1cm down 9 to go

Here's the latest: I haven't been in a very poetic mood. I still notice all the wonder in my life, I just don't have the gumption to chronicle it. I feel bad for not keeping up with writing to the vast unknown of Myspace.
I am not a scrap-booker. I wish I did a better job at updating Turner's baby book, but I don't. I do journal. I print each blog out and save it. I have a few journals and odds and ends that I have written too. One day when my kids are much older I'll give it to them. They may not have cute books that are festooned with pieces of wrapping paper and little decorations, but if they really want to find out who mom was it'll be there in black and white.
All parents (I think) have fears of leaving their kids behind. I do, but mine are of a different slant. I know Brad would raise my children and care for them the same way he does now, as the best Papa a kid could ever have. They would be happy and well taken care of. They would be loved by both of their extended families. My worry is that if something happened, how would they know how much I loved them? Would Turner say "Yeah my mom stayed at home. She was just a mom". Through what I write they can one day look back at what I felt on different days. They can read what my heart had to say about them on the days that were perfect in their simplicity. Hopefully my kids will be able to see me as a person, not just a mom.
I try to always tell those in my life they are important to me. I sing and rhyme to my son. Turner asks me to sing the Turner song. It is made up and new everyday but always says "Turner is my best friend, I love him so much..." I hope he can remember all the fun we have had together. In turn, my son sings me the Mommy song. My heart melts as he belts out "My Mommy, I love her, she's the pink Power Ranger & my best buddy..". I can't wait to have a Turner and Tate song. I have a feeling it'll be about the best boy and best girl in the world, and maybe about the Power Rangers too.
No Tate yet, I sit and wait. I hope that every contraction is the beginning of labor. Yes, I am selfish and want relief from my aching joints. I want my body back. I want to be able to breathe again. More so I want to meet my daughter. I want to see my husband meet his little girl. I want to make my son the big brother he is meant to be. Breathing again is a novel idea. Turner has kept me breathless since I first laid eyes on him. I am sure Tate will do no less.