34 weeks. That’s how long it’s been since I started carrying
this precious life inside of me and about 24 weeks since I realized it. It’s
amazing how fast Jonathan (long before we’d known the gender or if there was
more than one person in there) became a part of our life, our future –
everything. At one point during my pregnancy, I thought I was having a
miscarriage and I remember my world crashing down in my mind right there at
work. Turns out, praise God, that wasn’t the case, but even so early on in my
pregnancy, it was hard to imagine the life just a couple months before when it
was just Mark and me. No baby. Just the two of us. Now, I can’t imagine
anything different than the three of
us and the “life” before seems almost boring. I know there will be days when I
miss not having the responsibility of caring for a child, but overall, even
before our little man has arrived, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
But I did have a moment last night.
34 weeks into my pregnancy and I’m finding myself incredibly
uncomfortable. My ribs, though they don’t ache as badly as they used to since
Jonathan had moved downward, are sore. I haven’t slept through the night in almost
three months due to heartburn (horrible, horrible stomach acid),
every-hour-on-the-hour bathroom runs, weird dreams where I wake up completely
awake at, say, 3 am, a period of time where my allergies and asthma woke me up
gasping for air with a baby crowding my lungs…and now, nausea. Random,
no-way-out nausea. I know pregnancy is no walk in the park and like everyone
says, “When it’s over, it will all be worth it!” but that doesn’t change the
fact that I feel awful this last home stretch. (Oh, and did I mention how tired
I am all the time? No? Okay. Well I am.)
Regardless, I’m still working. I’m working at a movie
theater because it’s easy and I can sit down a lot more some other jobs while
all the films are running. Is it the best job in the world? No. Do I come home
dreaming of the day when I’m a medical assistant, what I’m going to school for?
Oh yes. But while Mark works and financially we are doing okay, it’s a little extra cash for us and
something for me to do instead of sit at home. But sometimes it’s a lot and
last night was one of those nights.
After being on my feet most of the 8 hour shift, I found
myself exhausted. All of a sudden, when I walked through the door to our house,
I was moody. My back was sore, I had to pee again
(which this far into pregnancy causes pain if I don’t do it ASAP), my knees
ached – I just felt like crap. And if any of you know my husband, he’s a sweet
guy who likes to be funny…and I just wasn’t up for it. “I want this baby out!”
I said falling onto the living-room chair. Mumbling about a few other aches and
pains, he took me up in his arms, wrapped me in a hug (which I couldn’t get
close enough to him ‘cuz of my belly, of course, which was cute) and he started
singing the lyrics to “You’re Gunna Miss This” by Trace Adkins. I’m not a
country music fan, but I sort of fell in love with Mark all over again with
this sweet moment. Swaying me slowly to calm me down with my face nuzzled into
the crease of his neck, he sang..
You're gonna miss this
You're gonna want this back
You're gonna wish these days
Hadn't gone by so fast…
When he was done, I calmed down a little bit and we headed into the kitchen so he could make his work for lunch the next day and I could eat something. Anything. But due to my crazy mood swings (which hadn’t really haunted me for a while; guess it was due) it wasn’t long before his sentimental gesture wore off me and I was back in the saddle of being a brat. We started talking about groceries aaaaand after a few “Mark” comments about things I wanted to buy I was so irritated with him and what he said (which there really was nothing wrong with it) that I finally just left and got ready for bed. He was, in my mind, being completely oblivious to my “condition” and I wasn’t going to tolerate it. (What a princess, I know. Normally, I’m not like this!) Shouldn’t he lay off the matter-of-factness for once and just pity me, his poor, very pregnant wife?!
It was a quiet half hour or so while I washed my face,
brushed my teeth, etc. with the doors locked to the bathroom just to be alone.
He sat on the side of our bed playing Words
With Friends on his iPod waiting for me to finish. I did and we quietly
switched places. Ugh, I thought
crawling into bed, Why does everything
always have to go his way? Why can’t he just listen to me and not make such a
big deal out of things for once? I said to myself whining about “woe is me”
and totally ignoring the fact that I talk SO much on a regular basis, there’s
no way humanly possible that he can stand it except for the fact that God
created him to. Ha! But anyways, feeling sorry for myself, I beached-whale-rolled
over onto my side and stared at the wall. When Mark came in…it was still
silent.
“I’m sorry,” he said. Leaning over to cradle me in his arms
again, he went on to explain how he shouldn’t have been so insensitive to how
badly I was feeling and for getting upset with me for being in such a bad mood.
I took a deep breath, apologized for being so moody and rude and… that was it.
I lost it. Wrapped up in his arms again, I just broke down. I explained to him
about how uncomfortable I felt and how foreign my body felt to me with all its
changes , how I just wanted to finally hold Jonathan in my arms, how the
thought of delivering a baby scared me, how I wish I could have spent time with
my Mom at least somewhere along this journey (my parents live out in California
so that just wasn’t going to happen) and how
sometimes, being involved with my first biological family experience of
my own…was confusing. Not to mention that fact that I felt completely
unprepared to raise a baby, finish school, etc.
As my tears saturated his shoulder and he pulled me closer,
he reminded me that we aren’t in this alone. Sure, we’ve only been married
*almost* a year and have so much still
to learn, but God has never failed us. Mark reminded me of how the Lord
bringing Jonathan into our life was a blessing and everything was going to be
okay, whatever the Lord’s will was. We have wonderful support from friends and family
and the love of the awesome God we serve – whom/what shall I fear?
I woke up later that night with the routine uncomfortable symptoms
and when I opened my eyes, I saw him fast asleep as his arm was beneath my
head. The desk lamp was still on and I could tell that he was exhausted from
such a long day before, but he had still stayed up with me a good half hour
just listen to me cry and now, he was deeply asleep, beautiful relaxed. I don’t deserve you, I thought, looking
at him peacefully out. But I don’t
deserve the love of Christ either.
My son and my husband are gifts to me from a loving God whom
I daily doubt when trying to take circumstances into my own hands. If I could
control my life, it would be nothing but chaos of trying to please myself. But
I guess that’s what I’m learning in the very beginning stages of marriage and motherhood:
I’m on this earth to serve others out of gratitude to my God, not myself.
Because of sin in the world, there are hardships and things don’t go my way.
But because of my awesome God, there’s always a way to overcome, and that way
is through Him. I’m incredibly anxious to meet my son, but like Mark always
reminds me,
“Be anxious for nothing, but in
everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be
made known to God; and the peace of God,
which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through
Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7
So, take your time, little man. I’ll
see ya’ when I see ya’. You just keep on getting’ healthy.
I love you.
