Deliverance.

On Sunday we were all set to put up the crib. We've had it in the box for a while now, and Sunday was the agreed day to assemble the thing, since this project has been burning on my heart for weeks now.

But then I started to second guess the crib we got. It's adorable with a curved back, but suddenly I wasn't so sure I wanted a curved back. Maybe I wanted a flat back. You know, how would pictures look hung over a curved back. Wouldn't the lines be nicer if it were a flat back? I hemmed and hawed over such life-changing decisions aloud to Rory and he said he really didn't care. He was fine either way. I continued to lay out my case to him some more and then Rory grabbed the electric hedge trimmer and went in the backyard and took out three bushes. When I went out to check on him an hour later, he was breaking a sweat, digging the roots up with a shovel and had filled five yard bags with bush parts from all over the backyard.

I had a conversation with a Groves family friend, Joanne, at church on Sunday all about how crazy it is to live with raging hormones. I don't usually deal with such mood swings and extreme indecisiveness in my not-pregnant state, and so I am very aware of how crazy-short my fuse is, and how crazy-unpredictable my actions are in this last month of pregnancy.

Joanne told me there is a reason they call it labor and delivery.

Ah, yes, deliverance. That surely must be Rory's daily prayer: ...and deliver me from this crazy lady. For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory...

In the end, we still have the crib I like the best nicely boxed in the nursery. I missed my window to get the thing built on Sunday. But on the other hand, we also have a nicely manicured back yard. Give the boy one more month with me, and we may not have a single bush left back there.