Another early morning--way, way too early. I lay in bed, intently pleaded with the universe: Please, please just some sleep. Of course, being a tired mama is never easy, not for no one. The real problem, though, is that I am distressed, to say the least, about the current state of my affairs.
Confession: I dislike being pregnant. Every second of it. Everything about it is difficult for me. I hate being so unwieldy, not being able to do the things for my kids that we want to do together. I hate my insides being rearranged and pounded on. I hate the scornful looks. It isn't a question of "worth it": all love requires sacrifice. Sometimes the sacrifice comes before the love, and that's okay, too. My body's really jacked up, though, with all these little 'uns coming so close on each other's heals. Definitely Not My Plan!
This pregnancy has been challenging in every possible way. Before I even realized this baby was on the way, my hips were giving out and my migraines had intensified. And, having planned on another three-year break, the very fact of this happening was difficult to swallow: Having to field tsunami waves of excitement when I was crying myself to sleep every night. Knowing that my body really, objectively, had not healed enough after delivering my daughter a scant nine months earlier. Still reeling from a really hard painful year. Facing some bleak personal struggles. Just not good timing.
We're nearly 37 weeks along now. It's gotten better in some ways, although my body still protests loudly on a daily basis. Another crisis has surfaced: this baby is breech, and not budging. I would have little qualm in delivering a "normal" breech baby the normal way: I have very fast labors, and there is only about a .1% increased chance of cord prolapse. This baby isn't normal breech, though, but footling breech. And posterior. which ARE problems, big ones. A hospital birth with a likely c-section is absolutely my worst nightmare (other than losing the baby of course, obviously). It terrifies me, horrifies me, makes me sick to my stomach. After trying a host of other remedies, I have an external version scheduled--the doctor thinks there is a good chance he can turn the baby. We'll see how that goes.
But this isn't a pointless bitch session, I promise. There is a purpose to me regaling you in a very long-winded manner how hard these last few months have been.
On the Blessed Is She IG this morning is this:
Pregnancy can be very isolating. No one else can feel what your body is going through, and even the most empathetic cannot really understand the terror of a hitch in the natural process of things. It is one of those times when we realize how very fragile we are: I would be far far more of a wreck if I were trying to do this alone, and I am so dependent on my husband and friends right now. And I'm not even in this alone. There is another tiny little person very much dependent on what happens these next few weeks, as well.
Which means: having these beliefs, these ideals, these convictions, they don't make the road any easier. Just because I believe that all life has the right to exist does not mean that it suddenly is easy for me. It means that this hardship has a reason. That each human person conceived has worth and value that I need to respect, even when it doesn't come about by my own planning or desire. It's what it means to "walk the walk", and sometimes it just plain sucks.
So how does one view such a thing as a "beautiful adventure?" I have no magic words or formulas. This is really hard for me. Every minute is hard. It is hard for me to accept that my "choice" and "free will" lie mostly in my responses--oh how infuriated I would get at my mum for that constant refrain! Because we--I know I am not alone in this--we want to rail against things beyond our control, to somehow pretend that we can be in charge of fate. This desire to control control Control All the Things! causes so much grief, because we will be throwing ourselves against the iron bars of reality, damaging ourselves sometimes greatly, and to no purpose. Some things, many things, we cannot change through our own beating of the air.
The alternative, then? Once again to bow our heads and say "Yes, Lord. Not my will, but Thine." which doesn't, in fact, mean that things will get better or easier or go our way, not at all. What it means is that in the core of our beings, in our heart of hearts, we will know peace. His peace, that passes all understanding--because accepting His will is the beginning of wisdom.
We're nearly 37 weeks along now. It's gotten better in some ways, although my body still protests loudly on a daily basis. Another crisis has surfaced: this baby is breech, and not budging. I would have little qualm in delivering a "normal" breech baby the normal way: I have very fast labors, and there is only about a .1% increased chance of cord prolapse. This baby isn't normal breech, though, but footling breech. And posterior. which ARE problems, big ones. A hospital birth with a likely c-section is absolutely my worst nightmare (other than losing the baby of course, obviously). It terrifies me, horrifies me, makes me sick to my stomach. After trying a host of other remedies, I have an external version scheduled--the doctor thinks there is a good chance he can turn the baby. We'll see how that goes.
But this isn't a pointless bitch session, I promise. There is a purpose to me regaling you in a very long-winded manner how hard these last few months have been.
On the Blessed Is She IG this morning is this:
Pregnancy can be very isolating. No one else can feel what your body is going through, and even the most empathetic cannot really understand the terror of a hitch in the natural process of things. It is one of those times when we realize how very fragile we are: I would be far far more of a wreck if I were trying to do this alone, and I am so dependent on my husband and friends right now. And I'm not even in this alone. There is another tiny little person very much dependent on what happens these next few weeks, as well.
Which means: having these beliefs, these ideals, these convictions, they don't make the road any easier. Just because I believe that all life has the right to exist does not mean that it suddenly is easy for me. It means that this hardship has a reason. That each human person conceived has worth and value that I need to respect, even when it doesn't come about by my own planning or desire. It's what it means to "walk the walk", and sometimes it just plain sucks.
So how does one view such a thing as a "beautiful adventure?" I have no magic words or formulas. This is really hard for me. Every minute is hard. It is hard for me to accept that my "choice" and "free will" lie mostly in my responses--oh how infuriated I would get at my mum for that constant refrain! Because we--I know I am not alone in this--we want to rail against things beyond our control, to somehow pretend that we can be in charge of fate. This desire to control control Control All the Things! causes so much grief, because we will be throwing ourselves against the iron bars of reality, damaging ourselves sometimes greatly, and to no purpose. Some things, many things, we cannot change through our own beating of the air.
The alternative, then? Once again to bow our heads and say "Yes, Lord. Not my will, but Thine." which doesn't, in fact, mean that things will get better or easier or go our way, not at all. What it means is that in the core of our beings, in our heart of hearts, we will know peace. His peace, that passes all understanding--because accepting His will is the beginning of wisdom.
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