So, some of you have been asking about my sister. Thank you. To update you, her son, Connor Michael Brumelle was born at 1:30 am, 6 lbs 13oz, 21 inches. Kacey is recovering well though completely exhausted, as you can imagine. Connor was taken to the NICU initially due to some dropping oxygen and glucose levels as well as something to do with his lungs. Last I talked to her this morning, oxygen and glucose were stabilized and they were still looking into the lung thing, but thought he might be able to spend the night in the room with Kacey and Sean. Sean was able to hold Connor immediately following the c-section, but Kacey has yet to be able to hold him, so I know she is very much looking forward to that moment.
Again, thank you for your thoughts and prayers. Definitely a lesson in BOTH loving deeply and holding loosely!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Holding Loosely...
I should warn you that it's 2:20 am, so if anything in here doesn't make sense, chalk it up to a sleep deprived pregnant woman. Many people who know me well are familiar with my life 'motto,' for lack of a better word, "love deeply, hold loosely." Ever since someone very dear to me passed away, I have attempted to live my life in this way, attempted being the key word. And it seems to be the holding loosely part that often bites me in the you know where. You'd think I'd have gotten it by now with all the practice I've had, but no, there always seem to be more opportunities for growth in this area.
So, why am I writing this at 2 something in the morning? Because I can't sleep. Because my little sister is in the middle of an emergency c-section after one of the most difficult labors I've ever heard of in my life. She's been having relatively strong contractions every 5-10 min apart since last Wednesday at 4:30 a.m. That's right, she hadn't slept for more than 2 hours in 6 days. She finally was admitted to the hospital this morning, but her son just did not want to come out. So, now we await the news of the c-section. And I can't sleep.
People say not to listen to other peoples' birth stories when you're pregnant, especially because some people try to tell you their nightmarish stories, which you just really don't need to hear. But this is my sister, it's in my face, I've been in it for 6 days. And it's left me with a fairly loud reminder that I can hope for things to be a certain way and I should hope for things, but in the end I really must hold loosely to my expectations, not to say that I won't still feel disappointed or confused or sad if things go differently than I had hoped. But it's the difference between holding loosely, recognizing that ultimately, I'm not in control of a lot of things and living under the illusion that I have total control, only to find myself trainwrecked when things don't go as I had hoped. In the former, there is room for the pain and disappointment to be accompanied by joy and new meaning in the alternate outcome, and in the latter, not so much.
The birth of my son is quickly approaching and of course I'm getting lots of practice in holding loosely to the "when" part of that. But let's be honest, I have hopes for the birth, what woman doesn't? I have hopes that I will have an unmedicated, vaginal birth, where I will get to experience just how amazing the human female body is and the beauty of its design in bringing new life into this world. I'm not giving up on that hope, that desire that I have. But as I sit here and wait for the news of my nephew, I'm trying to practice holding loosely to my expectations, convinced that no matter how my little guy enters this world, I will love him deeply.
So, why am I writing this at 2 something in the morning? Because I can't sleep. Because my little sister is in the middle of an emergency c-section after one of the most difficult labors I've ever heard of in my life. She's been having relatively strong contractions every 5-10 min apart since last Wednesday at 4:30 a.m. That's right, she hadn't slept for more than 2 hours in 6 days. She finally was admitted to the hospital this morning, but her son just did not want to come out. So, now we await the news of the c-section. And I can't sleep.
People say not to listen to other peoples' birth stories when you're pregnant, especially because some people try to tell you their nightmarish stories, which you just really don't need to hear. But this is my sister, it's in my face, I've been in it for 6 days. And it's left me with a fairly loud reminder that I can hope for things to be a certain way and I should hope for things, but in the end I really must hold loosely to my expectations, not to say that I won't still feel disappointed or confused or sad if things go differently than I had hoped. But it's the difference between holding loosely, recognizing that ultimately, I'm not in control of a lot of things and living under the illusion that I have total control, only to find myself trainwrecked when things don't go as I had hoped. In the former, there is room for the pain and disappointment to be accompanied by joy and new meaning in the alternate outcome, and in the latter, not so much.
The birth of my son is quickly approaching and of course I'm getting lots of practice in holding loosely to the "when" part of that. But let's be honest, I have hopes for the birth, what woman doesn't? I have hopes that I will have an unmedicated, vaginal birth, where I will get to experience just how amazing the human female body is and the beauty of its design in bringing new life into this world. I'm not giving up on that hope, that desire that I have. But as I sit here and wait for the news of my nephew, I'm trying to practice holding loosely to my expectations, convinced that no matter how my little guy enters this world, I will love him deeply.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Today's Top 10
Overall, I can honestly say that I've enjoyed being pregnant. I mean, people are really nice to you, picking things up for you, smiling at you, and "strongly encouraging" you to rest. Women who have never talked to me at church or at Tom's soccer games, have struck up conversations with me, related to the pregnancy of course. At no other time in my life have I felt it to be so legitimate to take a nap and go to bed early. And really, I cannot complain in the least bit, because thus far, I've had a viable, healthy, and relatively easy pregnancy with no complications. So, this list is not meant to be a list of backhanded complaints about pregnancy.
Rather, it's in response to something else. It seems that people have taken it upon themselves to provide me with a good dose of reality as to what's coming next, read 'attempt to scare and depress me out of my mind' with their stories of how difficult and challenging having a kid is. While I don't doubt those things to be true and we are trying to brace as best we can for the upcoming storm, we trust that there are beautiful and wonderful things about having a kiddo too, right? I mean after all, people intentionally have more than one! I think I'm needing to focus on some of the positives too, so that I don't start regretting this decision to have a baby, which would be, umm 9 months too late!
So, in addition to the gift of the babe himself, I thought I'd make a little top 10 list of things I'm looking forward to about NOT being pregnant anymore. Perhaps a little something to hold on to when mini meuz is screaming at the top of his lungs at 3am and nothing seems to soothe him!
10. goodbye heartburn
9. being able to sleep on my back and stomach again
8. not going through a roll of toilet paper a day due to unbelievably frequent urination
7. seeing the bones in my feet again
6. being able to see my feet, reach them, and tie my own shoes again
5. the removal of the constant heater attached to my abdomen
4. being able to run again (eventually) without having to pee my pants 5 minutes into the run
3. not having to awkwardly crawl through the passenger's side of my car to get to the driver's seat because someone parked too close to the driver's side of the car for me and the belly to both get in!
2. the end to random strangers staring at and rubbing my belly while they are attempting to have a conversation with me.
and I'm not going to lie, the #1 thing I'm looking forward to in not being pregnant anymore:
1. the buffet of previously forbidden foods and beverages that I will partake in, including but perhaps not limited to, sushi, red wine (or maybe I should say, more than one glass a week), bleu cheese, very rare filet mignon, every soft cheese imaginable, cookie dough, a mojito, a caesar salad with homemade dressing, a turkey sandwhich, and a cold beer. And my stomach might actually be able to contain most of that when it's not smooshed up against my ribs anymore...woo hoo!
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Somewhere In The Middle
So, I woke up this morning and as it turns out, I'm a year older. Yup, it's my birthday. With all of the other impending big events in my life, I almost forgot quite honestly, that is until people started asking me if I had any plans for my birthday. When I think about my birthday this year compared to my birthday last year, it's like night and day. So very much has happened in a year.
At this time last year, we were trying to get pregnant, and on my birthday I got the lovely indicator that a woman gets to inform her that she is indeed NOT pregnant...awesome, what a great birthday gift. I did, however, treat myself to a massage and facial with some birthday money I had received. It was the 2nd facial I've ever had in my life. (I was really pretty much a spa virgin until I got married at which point I was introduced to a whole new world of self-care). So, there I was laying in the chair, perhaps hoping for a little 'your not pregnant but here's a consolation prize' style pampering, when the lady asks me with that 'I'm trying not to judge you but I'm totally judging you' tone to her voice, "when's the last time you plucked your eyebrows?" My response, "uh, well, I've never plucked my eyebrows." Lady Judgment, "oh, yeah, I can tell." And then she launches an all out pain inducing campaign against my face, pokeing and prodding at my face for the next 30 minutes. Seriously lady, it's my freaking birthday. As if I wasn't already feeling like an old, silly, bloated, container of yuck, could she not just humor me with some kind words and some gentle pampering?
I know, boo hoo, right?! And to 'Lady Judgment's' defense, she didn't know all that I was carrying with me that day. But last year's birthday was definitely clouded by unmet desire and this year's birthday, a stark contrast, has been colored by desires met. My sister and I had the privilege of journeying through pregnancy (both healthy pregnancies) together, her due to give birth to her son in a week and me, due to give birth to my son in 4 weeks. My mom moved out here to Colorado last August as the first step in my parents' plan to move to Colorado permanently. They are set to close on their house out here in 2.5 weeks! I am leaving my full-time job in a little over a week, to be a stay at home mom to our son and Tom finished all of his classwork towards his PhD this year. So very much has happened and changed in one year. It's no wonder that my birthday flew under my radar this year.
Not only has so much changed this year, but I feel like there is SO much to be grateful for. But isn't there always so much to be grateful for? Even when our path goes awry from how we imagined it to go, even when circumstances are hard, really hard, and even when desires go unmet, aren't there still things to be grateful for? I'm not at all, suggesting we put on a fake perma-grin and pretend like all is great when it's not. Just the opposite, actually, I'm wishing that in the moment, I could feel what I feel, be it joy, pain, sadness, anger, laughter, excitement, and still acknowledge the giver of gifts. I wish that I could recognize the beautiful things, the provisions, the relationships, in each moment, not to counter or drown out the sadness or the ache of unmet desire, but rather just to sit along side those things.
Looking back, I hate that I allowed my birthday last year to be so clouded by the unmet desires I had and this year, I hope that my birthday is not colorful solely because those desires have been met. I hope that I can learn to live somewhere in the middle, where gratitude colors my life so abundantly, like wildflowers covering a Colorado mountainside in July.
It's hard to say what my attitude would be or what I'd be writing about if, a year later, we still were not pregnant on this birthday. I'd like to think that I would have grown in the process, but who knows. As I sit and reflect on this past year, what I do know is that I feel incredibly grateful for the journey I've been on this year and I look forward to where it will take me in the upcoming year.
So, here's to hoping, here's to practicing the art of gratitude, and here's to another year of life.
At this time last year, we were trying to get pregnant, and on my birthday I got the lovely indicator that a woman gets to inform her that she is indeed NOT pregnant...awesome, what a great birthday gift. I did, however, treat myself to a massage and facial with some birthday money I had received. It was the 2nd facial I've ever had in my life. (I was really pretty much a spa virgin until I got married at which point I was introduced to a whole new world of self-care). So, there I was laying in the chair, perhaps hoping for a little 'your not pregnant but here's a consolation prize' style pampering, when the lady asks me with that 'I'm trying not to judge you but I'm totally judging you' tone to her voice, "when's the last time you plucked your eyebrows?" My response, "uh, well, I've never plucked my eyebrows." Lady Judgment, "oh, yeah, I can tell." And then she launches an all out pain inducing campaign against my face, pokeing and prodding at my face for the next 30 minutes. Seriously lady, it's my freaking birthday. As if I wasn't already feeling like an old, silly, bloated, container of yuck, could she not just humor me with some kind words and some gentle pampering?
I know, boo hoo, right?! And to 'Lady Judgment's' defense, she didn't know all that I was carrying with me that day. But last year's birthday was definitely clouded by unmet desire and this year's birthday, a stark contrast, has been colored by desires met. My sister and I had the privilege of journeying through pregnancy (both healthy pregnancies) together, her due to give birth to her son in a week and me, due to give birth to my son in 4 weeks. My mom moved out here to Colorado last August as the first step in my parents' plan to move to Colorado permanently. They are set to close on their house out here in 2.5 weeks! I am leaving my full-time job in a little over a week, to be a stay at home mom to our son and Tom finished all of his classwork towards his PhD this year. So very much has happened and changed in one year. It's no wonder that my birthday flew under my radar this year.
Not only has so much changed this year, but I feel like there is SO much to be grateful for. But isn't there always so much to be grateful for? Even when our path goes awry from how we imagined it to go, even when circumstances are hard, really hard, and even when desires go unmet, aren't there still things to be grateful for? I'm not at all, suggesting we put on a fake perma-grin and pretend like all is great when it's not. Just the opposite, actually, I'm wishing that in the moment, I could feel what I feel, be it joy, pain, sadness, anger, laughter, excitement, and still acknowledge the giver of gifts. I wish that I could recognize the beautiful things, the provisions, the relationships, in each moment, not to counter or drown out the sadness or the ache of unmet desire, but rather just to sit along side those things.
Looking back, I hate that I allowed my birthday last year to be so clouded by the unmet desires I had and this year, I hope that my birthday is not colorful solely because those desires have been met. I hope that I can learn to live somewhere in the middle, where gratitude colors my life so abundantly, like wildflowers covering a Colorado mountainside in July.
It's hard to say what my attitude would be or what I'd be writing about if, a year later, we still were not pregnant on this birthday. I'd like to think that I would have grown in the process, but who knows. As I sit and reflect on this past year, what I do know is that I feel incredibly grateful for the journey I've been on this year and I look forward to where it will take me in the upcoming year.
So, here's to hoping, here's to practicing the art of gratitude, and here's to another year of life.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Every New Beginning is Some Other Beginning's End
Yes, just like the song says, it's closing time. It's time to pack things up and say my goodbyes in one place as I prepare to say hello to a whole new world. A couple of months ago, I made the decision to leave my job of 3 years working as a School-Based Therapist in Adams County Schools, to become a stay-at-home mom to our son, due to arrive July 4. While I thought that that decision would be an easy one, it proved to be much more difficult than I had anticipated. Quite honestly, I had anticipated feeling nothing but sheer excitement to have the opportunity to stay at home with my son. That to say, I did not anticipate the sadness I would feel saying goodbye to the kiddos and their families whom I've worked with over the last 3 years, my teammates and fellow School-Based Therapists at Community Reach Center, the schools I've walked into everyday, and my daily life as I know it.
While I can't say that I will miss having fire drills because one of my clients started a fire in the boys' bathroom, or having to go on lock down because there's a man outside the school with a gun, or having to call Social Services because a kid has told me that his parents are making meth in their home, I can say that there's a whole lot that I am sad to say goodbye to. I will miss entering into and being a small part of kids' lives. While it has often been a struggle for me to know that I can't "fix" their lives or even feel like I can even effect change on the systems of poverty, oppression, and abuse in which many of them exist, it was always a small comfort to know that I had the privilege of providing a safe and encouraging space for these kids in the midst of their chaotic and turbulent worlds. I held on to the idea that I could at least be a place where their voices could be heard, where they could tell their stories, and have someone be a witness to their lives. Yesterday was the last day of school. It was the last time I would have students come and sit in my office and let me into their lives, their pain, their fears, and their hopes. It was the last time I would sit with a kid in that school and listen as she re-counted the horrific events of her life, but also the last time I would get to hear her resilience, a resilience that could light up a room and defeat an army.
As I was packing up my things at one of my schools this week, the student talent show was taking place in the gym right outside of my office. For those of you who have never experienced a K-6 talent show before, it can be a bit painful...painful and extremely sweet at the same time. You see, as these kids are screeching out Mary J. Blige lyrics in a way that makes you want to cover your ears, you also can't help but noteice and appreciate their innocence and inhibition, things that all too often seem to get lost on the journey to adulthood. And so there I was, packing up my art supplies and feelings charts, a tear running down my face and laughter bubbling up from my belly as I wanted to cover my ears. It was quite a moment, a very sweet moment that I will remember for a long time.
And I am fully aware that I spent a good amount of time over the last 3 years complaining about the incessant paperwork, the constant changes, the frustration of teachers or parents who wanted and expected me to "fix" their kid and his behavior problems, and the struggle to balance all of the things expected of me in this job. It has been a tiring and emotionally draining 3 years, which is why I thought it would be so easy to leave when the time came. But the time is here and it's not so easy. Sadly, sometimes it takes actually having to say goodbye to something or someone, to realize all the things you value and love about what you had. I wish it weren't so and I actually don't think it has to be this way, but this is my experience right now. And all too often, it seems like our culture promotes this idea that if we're moving on to something exciting and wonderful, we shouldn't feel any sadness about that which we're leaving behind. I get it nearly every day when people ask me, "are you so excited to have your baby?" or "You are so lucky to stay at home with your son, I bet you can't wait!"
The truth is, I AM excited to have my baby...AND I'm terrified. I AM fortunate to be able to stay home with my son, but I'm also sad about what I'm leaving behind in order to do it. I think there's room for all of the feelings. There should be room for grief AND joy all at the same time, it's just a matter of allowing it and holding it. C.S. Lewis once said, "the grief now is because of the joy then." Those words have always left me feeling like there's actually a reason to celebrate when we feel sad about a loss, because our sadness points to the reality that there was something of value, something really good that we're saying goodbye to.
My decision to stay at home came down to feeling like I know my job, I know what it's like and what it requires of me. What I don't know is this "mommyhood" thing and I would like some time to see what this unknown is all about. I've been pouring my heart and energy into other peoples' kids for the last 14 years and now it feels like it's time to pour my energy into my own child and get a sense for what it entails and requires of me. And then I'd like to gradually incorporate work back into that picture, rather than trying to fit mommyhood into my existing life as I now know it. And for now, it's something we are able to make work, for which I feel very grateful. Everyone is different, has different wiring, different desires and dreams. This is just my journey. And while I feel like it's improtant to acknowledge the new beginning that's coming, I would be remiss not to give myself space to acknowledge and even grieve that another beginning that started 3 years ago, is coming to an end.
While I can't say that I will miss having fire drills because one of my clients started a fire in the boys' bathroom, or having to go on lock down because there's a man outside the school with a gun, or having to call Social Services because a kid has told me that his parents are making meth in their home, I can say that there's a whole lot that I am sad to say goodbye to. I will miss entering into and being a small part of kids' lives. While it has often been a struggle for me to know that I can't "fix" their lives or even feel like I can even effect change on the systems of poverty, oppression, and abuse in which many of them exist, it was always a small comfort to know that I had the privilege of providing a safe and encouraging space for these kids in the midst of their chaotic and turbulent worlds. I held on to the idea that I could at least be a place where their voices could be heard, where they could tell their stories, and have someone be a witness to their lives. Yesterday was the last day of school. It was the last time I would have students come and sit in my office and let me into their lives, their pain, their fears, and their hopes. It was the last time I would sit with a kid in that school and listen as she re-counted the horrific events of her life, but also the last time I would get to hear her resilience, a resilience that could light up a room and defeat an army.
As I was packing up my things at one of my schools this week, the student talent show was taking place in the gym right outside of my office. For those of you who have never experienced a K-6 talent show before, it can be a bit painful...painful and extremely sweet at the same time. You see, as these kids are screeching out Mary J. Blige lyrics in a way that makes you want to cover your ears, you also can't help but noteice and appreciate their innocence and inhibition, things that all too often seem to get lost on the journey to adulthood. And so there I was, packing up my art supplies and feelings charts, a tear running down my face and laughter bubbling up from my belly as I wanted to cover my ears. It was quite a moment, a very sweet moment that I will remember for a long time.
And I am fully aware that I spent a good amount of time over the last 3 years complaining about the incessant paperwork, the constant changes, the frustration of teachers or parents who wanted and expected me to "fix" their kid and his behavior problems, and the struggle to balance all of the things expected of me in this job. It has been a tiring and emotionally draining 3 years, which is why I thought it would be so easy to leave when the time came. But the time is here and it's not so easy. Sadly, sometimes it takes actually having to say goodbye to something or someone, to realize all the things you value and love about what you had. I wish it weren't so and I actually don't think it has to be this way, but this is my experience right now. And all too often, it seems like our culture promotes this idea that if we're moving on to something exciting and wonderful, we shouldn't feel any sadness about that which we're leaving behind. I get it nearly every day when people ask me, "are you so excited to have your baby?" or "You are so lucky to stay at home with your son, I bet you can't wait!"
The truth is, I AM excited to have my baby...AND I'm terrified. I AM fortunate to be able to stay home with my son, but I'm also sad about what I'm leaving behind in order to do it. I think there's room for all of the feelings. There should be room for grief AND joy all at the same time, it's just a matter of allowing it and holding it. C.S. Lewis once said, "the grief now is because of the joy then." Those words have always left me feeling like there's actually a reason to celebrate when we feel sad about a loss, because our sadness points to the reality that there was something of value, something really good that we're saying goodbye to.
My decision to stay at home came down to feeling like I know my job, I know what it's like and what it requires of me. What I don't know is this "mommyhood" thing and I would like some time to see what this unknown is all about. I've been pouring my heart and energy into other peoples' kids for the last 14 years and now it feels like it's time to pour my energy into my own child and get a sense for what it entails and requires of me. And then I'd like to gradually incorporate work back into that picture, rather than trying to fit mommyhood into my existing life as I now know it. And for now, it's something we are able to make work, for which I feel very grateful. Everyone is different, has different wiring, different desires and dreams. This is just my journey. And while I feel like it's improtant to acknowledge the new beginning that's coming, I would be remiss not to give myself space to acknowledge and even grieve that another beginning that started 3 years ago, is coming to an end.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Spring...New Life is a Comin'
I LOVE spring in Colorado. I mean, I REALLY LOVE it. Yes, the weather is highly unpredictable, one minute it's snowing, the next minute it's 80. Ok, so maybe not minutes apart, but truly, one day it could be snowing and the next day, not only will there be no trace of the snow, but I will likely find myself sporting a tank top. Layers is definitely the key in Colorado, especially in the Spring. But not only is Spring here accompanied by moody weather, it brings with it a whole lotta green, a whole lotta LIFE! Being the arid west, brown and white tend to be the prominent colors of winter. And then you start to see signs, signs of the life that is to come. There's the return of the birds and their delightful singing, the first sight of tiny buds on the trees, the warm(er) afternoons, and the later sunsets, all promises of the life that is to come...Spring! And then, it's as as though one day you wake up and everything is green, new life has arrived. The leaves have reclaimed their homes on the branches, the grass is green and growing again, and the brilliant pink, yellow, and purple flowers are everywhere, splashing color onto what was days ago, just a dull landscape. Yes, Spring is here, new life is here...the weather is a bit tumultuous and unpredictable, but there is no denying the beauty of this season.
It seems no coincidence to me that it's Spring and I've got new life on my mind. Afterall, I'm carrying a precious little bit of new life in my belly and he's about to make his way into this world in 7 weeks from now or so. And there are plenty of signs that new life is a comin', an ever-growing belly and kicks and punches from within that are so strong, they sometimes seem like they are going to knock-out my other organs. And then there's the house that was once very "adult-looking," yet now finds itself being infiltrated by things like onesies, rattles, books like 'The Little Engine That Could,' and a whole lot of things that start with B, like a boppy, a bumbo, and a bassinet. Suddenly, there's the appearance of things like a crib and a rocker and there's the frenzy of transforming one particular room in the house to accommodate our very own Spring of new life that's coming. And as we anticipate the coming of our little 'Spring,' we're also preparing ourselves for some stormy weather that he might bring with him, like sleepless nights, endless crying, clothes covered in spit up, dirty diapers, and unpredictability in general. Yet, just like Spring in Colorado, though we are anticipating the coming of this new life to be a bit tumultous and unpredictable, we are attempting to arm ourselves with flexibility and a sense of humor. And we are expecting it to be nothing short of absolutely beautiful!
It seems no coincidence to me that it's Spring and I've got new life on my mind. Afterall, I'm carrying a precious little bit of new life in my belly and he's about to make his way into this world in 7 weeks from now or so. And there are plenty of signs that new life is a comin', an ever-growing belly and kicks and punches from within that are so strong, they sometimes seem like they are going to knock-out my other organs. And then there's the house that was once very "adult-looking," yet now finds itself being infiltrated by things like onesies, rattles, books like 'The Little Engine That Could,' and a whole lot of things that start with B, like a boppy, a bumbo, and a bassinet. Suddenly, there's the appearance of things like a crib and a rocker and there's the frenzy of transforming one particular room in the house to accommodate our very own Spring of new life that's coming. And as we anticipate the coming of our little 'Spring,' we're also preparing ourselves for some stormy weather that he might bring with him, like sleepless nights, endless crying, clothes covered in spit up, dirty diapers, and unpredictability in general. Yet, just like Spring in Colorado, though we are anticipating the coming of this new life to be a bit tumultous and unpredictable, we are attempting to arm ourselves with flexibility and a sense of humor. And we are expecting it to be nothing short of absolutely beautiful!
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Another Byproduct of the Burgeoning Belly
Hmmm, it's not so easy for me to reach the dishes in the sink anymore. Clearly this is due to one of three reasons:
a. The foundation of our home has shifted and the sink somehow is now tilted away from me.
b. My arms suddenly got shorter.
c. There is now a large round barrier that stands between the co
unter and what I formerly had known as my body.Here's how a kid at my school recently addressed the appearance of the burgeoning belly: "Miss, you got a baby in there?" Me: "Well, yes, yes, I do." Kid: "Yeah, I could tell it was either a baby or a basketball under your shirt." ...because we all go walking around with basketballs under our shirts, right?!!!
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