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4 Days and Counting to Baby G.

All at once, it seemed as if the weeks disappeared and we’re only left with a few days. One by one, I’ve ticked off the days approaching our “due date”. Of course, only God truly knows when this precious little one will arrive.

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.” Psalm 139:13


Mom & Dad
These guys showed up on my doorstep late last night, looking for a place to stay. Of course, I invited them in, gave them a glass of water and sent them off to bed. They’re making some claim to be here for me and baby, but I truly know it’s because they like my cooking and our spring here in Tulsa.

“Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.” Hebrews 13:2


Baby Clothes
The preparations over the past nine months for Baby G.-both physically and emotionally-have allowed me enough time to think, adjust, process and become excited over this major life change. It’s just been Biceps and I for 13 years, and now we are bringing a helpless child into this world. A world that demands Jews to be registered in Russia, killers get to walk free because of technicalities and Justin Bieber is still an “artist”. It’s a scary place.

“For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people. It teaches us to say “No” to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age, while we wait for the blessed hope—the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.” Titus 2:11-13


Bunny Rabbit-Baby's Room
However, I have hope for the next generation. (Or else I wouldn’t have spent an inordinate amount of time making things like this for my next generation to enjoy.) I know that God has a plan and a purpose for my unborn baby-one with a hope and a future.

“From birth I have relied on you; you brought me forth from my mother’s womb. I will ever praise you.” Psalm 71:6


Baby's Room
And as Baby G. grows, this is where he/she will rest and contemplate the deeper meanings of life:
1. Do I really like brussel sprouts more than twizzlers as mom keeps insisting?
2. Is a book really better than an Ipad?
3. Will swimming right after eating really cause cramping?
4. Are cats really superior to dogs in every way?
5. Etc., etc.

“…and he has filled him with the Spirit of God, with wisdom, with understanding, with knowledge and with all kinds of skills—to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver and bronze.” Exodus 35:30-32


Rebekah's belly
As this baby continues to stay housed within me, I have a keen sense of their needs and wants. However, I know that this is nothing compared to them “being on the outside”, when they are no longer prisoner to amniotic fluid and my whims of donuts vs french fries vs broccoli. I have spoken love to this baby, I have prayed for this baby, I have clung to my Father over its health. This child has caused my faith to grow in Him.

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see…By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.” Hebrews 11:1, 3


Rebekah with child
Just four more days of me looking like this. Then, you’ll see me covered in spit-up, carrying around a pink, fleshy, fat-rolled Baby G. And, I don’t know if I could be happier than that.

Just four more days.

“…but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Isaiah 40:31

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Twas little more than a fortnight until Baby G’s unveiling

This is a fancy way of saying “16 days until Baby G is supposed to come into this world.” Biceps and I are feeling a little more prepared, but I tend to freak out silently from time to time. I have a few questions that no one seems to be answering:


Frazzled Mom

1. What if the baby comes early and I’m not ready?
The typical answer: Oh, you’ll be ready, you say.
My rebuttal: Oh yeah? You don’t know my emotional ramping-up needs. It took me two years to be emotionally ready for marriage after a terrible break-up with the “wrong guy”. TWO YEARS. I could have acquired a Master’s Degree in that time.



2. What if I toot around my kid, then realize I shouldn’t have, then apologized, then he/she tells on me in some ridiculously public place and uses this ammunition as their own leverage to toot willy-nilly?
The typical answer: That’s the least of your worries, you say.
My rebuttal: Is it? I have a non-tooting reputation to uphold. Be quiet any of you out there that know otherwise.


vintage laundry
3. What if not getting enough sleep, along with my hormones going wacko, along with a dirty house, piles of laundry and a messy kitchen causes me to just walk out of the house one day and never come back? What if I’m not quite the superhero woman I think I am?
The typical answer: You’ll adjust, you say. You’re going to get used to your house being messier, the dishes not being done and you’ll eventually get sleep.
My rebuttal:You apparently don’t know my obsessive-compulsiveness or my extreme need for a clean house.


Little Max Kitten
4. What if I totally screw up my kid and they turn into some sort of Hannibal Lecter or a serial killer or, even worse-don’t like cats?
The typical answer: You’re going to screw up for sure, you say. But you won’t screw up this badly.
My rebuttal: I once put my baby brother underneath a clothes hamper, sat on top of it and didn’t move until I was threatened by my mother. Who does that? And, I’m sure Hitler’s mother didn’t think she would screw up Adolf. Look what happened there.


My Family-Matlach 80's
5. What if my kid follows my pattern of a self-absorbed childhood thinking I looked awesome in this dress, my risky teenage years of driving too fast and dating too old of guys, ill-planned college years where I barely made A’s and broke a boy’s heart out of complete selfishness and finally a few adult years of somewhat gained but lackluster maturity where I see few peaks but mostly valleys of incompetence?
The typical answer: Your kid is going to be awesome. Besides, you’ve got Bicep’s influence and he’s awesome.
My rebuttal: I’ll give you that. Biceps is awesome.


Kayle Rbbrbnd Gun
How could a kid not grow up to be awesome with this guy as his dad?
The typical answer: It’s impossible.
My rebuttal: I have none.

What were your biggest worries or fears before becoming a parent?

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Four Weeks to Go. (Installment #4 from Baby Greiman)

You’ve done some weird things lately. And I’d like the world to know what just what you’ve done.


1. You’ve sung to me in the middle of the night while I am trying to enjoy my 15th round of hiccups.
2. You’ve cried while rocking-in what I assume will be-my rocking chair. For no reason. While holding an ancient stuffed lamb with an internal jingly bell in its head. Should I be concerned that you are not emotionally stable?


80s Ladies
3. You keep trying to work out and I keep telling you to stop it. I don’t like it. Even these 3 mile walks are not my cup of tea. Can’t you tell I’m trying to sleep in here?


4. You’ve videoed me while I was trying to get comfy in your tiny belly. Could you expand a little and give a brutha/sista some more room?


5. I have a list of things I need to get done when I get “on the outside”. Do you think we could speed this process up a little bit-why do insist on keeping me inside?


Garden Produce
6. And last, but not least, you’ve taken to eating huge amounts of vegetables. I’d like a burger once in awhile-with cheese, ketchup, pickles and lettuce. I appreciate you cramming me full of folic acid and vitamin A. But, I have a feeling the lineage of the Greiman’s raising angus cattle has somehow crept its way into my blood. Sorry, veggie mom. I’m a carnivore. And I’m hungry.


Graduation-Bicep's Awards, Kayle, Rebekah
Other than that, I’m totally happy and can’t wait to meet you and dad. I think.

Baby G.

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Yes, I’d love to hear your horrible birth story…and other things.

This bump in my front has received unsolicited advice, thoughts, stories, warnings and the-world-is-ending-for-you notifications. I’ve had the Quick Trip lady tell me that I’m too small to be 34 weeks along and that possibly I’m wrong on my due date-or something is wrong with the baby.


brie cheese
I’ve received advice from a well-meaning Sprouts employee that I should eat unpasteurized cheese because it will help my child build up immunities (that’s a big: “thank you but no”, by the way).


I’ve been told that I’m crazy for not wanting the drugs given to most mothers during birth and that of course, I’ll change my mind.


cloth diapers
And that I’m weird for wanting to cloth diaper and that this desire won’t last long. That I’ll realize I’m missing out on life for me and baby without Baby Einstein’s “must-have walker”. And, that if I make my own baby food, my baby probably won’t be receiving enough nutrition.


Vintage Birth
All of these things are tolerable. However, the one thing I cannot get out of my mind are the horrible birth stories I’ve been told-mostly from complete strangers. Their water broke at the state fair while at the top of a ferris wheel, they bled out and almost died, oh-also the baby almost died, the doctor didn’t know what he was doing, the cord was wrapped around the neck, and they labored for 3 days straight.


Vintage Nurse
My question is why do tell a perfectly happy pregnant woman all of the terrible things that could go wrong? Is to help her increase her faith (I would have to say no) or to show off the invisible badge earned through an extremely painful and traumatic ordeal?


It’s like telling a virgin the night before she weds that she’ll just have to “get through it”. Which is helpful. Which happened.


Big Girl Playhouse, Rebekah
I may appear tough to you (or not). However, I’m a fragile little egg right now. It’s not that I don’t value what other mother’s have been through. But, let me get through it first. Then, we can swap stories all day long. I’d love to hear about the bloody placenta that fell from the doctor’s hands, the hemorrhoids and the elusive sleep that never came for the new mother.

Seriously. I’ll brew the coffee.



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