Pentecost

Today my husband commented that it was just like me to get stretch marks in time for Pentecost. It took me a little while to get this (I can only see them in the mirror, as they are below the visibility mark, like my feet) and realize that they are shaped like tongues of fire. So we've got the "current nursery" decorations down, at least.

Bunny and I are interacting more these days. He kicks (or orples, or does something in there to attract my attention) and I pat back. If I've been paying proper attention, he wakes up and moves around about every two hours or so, and does move more when we dialogue. It reminds me of the petition for "captives" even more, since it's like two prisoners on either side of a wall, trying to communicate. "Now we see through a glass darkly, but then face-to-face."

And Fr. Peter has finally felt Bunny kick. He doesn't seem all that interested in putting his hand there, but he'll keep it there for a while if I put it on my tummy. For whatever reason, Bunny usually stops kicking when his father's hand is there, but when he does kick big enough to be felt outside (as opposed to my viscera—thanks, kiddo), his father's face lights up and delights me.

The Earth Offers a Cave

We now have pictures of the 20-week ultrasounds. It really struck me that the little one looks like he's in a cave, which brought to mind the kontakion of the Nativity by St. Romanos the Melodist.

I love going to the doctors' office. Everyone is kind, and laughs at my jokes (and attempts at jokes). The ultrasound technician says things like, "The umbilical cord is perfect" and "The spine is wonderful." (I am quickly learning to be fond of people who say nice things about my baby.) Also, the doctors answer my questions (mostly with things meaning, "Yes, it's weird, but you're just pregnant. Get over it.") rather than the usual instance, where everyone asks me questions and I have to answer them.

A wonderful woman (now due with her seventh!) had talked to me about the topic of "finding out the sex of the baby." She said that in her Lamaze class, the people who found out were much more impatient the rest of the pregnancy, compared with the people who waited. I figure, I'm already so impatient for the pregnancy to end—especially with the pictures of the wee one whom I just want to cuddle in my arms—that I should choose to wait. It has been getting fun thwarting the people who ask, "Is it a boy or a girl?" (Answer: "I certainly hope so!") or "Are you going to find out?" (Answer: "Yes, within a year, we hope to have things figured out."). I don't mean to be snarky, but I like to think that my father would be laughing, since this is the kind of answer I grew up with.

Overall, I am feeling better these days. I get housework done, and revel in the happiness of a clean house. (Or at least one which is working towards cleanness.)

The "mommies of the parish" have deluged me with kindness in the form of gift cards. I took Fr. Peter shopping with me, and there is something to be said (not only for clothing which fits properly, but also) for bright, happy colors. I had not realized how Bostonian and bland my closet had become—not completely, but compared to the sunny Floridian colors. So I got a bright pink top (Emily would be so proud) and a bright turquoise top amongst the first round of using up the gift cards. (It didn't hurt that even the doctor yesterday commented that I looked well. She meant my coloring, but I was happy that I'd picked a color that looks good on me.) God bless now-Fr. Evangelos (then-Angelo) and his future presvyteres retreat about how to dress.

Wee Cozonac

This is the twenty-first cozonac of this year's batch, in my husband's hand. He is a dedicated baker, who kept baking on Holy Saturday even when Dr. Tim and I went to the beach. Maybe next year he will have a helper in making messes in the kitchen. (I did separate most of the 50 eggs required this year. Before ditching him.)

First Pascha

After the church was darkened at midnight, the candle of Pascha raised by my husband, singing, "Come receive the unwaning Light!" and we all went in a joyous procession outside, each candle burning brightly in exultation, we went into church to hold the festal Divine Liturgy. After the singing of the first set of the Paschal hymn: "Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down Death by death, and on those in the tombs bestowing Life," a chanter began another hymn: "This is the day of Resurrection..." which ends in the Paschal hymn. After that hymn's pronouncement of "Christ is risen!" I felt the baby move for the first time.

Names: January

Because my sister thought "Peter Gregory" was horrifyingly strange, I am enjoying going through the synaxarion on hand and further horrifying her with the thought that I might name my child after one of these saints. (For her reaction to "Peter Gregory"—which is a darn sight more normal than "Crispin Jarlath" (cool, but I don't think I would do that to a child)—this sister is disqualified from having her opinion count on naming any of my children. She also thinks pretty much any Greek name is weird. Her children's names, naturally, are "normal"—except to anyone besides her, which makes the whole thing funnier.)

However, as I was going through the pages, making fun of the "weird" names, I realized that these were people who were probably praying for me right now. Also, some of the "weirder" ones started to grow on me (in bold).

Fulgentius Theopemptos Abelard Onouphrios Phosterios Sais Agathon Shemaiah Abo Polyefktos Dometianos Galacteon Remigius Pansophios Perodzhavra * Pevsippos, Elasippos, Mesippos, and Neonilla Danax Leobardus Thyrsos Babylas	Lupicinus Barsimaeus Bretanion Medula Auxentios Xenophon Paladios Hyperechius Abibus Paregorius Sarbelos Bebaia Mucius ** Ashot Pitirim Acepsimas Aphrates Hippolytus Adelgonda Tryphaenes
* still unable to pronounce this one at all, or pretty much any Georgian name, except Khahaber, thanks to knowing Fr. Khahaber
** extra fun teasing my sister with this one, which she managed to take seriously for quite a long while

I had so much pleasure going through just January, I thought I should stop and savor them rather than rushing through the entire year. Yes, I could just look at September, but there's no reason to have a shared birthday/nameday, is there? Although September 19 does have Dorymedon, Seguanos, and Yaroslav, and babies are notoriously on schedule.

Psalm 139 (LXX, 138): 13-16

For You formed my inward parts;
You covered me in my mother's womb.
I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well.
My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.

New Doctor

I am so much happier with the new doctor's office. At today's appointment I was told that today I am 11 weeks, 3 days, with a due date for September 19 (a birthday of one of my nephews).

Today I feel more pregnant than I have so far. Rounder, or something. A little less scared. We have an appointment next week for an ultrasound and a discussion with the doctor about the results of tests and whatnot.

Oh, and they gave me a goodie bag, complete with BOOK, prenatal vitamins, and an appointment book. I haven't even finished going through the bag yet. Also, everyone was super nice. I am very happy to have switched doctors. (Peterbird says, "Yeah. Me, too. ... The whole atmosphere seems more professional.")