We Wait

Well, it's June.  Henry will be a June boy.

Idle week has come to an end, & the waiting (& walking & jumping) has begun.  Monday of this week I took Reagan to lunch with her grandparents & her Aunt Jessica, dropped some things off to be monogrammed, wandered around Sam's with Reagan & my mom, bought Reagan some new shoes, & then watched Reagan ride the merry-go-round at the mall (& watched my increasingly dizzy mother accompany her).  I thought about calling the Woman's Clinic to make sure Dr. Sheppard wasn't delayed in her return to town, but I didn't.

Yesterday, Reagan & I walked around Hobby Lobby where I bought these to hang in Henry's room:

And then, since it's right there, we sat & ate ice cream in The Creamery (I dressed her in one of her 'Big Sister' shirts, hoping it would help . . . but nothing):

Reagan took a spin on the barstools before heading home:

So, we wait.  Henry's held on a week longer than Reagan already.  You win, Henry!  So come on out.

This week's theme song: Tom Petty's The Waiting is the Hardest Part 

I don't think Reagan realizes her days as an only child are numbered.  Usually when she dines out, which is often, she's accompanied by a gaggle of relatives, but a few Sundays ago we made a trip to Outback as a family of three, & I snapped these of her enjoying her lemonade:

Idle week commenced with church last Sunday, followed by this impromptu photo shoot on the front porch.  I bought this dress with July 4 in mind, but I figure on the 4th I'll be homebound with a newborn who's not quite yet ready for the germs attention that comes with a trip to church, so I decided the dress worked well for Memorial Day too.

I'll start with the best shot I got . . . 

And now the outtakes:

Reagan usually sleeps until 9ish, but woke me at 7am on Memorial Day to let me know she needed milk.  I fixed her some, & then told her she was going back to sleep, somewhere.  I gave her several options - in bed with me, in her own bed, or on the couch.  Around 9:30, she came back in my room & crawled into bed with me for a few minutes before we got up for the day.  I wasn't sure where she'd spent the interim hours until Trey texted me this pic he took before he left for work that morning:

With no substantive Memorial Day plans, that evening we found ourselves at Johnny's Pizza with my parents & Jessica.  Reagan had a blast with Nana's new glasses:

The remainder of the week we spent a lot of time entertaining ourselves at home . . . with the mask I wore in early pregnancy:  

Driving our car on the porch:

Trying out the new double stroller:

Dragging her swing into the living room to relax & watch some TV (she's too big for it, but she still loves her swing . . . makes sense as she spent a great deal of the first year of her life happily swinging away):

And . . . more fun in the double stroller:

Saturday, with the end of idle week in sight, we went to Trey's parents' house to celebrate his grandmother's 80th birthday.  Reagan was thrilled to be out of the house: 

And happy as always to be the center of attention:

Aunt Deni took this shot of the three of us.  The white shirt really does a lot for my figure, I think:

Idle week really wore Trey out:

I guess I naively thought I'd sit on my rear all last week, & then wake up Monday morning, my doctor safely back in Monroe, & my water would break.  Reagan's birth in no way prepared me for this waiting/guessing game.  With Reagan, I had no contractions, that I was aware of, until I'd been at the hospital for hours, & I knew to go to the hospital because my water broke.  Everywhere.  No guessing at all.  Maybe I am about to birth a future LSU lineman, because this boy is a fan of false starts.  I've been having random, painless contractions for over a week now . . . that amount to zilch.  Last night around 11 I had what I thought was the beginning of a rhythm brewing, but it fizzled out when I got in bed around 1 this morning.

Have you read the fifth chapter of I Thessalonians lately?  

But concerning the times and the seasons, brethren, you have no need that I should write to you.  For you yourselves know perfectly that the day of the Lord so comes as a thief in the night.  For when they say, "Peace and safety!" then sudden destruction comes upon them, as labor pains upon a pregnant woman.  And they shall not escape.  But you, brethren, are not in darkness, so that this day should overtake you as a thief.  You are all sons of light and sons of the day.  We are not of the night nor of darkness.  Therefore let us not sleep, as others do, but let us watch and be sober. 

I Thessalonians 5:1-6

Paul was a fantastic writer; he was no stranger to similes.  At present, these verses from his first letter to the Thessalonians are rolling around in my head all the time.  I continually load my dishwasher, wash Reagan's clothes, vacuum, etc. because I know any moment could be the moment (& who wants to give birth when their house needs to be vacuumed?).  My bag is packed, & has been for weeks, as has Henry's.  Similes are particularly effective linguistic tools  when the reader is able to fully empathize with the analogy being made.  I bet there were Thessalonian women - women who were seized with labor pains & gave birth long before the evolution of modern medicine - who read his letter & well understood Paul's use of figurative language.

I'll avoid the obvious sermon & simply say that the Lord will return to claim His own & I've thought a great deal more about this event the last few weeks as I've readied myself, & my home, for Henry's arrival.  We don't have to worry about dirty dishes in the sink or having a bag packed, but we should assume He will come today, & walk as sons of light, sons of the day, & be as excited to meet Him face to face as I am to meet my son.      

AZ