Good Thing Meteorologists Don’t Predict Due Dates

Greetings from SNOWPOCALYPSE 2015!

That’s right, y’all. Meteorologists are calling for anywhere from 2 inches to 6 inches to 10 inches of snow in our area. They keep saying, “If…” and “If…”

So basically, they have no idea.

Regardless, we are already out of school tomorrow, which is Presidents’ Day. The kiddos were already out, but we (teachers) had meetings for the first time in ever on this INCREDIBLY MEANINGFUL holiday. So I believe our founding fathers may have influenced Mother Nature with this forecast.


(Side note: I told Brett how thankful I was my due date isn’t this week. He assured me that he could handle a home delivery in the bathtub with his catcher’s mitt. I don’t know why I was so worried).

I also don’t know who is more thankful for the day off tomorrow though, my house or myself.  Two days for the weekend just haven’t been enough to do nursery organization, laundry, napping (of course), AND clean the house well lately. So my home and I have a date tomorrow that involves Pledge, Windex, and Pandora.

I’m also attempting to wrap my brain around the fact that we, hopefully, have about one (!) month left as just two members of our little family.  It really just blows my mind. You’d think that this ever-growing tummy would be the constant reminder, but just looking at my calendar does the trick. CRAZY.

Since this is my little memory-keeping place part of the time, here’s a little update: I am 35 weeks pregnant and have so far have measured to-the-week at my doctor appointments.  I have an ultrasound on Tuesday that should let us see the little guy (it’s been about four months since we have) and get an idea of his weight (I have a prediction: A BOWLING BALL).

(Of course, it could get postponed due to weather. As my wonderful doctor said at the last appointment, “We will postpone due to weather. I don’t want hormonal pregnant women on the roads. It’s better for everyone.” Amen.).


So while I have the energy to reflect and write, here’s some things I’ve observed about pregnancy:

1. It’s wonderful.  Really, it is. I’ve guarded what I’ve complained about because it’s a miracle from God every time I think about it and oh how I know some who wish the could complain about it. Oh, I’ve had aches and pains (and I’ll mention them here because remember the whole memory-keeping thing), but I just feel so thankful to be growing this little human. The first flutters, the early kicks, and now even the feeling that a baby rhinoceros is constantly lying and poking on me are all little kisses from God to me.

Having said that, Brett is not immune to my complain-free zone. He hears about it all and sweet Luke becomes his child when he inflicts those on his mama.

2. Let me get those aches and pains out of the way: Again, I’ve been very fortunate to have a healthy pregnancy. Other than a couple of (my usual) sinus infections, I’ve had no special reason to see the doctor. So, mine have just been the usual. In particular, CHARLEY HORSES y’all. I wake up just about every night with one or two. They just last a few seconds, but those are a long few seconds. I’ve also had some heartburn, which brings about the next observation:

3. Old Wives’ Tales. These are so popular to be told and let’s be honest, google about, when pregnant. The old wives’ tale for heartburn is that your child will have a head full of hair if you experience that in pregnancy, which to that I say, duh, HAVE YOU MET THEIR MOTHER? So we’ll see. The first one did come true, though. I had a few skin flair-ups and the old wives’ tale was that it was boy due to the testosterone in my system.  In other words, the first time a boy causes a mess.

4. Unsolicited (and Solicited) Advice.  People LOVE to give advice. Y’all. It is so the best intentions. There’s a lot I appreciate (and need and ask for), but there’s some I just scratch my head (especially with your VERY DETAILED health and/or delivery experiences) . And some are very adamant. And I just nod and smile and say thank you like my Mama raised me.

5. Pointing out the obvious. Again, total best intentions and nothing offensive here, but I’ve heard these, and many more, approximately 320 times:
– “Better get sleep now!”
– “Your life is really about to change.”
– “Oh, you think your house is messy NOW!”
Again, smile and nod.

6. Touching my belly. Now for some preggos, this is a huge pet peeve. I’m good with it, as long as I know you. Strangers or barely acquaintances? PREPARE TO MEET MAMA BEAR. But everyone else? Sure. (Maybe being an elementary school teacher and the constant hugs from sweet little ones prepared me).  Just don’t be a hoverer. It gets awkward.

7. Childbirth Classes. Y’all, for four Tuesday nights in a row from 6:30 – 9:00, we diligently went to our “Labor of Love” classes. You think the people-watching at Disney World is good? NOTHING compared to these. I actually knew two of the sweet expectant mamas in there and the classes were informative (maybe a little too informative), but we could’ve wrapped it up in a four hour or so session on a Saturday.

Just for memory’s sake, my favorite awkward moment (and there were many). The labor nurse who led the classes, during the first hour on the first night, asked everyone to share a particular ache or pain they’ve experienced the most.

Second girl to go: “Well, the one that I’ve honestly experienced the worst is the CONSTIPATION.”

Brett kicked me under the table and hours later when we got in the car, his first words were, “FEEL THE ROOM OUT, LADY!”

8. People are very sweet. Really, genuinely sweet. I get asked all the time how am I feeling and we have been given so many gifts to welcome our sweet baby boy. My husband does little things all the time to make sure I’m okay, whether it’s cooking pancakes, rubbing my feet, or just carrying something up the stairs that might make me weeble and wobble. He calls my (many) stretch marks beauty marks and reminds me they’re making me a Mama. I’m thankful for those too.

9. Lastly, and maybe most obviously, it makes you very anxious to meet your baby. Still one month to go (Lord-willing!), and I’ve reached the point that I’m ready to have Luke in my arms (After I pack the hospital bags this week. And we finish his nursery after the school shower. And we buy his car seat).

I’m soaking in this last month and going to try to enjoy it as much as I can.

So snow, stay as long as you’d like.

Just as long as my son isn’t born in a catcher’s mitt.


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