I'm not really sure why I am even writing, but it seemed like I just needed to. There are no real plans for this post so... we'll see what happens :)
The other day Jason and I were sitting on the couch and talking about the future. Stuff came up that wasn't expected, like the tentative talk of moving 70 blocks north to where the neighborhoods are more family friendly and the rent is hundreds of dollars cheaper per month than the neighborhood we currently live in, which is Ballard. I had long sworn that I would only live west of 15th, north of Market, and south of 65th (the western border is Shilshole bay, so, you know... east of the water). But then we talked about the fact that I actually do want a bigger family (I'd like at least 4 kids) and he's good with whatever God does, and since I'm pretty sure that I do want that many children, the question is whether I feel more called to a big family or to live in Ballard. And, since a house that would support that size of a family is 200k-300k less if we move north, then that made the decision.
So, we'll probably move north next summer when our current lease is up. A lot could happen between now and then, but that's the current plan. I'm not in love with leaving Ballard, but since I've been perusing Craigslist and finding 1700 sq foot, 3 bedroom houses with huge yards (one even had a greenhouse!) and plenty of parking (don't get me started on how parking works where we live now) for $1400 a month, well... that helps me get over it :)
So that was that. It's odd, and still surreal, to sit here and talk about MiniMoose and how he'll change our lives.
[For the record, I am convinced he is a boy. If I'm wrong, so be it, but I dream about him and he's a boy, and I just feel like he's a boy, ergo, boy.]
So anyway, it's just weird. We talk about things, like what we'll do, how we'll do it, and obviously, where we'll live, and would we rather get a townhouse with no yard but a nice (read: granite... ah, granite) kitchen or, for the same price, an outdated kitchen (read: formica... damnable formica, or, worse, laminate) with a big, private, fenced in yard in a neighborhood of real houses, stuff like that. I try to imagine holding a baby in my arms, but honestly, it's hard to believe I'm actually really pregnant. I mean, my boobs are exploding (pain AND size, thank you very much), and suddenly my nice, blonde leg hair is BLACK, and I feel like crap that's been stepped in most of the time, and just the weirdest stuff ever is happening in/to/with my body, but other than that, I can't even tell. The baby books say there's a 1.5 inch, prune sized baby in my bell-ay, but I try to feel for my uterus and I can't find it. Granted, if I weren't still 90 pounds overweight that might be easier, but still. And I'm not whining- I'm glad I'm not 220 pounds overweight like I used to be.
That's another thing- I can't seem to stay steady. I'm supposed to maintain my weight, not lose. But I can't stay there. The good news is that I only lost three pounds in July, and so far I've only lost one pound in August, but I'm not supposed to lose weight. The problem is that I can't handle food. I mean, pretty much, if something sounds good, I eat it. This is because so rarely does anything sound good. I offended my husband tonight because he was sweetly trying to come up with plans to help me get out of bed, like keeping some peanut butter pretzels next to the bed and then I can eat when I wake up instead of laying there for two hours wanting to cry and feeling sorry for myself. Sweet Jason feels like I'm letting myself languish, and he's probably right. It seems simple enough- eat some pretzels kept by the bed and just get up and get going a bit earlier each day!
But, it's not so simple. I lay there, knowing that the best thing I can do is just get up and eat, and I'll feel better in a bit, but the very thought of getting up and eating is honestly something that, at the time, sounds like a punishment worst than death. It literally takes me two hours to find the will, the strength, the something to actually get out of bed. To be honest, it's usually the threat of peeing the bed, since my bladder is just not what it used to be (and it didn't used to be great, believe you me). And that, my friends, is just getting out of bed, let alone the rest of the day. I perk up when I'm around people, but I also hate the thought of being around people and pretty much avoid it unless it's church on Sunday or community group (which we host) on Tuesday.
This is a mess. I don't want to feel sorry for myself, but I can't snap out of it. I've been trying to figure out the line between grace- I don't have to work, as my boss (I do freelance transcription work) is super understanding and is fine with me taking things easy until I feel better, and my husband doesn't want me to worry about cooking or cleaning or any of that until I feel better- and being a productive human being. I mean, most of my days include a little bit of eating, lots of bathroom trips, and setting up camp on the couch. Hulu and Netflix instant queue have been my best friends. And... that's my day. Tra la la. For a week I wasn't even trying to read my Bible or pray, but thankfully my sweet husband led me well and pursued my heart on that. It was convicting. Blurg. I guess I'll share it.
This is a big moment, honestly. Jason said to me, "If our kid was old enough, right now, what would he be learning about Jesus right now?" I said, "He'd learn that mommy loves and worships Jesus until she feels sick and then he doesn't matter enough to try." I felt kind of good about my painfully honest answer, as though that would fix anything. Then Jason kind of blew that to pieces when he said, "Well... that might teach him something about mommy, but what does that tell him about Jesus? Who does he learn that Jesus is by the way we are living right now?" I realized, in that bittersweet moment of conviction, that I'm living out a belief that Jesus isn't worthy of worship when I don't feel well. I think Jesus is good when I feel well but when I don't feel well I would rather hide in entertainment and let Jesus wait until I feel well again to worship Him. That is bad enough when I'm sick for a few days with a cold, but with now going on week six of "morning" sickness it's pretty spiritually devastating.
I'm by no means fixed, but that conversation with Jason, and some discussion about ways to address the situation, helped get me snapped out of it. Example: I usually read my Bible on Logos, on my laptop, and type my prayer time out in Word. But looking at a computer screen to read / type is just the WORST. It makes me feel even more nauseated than I already am (which is why I haven't been blogging and I can't even pretend to know what's been happening with friends via Facebook). And, of course, that is why I get so little of my transcription work done. So, I've been reading the Bible on my iPhone while lying down. My phone doesn't seem to bother me the way the laptop does. I'm not sure why, exactly, other than I keep the screen way dimmed and hold it closer to my face which doesn't require as much eye strain. And I've been just praying normally, without typing it.
Maybe that seems "duh" but I have a really hard time concentrating, which is why I started typing my prayers out in the first place. But, for now, that's simply the best I can do and just because I can't keep my normal routine doesn't mean I abandon meeting with Jesus altogether! And, even when my Bible reading is lame and I have a hard time focusing, I need to still talk to Jesus throughout the day and not avoid him. I know it's dumb, and I know better, but I am still foolish enough to fall for the lie that if I have a crappy devotional time then it's like I'm in trouble or he's mad and I can't go to him. That's been harder to realize and deal with than the actual feeling crappy itself.
Well... there you have it. A long, babbling Tami brook of wordflow. Now you're all caught up. Not glamorous, but real. I really look forward to the, "I'm glowing and this pregnancy is the greatest thing ever and this is just a big, heaping pile of jolly candy canes and lollipops! Oh, happy day!" updates. Those probably won't ever come, being as I'm not that sorta lady, but... you know. Something more exciting than, "This is really hard and I feel sorry for myself but am trying not to and don't want anyone to feel sorry for me which is why I have turned into a recluse only slightly more friendly than the Unabomber." Blurg.
Have a nice Thursday. Today's ten weeks, so that's nice!