go to link It’s after 1:15 in the morning, and all I can do is lie here, thinking about Evan. Thoughts like, “I wonder what he’s doing.” and “Is he okay?” keep roaming through my mind. Sometimes I envy our little baby, Ian. He sleeps soundly, oblivious to the reality that the daddy he sees through pictures and videos isn’t physically around. He gets to traipse off into a surrealism that I can’t reach, because I know the truth–Evan isn’t here and won’t be for a long time. I’ll admit that I’ve spent the last hour crying on and off. This isn’t the first tear-filled night, nor will it be the last. I’m not worried about Evan’s safety; I know that God is watching over him. What gets to me is the loneliness that deployment brings. I enviously watch happy couples cuddle and laugh. But, when I start falling into a pity party, I remind myself of who I am . . . a Marine wife! I get to proudly say that my husband serves our country. Yes, I cry because I miss him (which is a good thing, because it shows I love him), but I also get to smile because I’m proud of what he’s doing.
http://massagepasorobles.com/services/) Tonight through my tears and prayers, I asked God to help me. He did so by drowning out my lonely thoughts with memories of this entire last year. What a crazy year it’s been! Going into the military life was quite the adjustment for me. I’d have to sum it up with the descriptions of exciting, scary, difficult, and even funny. One of the funniest moments that sticks out to me is a time we went to the Naval Hospital. I was about 12 weeks pregnant and going in for one of my appointments. Evan and I were chatting and walking as closely as we could without holding hands. He was wearing his camis, and holding hands isn’t permitted in camis (no, not even with your spouse). As usual, I was yammering on about who-knows-what when taps started playing and the National Anthem came blaring out of loud speakers. I just kept talking and walking, looking strangely at all the poeple who were suddenly stopping. I thought to myself, “Boy, people on military bases sure are strange.” Then it occurred to me that Evan was being awfully quiet. I looked to my left to find him gone. I looked behind me, and there he was, several feet back, standing in a perfectly straight form (at attention). He simply muttered from the side of his mouth, “Stop walking.” Confused, I raised an eyebrow but did as I was told. I looked at his face, but he wasn’t looking at me. I followed the direction of his eyes to see that he was watching the raising of the American flag. Realization set in as the final chords of the Marine Corps hymn sounded out, and I felt warm redness creep up my cheeks. This was yet another new military rule that I needed to get used to. The moment taps starts playing, everyone stops. It doesn’t matter if you’re late, if you’re sick, or even if you’re about to pee your pants; you stop and wait for that flag to go up. Even if you’re in your car, you stop. More than once will you see traffic come to a complete halt, for that very reason. Although it can be a nuisance and could result in wet pants, I think it’s awesome that Old Glory still has the respect that it should. Now, when I hear taps playing, I make sure I stop talking and walking (whether I can see the flag or not). It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was actually the idiot of whom everyone else was probably thinking, “Oh look, another newbie.”
It’s been a while since I’ve written about my pregnancy adventures, and in the meantime my legs, butt, hips, and other parts have proven the length of time to me with their never-ending expansion. I should have known our baby was a boy when I experienced a sudden appetite increase and found myself eating peanut butter by the spoonful without any second thought. I wake up “starving” at five in the morning, and of course, I’m always wanting to eat whatever we DON’T have in the fridge or cabinets. I still have yet to get a weird craving, though when a friend mentioned adding miracle whip to a peanut butter and banana sandwich, I started salivating. I have to mentally slap myself every time I go to try it.
Regarding the sex of our baby, another clue I should have heeded to was that ALL my baby dreams involved boys. I don’t recall having a single dream about a baby girl. I now realize I was just in sheer denial all along. Deep down I knew it probably was a boy, but I didn’t want to believe it. When the ultrasound tech pointed out his “boyness”, there was no denying it anymore. That little thing sticking out on the screen was certainly not a finger. Now, Evan and I have the pleasure of arguing over a name for this little goober who has taken a regular habit of making his presence known to me with jabs and kicks to my abdomen. I just love waking up in the middle of the night to persistent jerks that feel like recurring muscle spasms.
Our dog, Sierra, and I seem to have taken on a battle of the smells. She stinks, as usual. But, I put her to the test when my flatulence takes its course. I have gas worse than an entire college football team! You’re probably thinking, “Poor Evan,” but he has grown acclimated to it and accepts it as a part of our every-day life. The most reaction he gives is a simple shake of his head, and that’s only when he can hear it. Although, any smelly ones usually result in immediate flight from the room or exaggerated plugging of the nose, followed with, “Lydia! Plug yourself!”
With a goofy grin, I just respond, “I’m pregnant.” Now I can say, “It’s your son’s fault!” The great thing about it all is that he can’t protest otherwise.
They say I’m as small as a pear,
But I know I’m all there.
I’ve got fingers and toes
And even a little nose.
My head is half of me,
But the rest’ll catch up, you’ll see.
I’ve got this really cool cord,
And I pretend it’s a sword.
I can move anywhere I please,
Even when I twist, turn and squeeze.
Some day I will be
A pirate of the sea.
Or maybe I will fly
Way way up in the sky.
I will jump and hop and run
And try to lick the sun.
I will cross my eyes
To use for disguise.
I’ll stick my face in the mud
And eat all kinds of crud.
I won’t blow my nose
Cause that’s how it goes.
I’ll eat the dirt
And be a big flirt.
I will be good
Just as I should.
But, when I blow that spit,
The devil’s made me do it.
These are my dreams,
As silly as they seem.
So, when I am born,
Everybody be warned.
I’m gonna try to fly
And be the best spy.
I’m gonna play with you,
Even when you don’t want to.
I heard my daddy is cool,
So my house is gonna rule!
I’m gonna be the best,
Unlike all the rest.
But, until that awesome day,
In mommy’s tummy will I stay. *sigh*
By: Super Baby!
I was laying in bed the other night, thinking about all the interesting things I’ll deal with once the baby is born and starts growing up. Then, this poem started formulating in my head. Hope you enjoyed it! heehee!
Time for another update! I know, I know, it’s been soooo long.
The baby is now 12 1/2 weeks, and the first trimester is almost over! Woot woot! One might think not much could possibly happen in a week’s time, but, alas, when pregnant, something new happens every day! I can’t keep up! As much as I beg and plead them, the boobs won’t let up. I’m adorning cantelopes! Now my skin has decided to go on strike. Zits are beginning to draw maps on my face. Sometimes I look in the mirror and think I should play connect-the-dots. I would include a picture to demonstrate, but a close-up pimple shot isn’t the most pleasant to look at.
I had a pregnancy scare recently. For the past couple of days I’ve been experiencing Continue reading →
So, today I had the horrific realization of what pregnancy does to the body after eating. Okay, since being pregnant, I always felt bloated after eating, but this is ridiculous! Take a look…
Is that really me or did a horse jump down my throat? I’m starting to speculate the horse option. Isn’t it enough that my boobs have grown a whole size?! Against Evan’s wishes (though he doesn’t say it, I’m sure it’s there), I’m hoping the boobage stops. Come on, mother pregnancy nature, I can’t be buying new bras just to fit my temporary mongo boobs. Please attack someone who wants the extra growth or even growth at all! Maybe I’ll try the ace bandage bondage. Hmm, I’ll have to keep that in mind.
I’m glad to say that the gas issue has seemed to dilute a bit, but with the extraction of the gas, crazy dreams have become the new replacement. Just the other night I dreamt that I gave birth to our baby on the steps at home in PA. I was just meandering down the steps, sat down, and then “swoop!” out slipped the baby… four months early and as healthy as a regular newborn! I was quite disappointed when I woke up and realized the dream wasn’t real. Oh how beautiful it would be to skip the last four months! But alas, reality has taken its place again, along with the extra boobs and bloating. *sigh*
Thank you for listening to another day in the mind of Lydia. Stay tuned for next time…