Technically I am due to have this baby tomorrow. I am SO ready in a myriad of ways, not the least of which is physically. No really, according to my doctor I've already made more progress while I'm not in labor than my poor little sister did in, like, 24 hours of labor. I can't wait to see this little one's face, and I can't wait to see how we will be as a family of four, even though that thought still scares me to no end.
But this pregnancy is also getting me down. I feel like when I am pregnant I am at my absolute worst. I envy all the women who handle pregnancy with grace and ease. I know this pregnancy has turned me into a puking, achy, whiny creature who walks around with a permanent grimace. And that thought makes me so sad.
I'm sure I romanticized pregnancy way too much before I got pregnant with my first little Pumpkin Pie. I dreamed of sailing through the first trimester with maybe a little morning sickness that would resolve itself by noon. Then I'd move about my second and third trimesters sporting an increasingly cute bump and enjoy every minute of the miracle of life growing inside me. I'd cherish every kick, poke and jab from the inside and indulge in just a few of my cravings, while being mindful of a healthy pregnancy diet.
Instead, I feel like I've spent these past nine months complaining. I've been sore and tired, and I've let my household go to pot. I feel like my life has been on hold while I cook this baby. This pregnancy has brought out the ugliest side that I hoped to never see.
I wish I had been one of those women who could handle pregnancy while keeping life going at a normal rate. My daughter has suffered the brunt of it, as I've been too tired to take her to the park or even to get down on the floor and play with her. How many times have I told her no to something, simply because I didn't have the desire to help her? She could have colored a thousand times, but the thought of helping her clean up crayons made me tell her to just read a book instead. I totally put my needs ahead of hers.
I keep saying that things will be different once I have the baby. But now I'm worried that I was just using that as an excuse. I should have been able to handle it all. Now I'm worried that I'll continue to revert to my self-centered way of structuring our days even after I'm not sharing my body with a baby.
This is not how I want to live my life. Or how I think Jesus wants me to live either.