Yesterday, I had the sweetest church shower and I got to share it with my dear friend Holly, due a couple of days after me. The theme was rain drops! So cute. They did such a good job, and there was lots of food, and Picasso's coffee that I did not drink, and lots of women showed up. It was so sweet.
Every gift was thrilling, but one in particular caught me off guard. I was opening gifts and rattling off names of gift givers and what they gave to my friend who was writing everything down. I opened one from my mother in law, and then imediately after I opened one in the same wrapping and said in a business like manner, "Ok, this one's from Granny," and began to open it. I stopped abruptly, looked up at Olivia who was taking my picture (Tyler's sister) with a confused face, she smiled and shook her head yes, I reread the tag again that said "granny," and opened it up to find a beautiful quilt.
I knew she had made one for Brittany's little boy, but didn't expect to get one since she passed away. Turns out she had put the squares together about 40 years ago and they were sitting in her house somewhere. Tyler's mom found them and told Granny they could just get it backed for my baby. She said Granny was so happy because it was one of the few things on her list she hoped to get done before she passed. So sweet. And I couldn't quite contain myself after that - tears, sweat, I didn't talk for about five minutes.
Sort of a lovely, overwhelming day. I was exhausted and sat in my baby room for a good while just staring at bags of things. Lacy flattened and folded all of my tissue paper and bags. We slowly found places for things.
After eating Indian food and returning/buying at Target, we came back to the baby room and hung some things. It's coming together nicely.
Ok, so this morning we drove out to Granite City, IL to lead worship for a church. They are a congregation of probably 40? It's small and sweet and they meet in a community youth center. Normally they just sing with youtube videos or MP3s and it's my understanding that many people in the congregation are recovering addicts. I think the church is just a couple of years old, and ours is seven. I just find it interesting how the more established a church gets, the more formal things become. Now, there is something, for sure, to say about order. It's important and necessary. But this church was not put together and it was awesome. It was hot, the sound system wasn't great, people came in late. Toward the end of the service, the tornado sirens went off, so we went to the basement. Once it passed, we went upstairs and a girl a little younger than me got baptized - she's a recovering heroine addict. I could hardly sing because I was so choked up being in the same room with these people who's worship was so raw. It was beautiful, and I'm thankful to have been a part of it.
It really seems like the more shit you've been through, the more honest your worship. And I'm not saying you have to raise your hands or close your eyes or dance when you sing, but there was a noticeable different between the group from our church and their church.
I slept hardcore this afternoon. Complete exhaustion, but it was worth it. Tyler went to the grocery store for me, and the pups and flipping out over the wind.
Exhaustion has truly hit. When I got up for the second time from my nap to pee, I really though "Whoa, this is it. It's got to be crowning." Now, of course I'm way extreme. But it was so ridiculous. I walked to the bathroom bent halfway over. Pretty soon I'll be doing the Alyson and crawling to the bathroom. I can feel it's sweet little legs sitting across my belly button and toeing my right rib cage.
I've had maybe three people tell me that the painful contractions happened to them weeks before their due date. I'll be honest - I don't want people to think I'm a baby. But to hear someone say that it's normal makes me frustrated, because my midwife says it's not normal. It's like, "no, it actually hurts, it's not just my belly getting tight, and they're actually 6 minutes apart." So, I'd just rather not tell people anything I guess. I think it's just more terrifying to have contractions happen and think that I'm going into labor at 35 weeks, but then that weird feeling of "I'm probably overreacting," so I sit alone in my bed with scared tears in my eyes and yell "noooooo" with every wave. But in two weeks, I'm going to clean the house and go for walks and scrub my tub. I think this baby will come before 40 weeks.
We shall see. Happy Sunday night.