Midnight Musings

It's midnight. I can't sleep. Surprise, surprise. Why is it that my mind goes bananas the night before anything semi-important? I guess I've always been this way. When I was a young girl, I would get so excited about the first day of school that I'd make my debut with six measly minutes of sleep under my belt (but rest assured it was the perfect belt, because I stayed up all night thinking about exactly how to accessorize with my big hair and jellies).

Apparently, old habits die hard. Right now my coach is turning into a pumpkin because of a simple blood draw at the lab. I know, I know...it's really the result I'm anxious about, but it sure seems silly to get so worked up. I should be dreaming instead of typing. My sweet, sick girl has been crying for me hourly, so rest will surely be a rare commodity tonight.

Liliana is doing a little better, by the way. According to Dr. Graham, she has a viral infection that's making rounds in the kiddie community. Her fever should subside in a couple days, and she will be jumping on the bed by the end of the weekend. Her rash was just a stubborn case of contact dermatitis (from rubbing the elastic on her Smiles size 5's). With several treatments of hydrocortizone cream, her tushy will be as soft and squishy as ever.

On another note: My new friend, Niki, introduced me to a Christian network for women with infertility issues. It's called Hannah's Prayer, and I really think I'm going to find comfort in traveling this road with believers who share a similar struggle. I'm sure Wade was relieved to hear I've found another place to express the innermost details of my womanhood. Believe me when I tell you there are things even a husband doesn't want to hear--things much too personal to post on a blog. Ladies who have had your feet in metal stirrups, can I get a witness?!

That reminds me... My first OB-Gyn had a poster of Patrick Swayze on the ceiling above the examination table. Never mind that it was 1989 in rural Indiana, no woman should look up from her position on the table and see a picture of a half-nekked (there's that word again) male icon. We're supposed to be finding a happy place, not Road House. Oh, I digress.

Well, my eyes are tired. Hopefully I'll be able to quiet my mind enough to fall asleep before the next "Mama, mama!" Although I don't relish 3:00am cries, I wouldn't trade the precious gift of motherhood for the world. Please pray that I have the opportunity to be Mommy to another little one in the future.

May God bless you and yours, Ramona