Week #38: Antsy or Excited? Maybe Both.

38 weeks and 3 days. Besides my nonexistent St. Patrick's Day festivities, I'm celebrating being one step closer to my due date and arrival of baby girl. Today is a great day.

At my Doctor's appointment this morning, she noted that while my cervix is still closed, it is thinning out, which is exciting. My baby belly measures 37 cm and baby girl's heart is beating at 135 beats/minute. She is growing splendidly. I'm so thankful for her continued healthy development and trying to be present with each passing day, rather than wondering when I'll finally get to meet her.

This is no small feat, however.

Every day now I think to myself, "Is this the day?" and "What if she comes 2 weeks late?!" or even, "What if she doesn't want to come out - she seems so happy inside my belly?"

I laugh to myself, as I realize that baby girl will come out soon, it's just a matter of time. Time is such an uncertain thing, especially in this season of waiting for her arrival. I've been much antsier than normal as I glance at our hanging "Goats in Trees" photo calendar on a daily basis, counting down the days until my due date. No, it's not because those goats can climb so incredibly high up in those scraggly trees - instead, my anxiety is triggered by my own expectations and perhaps those of others, as I wait patiently on the timing of baby girl's birth.

This last week, I felt very exhausted. I've been sleeping less than normal, as I get up to use the bathroom 2-4 times a night and constantly try to find a comfortable position for my growing body in bed. I've also been experiencing more vivid dreams at night. All of this is normal, according to my reading but it sure feels weird to me in never having been pregnant before.

Likewise, my excitement is growing with each new day. I feel more empowered and encouraged to have this baby in the most natural way possible, especially after talking to my Mom this morning. She shared how for each of my sisters and I, she had a relatively short labor, and viewed her contractions as waves of energy that she worked through - rather than "pain" that she needed to overcome. I'm praying, rather intently, that my labor is as short as hers. I'm also praying that God will surprise me in enabling me to become much stronger and more relaxed than I think is possible, so that I can move through each stage of labor and experience the incredible joy of birthing a baby rather than focusing on the potential discomfort of it all.

Please join me in this prayer.

On a separate note, as a fun pregnancy treat for myself, I recently purchased my first heat roller system for curling my hair. My stylist told me that it could be a nice alternative to using a curling iron, since I've been exhausted standing and curling each section of my hair in the mornings. Instead, she said, I can set these 'bad boys' in my hair and do my makeup or anything else, while I wait for my hair to set. I found this idea fascinating and tried out my heat curlers for the first time last week.

At first, everything seemed so ridiculously easy. I got out the heat curlers. I plugged in the unit. I waited for the light to change from red to "translucent white."

But the light never changed color.
And still, I waited.

I waited for 30 minutes while these heat rollers heated up, and let's just say that when I went to put these rollers in my hair, I cursed louder and more passionately than a drunken sailor. I used words that I didn't even realize I could speak. And I screamed them - alone in the bathroom - as I waited for the pain of my burning fingers, my singed ears, and my fried hair to subside. Sometime during this whole process, I broke down crying, unplugged the rollers, and decided that this was not the best system for me.

Fast forward to two days later - I decided that I wanted to try again. So, I came prepared with my thick, black fingered gloves and lots of patience. I plugged in the heat curlers and waited about 10 minutes before using them. The rollers were ridiculously hot and with the aid of my gloves, I was moderately successful in getting all of my hair into a roller. Then, I waited 30 minutes while they 'set' and did my makeup. I'll include some photos.

Heat Curlers - Second Attempt

At least I'm smiling this time...

Awesome hair!! (Albeit worth the emotional cost? Not sure.)

It seemed to work in making my hair look nice, but I'm skeptical as to whether this process is truly easier than using a standard curling iron. I may be making a trip back to the store to return these heat curlers very soon. I'm trying to give it a week and not make any rash decisions. 

I'm also planning on this week's pregnancy 'treat' being something much safer and/or comfortable. Perhaps a seasonal latte at Starbucks or a new pair of socks? Trivial things that won't make me freak out. I would like to keep my language well-mannered, as baby girl can hear me pretty well these days...

Life in This Great State

A drop of blood clings to the off-white border on my flannel mittens, and I realize at that moment my face must be bleeding. Seconds prior, I had hastily reached for the lower, snow-laden branch of our backyard spruce tree, trying to assist Penny, our puppy, in locating the stick I accidentally tossed into the tree. She leapt forward, thrusting all her weight into increasing her elevation. She wanted that stick and was determined. In a flash, she locked her teeth onto the stick and fell back.

Snap, cracked the branch, as snow careened through the space surrounding us. At that same moment, I felt sharp needles hit my face and mouth.

“I’m hit!” I cry out. “The branch hit me.”

I look down at my gloves and realize I’m bleeding. My face is bleeding. Darn. I run inside and tell Penny that we will pick up our game of fetch later. She chases me to the door, assuming that we are playing a new game now.

Once inside, I assess my face and clean the slight scratches.  What a morning it’s been, and it’s only slightly after 10 a.m.

Originally, I took Penny to a nearby park to get some exercise. As we ventured deeper into the park, she started jumping incessantly and fighting the leash. Betwixt by sights and sounds – none of which seemed alarming to me, she wanted to explore the north end of the park, without anyone holding her back. I couldn’t control her easily, so I told her that we were leaving. Turning toward the west park entrance, we trudged through the snow, stopping only to gather little sticks for Penny.

The swooshing sound of hundreds of birds flying overhead caught my attention and I veered back around, enjoying their airborne dance. At that same moment, I noticed a large, dark creature take shape near the playground, where we had just been.

A young moose emerged from the forest. Trotting along, it stopped to lock its gaze on us, as if to say, I’ve been watching you.

“Thanks Penny,” I motion to her with pat. “You were looking out for us. As a reward, we can play more in the backyard when we get home.”

Temperatures near our home in Anchorage, Alaska, are hovering around zero degrees this week, with an occasional spike of 8 or 10 degrees at mid-day. Most days, I keep our fireplace burning with the spruce logs we purchased last spring. I can start a fire going myself, and feel accomplished by this newfound skill. In addition to heating our home and saving on gas costs, our fireplace is cozy. It provides a charming backdrop for reading a good book while cuddling with the dog.

Life in Alaska, aptly named “The Last Frontier,” is just that. A wild, untamed land holding great promise for explorers, dreamers, and adventure seekers. There are mountains for miles, large beasts that roam the state, and dramatic changes in light and dark and temperature, depending on the time of year and proximity to the coast. To survive the elements, one must be prepared.

I suppose living in Alaska has been such a shift for me in that way. Growing up on the island on Maui, I was privileged to live without much need for surviving the elements. My girl friends and I would throw together our swimsuits, towels, water, sometimes sunblock, and a snack and head to the beach for the day. Oftentimes, I would forget one or more of these items. Without a swimsuit, I’d jump in the water in all my clothes. Lacking snacks, or water, we’d find a public fountain to drink from or purchase ice cream at a local shop. Likewise, beach towels are nonessential. You can sunbathe and dry off pretty fast under the tropical sun.

Alaska is a stark contrast from the balmy beaches of my home state and yet, there is incredible beauty here as well – a fierce beauty that demands respect and forethought. Rather than passively enjoying Alaska, it must be experienced through preparation and reverence. Realizing that the weather can change drastically and moose or bears can cross your path.

As a child, I vividly recall telling my family that I would never live in Alaska nor did I ever want to visit. “Why would anyone want to be cold?” I’d curiously ask. In my mind, Alaska equaled death. Frostbite seemed like a horrible evil to me, one that could easily be avoided. Ironically, I married a man from Alaska who loves this state dearly, which in turn, helped me reconsider my preconceptions about this place. In coming here, I wanted to gain a deeper awareness of where my husband is from – what his childhood was like and how the place he grew up in has shaped him.

I’m thankful for this season of living in Alaska, where I’m learning how to better prepare for the elements. I think in many ways I’m becoming a stronger and more confident woman, wife, and mother. I am also growing in my ability to cherish the things that I must work for, and focusing on stewarding resources well.

Last night, while ladling steaming hot bowls of homemade moose chili and portioning out triangles of skillet bacon cornbread for dinner, I thought back over my day. I feel like a real pioneer woman – cooking, cleaning, avoiding moose, and fighting the elements (or really, that one spruce tree.)

What an adventure.
A snapshot of life in this Great State.