Good Morning

It was a combination of a dream, uncomfortable boobs, and Hazel merrily munching away at flowers that woke me up.

In the dream, Pete and I were going up in the Space Shuttle in the morning. I was exhilarated and terrified. I wanted to go, and I did not want to go. I was concerned about safety; I was worried about not being able to see Pete's face or hold his hand during the launch. It was a scary prospect. The best thing was for me to wake up.

When I did, I heard the gentle slurping of a cat eating something, and I remembered that we had fresh flowers on the dresser. They came from "All of Massachusetts" for us and for Finn, and what that translates into for two of the cats is "dinner." I got Hazel down off the dresser, and then tried to settle back into sleep. It did not take me long to realize that she would just get back up there once I drifted off, and that I was not going to drift off with these hot, hurty, hard melons strapped to my chest.

Might as well pump.

(Isn't that a Van Halen song? Ah, the 80's. That reminds me: have to see if I can get my money back from that 20 year class reunion I won't be attending on June 21.)
I find that dream to be very funny for its subconscious revelations. I am fascinated by the space program. I especially love the tales from the Gemini and Apollo missions, but I'll watch a Martian rover scuttle across an alien surface or track a Shuttle launch any day. At the same time, I don't care for flying, and the prospect of going up in the Space Shuttle would probably render me almost catatonic with fear... mixed with excitement.

Hmmm.... what event that is two parts excitement and two parts fear could that possibly reference? (insert game show timer music here).

I can't believe people actually get paid to figure this sort of thing out for other people. When Pete came to bed, he brought me the news that Finn is not only doing very well but that tomorrow, we could probably start "Kangaroo Care" (thank goodness that "C" is not a "K") or "Skin-to-skin" care which translates into: we can hold our baby. They want you to hold him against your skin for about an hour at a time to help them grow and help us adjust, I would imagine. It will also be good for my milk production.

The prospect of this is terrifying and joyful, and it makes me nervous.

It's time to get back to sleep. I might not have a baby in the house, but I still get up in the middle of the night to feed him. The outcomes are just delayed a bit.

The pump and its parts, the basin, the bottles for freezing, the knitting. I can't use my hands while I do this. The knitting is just there. I need to make him leetle things now.

Ready to be measured:

The log:

Ready to be frozen. That's about 85 mls. It will take him days and days to finish a shot that big.