Bless Each Home and Family & Steaming Cups of Raspberry Leaf Tea.

In recent days the usually social Ms. Booty has turned inward. A product of late pregnancy, Katrina & ensuing frustration and outrage at our government's shamefully / woefully inadequeate & inappropriate response, the prayerful focus on all those suffering.

All of that, and being hit by this cold bug that just won't stop....

In order to get well, and to focus with clarity, I actually called off / re-scheduled ALL activities from Wednesday afternoon onward save for my appointment with the midwife yesterday afternoon. It's odd, because while I understand that in theory pregnancy is an immuno-compromised time and this bitch of a cold is to be expected, over the long haul, I've been so very healthy and feeling not just good, but glowingly wonderful.

I have at last conceded, however, that while I've loved being pregnant as much as anything I've experienced, I am at last a bit tired of it. My Beloved Mister just nods and smiles, saying, "I know, Babe."

To his great pleasure, while he's been working seven days a week for the last month, I've made myself pay attention to the needs of my body / mind & I'm just cozying in quietly with extra sleep whenever possible, books, hot baths, hot water bottle, hot tea. I've even made myself limit the ammount of disaster coverage I tune into, for as much as I want to know what's happening, rather than becoming desensitized, I tend to become too fixated.

I imagine I've simply created conditions to thrust me into final preparation for childbirth.... there'll be plenty of time for flurries of activity, and all that writing that'll shortly be cluttering up my head.

For now, it's relaxation exercises, kegels, stretching and perineal massage, plus evening primrose oil & steaming cups of rasperry leaf tea. I've continued to have near constant Braxton-Hicks contractions over the last three weeks & am dilating and effacing steadily.

Ziggy, my little butterbean boy, is head down and still kicking like a jack rabbit. And while his father proclaims that "he has options!"his position of the last few weeks indicates there's a possibility, and a fairly good one, that he'll come sunnyside up, which translates into hard back labor for Mama Booty.

And so it goes.

Over and over in my head, I sing the beautiful old spritual and send it southward to all who might need it:

All night, All day,
Angels watchin' over me my Lord.
All night, all day,
Angels watchin' over me

Bless this precious earth we share
Angels watchin' over me, my lord
Land and water, plants and air
Angels watchin' over me -

Bless each home and family
Angels watchin' over me, my lord
Help us all sleep peacefully
Angels watchin' over me.