A Chicken Little Morning

So, past, present and future mommies-to-be...ever had a "chicken little"morning? Oh you know what I'm preaching...but just in case, let me paint the scene. 


POINT ONE: Dave works 3-11pm right now. I work 8a-5pm. We. do. not. see. each. other. awake. (Save my many middle of the night jaunts to the facilities, every. two. hours. but that's a completely different story...) 


POINT TWO: On Monday, the belly officially "popped," so I am looking quite dapper in my maternity clothes. Though, I'm CONVINCED at any moment my belly button will explode out my front and the baby, as well all my innards, will come flying out in one beautiful blaze of glory. Thankfully, my present mommy friends tell me that indeed, I will just stretch. Ever tried to read Hebrew or Greek? yeah, see that whole stretching concept ranks right up there in the "huh?!" category. 


I digress... 


POINT THREE: I stepped on the scale, as I am habit to do every morning while the shower is pulling hot water from the center of the earth (that's how long it feels like it's taking anyway, am I right?!), and for the first time in this new season called pregnancy, that blessed little black number was seriously on the rise. 


So, where do I immediately find myself -- you guessed it, friends! -- right back in the bed with that man who loves me in all my invisible (point one), uncertain (point two) and growing (point three) insanity.  And like the amazing man he is, he wrapped his arms around me, told me how beautiful I was, kissed my big ol pregnant belly and let me cry until I was all done. 


And then...he made me pancakes... 


So, while the day started off feeling a bit like the sky is falling, my knight arrived in his armor again to rescue me from the silliest (and often deadliest) of foes...myself.  


Here's to all the great men out there. You help us wives take our eyes off the falling sky and put them on the things we love.