In the sunlight it is a bright, robin-egg blue, and looks nothing like the Wedgewood gray color I found in Pottery Barn. With my dark green shutters and light kitchen cabinets, it looks awful.
I sulked most of the evening until about 10 p.m. when Bob found a drip in the ceiling in the office, which led to a downpour of water, a cut open ceiling, and a completely torn apart upstairs bathroom. Apparently a pipe to the tub faucet had been leaking for months, causing major water damage.
Just like that, the terrible, blue colored, kitchen walls.....didn't matter anymore.
We spent an evening visiting Emily who found out only weeks ago she has cancer. At just 27 years of age, she has the fight of her life ahead of her. In true character, she was positive and upbeat. As she spoke of her chemo and radiation plans, surgeries, and all that was in store for her in the upcoming months, my heart ached.
Just like that, our disaster zone, water damaged house...didn't matter anymore.
(A gift given to "Baby boy." Thank you, Maren.) I woke up Tuesday morning ready for my second to last Dr. appt. I was feeling brave, all pumped up, ready to beg my Dr. to take the baby a few days early so I could be out of the hospital in time to make it to Bob's big race and cheer my man to the finish.
My Dr. took one look at me and said I looked too small to be delivering in a few weeks. Not me, per say, but my baby belly. He did an ultra sound. There was panic in his voice. Questions were flying. He was uncharacteristically flustered as he thumbed through my chart.
Something was wrong.
At 37 weeks, "Baby boy" is weighing just 3 lbs. and judging by the fluid level, he is ready to come.
I spent the day in fear, crying, talking on the phone to loved ones, and feeling sadness beyond explanation for "Baby boy."
It could be a number of "not good" things, or maybe, just maybe he'll be o.k. Today, I am feeling very optimistic, and until I see the specialist Friday morning and hear otherwise, that's how I'll remain.
Just like that, the early delivery date, Bob's big race, the giant "before baby comes" list, the wrong blue colored walls, our water damaged home....
None of it matters anymore.
Then I think of Emily, "Baby boy", and everyone else who is struggling with a trial right now, and after lots of thinking and moments on my knees in prayer, really, I am feeling a bit embarassed and ashamed that it ever did.
