In God's grace He must make it so that moms forget the terrible pregnant nights and days like today so they keep having babies. Nights where you literally get maybe two hours of sleep, looking at your husband all night long, sound asleep and comfy, as you think, "What in the world were we thinking?" Days where the sweet guy who plows the tiny road you live on piles all the snow around your car so you have to tip toe around it, balancing on ice with a pregnant belly, snow past your boots, bending in the most painful positions to attempt to get all the snow and ice off your car, failing and decided you have to get on the road anyways or you'll just run out of gas right there in your parking spot. Days where you slam your middle finger in your car door for the first time ever while pumping gas, with nobody around but an old man who you just look at and silently turn to start crying, continuing the whole way to church, to quit just in time to drag yourself inside, and cry to the first friend who asks you how you are. All because of a stupid purple fingernail that is throbbing and on fire, setting off all the other emotional troubles to your morning. Sigh. Yes, days like these. I've done enough crying this morning.
Then the spiritual battle sets in, complete with anxieties, doubts, fears, and insecurities.
Yep, I can hardly see my toes anymore. That happened a whole lot quicker than I thought it would.
As you can probably tell, I'm feeling all sorts of discouraged today, but I know it doesn't just end on that note because God is big enough to handle all my emotions, even these ugly, distrusting, sinful ones. He can handle the fact that I feel so disconnected from everyone in my life these days. He meets me in that loneliness. He can handle that I feel big and pregnant and never pretty. He is what makes me beautiful. He can handle all the physical trials pregnancy puts on your body. He took more pain of the cross than I could imagine. He can handle that I have absolutely NO CLUE why I wanted children, thinking I had anything in me with the ability to raise them right for His glory. He is the perfect parent I will never, ever be. He can handle my fear of labor that arises every night when I can't even get through an hour of sleep without pain. He is the one who designed the female body in such a way to give birth to children, curse or no curse.
"Yet you are he who took me from the womb; you made me trust you at my mother's breasts. On you I was cast from my birth, and from my mother's womb you have been my God." Psalms 22:9&10
God is the one always at work. Even when I'm proud and think it's me. I'm truly going to seek rest in this today, and literally, as I sleep off these silly emotions.
This is not a pity party. This is to show that the gospel applies to all those crazy pregnant emotions. And the actual writing of this is my process of walking in that belief.