A Year is a Long Enough . . .

In January I learned I was expecting our 4th baby. I was very excited- because I had wanted another. After all our youngest was nearly 4 and our first 3 had been 2 or less years apart.

I was delighted to discover my boss and I were expecting at the same time- with due dates apx. 2 weeks apart. This gave us much to discuss over the months and was fun to compare our growing bellies!

The first 3 months I was exhausted and would just fall asleep after meals for naps, even twice a day. I was nauseous- but not as much as I had  been with the other 3.

Perhaps sleeping so much added to the weight gain- but I always gain about the same- always too much for my taste. I always feel like a balloon, swollen and poofy. I’d like to be able to enjoy pregnancy- but I never do- this time was no different. I should clarify that I DO love the feeling of having a little baby kicking around in me. I do LOVE having the ultrasounds and checkups and hearing the baby’s heartbeat. But I struggle with self-image and feeling down about myself while pregnant.

This pregnancy I was also a few years older than last time- thus putting me in the risk group for the first time. And with age comes new health issues. . . This time I had too much sugar in my blood for one standard blood test and so I had to make the sugar tolerance test. You know the gross one where you have to drink sugar syrup and wait and get your blood drawn again? Well my numbers on this test were borderline gestational diabetes-too close for my midwife’s comfort to the gestational diabetes numbers and because of that she put me on a strict diet so as not to go over the edge.

The last 6 weeks of my pregnancy I had no sugar. And this was actually very empowering- I will write about that in another post.

This time around I also had 2 stays in the hospital. The first was because in the summer I got a small electric shock- which scared me especially when I felt the baby jump after I screamed and jumped. I was in the hospital then for 24 hours to monitor the baby- he was fine.

Then just 2 weeks ago I had a strange bout in the store- where one eye seemed to have a flashing light in it. And I couldn’t see clearly unless I covered that eye. I called my husband and asked him to pray for me. And he told me not to drive with my visions empaired. By the time I reached the checkout my vision had stabilized but I was so very shaken up that I couldn’t recall a single pin code for our debit cards. Then when I had to try to explain to my husband’s aunt (whom I had taken to the store) what was going on I realized I couldn’t speak coherently. We somehow managed to get home. I called my midwife and tried to explain to her how I was feeling- but I couldn’t speak in Latvian and even my English seemed to make little sense. She told me to go to the hospital and get it checked out- (my  hand had also become tingly).

So I was admitted for 48 hours for observation and monitoring. I had high blood pressure (for me) upon entering the hospital 130, but nothing too serious. I was 39 weeks when I was admitted and up until then I was trying to get my baby to want to be born sooner. While in the hospital I kept telling him to wait until we got out- because our plan was to have this baby at home.

Thankfully I got out with a clean bill of health on Wednesday the 21st, and even made it to my scheduled vein usg to make sure all was well for a home birth.

To be continued. . . .

 

 

The computer screen obsession, by an expat

I sit, hanging out by this black box of a machine.

Not the kind of person who likes killing time, yet somehow glued to this screen.

I hang out on Facebook, and my Skype window is open. I linger on these sites, while browsing and doing other “work” I need to get done online.

Bedtime comes, my local husband is away for the evening- and I feel alone.

I sit here; gazing, hoping, wondering. . . . dreaming. . .

I suddenly see this screen as a window and see myself poking my head through it – searching for someone I know and love an ocean away.

No one is online this evening, they are all busy living their lives and doing their things and I find myself longing to be overthere– with them.

My eyes grow heavy and my bed calls me, and I reluntctly give my channels of communication one last peek- still hoping to see that lone figure waving at me across the space and lines of Internet and catching a glimpse of their far away face through the dark pane of my computer screen window.

Nothing. . . time to go to bed.

Stuck

It has been ages since I wrote and I guess I could best say that is because I feel a bit stuck.

I now have a new website– which has a blog section and I don’t know whether to keep that all business focused with posts only having to do with the website topic or if I should do all my blogging there.

Actually I am so fond of coming up with titles and keeping my blogging topics separate that I have several blogs started and I am wondering if now is the time to sort of all roll them into one.

So that is the reason I am feeling stuck- keep business and personal blog separate or put them together.

What is your opinion?

Happy summer!

The Power of Handmade

Yesterday I pulled out the tin of quilt blocks I cut years ago- blocks for the quilt “Double Wedding Ring” quilt. I love that pattern and it has so many memories attached to it.

It has been probably 15 years since I cut those blocks- and life has changed so much. I left my homeland; my country, married and become a Mom. Yet with those quilt blocks nothing has changed- it is as if time stopped when I laid those hand pieced rows together on the top of neatly stacked piles of still to be sewn blocks.

There are so many memories stored in that box of blocks, so many careful stitches placed years ago when I was still and unmarried maiden. There are so many pieces of fabric in prints that remind me of “home” and my Mom and our quilting days together.

There is such a power in hand work- so many thoughts, dreams, desires are sewn into the seams of quilts and other hand created items.

When I sew by hand I have time to think, to remember, to value those women who taught me to sew and the chain of seamstresses I come from.

Then too there is time for dreaming- about the ones I am sewing this little quilt for and for those so far away.

Each stitch is sewn with love- each piece planned out and carefully cut and placed.

My life of late has been full of paintings on silk, and those too are created with such care and thought. Each brush stroke containing thoughts and dreams of beauty and delight.

There are faster ways of creating these days- and prints can be bought at half the price of originals. But there is nothing that can replace the joy of creating and gifting something you poured your love and dreams into whether sewn, painted, or otherwise created.

Thank you for caring

Just a little phrase, but with power to make tears jump into my eyes.

Thank you for caring.” my Mom said as we hung up the phone on a 1 minute Skype call.

My parents are moving today- and I wanted to know how its going and where they will sleep tonight.

Mom didn’t have time to talk long with the moving truck coming- but said those 4 little words, “Thank  you for caring.”

As I hung up the phone tears started rolling down my cheeks. “Oh how I wish I could do more than CARE.” But living an ocean away makes that impossible. . . if I were a millionaire I’d own the fastest jet around and be there for all those moments and birthdays and special occasions that happen without my presence.

Yet here I am- in this blessed life an ocean away- but with the power to show I DO care with a simple phone call.