Is it December 11th already? Christmas is swiftly approaching, our bundle of joy is on its way into this world, but, sadly, my cognitive ability is on its way out. I found out this week why many pregnant women tend to "nest" or to prepare their homes for the anticipated newborn. It's because anything requiring more thought than typical housework would simply flop. Sure, I'm loving the process of building my own business and seeking out more ways to get my message out there (more on that later), but there are days I can barely remember my own name - much less the contents of a 6-hour seminar for business professionals. 

I had one such seminar in Yorkshire this past Tuesday, and I must confess I wasn't quite "on my game." I do believe I gave them the information they expected and desired, but it was the delivery that I'm afraid might have suffered due to what our UK friends like to call "mumnesia." I guess the Americans would call it "momnesia"? In case you're wondering, the Brits say mum with a "u" instead of mom with an "o."

Anyhow, I thoroughly enjoyed the interacting with the group of Administrative Professionals on Tuesday, and I received some encouraging feedback. However, there was more than one occasion where I'm certain I went on a mini mental holiday for several seconds before realizing where I was and what I was supposed to say next. This kind of mental block hasn't really happened to me since the first formal presentation I gave back in 2003. The one where I blacked out because I was so nervous. The one where a room full of Rotary Club members believed I might have a stroke there in their lunch meeting. The one where my mom sat there laughing at me because she couldn't believe I was actually blacking out in front of all these professionals.

This Tuesday, I'm not sure where those few mental holidays took me (the Caribbean sounds nice), but I am convinced that it might be best for me to refrain from operating heavy machinery or performing brain surgery for the duration of this pregnancy...make that the duration of parenthood.

Shifting gears, I'd like to pose a few questions to our readers:

1) What is the dumbest thing you've ever done on accident? Extra points if they're "mumnesia" stories. Even more extra points if you forgot something important...like where you left your kids.

We have an appointment next Tuesday for our 22-week ultrasound. You know what that means? Time to quite calling the baby "it." So, my next question is:

2) Do you think we'll have a boy or girl?

I think girl. Brian thinks boy. I want to know what YOU think!

I can't wait any longer. I'm all out of patience. I have no choice but to give into my urges and pull out the Christmas decorations. To be perfectly honest, I'm a full two weeks behind last year's schedule thanks to our wonderful vacation. I usually give in and bring out the decorations a few days after Halloween.

Now, I know it's the "American way" to wait until one giant food-filled occasion has passed to even think about moving on to the next one, but Christmas is different for me lately. There's a new "Morgan way" we need to discuss. First of all, there is no such thing as Thanksgiving in the UK (although, some people do celebrate the harvest in their own way). Brian and I hope to do like we did last year and have our own Thanksgiving celebration with our British neighbors. However, one side of the living/dining room will have harvest decorations, and the other side will have Christmas decorations. So, rest assured, I will still get to use my pumpkin-shaped dishes.

Second, there's just something about our journey through Bethlehem, Nazareth, and the rest of the Promised Land that makes me want to celebrate Christmas differently this year. 

Allow me to explain:

For those of you who have been to Israel and seen the places where Jesus lived out his ministry, you might feel the same as I did when we first arrived. I couldn't believe how kitsch and tacky it all felt. It seemed as though someone found or designated (i.e. made up) "the spot" they believed had some significance in the life of Jesus, they built a massive church (or three), hung millions of oil lamps and paintings of Mary, and camped outside of it to sell cheap souvenirs probably made in China. Honestly, it was a bit disturbing. If one more person asked me if I wanted a wooden baby Jesus or Mary figurine, I was going to scream! Perhaps that is why I found it very difficult to buy any souvenirs from the Holy Land. Admittedly, we did purchase a few items for family and friends, but very few.

The Stone of the AnointingAs I think back on our tours through some of the churches erected in Israel, I can't help but wonder if Jesus' words to Peter, "I will build my church," are lost on most of the individuals who visit those sites. (Notice Jesus didn't say, "I will build lots of churches.") One church that sticks out in my mind is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, located in the Old City of Jerusalem. It is believed to contain within its walls the places where Jesus was crucified and buried. Within that church is a large stone (called The Stone of the Anointing) that is said to be the place where Jesus' body was laid in preparation for burial. Although we will never know the exact details and locations, there are thousands and possibly millions who travel to this church each year to "bless" their physical objects on this stone and in other places around the church. We could hardly even approach the stone for people shoving and pushing toward it to bless their bags of souvenirs. (Click here to see a better picture of the stone.)

It was disheartening to see how these places had become shrines complete with relics, idol worship and superstitious rituals rather than sites of silent prayer and remembrance. I desperately wanted to clear away the altars, the gold and silver trinkets, the candles, the paintings, and the oil lamps and to see the earth and stone beneath it all. Next to one of the altars, I caught a brief glimpse of some stones that are believed (there's that phrase again) to mark the site of the crucifixion. Next to that rock was an altar that housed something I was unable to see. There was a man standing there who shielded it with his robe and refused to allow the women in the church to see it. Although I can venture a guess, I am uncertain of his motivations behind this behavior. But regardless of his actions or my own beliefs, I chose not to press the issue or his patience (which was obviously wearing thin).

Instead, I chose to take away from Israel what I suppose I should have expected all along: 1) lots of crowd-filled pictures of places and things I will soon fail to recognize and 2) a deeper gratitude for Jesus' miraculous birth, his perfect life and his sacrificial death.

This Christmas, I still plan to decorate our home in my usual way, and I still plan to give into the urge to shop (and shop and shop) for Christmas gifts. I've already given into the urge to listen to hours and hours of the same Christmas songs I listen to every year, so that hasn't changed. I suppose what has changed for me is a greater love and affection for the person of Jesus and a deeper desire to know him better. My prayer for my family (and for all of you as well) is that this Christmas season will draw you closer to the One who redeems us rather than the stuff that distracts us. That's the new "Morgan way."

How could I ever doubt the presence of God when I have seen this little miracle growing inside of me? How can I articulate the thrill of hearing that little heartbeat for the first time? How can I get my husband to stop messing with all the sterilized instruments in the doctor's office before I have to slap him? These were just a few of the thoughts that went through my mind yesterday at my first OB appointment. 

When I originally scheduled my 6-9 week appointment for next week, I wasn't thinking that my dear friends Amy and Donna are coming to visit! So, I moved my appointment to yesterday (Wednesday). Of course, the only time they had available was 8 a.m. - not really a "happy" time for me these days. But none of that mattered knowing we would see our baby for the first time!

After the nurse practitioner (who is a Major in the Air Force) had asked and answered lots of questions, we made our way to the ultrasound room. As soon as she properly positioned the machine, I knew immediately what I saw. I looked at that little peanut and exclaimed, "That's the head!" I couldn't believe how clearly we could see it. In fact, it wasn't that long ago that I looked at friends' ultrasound photos at 20 weeks and couldn't distinguish one black and white blob from another one. The technology available to us now is absolutely incredible. Not only could we see the shape of it's little body (approximately 3/4" in length), but we could see a precious little heart that was beating for all it was worth. The nurse recorded 170 beats per minute. No wonder I'm so out of breath!

I believe that was the first moment I allowed myself to believe that this is really happening and that I hadn't just imagined it all. There is a human being that is 100% dependent on me already. Every decision I make - whether to travel, eat, sleep, exercise, etc. - is preempted by the thought, "Is this the best thing for our child?" What an absolutely thrilling and terrifying feeling.

As for Brian's part, he's managed the extra responsibilities well. I don't think he fully understands why I can't even go into the kitchen without dry heaving or why I wake up every day more exhausted than when I went to bed, but he's more than willing to help out. I am trying my best not to overwork him now, because I know I'm going to need him desperately when I can no longer see my feet. 

And speaking of enormous bellies, I did ask the nurse if it was normal to eat about 8 to 10 meals a day. I usually eat something substantial (like a sandwich or soup and a piece of fruit) and feel absolutely starving one hour later. I'm watching that scale creep up pretty quickly, and it's making me wonder. If this is how almost 9 weeks feels, how is 40 is going to feel? She assured me it was my body's way of forcing me to store up some extra fat to help the baby grow. So, now I feel completely justified eating enough in one day to satisfy four grown men. As a side note, it seems a bit ironic now that we live in a barn...a barn that housed cows, as a matter of fact. First person to call me a heifer gets a swift slap on the head.

Anyhow, after such an exciting appointment, we both wanted to travel to RAF Feltwell (just north of RAF Mildenhall and RAF Lakenheath). This base houses the local military veterinary clinic as well as a small furniture store. We walked straight to the baby section of the store to check out prices on cribs, strollers, car seats, high chairs, playpens, toys - I never really stopped to think about how much gear a baby requires! There was an interesting toy that caught my eye.

They advertise it as an "activity station" rather than by its street name, "vibrating, noise-making plastic device that shuts your baby up for a few hours." Yes, activity station sounds much nicer. I was actually admiring the cute little children on the front of the box when I thought that perhaps one of them looked like our niece Reagan. I looked a few seconds longer and said, "That IS Reagan!"

I think we may have to buy that activity station just to show off the box to all our friends!

So, that's the latest in the development of our Mini-Morgan or "Peanut." Or as Gerald likes to call it, G-baby. Or as Pam likes to call it, "MY Grandbaby." This poor kid is going to be so confused.

In the mean time, Brian and I aren't sitting around twiddling our thumbs waiting for this baby to arrive. I believe the reality of our new family dynamic has motivated us to make the most of our amazing location. So, stay tuned for more on our upcoming trip to the Czech Republic next week and a Mediterranean Cruise in October (including stops in Italy, Greece, Turkey, Israel, and Egypt). April will be here before we know it!

PS - We'll keep all pregnancy photos in "The Peanut Gallery"