Happy Anniversary

At the risk of sounding like the voiceover from a beloved 80's movie, life happens fast.  Don't blink.  You might go into labor and not realize it.

I'm typing this from the confines of bedrest on our fifth wedding anniversary (which is Saturday, June 5th for the sake of being precise, since this entry probably won't be Wifi-projected to the world until Jason can post it for me tomorrow).  The morning still hasn't approached the dawn, and I'm laying here with a head tumbling full of questions.  

For instance:

Why is my brain at its clearest and most creative when my fingers are at their stiffest?  (You should see me looking like Mr. Burns, all bent over and pecking away at this iPad.  Apparently joint stiffness has an act in the pregnancy symptom circus.  Who knew?)

How is it that the cheap clutch of stargazer lilies that I bought a week ago from Wal-Mart have held up so much better than any expensive bouquet I've ever had the pleasure to enjoy?  (I have a special fondness for their fragrance... They remind me of spending time with Jason early in our relationship when we spent hours hanging out at a funeral home after work.  There were always flowers there, and the wild, pungent scent of stargazer lilies was always in the air.)

(And if you don't personally know us and you're reading this in another country, conducting a courtship within a funeral facility is culturally acceptable in the United States of America.)

And finally, what can I do to make today feel like a special occasion without compromising this horizontal position?  I certainly didn't expect to be in the early stages of labor three weeks before Ava's due date.  THAT news certainly was a face slap with a wet herring during our checkup on Thursday.  I suppose that I assumed that in the midst of all of the unpredictable circumstances swirling around Ava Leigh's health and development, the least that fate owed us was a timely delivery.  But try to argue that with a dilating cervix. 

After one more ultrasound with the perinatal specialist at Baptist Hospital, we feel like we have the clearest idea possible of what kind of challenges our daughter might be facing upon birth, and since babies born earlier have a higher incidence of respiratory complications than those born closer to their due date, we are doing everything within our power to encourage our little bun to remain in her oven.  Better development is at least one little gift we can give her.

So here I am, flat on my back, debating whether or not to wake my dear husband of five years and beg sweetly for a bagel.  Undoubtedly, I'll be requesting much more of him in the coming days as he attempts to juggle our normal responsibilities in one hand and my random requests in another.  Will you play Scrabble with me? ... Can I have another helping of turnip greens? ... Would you move Honey Boo Boo Dog off my leg? - My feet are turning colors and I'm losing sensation in my lesser toes...etc....etc...

I think I'll let him sleep a little longer.  He's going to need it, and it's a rare and precious feeling to linger here with him and not have to dash off somewhere. 

And my feet aren't completely purple yet.