We have finally concluded 14 days of vomiting and vomit cleaning (unfortunately for me, they were equal in number, as nobody was able to make it to the toilet or a bowl.) I am just grateful for healthy children who keep their food down.
According to the calendar, I have completed 32 weeks with 8 more to go before this tiny life and I meet face to face, but in my mind it is more like 10 weeks. For, I am determined to allow this birth to be guided solely by nature (read: I will not take 4 ounces of castor oil, have a labor just over 1 hour=baby born in car.) I am in a state of contentment regarding this one. Coming late is fine. More than fine. I am happy to wait. I really don't know what life as we know it will become when number 5 arrives. We have a groove. We know what comes next.
Right now I have much nesting to do and other little ones, too little, really, for another baby to bump them all down a place, to hold on my eclipsing lap. Ryan came home one evening and inquired about the ladder set up in the bedroom. I told him I was going to paint the blades of the fan white and the brass silver. He said simply, without surprise (for why would there be surprise when he has seen it 4 times before), "You're nesting." And I was. I am. Trimming the bushes, washing and vacuuming the car, finishing up chair molding, sewing new pillow cases for the couch pillows, going to the cannery, rearranging furniture, organizing drawers here and there, putting away 4 sets of winter clothes and pulling out 4 sets of summer clothes, doing touch up painting around the house--things I don't always enjoy, but with the arrival of this baby not too far away, I know I will have no projects except making sure Ryan and Divine have clean clothes (because the rest of us can stay in the same clothes for days) and to get everyone fed.
So, you see, this blog has been developing for several days now, as other "things" have pressed more firmly (and loudly) on my mind. Number 5 is going to come. Perhaps this will be our boy, our boy whose toe number 2 is just like dad's, longer than the rest, kicking me as I type. I have a feeling occasionally, that we are missing someone, though I look around and everyone is present. Another perhaps--this baby just might fill that "someone missing" gap.