The "Waiting Period"

In one day, I will be 40 weeks pregnant. 

To put it another way, in four days I will have been pregnant for 280 days.

280 days equal approximately 76.7 percent of any given year.

For me this means that I have been pregnant from January through the end of October.

Three seasons have passed -- Winter, Spring, and Summer -- and now, I find myself in the midst of Fall.

Interesting how life happens, how the universe conspires, and how no next phase in our lives can be experienced without first learning the lesson(s) that God would ultimately want for us to master.

Right now I am tired.  I am tired and uncomfortable.  I can't sit comfortably, I can't stand comfortably, and  I can't lay comfortably -- so most of my days now are spent somewhere "in between" feeling elated that this is almost over and miserable because it is not over yet.

The "in between." 

Funny how that's where I find myself physically and mentally.  Somewhere between my sleeping positions and awake positions, somewhere between praying for patience and anxiously awaiting for the manifestation of the past 279 days of hoping and waiting -- I find myself in arm's reach and in line-of-sight of my blessing....

But like so many other times in life, God is saying..."wait".

I could spend my life studying or observing the nature of "God" because I see "Him" flowing in, through, and around all things, actions, and people.  Yet, no matter how much I try to understand myself through God and vice versa...there is one persistent lesson that God has tried to teach me which is how to find the blessing in "waiting".

I've always been told that God can give you three answers to any request, "Yes, No, or Wait."  Unlike the first two options, the true difficulty in accepting an answer of "wait" is that you must resist your own impulse after 1 day, 2 months, or 3 years of waiting to intercede on your own behalf and to move forward under your own devices.

So I've never done well with....waiting.

Yet, after I hadn't gone into labor by week 38 and I realized that all I could do IS wait, I began to reflect a little deeper on this proverbial lesson that continues to pop up time and time again throughout my life. 

I won't sit here and lie and say that the past two - three weeks have been easy -- a time where I have sat by the Lake and reflected on these things with a smile until the revelation of God showered down on me like fruit coming out of the sky.  I've had my moments of rolling my eyes at God, trying to negotiate with him, and choosing to ignore him momentarily for kinder friends called cheesecake, cookies, and "The Office".
Yet, as my mother has reminded me as of late..."God is the perfect gentlemen and will wait for you until you are ready...."

Once I finally gave in and gave God my full attention -- he revealed to me that oftentimes there are three reasons for being in a "waiting period" -- 1) To re-evaluate, 2) To re-affirm, or 3) To re-direct.  After some time to reflect on what this means for my life -- I wanted to share what I have learned.
 
My Re-evaluation:

When we are in periods of "waiting" we must often re-evaluate our current situation not through the lens of our own minds but through the eyes of God.  While this may seem like a predicament since we are not God we must remember that we can petition him to help us see the bigger picture.  It is so easy to see the small picture -- merely because we are limited in our comprehension of life as humans -- however, oftentimes if we allow God to show us the "Gods-eye" view -- then the unlearned lessons, the unfinished tasks/goals, and even the unreleased pain that has kept us from reaching our blessing will be revealed to us.

For me -- I realized that I had to seal the deal on my relationship with God.  Despite my life-long relationship with God, I recognized that I had been ignoring one important question for the past 5-6 months.   This question was "Do I trust God or not?"  Despite my church going, bible-reading, and inspiration seeking ways, a few months ago I realized that I had not truly trusted God is quite some time which was revealed to me in my difficulty to allow myself to "hope' for things.

The truth is that after the death of my closest friend a few days after I turned 21 and after seeing my father have to fight for his life on multiple occasions -- I began to always wait for the other shoe to drop.  Even in the midst of my happiest moments, I felt a pang of anxiety at some point, hoping and praying that something horrible wasn't right around the corner.  So my fear and anxiety sustained my relationship with God for many years as opposed to my faith and hope in "Him".

Had it not been for my experience of being mocked by my church's "Jesus Police" (See Blog Entry: "Jesus Be a Fence - Part III) I would have never been forced to reconsider the level of trust that I had in a God that I believed in for so long.  As much it bothered me,  I realized that the reason that no one in the basement of the church that night believed that I knew Jesus that night was because I no longer did.  I had allowed the real foundation of our relationship - trust and hope to fade.

My Re-affirmation:



Simply put, Romans 8: 24-25 reads: 

"..But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? 25 But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it [with perseverance]."

After reading it, I felt like Paul had called me out from over the balconies of heaven.  I practiced "hope" of a boot-leg kind -- one where I didn't have to practice it until the blessing was already in my hands.

"Thank you Lord for getting me this job! I shole was hoping I would get it!"

"Thank you Lord for allowing me to be able to afford these shoes!  I shole was hoping that my debit card wouldn't get rejected!"

All very sad examples of putting "hope" in God.

But as God would have it -- here I find myself in a situation where all I can do is HOPE.  Sure I provided the egg and Pat provided the sperm -- but only by a flash of grace and after 279+ days of HOPING (for what I have not yet seen) can I bring my baby, my blessings, into the world.

My Re-direction:

So my redirection is choosing to walk in hope and not fear.  What I had to realize about the painful things of my past is that each and every time -- God has gotten me through each of them.  Whether death, heartbreak, illness, or loss of a friendship, etc -- each time, I have gotten through it undoubtedly wiser, stronger, and better.  So insofar as that I know that I can make it through the tribulations, in faith - in mind-boggling, makes no sense to the world, unshakable faith - I choose with excitement and anticipation to focus on the hope of the blessings that God has for me.

With Love,

Kirstin, mother of Roman Dean Smith

Give Us Us Free

My last day working with MOFO (for the foreseeable future) was on Friday, October 1, 2010.

When I walked out of that office (an hour earlier than I was supposed to), I experienced a sense of joy and happiness that I had never felt in my entire life.

Part of me was happy to be leaving that experience because it was emotionally, mentally, and physically draining as well as retarding to my overall personal growth. Another part of me was grateful to have completed that particular "assignment" in life's journey and for the first time in a long time, I felt confident that I had learned the lesson that God wanted me to learn. I felt great because as I walked out of that office, I was determined to not ever take a job in government, with politicians, or just for money again.

So the million dollar question was, "what are you going to do now that you are done with work and may never have to see MOFO again?"

While I thought that I would enjoy long, endless, days of lemonade, my down comforter on the couch, and action movies -- the truth is that my first week off of work made me feel like an emancipated slave that didn't realize that she was free.

From Monday through Wednesday, I still checked my work email, took phone calls from the job (unnecessarily), worked on the baby's nursery, exchanged duplicate gifts from the shower, ran errands, and cooked like nothing had even changed.

But by Thursday, I had a long talk with myself regarding the need to slow down and allowing myself to actually relax.  I recognized that if I didn't bring things down a notch that I would burn myself out before the baby even got here and would end up having a nervous breakdown my the time the baby was 1 week old.

So on Thursday I went and got my hair done and on Friday I went to my favorite spa and allowed myself to relax and enjoy peace, quiet, and stillness.

I've even began to host "Hot Chocolate/Chili/Tea Time" socials with friends during the weekends so I won't develop cabin fever.  Today will be Chili Sunday with the Sister Circle and I'm just glad that I'll have some company to keep me from shampooing the apartment again or from thinking too much about my gigantic stomach and swollen ankles.

So there it is family and friends, this is my state of well being as of 10.10.10.  I'll continue to blog as exciting events occur, but its likely that the next time that you hear from me - I'll be blogging through my labor or introducing you to my sweet little boy!

Talk to you soon!

R.I.P My "Wild African Bush"

Week 36

At this point in every woman's pregnancy, I am certain that proper consideration must be given to some of the more intimate details of your labor.

Sure you have to consider whether you are going natural or with an epidural. And you should at least rule out narcotics in the event that you begin to hyperventilate or hallucinate. Vaginal delivery or elective C-Section? All important questions to consider. But the one question that often goes ignored until the last minute is...

..."Should I go with my natural "bush" or should I go Brazilian?"

I, like so many other women (I later realized) pondered this question for weeks. After realizing that I could barely reach my pooch to wipe myself, I ruled out the option of shaving it myself to eliminate the risk of hurting "her". And the thought of waxing  "down there" so close to labor didn't sit completely well with me so I had pretty much decided to go the natural route.

So one day, when my sister asked me to accompany her to a wax place in Rogers Park I was still pretty confident that I wouldn't be partaking in the services. I figured that many slaves and women in underdeveloped countries delivered babies everyday with a fully covered vagina and that if it worked for them, then it would work just fine for me.

When we walked into "Dipsi's Wax Shop", the owner, a beautiful Indian woman named Dipsi asked my sister and I what services we were getting and I told her that I was still considering whether I would get anything but that she could see my sister first while I decided.

As I sat there waiting, I began to lean towards getting a bikini wax so that I didn't look a complete hot mess once I was on the delivery table doing to spread eagle for all of my family and doctor to see.

Five minutes later she came out of the room and asked me what I had a decided to do. I told her that I was going to get a bikini wax and she told me to go into the room where my sister was. Initially, I felt a little awkward because I didn't want to see my sister doing the spread eagle, but to my relief and surprise when I walked in there my sister was already dressed, telling me that she was completely done.

Moments later Dipsi walked back in.

"Oh, you so pregnant!! When are you due?" Dipsi asked

"I'm due October 22, so about four more weeks." I replied

"So you taking all off right?" Dipsi questioned

"Oh no, Miss Dipsi...I'm going to just get a bikini wax and if you could trim the rest that would be great."

"No...no, we don't trim here...you lay down now."

"Oh...okay...well maybe I should just get a bikini wax then...I'll trim when I get home..."

"No, I take it off now..."

(By this time half of my private part was covered with wax)

"But Miss Dipsi...I don't know if..."

RRRRRIIIIIIPPPPP!

(Breathing hard and trying to push my 20 pound stomach up off the table)...

"Wait...wait...Miss Dispi...I don't know if this is right!" I began to shout with a raised voice.

"No you lay down...we take care of this now and no need to trim."

RIIIIIIIIIIPPPPP!

(By this time I am sweating and shaking because of how painful it was and how fast she was taking off all of my hair.)

"Wait! Wait! Ms. Dipsi...I can't take it! No really. I can't take it...just wait! Please.I need a moment!"

"We almost done! Now spread your legs high and pull them close!"

By this time I was scared of her and couldn't believe that she had managed to wax me completely bald in less than 3 minutes flat.

RRRRRIIIIPPPP!

By this time, I was in a combination of shock, pain, and trauma so that last rip of hair didn't even feel so bad...

"So you see...you done. No trimming needed. Baby come and doctor can see. Okay. You happy?"

As I wiped the sweat off my forehead and neck I could only whimper out a "yes, Ms. Dipsi..thank you."

Once we got inside of the car, I told my sister that I didn't know if my vagina would physically or emotionally recover from what just happened. But I must admit, in retrospect, I am going into labor a bit more confident knowing that there isn't a jungle "down there" and that baby's first peek into this world will be obstruction-free and clear.

Finally! Everything is done!

My husband, mother, and sister are convinced that I am nuts.

One day after the baby shower, I had completely unpacked all of the gifts, put everything inside of it's appropriate drawer, and began to sort laundry that needed to be pre-cleaned before the baby can wear it.

Two days after the shower, I had gone through my nursery checklist and ordered all outstanding items from baby Babies R Us.com and Amazon.

Three days after the shower, I was shampooing my carpet for the 15th time. in three weeks.

Four days after the shower, I was putting together the stroller, baby swing, diaper drawers, and animal mobile for the baby's bed.

(Sidenote, now that I am typing all of this out...I guess I do sound a bit crazy...)

Everyone keeps asking me to stop doing stuff, but the truth is that I just can't.

I was a bit neurotic with a touch of anxiety before I got pregnant now I think I just have developed clinically diagnosable OCD, ADD, and I'll throw Turrets in there considering how I used to curse about MOFO.

Eventually, I figure I'll either run out of steam or the baby will just fall out in the middle of me cleaning my bathtub so I try not to worry to much about being "too" active.

Yet, I must admit, that its getting a bit more difficult as the days go by - not because I am exhausted but because my stomach won't allow me to reach up (to organize the cabinets) or down (to reorganize my shoes) for too long without tipping over.

But I really am trying to slow down...I really am. It's just extremely hard when you have nothing to do but wait.
'
I feel like perhaps there is a lesson in this time that I am supposed to learn - a lesson besides how to shampoo a three bedroom apartment in less than 30 minutes. So I am truly going to try to stop and listen and learn from this "waiting period" in my life because I know that one day I'll look back at this time and wish that I would have allowed myself more time to relax and prepare for the multitude of ways that my life is about to change.

Oh no....there's a banana in my tailpipe!

One week after my shower, I officially made nine months (ie  36 weeks). Despite the issues that I had with fluctuating blood pressure and swelling around my feet during the hot weather - I was grateful that I made it nine months without any tremendous health issues. Even my stretch marks were minimal, just two small areas on the sides of my back, so I was feeling confident that the worse of my pregnancy was far behind me.

So one day as I was enjoying my "spa time" in the shower, lathering up with my spearmint eucalyptus bath bar, and getting ready to have a relaxing and awesome time with my warming eucalyptus scrub, you can imagine my surprise when my euphoria was interupted abruptly when I realized that I had hemorrhoids.

I usually wait to wash "down there" last so when I went to wash "back there" and felt the banana in my tailpipe, I was a bit confused at first.

Now what the heck is going on back there? I thought...

(Clearly this was my first time in life ever having this problem.)

I was in denial at first because I couldn't believe that my body would wait until I was in my last and final month to do this to me. I stood there hoping that "my situation" didn't look anything like how I always imagined hemorrhoids to look -- something like the buttocks of an orangutan or maybe a chimpanzee. There was an odd level of shame that I felt about the whole thing, perhaps since this was my first time experiencing this or maybe because I felt like it may appear like I wasn't taking care of myself the best way that I could.
...Funny, I had no idea that I had a prejudice against people with hemorrhoids until that moment.

After about 5 minutes of considering alternatives diagnosis to my "situation" - suddenly, like the pieces of a puzzle, everything started to make sense.

My revelation came slowly....

..."So my anemia led to me taking iron pills which led to the constipation which led to the pressure on my booty which led to the hemorrhoids!...

...and since I have to lift up my stomach when I pee to ensure that everything in my bladder is coming out surely the baby is putting just as much pressure on my intestines and stomach...which is also putting pressure on my butt and causing hemorrhoids!"

My remedial medical diagnosis made me feel alot better although my hemorrhoids did not. So this is a new reality for me...living with hemorrhoids that is, and I'm learning to take it one bathroom visit at a time.  If you are pregnant and suffering like me here are three tips - keep a stash of baby wipes in your bathroom and in your purse, drink plenty of water, and stay away away from the spicy foods and icecream (it's a small sacrifice in exchange for a little peace of mind "back there".)

The Best Shower Ever!!

Ingredients to a great baby shower:

1.) Great Family and Friends
2.) The "Baby Maker" Cocktail (One part fruit punch, two parts Bacardi Rum)
3.) Pin the Sperm on the Egg (the Game)
4.) Fried Chicken, Macaroni, and plenty of other alcohol absorbing food


In retrospect, the weeks leading up to my baby shower weren't very eventful. As my sister drove around town collecting blue onesie picture frames which would act as my favors, and my parents spent days replacing the everything from the carpet in the basement to the yard set, Patrick and I tried not to think too much about it because the truth is that neither of us really wanted to assume that anyone would come.

I know that sounds pessimistic but I think a better way to look at it is that we went into the shower with a pragmatic outlook. 1) It's still a recession - no matter what MSNBC reports, 2) We just got married a year ago and people may be upset that we just sent our thank you cards out a month ago, and 3) In general, neither of us like to bank on others doing stuff for us, so we just thought it would be best to prepare to buy everything that we needed, from the bibs to the bottles to the Baby Einstein play-yard ourselves.

Nevertheless, the one thing that I knew for sure was that the shower would be anything but conventional. There would be no mini tuna sandwiches with the crust cut off here. Instead of ice tea one would likely find liquor, in place of "Baby Jeopardy" or "Don't Say Baby" there would plenty of politically incorrect games, and as an alternative to bruschetta and crab cakes there would be fried chicken, macaroni, and lasagna.

Around 3pm (the time the shower began), no one had arrived. Pat sat on the couch looking at football and around 3:30, he looked at me with a look that obviously said, "Is anyone gonna come?"  I just gave him a quick shrug and went to refill my plate with three more chicken wings as I continued to talk to my sister and godsister. Knowing my family and friends, I wasn't too worried because I know that everyone runs on CP TIME + 2 hours -- but I did hope that people would come moreso for my parents, sister, and husband than for myself.

Sure enough, by 4pm the house began to fill with my mother's friends and as Patrick predicted, by the time my mother came downstairs to make her "Grand(mother) Entrance" around 4:30, the house was filling up fast.

Once 6pm arrived, Patrick and I looked around my parents house and were truly humbled. There we saw family, extended family, pseudo-family, old friends, new friends, co-workers, neighbors, and other loved ones from various times in our life. After three rounds of "Pin the Sperm on the Egg" and a few rounds of "Change the Dirty Diaper", it took us another hour and a half just to go through all of the gifts. Needless to say, we were truly overwhelmed and grateful.

So Teddy is coming into this world very loved and very well-dressed. Yet, after it was all said and done, I truly believe that I would have been just as grateful if people couldn't have brought anything but their love and support. Venturing into parenthood for the first time is scary enough, so to know that you have the love, support, and prayers of people who truly care for you is worth its weight in gold...(But don't get me wrong, the gifts are appreciated as well.)

My big ole' belly!

OH NO! My doctor says that she thinks Teddy is gonna be one big boy! Maybe I shouldn't have eaten all of those turkey sandwiches after all. :(

Keep you posted...

My sister

My guardian angel on this Earth is my sister, Karlisa.

She is my bff, my therapist, my life coach, my cheerleader, and truly one of the most beautiful women - inside and out- that I know.

I wouldn't believe that I could be a good wife, mother, or professional without Karlisa's encouragement and although she's my sister, I'm certain God put her into my life to keep pushing me forward towards the path that God has destined for me.

I thank God for her because she is always there when it feels like no one else is, she continues to encourage me when many people count me out and for that I recognize the true value of her being in my life.

So I love you sister! Thank you for being the awesome, feisty, truly phenomenal woman that God made you to be. Don't change for anyone -- God made you with the perfect measurements of "salt and pepper" -- a created a special type of woman to go out and do great things -- things greater than you could ever imagine!

Love Always,

Your little sis

T-1 month!

Next week I will be 36 weeks into my pregnancy - which means that I only have one more month to go! I've decided, after much prayer, that once I get to 37 weeks (when the baby is fully developed) that I will use everything in God's disposal to help move this pregnancy along. I will eat avocados, I will drink aloe vera juice and cod liver oil, I will have wild and crazy sex, and I will do exotic and challenging yoga poses to help open up my pelvis and encourage Teddy to give a good kick to my uterus so that we can get this party started.

Okay, I'm actually just kidding but I am really over this pregnancy thing. As I look back over the past eight months, I thank God for blessing me with a non-complicated blessed pregnancy. I suspect that God, knowing me better than I know myself, knew that the changing physicality of my body would be enough for me to wrap my mind around and blessed me with a little baby that would take it easy on me.

So I'm grateful to God and I don't want to complain... yet I'm wondering how much more my body can take. I can't imagine how much larger my belly can grow and I'm not quite sure how much longer my spirit can go without a drink.

At times my nerves get so bad that I think I'm about to cry for no reason, but luckily I tell myself that its my hormones before I am inclined to kick Pat and Capone out of the house.

I deep clean my house about 2-3 times a week and I don't know if Capone knows that if he pees one more time on my fern plant that I am going to take him to get euthanized. I've shampooed the carpet in our apartment four times in the past two weeks and like clock-work, by day three Capone will come wagging his tail in front of me, pause, pee in my face, and run into his cage knowing that he has destroyed my sense of a bacteria-free home. He just doesn't know how close he is to becoming a bar of doggie soap.

Although I can't stop cleaning, I have stopped cooking and if Pat doesn't feel like feeding us then I have no problem fixing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for the night. In fact, I LOVE TOASTED PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY SANDWICHES now and would kinda prefer if that's all I ate until the baby came regardless of what anyone thinks about it!

My pregnancy brain has made me a complete fool. I forget everything! On several occasions when I've gone to the doctor and had to pee in a cup, I go into the bathroom, pee in the toilet and don't realize until I wash my hands and see the plastic cup on the mirror that I've forgotten to do the most simple task that a pregnant woman could be asked to do.

I'm still losing my car in the parking lot every time I go shopping and now my vocabulary is suffering so bad that in meetings I commonly refer to sayings like, " I guess the...uhm, I guess, the doggies have come home to bark." My current state of affairs is just sad.

I know I sound crazy. I'm sleep deprived, big as an elephant, and unphotographable. I'm just tired so pray that I make it through the rest of this pregnancy in one piece.

There's a reason why you shouldn't travel after 7 months

I have come to the conclusion that most of the time my mother knows EXACTLY what she's talking about and when it comes to some of her old adages like - not traveling after your seventh month -- perhaps I should have taken her advice and stayed at home.

Babymoon #1 and #2 were two of the best times that I had in a long time. It was nice for Patrick and I to get away before having the baby -- to spend time with each other without worrying about who's gonna cook? who's gonna wash the dishes? and who's gonna walk the dog? We spent time just talking and eating and looking at the ocean -- minus the sex, drinks, and adventure sports, our babymoon was reminiscent of our time on St. Lucia just one year before on our honeymoon.

There were only three things that got in the way of these vacations being absolutely perfect: 1) A swollen, gassy stomach, 2) Swollen biscuits as feet, and 3) An inability to walk and talk (while in the sun) at the same time.

Somewhere between when I landed in Orlando (and I was a cute, round, fashionable pregnant woman) and a week and a half later when I was flying back to Chicago from St. Lucia, I became BIG AS H*LL. All of the dresses I had worn just two weeks ago were now tight in odd places and made me look like the pregnant woman that I never wanted to be -- the one whose belly in proportion to her body made people say, "oh no...look at that poooooor pregnant woman. She looks so crazy and tired."

But now that was me - big, tired, and crazy looking with feet that have grown 1 whole shoe size in 8 months.

Add a six hour flight that turned into 16 hours due to numerous delays and as you can imagine I was no happy camper. Between my butt being swore, my feet being swollen, and my stomach being gassy, I was willing to yell "ALL HAIL AL QUEDA!" if that meant I could get out of the Miami airport (where our layover back to Chicago was) into a comfortable chair.

Nevertheless, eventually we got home. After 16 hours of traveling, I was happy to see my apartment, my bed, and my couch. And even though I still couldn't get comfortable enough to go to sleep -- I sat in my chair, put my feet up, and decided to cancel my trip to Boston in two weeks cause home was the only place I wanted to be.

A wonderful story about hope, love, and God

Babymoon #2 was in St. Lucia, where Pat and I had the honor of witnessing a beautiful couple come together as husband and wife.

Their story is truly one of hope, love, and glorifies the greatness of God...so I just wanted to share an email that I sent sharing their beautiful love story. I hope it brings a smile to your face and renews your spirit!

Hello Gals!

Yes, I'm good for a random email out the blue but I hope this one brightens your day! :)

...And if I owe you a phone call from months ago then this should give me some points :)

Okay, so here we go...I am going to give you alot of background on both of them because it adds to their story so forgive me if this email gets long....So I went a wedding last week in St. Lucia and met the loveliest couple who had a love story that was both inspiring and moving. The groom's name was Shannon Allison (he went to Morehouse, was a Q, he was one of Pats groomsmen in our wedding.) and the bride's name was Francesca Danielle....

Part I - A little background...

So anyway -- Shannon was the first person Pat met at Morehouse. He was from Alabama, a linebacker, and the nicest person in the world -- until you made him made. He is the type of person that spells out curse words but (in his day) would not hesitate in whooping your azz if you provoked him. From what I understand, around his sophomore or junior year, Shannon got in a fight and almost died but this event changed his life. Although it was a tough climb, he made it out of Morehouse and eventually became an ordained minister in Birmingham, Alabama working.

(Stop)...so that's Shannon's background...

Okay, so Francesca - who everyone called Danielle, is the cutest little southern girl and about as straight laced as one could be (yes, she was a virgin). She went to Harvard law, graduated top of her class, and went to practice law in Atlanta. After a few years of grinding and working hard - she realized that something was missing and began to pray that God would bring her her husband. After a while, she began to give up and decided that she would focus on living the life that God had blessed her with the best way that she could and decided to go on missionary trips with her church from home (ie Birmingham) so that she could begin to see the world.

(Stop)...so that's Danielle's background...

Part II - Italy

So in November 2009, Danielle goes on a missionary trip to Italy with her pastor. On the trip she meets three important people - a girl named Linda who was her age and who she clicked with immediately and a couple from Miami named David and Ellen. On the 12 day trip they all become good friends and one night in Verona (the city that was the setting for Romeo and Juliet) Danielle lets out her frustration and tells them how she is so sad cause she feels alone and feels like she has been waiting on her husband but maybe God has been on another call. While there - the couple from Miami tell her to go under this terrance in the building, look up at the moon, tell God out loud everything that she wants in her husband. After she does this, they take a picture and say "this is your first picture as a wife." The trip eventually comes to an end, but before it does - Linda tells Danielle that she has a cousin who was supposed to come on the trip but didn't at the last minute, but that he is a nice guy, a minister, and thinks that they should meet. Her cousin was the one who encouraged her to go to Italy in the first place.

So somewhere in Alabama, Shannon was beginning to confide in his mentor (a female minister whose name that I can't remember) that he was starting to believe that he was never going to meet his wife. He'd met alot of women but never felt connected to them so thought that maybe that's not what God wanted for him at this time in his life. His mentor told him to be faithful and said that she was going to start interceding on his behalf. A few weeks later, while talking on her porch, she told him that God had revealed to her that his wife would "be on a camel with a red scarf" (yes crazy). Shannon thinking his mentor was clearly wrong, asked where he was going to see a woman on a camel in Birmingham - but his mentor told him that he believed the image that God showed her and wanted him to stay faithful.

So soon after the missionary trip to Italy concludes, Linda tells Danielle that she is going to give her cousin, Shannon, her phone number. After talking for a few weeks, they realize that there is a genuine connection and Shannon invites her to come by his house for Thanksgiving when she will be in town. But they both agreed that they should meet the day before for coffee -- just to make sure that the other person wasn't crazy or ugly.

So the day before, they meet for coffee and Danielle begins to explain that she's began to travel. She happens to have her camera in her purse where she shows Shannon her pictures from Italy and her first mission trip....Egypt. So there Shannon is, flipping through the pictures when he comes by a image that leaves him speechless. There in the desert was a picture of Danielle on top of a camel....wearing a long red scarf!!

So Shannon is thinking...am I really seeing this?? After a few moments of shock, he collects himself, decides not to tell her because he doesn't want to scare her off.

By the time he feels her in on the revelation that his mentor shared with him, it was two months later and they were already deeply in love.

By April they were engaged.

And on August 22, they were married!

Look at what God can do!

So the reason I am sharing this story is because there were a number of lessons that jumped out to me that I think we could all be reminded off.

1) God is still in the business of answering prayers

2) God is still in the business of performing "miracles" (ie blessings that seem so far-reaching, so unattainable, they we make ourselves believe that are beyond any hope of being realized)

3) There is a such thing as destiny and what God has for you is for you -- and nobody (even you) can mess that up...When Shannon decided not to go to Italy, that could have been the end of the story. Opportunity closed. Destiny changed. But God said "nope, this girl right here --- she is who I have for you" and God worked things out for them to be able to meet.

4) When you encourage someone else to pursue their blessings -- you may be blessing yourself. If Shannon hadn't encouraged his cousin to still go to Italy, she wouldn't have been able to introduce Shannon to his future wife.

5) Believe in the realization of the dreams that God places on your heart. If God places something that seems impossible on your heart....believe that he is working things out in the background to enable you to be able to be able to achieve that desire!

Okay...I'm done..but like I said...when I first heard the story, I just kept asking for more and more details cause it was so beautiful and such a testimony to people who know them. And I don't know every one's situations -- but I do know that we all have our own prayers and things that we hope and long for that sometimes seem so far away -- so I just wanted to share!

Hugs and Kisses,

Kirstin

My last vacation as a little girl...

The best decision that I made in the course of my 7.5 months of pregnancy was to take two "baby moons" - one with my husband and one without him. Well past my seventh month - I decided to spend a few days in Lake Buena Vista, Florida with my parents while they enjoyed their well-deserved annual two week vacation in their timeshare.

While I hate being away from my husband (sometimes), and I know that he wasn't particularly crazy about the idea of me traveling alone, I knew that a few days alone -- just me and my parents would be the last opportunity in my life to worry about nothing but being my parents' child.

So when I left out of the house before going to the airport I yelled "Goodbye Capone - Hope your daddy feeds you! Adios Pat, I hope you can find something to eat while I am gone!" -- and I was on my way.

Just walking through the airport terminal made me feel 10 pounds lighter. I bought myself a slice of pizza, a chocolate brownie, some sweet peach ice tea, and some hot chocolate. "Now this is life!" I thought to myself, taking joy in the fact that there was no one there to tell me to watch my salt or sugar intake.

Despite an uncomfortable airplane ride, my glee continued once I got to the Orlando airport. My brother (who now lives in Tampa) rode with my parents to come pick me up and after plenty of hugs and kisses - we all hopped in my parent's car and headed for the best seafood in town. (Merely stepping out into the fresh southern air began to reinvigorate my soul.)

As I sat around the table with my parents (who assured my brother and I that we could order anything that we wanted to eat) I was reminded of how wonderful the "good ole days were" when my parents provided everything that I needed, chastised me when I made an obviously poor decision, yet always provided me with the assurance that it was nothing that I could do to take change their love for me. Just being there - being loved, being taken care of, being watched over -- I felt a sense of comfort and security that I had almost forgotten existed in the six years I've lived on my own.

The following days were filled with precious simplicity, as we did nothing more than swim in the pool for hours, play cards for quarters, talk about life, and go shopping for souvenirs. They only tested my patience once -- when they spent 35 minutes trying to figure out which pool we should eat at when I bought them Chick Fil A.

Once it was time to go back to Chicago (in order to start baby moon #2) I couldn't let them see it but I almost cried. They had no idea how much the few days that we spent alone meant to me but I was sure that I would remember and relish this time for the rest of my life. In a moment, I will have my own child to care for -- a beautiful blessing who will surely be the prominent focus of my love moving forward. And true to form, I guess this last vacation as my parent's little girl was their way of showing me exactly how this thing called "unconditional love" is supposed to be done.

The Golden Girls...(Godmothers 'Honoris Causa')

Everyone has them -- the friends that you can't stand 90% of the time but love 200% of the time. In most circles, these friends (maybe 4 or 5 of them) all carry a distinct personality - the "nice one", the "mean one", the "crazy one", the "fun one", and the "momma". Unfortunately, these traits are often tied to each friend when they are in 3rd, 4th, or 5th grade and no matter how hard you try or no matter how much they evolve, you will always see them as the same little girl who used to forge signatures, or kiss little boys under the stair way, or beat up little boys during house parties like they did over 20 years ago.

Like many other fortunate women, I have a group of friends like this -- girls who I have known for well over 20 years. Through deaths, love, and fights -- marriage, children, relocation, and life-changing events -- these girls, no...these women are always around, somewhere nearby just in the event that there is a need for a celebration cocktail or one of us are about to have a nervous breakdown.

Time has moved us closer and further apart - physically is some cases and mentally in other cases - yet I am always amazed at the universe's ability to keep us in arm's reach of each other. Like I said, sometimes even when I can't stand them - I love them and I am convinced that after 20+ years, neither time nor space will change that.

Over the years, I've tried very hard to try to understand the ever-changing dynamics of my relationships with these women and just decided that these are complex and dynamic relationships that I may never fully comprehend. However, one day when I least expected it - the complexity of our friendships became overwhelming simple. There around the "cool one" we sang a song that has become a tradition for us at weddings, yet this time the words began to take on a new meaning...

"Thank you for being a friend.
Traveled down the road and back again.
Your heart is true -
Your a pal and a confidante.
And if you threw a party, and invited everyone you knew -
You would see the biggest gift would be from me
And the card attached would say
Thank you for being a friend."

And there it was. I realized while singing that no matter what life brought, no matter where I paths lead, 50 years from now, I'm sure that I will still be singing that song, with the same group of women, celebrating something -- and grateful that the universe knew better than I did and kept us in each other's arm reach for more years than any of us could have ever have imagined we'd be blessed with.

Lamaze Class

Lamaze Class...

When I signed Patrick and I up for Lamaze Class, I had images of floor mats, belly rubbing, and yoga stretches like the "Crouching Tiger" and the "Goddess Pose" in my mind. I imagined that we would learn a few breathing techniques like the slow-deep breathing exercises that Buddhist do ("Breathe innnnnn....HOLD. Breath outttttt. HOLD") or the theatrical "I'm going into labor breathing" ("whew. whew. whew. breathe in. whew. whew. whew. breathe in.")

To my surprise Lamaze was in fact a "Laboring For Dummies" class. As I stated before, I have been scared out of my mind about labor -- and fear of the foreign process called "childbirth" was something that I wasn't looking forward to. I was tired of people telling me about how many hours of labor they endured -- especially without helpful recommendations of drugs, sedatives, or narcotics that I could take.

Yet, during the course of our three-part Lamaze series - I realized that it was much more than a breathing class but it explained EVERYTHING about the labor process from A-Z. And because I am a simple woman -- one who merely seeks to know why and how a watermelon-sized being can come out of a hole the size of a quarter -- understanding the step-by-step process that allowed for this miracle to happen was just what I needed.

I always wondered how in the world a woman could be "in labor" for 24, 32, or 36 hours. I have never done anything that consistently in my life. But to now know that labor consists of four phases: early labor (light cramps), active labor (whoa baby! cramps), transition (why Jesus why? cramps) and pushing (Just get this baby out of me) puts it all in perspective.

I felt so confident after my Lamaze sessions that for a second I had a thought to go..(GULP)..natural! But after a few moments of reflection, I decided that drugs would still be the way for me to go. Nevertheless, I feel fully armed to pop this little monster out. So come on mucus plug, come on amniotic fluid -- let's get this party started.

Painting, Nursery, Baby Shower, YIKES!!!

I have so much to do that its freaking me out. With little over a 1.5 months left to go I wonder how in the starwarsepisodesix am I going to get this all done? We need to paint the baby's room, we need to finish getting the furniture, we need to finish planning the shower, we need to pack our suitcase, we need to shampoo the carpet again, we need to take maternity pictures, and I need to get to the spa -- STAT.

That is all.

Just a vacancy...Sleep don't live here anymore...

I don't sleep anymore.

Well, I guess to be more accurate, I only sleep for about 4-5 hours a night. While this may not seem like a big deal to many of my "night owl" friends, you gotta understand that prior to becoming pregnant, I slept for 8-9 hours a night religiously...since I was about 18 years old.

Initially, I could still sleep in the bed. I would just have to climb over Pat 3-5 times a night to go to the bathroom.

Then, I couldn't lie down directly on my back while in the bed, so I had to use 6-7 pillows to prop me up so I could sleep directly sitting up. I would turn the air conditioner down to 50 degrees and on "high"...and my previously warm and cozy bedroom would turn into "THE NEST" as my husband began to refer to it.

Getting out of the bed for pee breaks became especially cumbersome, so I would end up throwing several pillows on Patrick's head while he slept, and would have to roll over his body, and waddle to the bathroom as fast as I could when Teddy would decide to kick my bladder 3-4 times throughout the night.

Now, I've just given up on the bed. I rest in my one-person lounge chair with my body pillow, my king size pillow, and my fluffy 10 year old head pillow every night. And while it's not perfect setup for a sound night of sleep, at least I can ensure that I will at least be able to get to the bathroom a little faster without waking Pat and Capone up.

But when my stomach and bladder aren't keeping me awake...my mind steps in as the next culprit. I've began to have recurring nightmares that the baby will come and I loose him on bus stops and inside of cabs or random cars, or that I go into labor while I'm sleep and after delivering the baby I freak out because the only place that he can sleep is in Capone's bed.

I don't know what else to say...in fact, I'm writing this very entry because I can't sleep. I would wake my husband up to give me a dose of some "sleep juice" but I'm too afraid that I'd kill him from the weight of my stomach.

Oh well, I guess hot chocolate will have to do for now...

Goodbye Second Trimester, Hello Finish Line!

Praise Jesus, from whom all blessings flow!

I can't believe I made it to my last trimester! How was 2010 everyone? Was it a great year? Since my pregnancy will have gone from January - October, I feel like when I look back on things, 2010 will seem like a dream to me, a dream that was filled with lots of hot turkey sandwiches, plenty of salty chips, gassy nights, and swollen tits. Yet, most importantly, a year where my beautiful sweet son grew from a mustard seed to a watermelon, until he decides to make his big debut in October!

As I enter into my last trimester, I feel like going outside to sing "WOOP, THERE IT IS!" to all my neighbors in my building. While I'm sure that soon enough the anxiety of being a new parent will begin to set in, for now, I am just proud of myself for making it through something that has been both physically and mentally taxing.

It seems like just yesterday when I saw the first sonogram of my little Teddy Graham. With no identifiable body parts outside of his head, tummy, arms, and feet -- there me and Pat saw him floating on top of his lake of amniotic fluid.

Now, 8 months later, I imagine him completely formed, swimming in my belly, kicking his umbilical cord when he doesn't like his meal, and snapping his fingers when we're listening to a song that he particularly approves of.

So my days now are filled with anticipation. I still have so much to do before he arrives but my heart is already completely open to receive him with more love than I have ever known.

Sh*tting in an waffle cone doesn't make it a sundae...(MY ANGRY RANT)

Jesus be a fence...

By now, anyone who knows me knows that I hate my job.

(Sorry Jesus I know "hate" is a strong word but I gotta tell the truth and shame the devil...)

So anyway, as I was saying...I HATE my job. I hate my job recognizing that it is a recession, recognizing that the poor men standing outside of my office would love my job, recognizing that my job is the exact job that I prayed feverishly for 4 years ago when I completed graduate school.

I wanted to help build communities. I wanted to build resources into underserved communities. Heck, I wanted for Black folks in Chicago who make a decent living to be able to shop in their neighborhood instead of have to drive 30, 40, or 50 minutes to the northside, west loop, south loop, north suburbs, west suburbs, or south suburbs for a decent pair of shoes, a healthy meal, or a yoga class.

I wanted to see a diversity of investment in communities on the southside -- commercial investment, residential development, open space, walkable communities, green technology, assessible and safe transportation.

But this job - this stanking little two person non-profit, funded by the premier community development corporation in the country, chaired by an alderman that "GETS THINGS DONE", and "supported" by consultants who supposed advised everyone from Obama to Jesse Jackson - has shown me that most of public service is merely an illusion.

I would elaborate on my evolving thesis of why most, if not all politicians and public servants are full of spoiled mozzarella cheese, but I'll save that for my book, "Bullsh*tters Anonymous: Why Chicago and Illinois Politics Won't Change."

So for now, I focus on the depth of tom-foolery, and coonery that takes place on my job -- for no other reason that to vent into the abyss of words called cyberspace.

For those who may believe I am just complaining, understand that there is simple logical explanation for why I do not like my job -- a phenonmenon that economists would call "a lack of rationale incentives". The one person who works over me, "MOFO", is a person of high aspirations and absolutely little to no competency to achieve anything. As a result, there are over 20 big idea plans that "MOFO" has set as a priority for his two-person organization (ie. everything from fully redeveloping a historic park to mimic Central Park to holding a world-wide architectural competition to set the standard for design in a community that he doesn't live in) -- Yet whenever the rubber hits the road and ish needs to get done, he stalls, redirects the project to me, and moves on to another assinine idea.

But this only makes me dislike my job.

What makes me ashamed to be an employee of this organization is that I have seen how people -- from the most powerful in the State to outside powerhouses with no investment in the community in which we work -- have enabled this fool to operate in a manner that will ensure that the organization where I work will not survive another 1-3 years and where all of these people have no issue community is the last entity to benefit from his initiatives. After almost two years of existence, there are no standard operating procedures for anything, the organization has overspent its budget twice in one year -- yet, like George W. Bush told Mike Brown after Katrina, people continuously look at "MOFO", shake his hand for the cameras and say "I SHOLE THINK YOU ARE DOING A GREAT JOB [MOFO]!"

But that only makes me ashamed -- its not what truly makes me hate this job.

What I hate about this muthasucking, the devilisaliar, stumpthedevilout, sholenuff'niggery filled job is this...

...after doing all the work, taking a $20,000 paycut to "do good in the hood", seeing someone else continuously take credit for my work, and not getting the support, compensation, or assistance that I've been continuously promised - the corrupt, narcistic, sexist, and incompetent "MOFOs" that I must report to continuously sh*t on a big sugary waffle cone, sprinkle it toffee, oreos, and m and m's and try to convince me that this sh*t is a d*mn coldstone chocolate sundae deluxe.

Through poor attempts of munipulation, they try to convince me that I SHOLE SHOULD BE HAPPY THAT I GOT THIS JOB, forgetting or underestimating the value of my past work experience working for people and organizations that knew that the (BLEEP) they were doing. Unfortunately, they misunderstand my politeness (or more honestly my "dontgiveaf*ckness") for naivety and in their ignorance they don't realize that I'm only there to perserve my healthcare, take 3 hour lunch breaks, and only work 3 days a week.

Whew...sorry Jesus and Teddy Graham but momma has been holding that one in for a long time. I'm counting the days until the day that I can submit my resignation, crash the computer, and burn that beyotch down.

On being alone...and vulnerable

I always prided myself on being fairly independent. Correction: I've always prided myself on being extremely independent. I've always liked my share of "me" time and often found relaxation shopping by myself, driving by myself, eating myself, and even drinking by myself after work (although my mother would say that only infers that I was a teetering alcoholic).

So the first time my husband left to travel out of town, you can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself pouting on the couch most of the day because I didn't have my BFF there to eat Chinese food with on Saturday night.

Then, when it was time to go to sleep, I found myself checking the doors three and four times to make sure that no one would come in and try to kidnap me and Capone in the middle of the night.(Yet, when I woke up at 3 o'clock in the morning on my couch I was sure that I there was a shadow of a monster sitting on my couch.)

And finally, when morning came and it was time to eat breakfast, I unconsciously found myself looking at the week's top ten plays on Sports Center because I missed my husband.

Finally, I paused during a commercial and thought, "How in the BEJESUS did this happen?" I wondered. How did I become such a freaking cupcake that didn't like being alone - after 28 years of doing just fine on my own?

What I soon realized is that in the corniest sense, I have come to think of my husband as my teammate, my partner, and the person that I look to for safety, protection, and companionship. Yet, with this understanding of why my husband's absence felt unnatural to me I also was faced with the revelation of my own discomforts with my new found vulnerabilities.

"Hot dammit," I thought...how in the world did I become so vulnerable?

The truth of the matter is that in the loneliness that exist in my house when Patrick isn't around, I've realized that this thing that's become my life doesn't flow as easily without him.

Yet I must admit that being vulnerable does not come easy to me, nor does dependency under any circumstances. And there may always be a struggle between my belief that "what God put together, let no man put asunder" and and insuring my own independence even if that means making sure that I can always stand financially on my own two feet, that I can always kill the spider above my headboard if I need to, and ensuring that the luxury and blessing that I appreciate by having a life partner never supersedes my ability to take care of myself and my child.

I don't believe that this perspective diminishes the faith that I have in my husband, because again -- I realize that this thing called "marriage" "life" and surely "parenthood" will not make sense without him by my side. However, I do think that as a wife, I only strengthen to foundation of my marriage if I work to ensure that I maintain the strength, independence, and sensibility that my husband was attracted to in the first place.

"As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same"

A random bit of inspiration from my favorite author, Paulo Coehlo:

"It's the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting......Before a dream is realized, the Soul of the World tests everything that was learned along the way. It does this not because it is evil, but so that we can, in addition to realizing our dreams master the lessons we have learned as we have moved toward that dream. That's the point at which most people give up.... [At this point] Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, because every second of search is a second's encounter with God and with eternity."

Pregnancy Survival Kit

First and foremost, despite all of my jive talking, I recognize that I have had a wonderful, blessed, and low drama pregnancy. The changes that my body have endured are likely not substantially different from 99% of women across the world who have given birth and for that I am grateful.

Yet...let the record show that out of all of the women that I have known to "cross these burning sands" into motherhood -- I'm a little ticked off that none of them have kept it real and said,

"Girrrrl -- pregnancy is beautiful but it will make your feet grow a shoe size, make your breast feel like heavy african watermelons, make you loose your a**, take away your sex drive, give you gas, give you heartburn, give you carpal tunnel syndrome, give you vaginal headaches, give you charlie horsesin the middle of the night, make you forget where you live, drive you to consider murdering people, will leave you out of breath even after just thinking about exercising, and in the toughest scenarios will give you diabetes, high blood pressure, low blood pressure, anemia, constipation, hemorroids, or an urinary tract infection."

So while I celebrate the wonder and beauty of life growing inside of me, I also want to say that carrying a child is the beginning of a life of sacrifice that you cant fathom until you go through it. And while sacrifice is certainly the name of the game for 9 months -- there are somethings that every woman can do to equip herself to get through this time with your sanity, spirit, and body in sound shape.

1.) Pregnancy massages - with all of the aches, stretching, and growing that your body will endure, you owe it to yourself to have some big, muscular, Black/White/asian/latino/eskimo man to stand over your body and rub those knots out of you. Carrying a baby plus a set of overweight twins (your breasts), and swollen feet will take a toil on your body in ways that you can't imagine -- so trust me, this is certainly a treat that you don't want to skip.

My recommendation: BLISS SPA at the W: Great Expectations Massage every three months

2.) A body pillow - if you sleep in anything larger than a twin size bed then you have the space for a body pillow. Around your 6 month of pregnancy, your growing tummy will make it difficult to get comfortable sleeping. And because you can only sleep in certain ways to preserve optimal blood flow to your baby, you will begin to have many sleep deprived nights. But with a body pillow, you will be able to support the four most problematic areas of your body(your back, in between your legs, under your stomach, and your neck) at one time without having to take all of the other pillows from your husband.

My recommendation: The Boppy Body Pillow

3.) Sports Bras - Trust me...Underwires and large breasts + fluid retention DO NOT mix.

My recommendation: Any sport bra made of breathable material...Stinky sweaty boobs are not cute!

4.) TUMS - Gas and Indigestion are REAL.

My recommendation: Chewables! They will begin to taste like candy after a while.

5.) Comfortable Shoes - With swollen and growing feet and increasing weight on your legs...a good pair of comfortable shoes are a must.

My recommendation: Shoes that will allow your growing feet to stretch and breath.

6.) A favorite meal to give you something to look forward to at work.

My suggestions: A chicken TBM melt from COSI (add the onions) or a melted Turkey and Cheese Sandwich on an Everything Bagel from Au Bon Pain (add the lettuce, onions, honey and dijon mustard). Plus salt and vinegar chips. Plus Lemonade and Peach Ice Tea (mixed). Plus chocolate chip cookies. Thanks.

7.) A mind distracting hobby - Writing, Reading, and Reality TV watching were my activities of choice during the work week.

8.) A scripture to rebuke the hormone devils that will surely push you close to homocide.

My recommedation: Romans 8: 28-39

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, whohave been called according to his purpose. 29 For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. 30 And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.

31 What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32 He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? 33 Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. 34 Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. 35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36 As it is written:
"For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered."

37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

I have a headache THIS BIG...in my vagina (Round Ligament Pain)

Random body change # 2,001,999: Vaginal headaches

Beginning around the 20th week of pregnancy, most pregnant women begin to experience one of the most uncomfortable pains of pregnancy - the pain that I like to refer to as "the vaginal headache". The medical term for the "vaginal headache" is "round ligament pain" and it is the result of your uterus expanding and putting pressure on the bones that support your pelvis and hips. But to me, it's more appropriately called the "vaginal headache" because similar to normal headaches - they come out of nowhere, will make your pooch throb with pain for an hour (and not in the good way), and oftentimes nothing - not Tylenol, warm compresses, or bags of frozen vegetables - will help.

Often times this pain comes after long periods on your feet and just when you find a place to sit down and relax - POOF! Here comes the vaginal headache. Other times, it comes after long periods of sitting and just when you decide to get up and stretch - POOF! The vaginal headache is back. Ironically enough - stretching does help but I have found that even when I stretch for too long -- POOF! Here comes that beyotch the vaginal headache coming back for more...

After several futile attempts to find something that would help (i.e. sitting on my yoga ball, doing the tootsie roll, and putting frozen peas on my crouch), I resorted to purchasing a "maternity belt" - an apparatus that resembles a bullet proof vest for your belly. The "maternity belt" straps across your belly in three different ways and the idea is that it will transfer weight from your pelvis more evenly across your legs. While the jury is still out of the "maternity belt" -- I think I am starting to have a bit of a placebo effect cause as soon as I complete the 5 min process it takes to strap it on, I feel ready to go to run a marathon -- or at least walk around the block...

I'll keep you posted on whether this thing is working but either way, I'm keeping my stash of Tylenol, frozen peas, and my hot water bag close by.

Going "home" to Louisiana...My In-Laws

- A quick funny story -

Little Kerry looked up at my stomach perplexed.

"What's that?" he asked pointing directly at my protruding belly button.

"It's a baby Kerry! It's your little cousin in there!" I replied excitedly.

(Kerry stares at the floor.)

"How'd da baby get in there?" He asks.

(I stare at the floor and begin to stutter nervously.)

"Well, well...that's kind of a long story. Let's just say it was magic!" I reply hoping that he'd "buy" my explanation.

(Again, Kerry stares at the floor and looks up at me with sad eyes.)

"Why...Why'd you eat da baby?" he finally asks, having concluded that his new auntie ate his little cousin in a rage of hunger.



In-laws.

These two words can invoke feelings of love, anxiety, and heartburn in anyone. How you approach your relationship with your in-laws is always a delicate matter and for anyone about to get married the only advice I can give you is BE YOUR GENUINE (INSERT ADJECTIVE) SELF from the very beginning.

I have observed that much of the stress that comes from in-law relationships comes from the tension or pressure that the new family member feels "to be ...(insert adjective)".

I explained to my husband a few days ago that if I was the biological daughter of his parents I would undoubtedly be the "Black Sheep." While his family is pretty laid back and quiet, I am fairly verbose with a slight touch of ADD (or to use my mother in-laws words when she first met me....I am a "big ball of energy"). Then when you consider my "city-girl ways", I surely wouldn't fit in under normal circumstances. My mother-in-law (who was a Sunday school teacher at the time) asked me during our first meeting why I had "gone and marked myself up" clearly disapproving of my tattoos (that is...the one tattoo that she could see - smile).

(Little did she know at the time that one of Patrick's first objectives upon moving to Chicago would be to get his first tattoo on his shoulder!)

Nevertheless, five years later my in-laws embrace me for me and love me for me and that is something that I am truly truly grateful for.

So going to visit Louisiana always feels like a trip home. Since we only get to visit once or twice a year, my father and mother in law make sure that we get our full helpings of crawfish, softshell crab, oysters, shrimp, and catfish. Needless to say, outside of seeing my family, going to Louisiana to eat is one of the things I look forward to the most.

More than that I have gained two sisters who I love, along with five nephews and two nieces. My son will have much to look forward to on his summers to Louisiana while his cousins show him how to play baseball, football, basketball, and chess.

My first superman....

If my husband is my heart, then it's fair to say that my father is my carotid artery -- as his influence in my life has had the largest impact on how I think, feel, and see the world and people around me. In my mind, my father symbolizes everything that is good, right, and wholesome in the world and no matter how hard I will ever try, I don't think that I'll ever measure up to being as good of a person as he is.

Early on in life, my father drilled two things in his kid's minds: 1) To always treat people the way that we wanted to be treated and 2) "To always put the shoe on the other foot" which was meant to be the foundation of compassion, empathy, and understanding, all virtues that he wanted us to extend to other people. In me these lessons came to fruition in various ways -- as a teen and young adult I often found myself cursing people out when I felt as if they were treating others unjustly. But as an adult, these principals continue to guide everything from the career that I pursued, to the jobs that I have taken (even the bad ones), to the friends that I choose to hold close to me.

So what makes my father SO remarkable?

My father is the type of person who literally would give his last dime, last drip of sweat, last once of energy, or last breath for his family or a friend. But this isn't what makes him remarkable...it just makes him freaking AWESOME.

What really makes him remarkable is that my father didn't become this way from the example that he saw in his father - but it was a conscious decision that he made -- to be the BEST father and person that he could be - despite the example he saw in his father.

Now don't get me wrong, from what I knew of Grandpa Johnny, he was an okay father - one who I'm sure did the best with what he had and with what he knew. Nevertheless, of the things that I do know about him, I know that my grandfather was detached, unemotional, and lacked the ability to provide an emotional and nurturing environment for my father -- which led to him moving from Mississippi when he was 19 to live with his mother.

But you would never know this by meeting my father. He has acted as a stand-in father for more friends, neighbors, and cousins than I can reasonably recall. He has co-signed for more cars for people than Donald Trump -- even when he drove a broke down, rusted Ford Aerostar.

When I was a little girl I would drive with my father in his brown Dodge RAM as he went to complete carpentry jobs. My favorite memories are of when we would turn wide corners and he would yell "Hold On Kirt!" and I would hold on to his big muscle-man arms so I wouldn't be tossed across the front of the van. Even as a much older adult, this idea of my father as my superman, the one I can hold on to when things get shaky, or rough, or uncertain has never really faded away. He always has been and always will be my superman.

After overcoming a close call with lung cancer, beating death with a traumatic brain injury, and dodging a scare with colon cancer I know that once he gets to heaven the angels will give him the nickname "Clark Kent."

Love You Daddy,

The Little One

Scared Sh*tless...

As hard as I try, my imagination will not take me past my 8th month of pregnancy. I literally can not imagine being twice my size, with swollen ankles, anxiously awaiting my water breaking. Similar to when I was "without child" -- the days leading up to my period were anxious ones, where the mere thought of my cramps were enough to make me start popping ibuprofen up to 3 days before it even came. Before you think I am a drug addict, let me assure you that I truly did have the worse cramps on this side of the Mason-Dixon line.

So when I think of labor, I truly cant wrap my mind around it. How in the Barack Hussein Obama does a vagina open wide enough to fit a d*mn head? It just doesn't seem real to me. Vagina opens. Body comes out. Who in the (bleep) thought this was a good idea? (Sorry Father)

So I tried to prep myself by watching live births on birthcenter.com. HORRIBLE IDEA! Before seeing the videos the baby = vagina phenomenon was something that plagued my imagination but now I have had a visual confirmation that it actually does happen! Whoa is me.. Whoa is me! And though these birthing films scare the beJesus out of me, like a horror movie with sequels, every day I search the web looking for more! I've seen natural births, water births, c-sections, drug-induced births, silent (Scientology) births...you name it, it's on the web. None of them seem like a fun experience.

Moreover, I don't know who is crazier -- women who want to bring their children into the world non-drugged or me. The truth is...delivering somber has never even crossed my mind. Not only will I draw a red "x" on my spine so the anesthesiologist will know where my spine is but I may have my sister Karlisa slip my some wine into the hospital and may smoke a joint before I push this baby out. Little Teddy G will come into this world very aware of effects of drugs and liquor and I am sure that he will be a better person for it.

The Pregnancy Glow, Non-Constipation, and the Wolf Pack

Pregnancy really is a miracle. Out of 28 - 31 days in a month, a woman's egg can only be fertilized during a 2-3 days window. And even if a diligent little sperm gets to the quickly dying egg, there's a 50 percent chance that the egg won't fully begin fertilization and a chemical pregnancy, or early miscarriage will happen before a woman even misses her first period. Then when you add on the effects of cell phone radiation, fried foods, smoking marijuana, and using laptops on the ability of a man to produce healthy sperm... it's really no wonder that any of us are having babies nowadays.

So to have a life develop inside of you is truly a miracle...nothing short of an act of God.

During my blog vacation over the past 2 weeks, I have been coming to peace with my ever changing body, my impending responsibility of motherhood, and my anxiety over managing a marriage, motherhood, my dreams, and life.

First, I have accepted my belly. It's nothing against my sweet baby boy but for months my belly represented nothing but gas, gas, and more gas. But now, it represents the home of my little Teddy Graham, who gives me a kick or a flip after I drink a nice sugary drink to tell me that he approves and would like some more. I shine my belly up every morning with Shea Butter like the wheels on a Cadillac. And even when people in the hood say, "Ey gurl, you are fine but you MUST be having twins," I just smile and keep on my way.

Second, word on the street is that I have that "pregnancy glow"! People say it all the time now! I thought it was my 100% Pure African Shea Butter but everyone swears that I am glowing and not greasy. Either way, I appreciate that people think I still look pretty even though I have plenty of days when I feel like Shrek.

Third, I am grateful for the lack of constipation. I have heard horror stories about how pregnant woman get constipation and hemorrhoids and I am glad that God has spared my thus far.

Fourth, my Wolf Pack (previously known as my va-jay-jay) has now given me a reason to go to the spa again! My husband kindly asked that I "take care of my jungle" and I told him that I couldn't see it anymore. Luckily, this was the very excuse I was looking for to go to Bliss a few more times before I pop this baby out.

So life is gracefully moving along for all of us over here. Patrick continues to play golf during his Saturdays off, Capone continues to terrorize the other kids in the building, and Teddy continues to make his mommy eat and sleep several times a day. I am still trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up buts something tells me that I am getting closer to figuring it out. I try to read my scriptures every day and as soon as I get into this prenatal yoga class - I will be actively working to maintain my mental, physical, and spiritual health. I continue to have my struggles but in those areas I try to at least strive for contentment. And everyday I tell myself two things...1) Life isn't perfect but it sure is pretty good and 2) If God is for me...who can be against me? Amen!

Heart to Heart with a MOFO/Jesus Take the Wheel (Part IV)

After much prayer and meditation, I had began to find some resolve working with MOFO. While he still isn't my favorite person, I've began to feel a great deal of pity for him because he seemed, at his core, to be clueless to the world around him. When he walked into a room, what would be apparent to the average person was oblivious to him -- due to what I suspect is an over-sized ego that has disabled him from seeing anything but his inflated perception of himself. So things at work had been manageable until a Board meeting where I realized that MOFO was out of his pure African-American mind.

As he sat around a table of 12 Board members he rammed his fist down and said, "You all do not do anything! You serve no purpose! I have to run this organization by myself!"


He continued, "I've had to beg my Program Manager [that would be me] not to quit because you all are not doing anything!"

I sat across the table from him during this 25 minute rant and tried to dream of a place far, far away.

After the meeting, I could tell that MOFO was pleased with himself and all I could think was that "this guy really doesn't get it." Moreover, a number of things about the meeting had ticked me off but I had decided to blow if off because the fact of the matter was that I didn't care that much to mention it anyway.

Sunday night, as I began to mentally prepare for work, I decided that I would have a sit down talk with MOFO because he clearly had no idea that he was an asshole. As I contemplated this talk, I felt confident that this was something that I had to do because perhaps this was the sole reason God had placed me in his path? Maybe it was I who was supposed to give MOFO a glimpse into the dungeon called his soul or at least give give him a head's up that he was making alot of enemies on his way to the "top".

On Monday morning I waited patiently for two hours for MOFO to walk in so I could ask him if we could talk. When he wasn't in the office by 11:00 am I decided to write him a letter. After a quick prayer and a glass of hot chocolate, I began to write my thoughts...

Dear ["MOFO"] –

I wanted to touch base with you about a few things from the Board meeting (and general matters) that were on my mind. These are simply my reactions and opinion for you to consider but I felt that I should at least share my perspective with you.

On Chastising the Board:

While I understand your desire to move the Board to action, I think you must reconsider your current methods. To date, I have observed you chastise the Board, individually and collectively, on several occasions and I must say that I think that is the wrong approach. At its core, you must remember you are speaking to adults and not children. A heavy handed approach will not provoke people to act, complaining will not provoke people to act, passing the blame will not provoke people to act. Essentially, I believe you have to meet people where they are (and as Marty appropriately pointed out) inspire them to act. I have some thoughts on how to readjust the working groups projects and will share them when we meet.

On the Work-plan:

During the Board meeting you emphasized that you put together the work plan “singlehandedly” by yourself. I was surprised to hear this considering I worked 3 days on it. Nevertheless, it’s something that I bring to your attention because you have done it several times in the past. While it may not be intentional, I hope that in the future you become conscious of it because for better or worse, when people give you their work product they take pride it in. This isn’t as much an issue of giving credit as it is about not miscrediting work products.

Moreover, the work plan that was reviewed by the LISC and the Board comes with parameters. Much of my frustration and hesitation in putting one together is that I did not want it to be an exercise in futility. We have set strategic goals, had the Board approve strategic goals, but in the end --- still operated in a chaotic state, picking up projects that we don’t have the capacity to implement. My hope is that the work plan that was put together will be respected and adhered to. All that should be left for “us” to do it was put a timeline and staffing needs to the actions. But if a project isn’t listed on there – it shouldn’t be picked up. I understand this may be difficult with the Alderman’s expectations of the Consortium as his campaign revs up but I think that is something that you will have to work very hard to manage. If you don’t, then I think capacity and frustration will continue to be an issue, whether it’s me that you are working with or someone else.

On begging me to stay:

I really thought it was inappropriate to discuss any misgivings I have about this job with the Board. Not only did it compromise their perception of me but in the short term it could potentially compromised their perception of the organization to effectively do its work. Moreover, any decision that I make to leave or stay with the Consortium will be because of my personal feelings and professional goals – not because of the Board. To make them think it would be because of them was a little disingenuous.

On women:

Many times you come off as chauvinistic. Many times I have seen you over talk women, disregard their opinions, and minimize their professional input. I bring this to your attention because I don’t think that you are aware of it but would be more than open to talking to you about this whenever.

So I apologize for putting all of this on you on Monday. Mondays are definitely bad enough. However, I believe that I owe it to you to be as honest as possible during the time that I am working for the Consortium. My intention is truly not to frustrate or anger but to give you some things to think about as a professional and as the person running this organization.


Kirstin


I didn't think before I pressed "send". Although I had promised my close friend Joy that I would run every confrontation email by her since 2003, I knew that I had to send the letter at that very moment. I was less worried about getting fired than I was about grammatical errors. I would hate for him to miss the points that I was trying to make because my touch of dyslexia was kicking it. Nevertheless, I sent it and just prayed that he would receive it with an open mind.

Once MOFO finally came into the office, I was on my way to a meeting downtown but was sure to tell him to check his email. Once I returned to the office he asked if we could meet to discuss the things that I had written.

After much justification for his actions, MOFO said the only part of the letter that he couldn't appreciate was the "Chauvinistic part". I told him that if there was one part of the letter that I felt that I had to write that it was the "Chauvinistic part". He looked like was going to cry and at that moment I began to feel really bad. But just when I was going to apologize for the harshness of my letter he said, "I think I understand...I think...I think I just need to be MORE of a politician."

All I could do was shake my head.

It wasn't my job to judge him -- only to give him a glimpse of how many perceived him -- but I surely wasn't going to hold my breathe for him to change either.