My day at school today was interesting and hectic in so many ways. Parent teacher conferences are tomorrow night, so report cards are on the agenda. As I always seem to do, I assigned a large project just before the end of the quarter, and today I was using every spare moment to finish grading. I could kick myself for not thinking ahead! Also, a few students have opted out of the whole homework thing this week, and that leads to tense conversations followed by detention slips and unhappy parents. Yuck. I hate being that teacher, but what else is there to do? I am a bit hopeful that some parents will be much happier to see me at conferences, as some of my students have really kicked butt in the past few weeks and pulled their grades up to levels that actually match the potential I've seen in them all along. One parent I bumped into on the way out of school today asked if she should be worried about her son's report card. I told her she should have no worries where math is concerned because her son had turned that C- into an A. "My son?" she asked in disbelief. I assured her that her son indeed had earned an A. She was elated. I love it when that happens!
In other news, my husband is amazing. Well, that's not exactly news. That's pretty much always been the case. I just have a little story to share about something he did that reminded me how blessed I am to be his wife. Let me preface this by saying that he's been swamped with homework lately. He's had so much research to do, loads of lengthy papers to write, and mounds of Greek to study. In fact, I think he has an exam in Greek on Friday, and I know it's not going to be a cake walk. With all the grading I've been doing this week and the various other things I've had going on, I haven't been keeping up with all the dishes and haven't been taking naps like I usually do. In fact, I think I've been getting fewer than seven hours of sleep each night. Now, for the "normal" me, this wouldn't be a huge problem. For the pregnant me this is horrible! I wake up 3-5 times each night just to use the bathroom, and then I struggle to find a relatively comfortable sleep position for the next 30 minutes before I finally fall back into a semi-restful sleep. Grrrr. So even if I get into bed by 10:30, I know the night is going to be way too short. And folks tell me this is only going to get worse . . . . . Well, yesterday I had an extra long day at school because we had meetings at the end of the day. I rolled on home around 5:00 to find my wonderful husband standing at the stove. The house was picked up, the dishes were nearly done (and that pile had been big!), and stir fry was smelling mighty good. I guess he'd had an afternoon cancellation and had decided to use the time to make sure everything at home was nice and tidy so I could go to bed as soon as we finished eating! And that's exactly what I did. I crawled into that beautiful place between the sheets at 6:30 in the evening! And I didn't crawl out (for good at least) until 12 hours later! Amazing. I couldn't believe I still needed my alarm this morning, but I guess I really needed the rest. That heck of a long story is all to say ... I love my husband!
Another update: WE'RE GOING TO BE THE PROUD PARENTS OF A BABY GIRL! I knew it all along, but we officially found out last Thursday. The look on Trev's face when the tech zoomed in on the empty space between her legs was priceless. It was a big, nervous, wide-eyed grin that I don't think I've ever seen in its place before. There was a mixture of fear, disbelief, joy, and pure trepidation. I've always known my husband to be the planning-ahead type. We have always had this in common, although it plays out differently for each of us. Well, I never really expected that I'd be the one focusing on my fears for our finances as parenthood approaches while he is scared to death of having a teenage daughter. Teenager? Really? Can't we get through the sleepless nights of her infancy before we worry about the potential sleepless nights we could possibly experience when she enters adolescence? I think he's mostly scared that she'll hate him. I don't know if his heart could handle it, and I know that's what he's so afraid of. He's worried she'll hate him for dictating what she can and cannot wear and whom she can and cannot date and which movies she can and cannot see. I just tell him that if that's the road we go down, she'll hate us both. In the meantime, I'm quite convinced he'll win her heart. He'll be the prince she compares all others to, and they will share a bond that goes beyond words.
As for my part, pregnancy has been one of my favorite seasons of life up to this point. I know I haven't set foot in the third trimester yet, but I'm really enjoying what I've been able to sample so far. The puking wasn't fun, but it was totally worth it when I saw that little heart beating on the screen at my 9 week appointment. And I know other women don't agree with me, but I love this pregnant body. I love the curves of it. I love the tummy that makes people smile in wonder. I love wearing elastic-waisted pants to work. Seriously. I have no worries when I'm a tad full after a large meal because my pants never feel too snug. I don't like seeing the numbers on the scale, so I avoid that part when I can. I love feeling her move and kick and bump around in there. I have this ever-present reminder that God is in the business of miracles - that He creates and sustains life. I had a completely anxious, fearful moment the other day in the doctor's office. I could hear him speaking to another patient in the hallway, mostly in Spanish, but then in English he said, "You're 37 weeks now. Baby's just about ready. It could be any day." I thought to myself, 'That poor women.' And then I realized - it won't be long, and I will be that women. I had this little inner tantrum about labor, about really not wanting to experience the pain that comes with it or the pain that lingers afterward. But then she moved. And I was reminded that my God is a miracle worker. The miracles won't cease when he's finished knitting this life together in my womb. For years, women have been emerging from hospitals, huts, and tents holding infants in their arms. And although I'm all about the strength we women possess, I don't know any women who are truly that strong. Seriously girls, there's someone bigger and stronger making it happen. OK - that's my little pep talk for myself and any other prego ladies out there needing a dose of anti-anxiety truth. I once heard a woman refer to her labor as the moment God abandoned her. She was flippant about it. I haven't been through it myself, but as I stare it down, I'm pretty sure He'll be there. Without Him, I'm convinced the whole thing couldn't happen at all.
