Figuratively Speaking

Last Friday, the American Red Cross was having a blood drive at our church, as they do several times each year. While I always noted the dates, they came and went without any action on my part and not because I didn't want to donate, but because I couldn't. I never weighed enough. But now I do. I finally meet the minimum weight requirement of 110 lbs. as just me and not pregnant.

So for the first time, with Jeffrey tagging along, I stopped in to donate blood. I have donated for bone marrow and have yet to get that phone call requesting my marrow to save somebody's life, but in the meantime, the need for blood was critical. And so I went. I reviewed all the prerequisites and met them. I got to the interview part and passed. Then the nurse pricked my finger to check my iron level. I failed. The minimum requirement for a woman is .38% and mine came back as .33%. So I was rejected and turned away. And all this time I thought it was my kids that were wearing me out and making me tired all the time. It figures.

This morning, Jeffrey announced to me that his legs didn't work as he hobbled and crippled his way into the kitchen with obvious pain punctuating every step. No previous injuries could I recall that would result in his demise. No obvious lacerations, swelling or bruising could be seen. I was bewildered as to why, out of the clear blue, he would suddenly suffer from an injury that would have him favoring his right leg.

Panic, I did not. I watched and waited. I tried to catch him off guard, sure it was all a ruse. But he stuck to his story, insisting I carry him here and there and everywhere. I gave the observation time a maximum of 3 hours before I would consult a doctor if there was no change. But finally, he walked and gradually, the limping subsided. By late morning, it was as if we never had the conversation that his legs didn't work. And we had it several times. Go figure.

My twin sister, who is mom to 7 children, five of whom are boys, was hopeful that her ultrasound on Saturday would reveal the sex of the baby she's carrying, and that it would be a girl. I had a hunch it was even before I got the news. A third girl will join them in late October. Four boys for me. Five boys and three girls for her. I only yearned for one. She gets three*. It figures.

But I am thrilled nonetheless. I only have half as many kids as she does, unless you count their individual energy levels. Figuratively speaking.

*UPDATE: A second ultrasound revealed what the first didn't -- baby boy parts! No go, girl.