Week 28

I've made it to 28 weeks and boy do I have a belly to show for it. I haven't had ultrasounds since the scare and so I'm praying my belly is proof I have a growing and healthy baby boy in there just doing what he needs to do.

In these last couple of weeks, I've found myself in a state of contemplation more than usual. I find myself deeply buried in my mind thinking about all the changes my body is going through and my baby.

With an ever-growing belly, my body-size awareness has altered. I'm acutely aware that I'm larger and carrying precious cargo and it has made me much more cautious (obviously slower) when doing normal things like stepping into the shower, or even crossing the street. It's not so much that my balance is off (okay it is a little) but that I'm carrying another life along for the ride. One slip, or misjudgment affects so much more than me. And then I think, "welcome to the rest of your life, Lindsay." This is just a small reality of the truth moving forward (I can almost hear my mom saying this to me).

Shifting gears to the baby. I can keep him safe while he's nestled inside of me. But the fear I feel thinking about all the craziness in life the little guy will have to witness, participate and learn from, at times, is enough to send someone into panic mode. Yesterday, a couple of men sharing the same corner of the sidewalk waiting to cross the street (who looked to be coming down from a high of some sort  and by the looks of it, I would guess meth) were discussing ways to stab another. You know, a normal conversation between two people. One of them saw me in the corner of his eye and turned to ask me if I had any spare change. My reaction was to put a protective hand over my belly and I answered "no." My answer was not because it was the truth, but because I was a little frightened by his overall state. My reaction was instinctual. When the light changed so that we could cross the street, I kept the protective hand over my son and immediately said a prayer for those two men. I threw in a prayer for their mothers and then I prayed for my son. My heart hurt for my son and the temptations in life he will have to experience. For a moment, I feared for my baby to have to come into this world. And yet, all I can do is strive to be a good steward and teacher, just like my mother was to me.