This morning the fog kisses the ground like a soft cotton batting. As we drove over to the base, lights were all along the horizon like little white firefly jewels in the fog. So pretty. I wanted to close my eyes and sink back in the seat and let the experience wash over me. I wanted to go back to sleep.

Sleep, however, is not quite in my cards right now. The growing baby needs the room, and it seems he also requires my sleep ability. Even though I'm tired, all the time, he can't quite get comfortable. Still growing, albeit slowly, and I'm very grateful for that. The doctor report of the week is that we've passed the crisis point. This time. There will be other crisis before the end, it's a given that I won't get to what the majority of people call term, that all we're really doing now is taking it week by week and running with that. Praying a lot that the pressure stays down. That the baby keeps growing. That I will not be a mother again before Christmas.

The Boy and I talked it over and we're shooting for Christmas as a realistic goal right now. He still wants to wait until the due date. He's ready to look at reality in the out-loud voice now. I don't know whether or not that bodes well for us. No doubt everything will happen just as it should. I will continue to behave myself and wait for the next appt. And the one after that. And the one after that.