I am nearing the end of my pregnancy, I only have eight weeks left, give or take a week. This is a different time in a pregnant woman’s life. Reflection and realization take over. Things become calm. Tiredness returns, though not much can satisfy this need, as I am wildly uncomfortable. I had a bad pregnancy day yesterday. There was a peculiar cramping in my back and into my hips. I was actually feeling this for a few hours. During a part of that time, I was under the ultrasound at my doctor’s office. He didn’t say anything about it. I had been overextending my body lately, and knew that that was what the pain was in reference to.
My garden has been a place of genuine enjoyment lately. Sure all I have done is moved the unwanted, untended plants and branches from the trees and ground to bags and piles that now litter my yard. I am going to need a trailer to take things to the Green Waste Facility, though I don’t know what I am going to do with the branches. I fear the time I have to get at the overgrown ivy pulled up. I am, however, looking forward to going to the nursery and picking out my vegetables for the season. As much as I can, I am going to try to operate a real kitchen garden.
I am almost done with the new baby’s quilt. It is actually so much more work than I could ever have anticipated. It is relaxing and therapeutic, but a lot of work. I keep thinking that I am going to finish it when I begin working on it for the day, and get no where close to it. Mae loves to help with it. She insists on climbing up a chair next to me and touching, grabbing, handing, and messing with everything I am currently working on. I used to let her sit on my lap, but a while ago, she reached out to the needle as it was in motion, so that was the end of that. I need to make the new baby’s bedding as well, but I have a fear that I won’t be able to get to it before she is born.
Mae loves the outdoors. We can hardly go a day without a walk, picnic, or just soaking up the sun. The part of my yard with the greenhouse and orchard is fenced off, so when I work back there, I just need to put the dog and the babe in there, and close the gate. It is monumentally convenient Except while I was in the thick of it, I didn’t realize that Mae was curious as to what dirt tasted like. Unfortunately, I think she liked it. We will see how I tackle that fun new behavior.
I really love where I live. It makes staying at home all day enjoyable. This home was designed for a stay-at-home mother. My old house was designed for… to be sold. I had a nightmare about the people who bought our house; It weighs on my conscience to have loaded the home onto someone else. I really grew to dislike the architecture and design of my old home. It felt fake at the end. It felt like a poorly planned rectangle built with fake materials, made with a facade that was only meant to project a message that there was a house behind it, as though they couldn’t just make a house. I remember crying about it. I remember when Mae fell down the stairs in the split-entry design, and I could have just died right there. That was the moment that really projected me to sell. I could deal with its flaws for the most part, but not at the expense of my child. The yard was unusable, despite four springs I poured all my time, money, and energy to transform into a real yard. The land is unusable, the design is thoughtless, and the materials used to build it were all ideas of real materials fudged to work just OK. It isn’t a place to raise children. Where I live now is a place to raise a family. It is place to feel God in the earth, love in the home, and grow like the human beings were always meant to grow.
Spring is here, and I am happy everyday to live where I live.