Finally!

At long last I get around to putting the ultrasound pictures. We're so glad that our son seems to be healthy and well. He certainly is an active boy, with an apparent enthusiasm (and corresponding lack of talent) for dancing, particularly (but not limited to) between 2 and 4 in the morning. This dancing of course stops as I want to have Steve feel the baby's movements. A very stubborn boy, our Stuart.

Early this morning while the baby danced himself silly, I laid awake thinking big, ponderous thoughts. Well, honestly, most of my thoughts were of how much I wanted to be sleeping, but I did have some good thoughts. And the thing that strikes me about the middle of the night is how it's a perfect time for prayer. There are none of the distractions (well, besides rhythm-impaired infants) that exist during the day. No chores to be done, no blogs to be checked (it's been 2 minutes - there might be something new!), no errands to run, no calls to be made, no barking and dissenting dogs to discipline, no pretty, sparkly, brightly colored objects to be distracted by. It's 2 in the morning, it's dark, the bed is comfy and therefore a better alternative to being up, and things are generally pretty peaceful.

I won't say all that I prayed for, except to say that there were very fervent thanks to God for the man who invented Tums (I'm very grateful to this man, whomever he might be). I will say that I am very grateful to God for all His blessings in my life, including unborn white boys who can't dance. :-)