I'm floating, people. And it's really nice, like going tubing down a lazy river.  Except that I can't drink beer and, at this point, I bear a striking resemblance to the giant inflatable inner tubes you are supposed to use for such a trip.

As a kid, I can remember learning how to float in the warm Florida ocean during summer vacations to visit my Grammie.  Now, there was a lady who could float!  She would lie back and take a nap on top of the rocking ocean water.  It seemed like she could float for hours...or at least that's how I recall it.  Grammie has Alzheimer's now, but thinking of her all sun-kissed and carefree in the water makes me smile.  During my floating lessons, my Mom or Dad would hold me up and tell me to "just relax".  And I would.

Until, that is, I felt their hands pull away and, panicking, I would tense up, fearing the rush of salt water that would surely be snorted unpleasantly up my nose at that very moment.  Down, down, down my legs would sink and my arms would flail until I was no longer floating.  And so, we would try again.  And again.  And again.  Eventually, I got the hang of it though and just the thought of floating along with the warm sun on my face makes me so happy right now.

Floating is the ultimate act of letting go.  You can't float unless you relax.  Period.  One tense moment and you're sunk.  Sometimes I am able to float on my own.  Sometimes I need help, like my husband or friends or prayer, to keep me afloat like a raft.  But the point is, I'm still floating.

John and I were in the car the other day when I wondered out loud, "I wonder what it is like to hear your baby cry."  It is the simplest of thoughts, but the biggest of everyday miracles.  Right now, I don't worry about a lot of things that stressed me out during my first pregnancy...what will be the best car seat?  Will labor hurt?  How will I manage it all?  Nope, this time it's pretty simple.

Will she live?  

Sometimes I have a hard time listening to others talk about their children and the worries that circulate in their minds regarding them.  I can't help but think, seriously?  That is small potatoes.  I know I'll be there, and I'll be worrying the same worries right there with them soon.  But I also know, that Callie's angel wings will always and forever give me a different perspective.  Perhaps the ability to pull back and remember that it is all small stuff and that as long as my babies are breathing, crying, laughing, fighting, pooping, peeing, whatever...it's all ok.  At least, that's what I hope I can carry with me.

Right now, that perspective is allowing me to float through this final trimester of our rainbow's pregnancy.

I told you last time we would celebrate.  We did :)  My friends treated me to the sweetest girls' weekend/baby sprinkle this past weekend and it was perfect.  Small, intimate, and happy.


I told you we would decorate.  We are!

rainbows nursery


And I've accepted my journey's differences from those of others.  Tomorrow we will be 33 weeks...6 more weeks to go!  Floating to the finish line :-)

32 weeks


p.s. thank you so much for continuing to support Kindness for Callie.  Please check the K4C page at the top of the blog for the latest updates.

Oh, and to the kind person who sent us an anonymous gift card for Callie's garden...thank you from the bottom of my heart.  xoxo :)