Ramona and Her Father

Today marks 39 weeks, so we're only one week away from the baby's due date!  Our weekly OB visits continue to go well, and I continue to feel fairly well considering how far along I am.  The little one still squirms around as much as she can, and her movements have been so consistent for the past week or so that I think she has settled into a single position for the duration.  I continue to frequently experience strong Braxton-Hicks contractions that I hope are getting my uterus primed for real labor!

One of the ways I have been keeping myself occupied is by re-reading the Ramona Quimby books I recently checked out from the library.  I loved these books as a child.  I must have read them all prior to fourth grade because I can remember that when Mom and Dad told us we were moving to Portland, I decided that living where Ramona lived would not be too bad.   As soon as I found out we were having a girl, I wanted to re-read these books because I had so much in common with Ramona that I figure my daughter will, too.  Ramona is just as endearingly awkward and relatable as I remembered.

The book I remember best is Ramona and Her Father.  In this one, Ramona's father loses his job, and Ramona has to learn how to deal with how his mood changes as a result of being out of work.  I think I remember this best because my dad left his job when I was in 8th grade and ended up being unemployed for much longer than he anticipated.  I can remember reflecting back on Ramona's experience when I found myself in a similar one.  I also remember that one of the things Ramona's dad did with her while he was jobless was to roll out a giant piece of paper and draw a picture on it with her.

What I did not remember is what Ramona and her dad drew.  They drew the state of Oregon, and while Ramona began with the Interstate Bridge, her dad started by drawing Mt. Hood.  When she looks at her dad's drawing, she finds that "sure enough he had drawn Mt. Hood peaked with a hump on the south side exactly the way it looked in real life on the days when the clouds lifted" (113).  My dad loved Mt. Hood.  He loved the days in the winter when the mountain was visible from West Linn.  This is exactly where my dad would have begun if he had started drawing a picture of Oregon.  So while today marks exactly 9 months since my dad passed away, and these milestones feel significant, it is during the moments like reading this paragraph that I miss my dad the most.  I am so thankful to be reminded of him, and so comforted by having so many positive memories of him, and yet I am simultaneously choked with grief at the reminder that he is gone.

The other thing that I find exceptionally difficult is coming across my dad's handwriting unexpectedly.  Dad had the most distinctive handwriting of anyone I know.  This happened to me on Monday when, exactly one year to the day from the day he left for Chile, I stumbled upon the postcard he sent to our house from the trip.

Finding the card made me acknowledge what a big difference a single year can make.  It also helped remind me that I should try harder to make the most of these last few days before the baby arrives, even though I wish she would just get here already, because as soon as she does the years are going to speed by even faster than ever.

(And I know this post will provoke the question, but the baby's name is not going to be Ramona.  I do love this name and I did propose it early in the baby naming conversations, but Billy thought we should go with a name we both liked. : ) )