Catching Up
Short version: We're all fine, there's lots going on, and I'm a bad, bad blogger. Read on for the long version....
Okay, so it's been awhile, once again. Where do I start?
Things are progressing well with my pregnancy. At our last obstetrician appointment, Baby Feeble came in loud and clear with a heart rate of about 155 beats per minute. As one friend pointed out, 155 bpm sounds more like a hummingbird than a human! The doctor is pleased, we're pleased and presently I am beside myself waiting for our ultrasound appointment when we'll get to sneak a peek at Baby F and determine if it's a he or she. (Yes, I will fill you all in when we find out.)
* * *
Why does it still surprise me when God answers? I guess it isn't that I'm surprised anymore when He does answer, it's just the way He chooses to go about it. Not too long ago I wrote about a personal stalemate. Last week I was having a bad day, a lot of personal things were coming to the surface. During that rather trying time I remembered our friend again and prayed for him - it wasn't a prayer so much as a plea to God on his behalf. It was nothing lofty or particularly spiritual - I can't say I pray that way really. Something in my heart just ripped open, and I ran to my Father to show Him, to ask Him to help.
The next day both Mr. F and I received the same email from our friend, the one who hasn't been speaking to us. It was cordial, it was brief. It completely skirted the issues at hand that had driven us all over the edge. He inquired about me and the baby and wished Mr. F a happy upcoming birthday.
It shouldn't surprise me anymore. But the timing sorta knocked me on my keister.
Things are still not OK. There are issues that need to be addressed and resolved. The relationship is still tenuous at best. But we made contact. God is on the case. There is hope. There is always hope.
* * *
Mr. F turned another year older and wiser. My father mischievously mentioned that Mr. F is now half his age, and yet in the next couple of years, Mr. F will be more than half his age. Dad got a good chuckle out of that, but I'm not sure Mr. F. enjoyed the joke as much as he.
We had a great "birthday weekend". I made a carrot cake with cream cheese icing, which we proceeded to eat for lunch, dinner and breakfast. Hey, it's got carrots in it. As far as desserts go, it's practically health food.
We had our OB appointment the first thing in the morning on Mr. F's actual birthday, which was a pretty neat way to get Baby F in on the celebrations. As we listened to the baby's heartbeat, the doctor mentioned there was some movement going on too. Being the naturally super-intelligent baby that Baby F is, we assumed s/he must be kicking "Happy Birthday Dad" in Morse code. Naturally!
* * *
I just haven't had the desire to blog, and I'm not sure why. I've been withdrawing into my own thoughts a lot more, which hasn't necessarily been satisfying or productive. Perhaps it's because I'm still just getting my energy back, but I haven't been giving myself much time for anything mentally stimulating, which I feel pretty guilty about. Even my reading habits have taken a sharp nosedive, to the point where I've been just skimming pregnancy-related books and web sites. I'm starting to annoy myself.
So this week I made a point of picking up a book I'd started and put down back in January - Reading Lolita in Tehran. It's a fascinating, heartbreaking memoir of a teacher and her clandestine literature classes with several female students in the heart of Iran. It's just the kick in the butt that I needed. While I've been sitting here letting my brain go to mush, there are men and women in repressed societies who would risk their personal safety to delve into some of the unread classics and challenging new works sitting untouched on my bookcase. They'd probably also love the opportunity to blog and share their minds freely, as I have the freedom to do.
The great danger in having personal freedom is the temptation to become soft and lazy, to take one's liberty for granted and do absolutely nothing useful or productive with it. This has been nagging me lately. It's time to shape up!
Things are progressing well with my pregnancy. At our last obstetrician appointment, Baby Feeble came in loud and clear with a heart rate of about 155 beats per minute. As one friend pointed out, 155 bpm sounds more like a hummingbird than a human! The doctor is pleased, we're pleased and presently I am beside myself waiting for our ultrasound appointment when we'll get to sneak a peek at Baby F and determine if it's a he or she. (Yes, I will fill you all in when we find out.)
Why does it still surprise me when God answers? I guess it isn't that I'm surprised anymore when He does answer, it's just the way He chooses to go about it. Not too long ago I wrote about a personal stalemate. Last week I was having a bad day, a lot of personal things were coming to the surface. During that rather trying time I remembered our friend again and prayed for him - it wasn't a prayer so much as a plea to God on his behalf. It was nothing lofty or particularly spiritual - I can't say I pray that way really. Something in my heart just ripped open, and I ran to my Father to show Him, to ask Him to help.
The next day both Mr. F and I received the same email from our friend, the one who hasn't been speaking to us. It was cordial, it was brief. It completely skirted the issues at hand that had driven us all over the edge. He inquired about me and the baby and wished Mr. F a happy upcoming birthday.
It shouldn't surprise me anymore. But the timing sorta knocked me on my keister.
Things are still not OK. There are issues that need to be addressed and resolved. The relationship is still tenuous at best. But we made contact. God is on the case. There is hope. There is always hope.
Mr. F turned another year older and wiser. My father mischievously mentioned that Mr. F is now half his age, and yet in the next couple of years, Mr. F will be more than half his age. Dad got a good chuckle out of that, but I'm not sure Mr. F. enjoyed the joke as much as he.
We had a great "birthday weekend". I made a carrot cake with cream cheese icing, which we proceeded to eat for lunch, dinner and breakfast. Hey, it's got carrots in it. As far as desserts go, it's practically health food.
We had our OB appointment the first thing in the morning on Mr. F's actual birthday, which was a pretty neat way to get Baby F in on the celebrations. As we listened to the baby's heartbeat, the doctor mentioned there was some movement going on too. Being the naturally super-intelligent baby that Baby F is, we assumed s/he must be kicking "Happy Birthday Dad" in Morse code. Naturally!
I just haven't had the desire to blog, and I'm not sure why. I've been withdrawing into my own thoughts a lot more, which hasn't necessarily been satisfying or productive. Perhaps it's because I'm still just getting my energy back, but I haven't been giving myself much time for anything mentally stimulating, which I feel pretty guilty about. Even my reading habits have taken a sharp nosedive, to the point where I've been just skimming pregnancy-related books and web sites. I'm starting to annoy myself.
So this week I made a point of picking up a book I'd started and put down back in January - Reading Lolita in Tehran. It's a fascinating, heartbreaking memoir of a teacher and her clandestine literature classes with several female students in the heart of Iran. It's just the kick in the butt that I needed. While I've been sitting here letting my brain go to mush, there are men and women in repressed societies who would risk their personal safety to delve into some of the unread classics and challenging new works sitting untouched on my bookcase. They'd probably also love the opportunity to blog and share their minds freely, as I have the freedom to do.
The great danger in having personal freedom is the temptation to become soft and lazy, to take one's liberty for granted and do absolutely nothing useful or productive with it. This has been nagging me lately. It's time to shape up!
posted by Feeble Knees at
11:44 AM
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