Monday, April 14, 2008

Swell


I can safely say that I am not addicted to blogging. What a relief! I've been so enthralled with setting up my house that I haven't needed one blogging break. However, I have missed writing and therefore have all sorts of thoughts and posts that are marinating in my head. Oh yes, and I've missed my blog-o-sphere friends. But I am just really saying that for your sake.

As you may recall I am less then a month's way from delivery. A couple of weeks ago, my equally pregnant friend Ashley, at a spontaneous Cafe Rio gathering, asked if I was swelling yet. "Swelling? No. Still pukes." And you know what? I was kind of proud, like I chose my poison, thank you.

But last week I said, hello to Cabbage Patch Doll feet and hands.

Chup, Lucy and I went to Ikea on Saturday. I kept saying "I need a wheelchair." And they kept saying, "Har har har!" After 3 hours of walking around I sat down on some special pine bench (The Klarrifurkl?) and showed them the swell of my red feet. "Happy?" I said in a very mean-pregnant way.

Then Chup let me buy the chandelier I wanted, so it all worked out.

So yes, I am getting ready for this adventure of pregnancy to be accomplished. In fact, I've started looking for signs of the end. I listen to the wind, I write down my dreams, I look in the entrails of neighbor's dogs.

Nothing.

Until yesterday.

A couple months back I had a dream that I was toting my baby around underneath my parent's crabapple tree. He was a newborn and I had to support his head as he looked around at the mass of pink blossoms and happy chirping birds. With milk-drunk eyes he looked up and exclaimed,

"Burrrrdies."

And I thought,

"Holy crap my child can talk already."

(Pride.)

Since that dream I've added to my obsession with birds and nests. Every room in our house has a bird or a nest of some kind. It reminds me of nest-building, my ultimate purpose. The point of swollen feet. And hands.

Then yesterday, as my family and I were meeting with Topher and Lisa's ward to celebrate the blessing of baby Margot, Lucy pointed up into the rafters of the spacious sacrament meeting room.

"Look!" She whispered to me, "there is a bird up there."

Indeed. A blue bird was swinging on a chandelier towards the front of the chapel. Occasionally it would fly back-and-forth from man-made wood perches. It made no sound and seemed content to listen to testimonies and songs of Zion. Soon everyone in the congregation was entertained by our visitor. (I hope the whole experience makes Margot's Blessing Day scrapbook page.)

And I knew that it was My Sign.

Burrrdie.

Only a little bit longer.




Bird from Limon Verde's.