warning: I'm about to ramble

And so begins week 42. I have to say I'm beginning to get a bit impatient, which frustrates me. Maybe it's that I'm so big I can barely roll over anymore. Maybe it's that I'm kind of nervous about this whole giving birth thing and the more days I wait, the bigger this baby is getting. Maybe it's that it's been 100 degrees with tons of humidity all week which severely limits my activities. Or maybe I was anticipating epic storms last night that would call this baby down and out while simultaneously cooling things off. But this morning I woke up to dry ground, 87 degrees at 9am and no contractions for about 12 hours.

I'm trying to practice mindfulness, to breathe, to be open to possibility and timing that I cannot control. I'm trying to remain creative and active when I feel limited and sluggish. And I'm keeping my perspective- Luke has been a saint, each and every ultrasound and stress test declares that the baby is healthy and happy, and that Little Oyster is staying quite active and reminding me the he/she is very much alive and well. I might be sweaty and impatient, but I have so much gratitude underneath it all.

The last few days have been a bit sentimental, as I've had time aplenty to sit, ponder, read, and write (for which I'm also truly grateful). Poetry and stories are a real source of encouragement and hope. Everyday I glean bits of truth and reality from my favored 'mom blogs' who are so honest and open (and usually hilarious) about their parenting journeys. And every once in a while a good friend will pass along wise and beautiful words that feel like a mirror held up to my own emotions at the time. Such was the case when my dear friend Katie sent along a birthing poem that I just happened to read on my own the next day as well. And since I'm feeling sentimental, I will share with you some sentiment (by Nancy Rose Meeker):

Here am I,

myself,

but also vessel of creation.

Rythyms of the ages

stir in the womb of woman,

my own womb-

ancient pulse in my own heartbeat,

nourishment in my own breast.

This life through me

was fathered deep

in fire-consecrated flesh,

and here, behold!

A miracle,

that what was not before

is

now!

And speaking of life cycles, our mint forest has begun to flower in the late July heat. I ventured outside to gather some leaves for some labor-inducing tea and was shocked (also terrified) by the number of bees hard at work pollinating. I wish so badly I wasn't a wimp when it came to bees, but those little guys freak me out! So I asked Luke to be manly and harvest the mint for me. He also took some time to document the very real miracle that is bee pollination, and I thought I'd post some of my favorites.

Happy Sunday! I wish you (and myself) gratitude for the mundane, patience and perspective, as well as an eye for the miraculous!