowest, quietest little teenage looking gal I've ever met, and she just casually had me sign some paperwork and confirm my address and all this stuff that I had done ahead of time with the promise that when we came in we wouldn't have to do any of it again. Maybe I wasn't showing enough signs of hysteria. 
Finally all that rigamarole was done and they took us up to the second floor and I put on my little black hospital gown I'd bought and they started monitoring how close the contractions were and seeing if I was dilated. They gave me about 1 cm worth of dilation and five minute spaced contractions and informed me that labor was "favorable". 
They kept us there for two hours and the contractions got to be three minutes apart and harder. At nine o'clock the nurse checked me again and said that I hadn't dilated at all and that I really wasn't in labor so I needed to either get induced or just head home. They couldn't let me stay if I wasn't in labor. And then she stood there for our answer. 
So we finally got her to get out of the room and we called my mom. Me and Jarod didn't really want to get induced because we figured he would come when he was ready. My mom was pretty livid that the nurse said three minute contractions for almost five hours wasn't labor. If we had lived closer we might have went home but all we could picture was driving an hour and a half home and having my water break when I walked in the front door and having to drive all the way back in the middle of the night. We considered a hotel room, but it just seemed like the contractions and stuff were getting harder and closer and it made sense that we should be going into "active labor" any minute now, and paying for a room we weren't gonna use seemed silly. So we decided to go ahead and try to speed labor up a little bit so they would let us stay where nurses could at least help us if something did happen. So the nurse came back and we told her we'd be willing to try something to get me dilating faster. So she gave me a pill that was supposed to increase contractions so that I could dilate.

I really wasn't thrilled with that nurse. Don't get me wrong, she was friendly enough, and did answer our questions for the most part, but when you're in pain and trying to make life decisions that last thing you want to hear from your nurse is how much money she lost in Vegas a few months ago and how she made this and that for supper.

Once I had the pill I had to stay in bed for two hours straight which sucked, because contractions while laying down in bed hurt worse than any other kind. Jarod was a trooper the whole time and perfectly balanced out being sympathetic and matter of fact when he was telling me it was alright. After two hours in bed they let me up and I walked the halls and paced our room and bounced on a birthing ball. Anything to alleviate the pain some. The pill lasts four hours so at two in the morning they checked me again and I had only dilated to 1.5 cm. At which point I just wanted to die. Having massive contractions every two minutes for four hours and a lousy half centimeter is all you have to show for it seems like a colossal failure.
So they told me not to lay down and that they'd be back in the morning to check again. I convinced Jarod to try and get some sleep on the fold out bed, and I spent the rest of the night in and out of the jacuzzi tub, and bouncing on the birthing ball. You know it's the oddest feeling to wake up in a bathtub full of water and imagine how you could have slipped below the surface and drown in your sleep.

Morning time my doctor showed up in sneakers and hoodie, basically said hi and left. When my nurse came in to check for any progress I had a major contraction just as she was doing a cervix check (if you've never had one, they're one of the top five worst things on the planet). The pain was horrible and I started crying, at which point she got in my face, literally, and told me if I didn't pull it together I was never going to make it and it was uncalled for that I should be losing it like this and blah blah blah. Which I thought was uncalled for in and of itself, as I was not crying hysterically and raising a fit, just generic, that hurt me crying. (And still no progress baby wise, might I add)

Luckily though with daytime came the next shift of nurses and we got Karen. Karen was absolutely fantastic. First thing she did was give me some pain medicine that helped things enough that I was able to get a half hour nap which was much needed because I'd been awake for 24 hours at that point. After the nap my mom arrived at the hospital, which was the second best thing that happened that day, after getting Karen as a nurse. Karen had us walk laps around the halls, then showed me how to get on my hands and knees and Jarod and mom took turns pushing on my back when I had contractions. Got in the tub some more, did some stretches and such, walked all over.  She answered all of our questions and helped pass the time by talking about our and her farms.
All of that craziness finally got me to four centimeters dilated and we thought maybe we were getting somewhere finally. She gave me another round of pain medicine and had me take another nap. After dinner we decided to try some pitocin to get my contractions going again, because they'd slowed down after my nap. I'd only been on it for about five minutes when the baby's heart rate spiked from 132 to 180 beats per minute. It stayed up like that for a long time, which had them worried and they called a surgeon to come check things out, thinking they might have to do an emergency c section if his heart didn't level out again. The surgeon noticed that the babies head really wasn't pressing down on my cervix at all like he was supposed to be and said that might have something to do with why I was barely dilating. They decided to give me an IV and see if maybe me and baby weren't dehydrated and that's why he was showing signs of stress. It didn't take long after that for his heart rate to level out, so we held off on the c section and started pitocin again.
At this point I decided to get an epidural. I was exhausted and completely wrung out on pain. They gave it to me and immediately I couldn't feel anything. Like, nothing. Karen told me that my contractions were only one minute apart but I couldn't even feel when I was having one or not. I slept a long time like that and around nine in the evening they checked me again. I was still at the same four rotten centimeters so they asked what we wanted to do. Which was kind of silly, considering there really weren't any other options. We'd been in labor for thirty hours and next to no progress and had tried everything the doctors and nurses knew to try. So we started prepping for a c section. Which was scary, but I wasn't nearly as worried as I thought I'd be. Probably because I couldn't feel anything so what was the big deal?

Jarod's aunt had been with us that whole afternoon and she opted to stay in the waiting room, but Jarod told mom she had to come with us. They wheeled my bed down the hall and moved me to another bed. They hung a curtain between my head and my stomach and the nurse told me the surgeon was going to pinch my stomach and if I could feel anything to tell her and she'd up the pain medicine until we got to complete numbness before they started. So he was pinching me and I was telling him yes or no on pain and all the sudden he started really jerking around on my belly. I told him that I could feel something poking me but no one answered and all the sudden I though "if they do the same thing they did at the dentist I'm gonna..." cuz when I got my wisdom teeth pulled out, they gave me the numbing medicine and immediately started cutting them out before it kicked in and I felt the whole thing.
Well it was about that time that I felt my belly just drop and I heard a baby start crying. "That's it?" I demanded. The nurse told me she was gonna give me medicine that would make me feel weird and after that I remember next to nothing. There were flashes where I saw the lights or a nurse and for a split second Jarod was holding the baby next to me, and then I think we were going back down the hall and I was trying to ask if the baby was ok, and whether or not I was ok, because honestly my vision was so whacked I thought I might be dying. It was frustrating because I felt so tired I could literally barely talk and did a lot of moaning trying to make words. I wanted to see the baby so bad but I couldn't keep my eyes open at all, so I missed the "golden hour" where the baby is supposedly at his most alert stage.
Once I did finally wake up I was able to hold him and feed him and he lifted his head up by himself and I kid you not he smiled. Jarod absolutely adored him (still does) and couldn't stop saying how cute he was. And he is cute, let me tell ya. And he's still a very alert baby so I don't feel quite so miserable about missing him right at first.

After the c section Wednesday night they made us stay till Saturday. Our little guy was actually a whopping nine pounds and twenty one inches long. As it turns out I never would have had him because my pelvis and tailbone are put together in a way that a baby can't drop down to push on my cervix. So I'll have to always have c sections, but I guess if we know that ahead of time it won't be such a big deal. We named him Henry Boyd Wilson the third. After his great and great great grandpas on Jarod's side. They checked his blood and hearing and all those kinds of things and finally Saturday afternoon we got to go home. We had quite a few visitors show up to the hospital. My parents and sisters came right away the morning after he was born. Jarod's dad and step mom were back from Arizona so they came too. Jarod's friend who is dating my friend came with her, and another of my friends came by before her ultrasound to find out what she is having (psst! It's a boy too).

It's good to be home. We're both being lazy and trying to get some sleep and food when the urge suits us. He's a pretty content baby when he doesn't have a tummy ache. I could be biased but I'm pretty sure he's the cutest baby in the entire world. Can't decide for sure who he looks like yet. Both of us really. He's got incredibly hairy ears and a birthmark on his tummy, and he hates when his feet are uncovered so he constantly wears socks and has his legs wrapped up.  trade him for all the rice in China.
At night when he wakes up to eat I just look at him and marvel that God decided that this tiny human being needed me to be his mom and Jarod to be his dad. Out of all the people on the planet he needed us for parents and we needed him for a child. The way he curls up against me, and looks right up at me, completely trusting and content almost makes me want to cry (#raginghormones). That a human being could be so tiny, and yet so perfectly complete in that smallness and vulnerability is astounding, and to think that God put him together exactly the way he is, and that he has individual interest in this new life takes my breath away.

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

A Rant of Sorts


Guys. 
I'm sorry. 
I'm officially the worst blogger in the history of blogging. 
New Years resolution to write and blog, right out the window. 
I do have an excuse of course. I've got basically no internet. What I used to do was to type up the post to a document then when I got to work I could slap it onto blogger, post a picture and call it good. Well the last two months were spent training my replacement at work so I really didn't have time then, and now that I'm done working (I'm done working by the way, yay!) the only internet I have is my phone. Do you have any idea the nightmare that formatting and pictures are on an iPhone? 
Disaster. 
Not to mention, pregnancy is exhausting. For real. Like you always hear that and you're like yeah sure, you're growing a human,  but it's the worst kind of exhaustion I've ever felt. And I was basically an insomniac all through high school. 
Here's the deal. 
I go to bed at night at a reasonable hour. Sometimes too reasonable honestly, as the rest of the world is still very much awake. And I lay on my left side for awhile until munchkin decides to change positions. Then I lay on my right side awhile. And my shoulders burn so I have to fluff up my pillow. Then my stomach starts feeling like it's pulling me down. It's the weirdest thing and I can't explain it but it's only solved by putting another pillow under my tummy to hold it up. Then my hips start to hurt so of course a pillow goes between my knees so that it straightens out my pelvis. And while all that is going on I'm trying to explain to Jarod without hurting his feelings that I don't want his arm around me because the pressure on my stomach makes me feel like throwing up. Then my hands fall asleep. Constantly. Then maybe I'll actually fall asleep. Or maybe I'll just toss and turn for hours. Sometime around five thirty I've got to go to the bathroom, and after that nothing is comfortable and there is no more actual sleep. Come morning I walk around like a zombie for about half hour, trying to remember how to clothes and breakfast. Then I might go do chores with Jarod. And try like heck not to fall asleep during the drive because that's about the only time we'll be alone the rest of the day without people and high stress work to occupy the time. After chores I'll probably help him with whatever he has to do. Or more likely just sit nearby and be an immobile cheerleader. Or sometimes I don't go with him, and I stay home. Always with the intentions of being productive. And I usually force myself to be. At least for several hours. Because it's not healthy to just lay on the couch day in and day out no matter how bad I want to. And feeling miserable. Because honestly Maddie, it's not like washing dishes is a strenuous activity. Same goes for folding laundry. Or vacuuming the tiny living room. None of those activities are hard or stressful. But when you're thirty pounds heavier than you've ever been in your life, standing feels strenuous. Your feet hurt, your legs hurt, and your hands are still asleep. It hurts to sit down, but it also hurts to stand up. And it's not just the extra weight, it's the fact that all that extra weight is strapped to your front in a big clumsy ball that randomly moves around and throws you off balance. 
And heartburn. Oh the heartburn. How dare you eat food. Heartburn for you. Oh you think you can avoid heartburn by not eating? Guess again chica.
Stretch marks!!!!!
Top that off with constantly having cotton mouth, living in the bathroom, headaches, hot and cold flashes, and just generally wanting to curl up and die, and you're off to a great start for the day. 
Then while you're dealing with all the physically draining aspects of pregnancy, let's introduce the mentally taxing parts. Because guys, come on, you're having a baby. That means you have to feed it, and take care of it, and did you know there is a correct and incorrect way to lay a baby down to sleep? What if you don't want to take the prenatal classes because the nearest one is an hour away and we discussed, you're tired, and driving- icky. But what if you need to know something from them? Does not taking the class make you a horrible mother? What if the end of the world happens if you don't take that class? And all the doctor appointments. Driving an hour to have a doctor tell you that you're gaining weight good and see you next week. Thanks doc, sure glad you think this weight is great. Can I go back to bed now? And no of course there's not anything that can be done about all the stuff you're feeling. Nothing at all. Just something you have to deal with. But do not under any circumstances get depressed. Let's throw in the people who grumble and complain about "why are they having a baby so early?" And "shouldn't they have waited?" "Oh that's why they got married" (because no one can do math apparently and figure out that nine months back from April, they were already married). Or, "why would you quit your job? You should have saved money." Because $60 a day for daycare, coming out to $1200 a month, out of my $1300 paycheck saves tons of money. And all the helpful people telling us that we're gonna have to get on birth control right away, because this can't happen again. I guess because us having a baby that we take care of and pay for by ourselves without asking anyone to fund us is somehow a burden on people? And the lovely people who think it's perfectly fine to call you Chubby. Like it's your name. No, thank you, my birth certificate says Madeline. You don't look so skinny yourself. You mean you're not pregnant and that's all just pure fat? Wow. And, oh do I really look like I'm having triplets? Wonderful to hear. Because everyone wants to hear that the extra pounds they have (that perfectly match the healthy pregnancy weight gain numbers) look like there's three people inside you. Or the people who, when someone else says you look great and you just seem bigger because you're five foot tall and don't have as much room as taller girls, those people that are so quick to argue that that's not true at all, because your grandma was short and she was walking around waiting tables when she was eight months pregnant! ....Because saying your short and don't have as much room somehow translates to not being able to walk around and do things. Thank you, sir. Besides those kind of stresses there is the generic stress of I'm having a baby. Never done that before. Not really sure what to expect. I'm not seasoned in the way of the baby. Taking care of little sisters isn't exactly the same thing. The hospital is over and hour away. What if we don't leave on time. Did we cover everything in our birth plan? Did we pack the right stuff in the hospital bag? Actually, more like, I need to get a hospital bag packed and the car seat should probably be installed before we absolutely need it. And freezer meals. Better make some of those, because it gets old living on ravioli when you don't feel like actually cooking. And just wanting a stinking pop out of life, and a coffee with ALL the caffeine in it. Is that too much to ask? And the random uncontrollable mood swings and crying your eyes out, and of course it's not Jarod's fault, but it's absolutely Jarod's fault, and I really have no idea who's fault it is, but it has to be someone's cuz no one just cries for no reason whatsoever. Please.

But you know what? Aside from being the absolute worst thing ever, pregnancy is also pretty darn fantastic. Because, duh, babies. Who doesn't love a baby? And when you can feel the baby, and see the baby, and start to recognize his patterns that hey, this isn't an alien life form, it's a little person and he has a personality. A personality that wiggles like crazy when Needtobreathe is on the radio and does absolutely nothing when you play the country station. A little person that gets hiccups, and apparently likes The Legend of Korra because he sure does move around a lot while it's on. But goes completely still if you pause it and doesn't start again until you push play. That stuff is great. And it's the funniest thing when daddy puts his hand on your tummy and the baby kicks it. Because that's his tummy. Getting to see all the little toys, and shoes, and outfits. Feeling all the snuggly soft blankets. Buying a tiny little frog outfit and putting baby photography ideas on Pinterest. Thinking about what the little guy will be like when he's not so little. When he can walk and talk and learn things. All the stuff you want to show him and teach him.
It's the best. 
Wouldn't trade it for all the sleep in the world.