the land of prego {not the pasta sauce}

Pregnancy is the most miraculously uncomfortable - supernaturally awkward experience that I am yet to know.  It seems science-fiction and illogically bizarre whenever I ponder it for more than a couple minutes. How the?  

Unfortunately it often seems easier to whine about the aches, pains & fatigue than it is to pause in awe of what my body is doing - of what God is weaving - inside of me without any conscious effort on my part. 

Lil' man-child baby looks like a baby now.  He has ears that hear, eyelids that squint open and close, and apparently he is already making little breathing movements, inhaling and exhaling small amounts of amniotic fluid.  Baby is about two pounds and objectively the size of a scallion (from head to toe) -- whatever that means.   He's alive and he and his little body is amazing....

I am twenty-seven weeks prego now.  On the brink of my third trimester.  I don't know how I'm going to possibly stretch any larger, for my abdomen already seems beyond full capacity. My belly is swelling and occasionally twitches with baby's sporadic yoga and ninja movements.  I had imagined that I would feel baby move more than I do - but just when I think he's fallen asleep forever, he'll squirm just enough to lend some reassurance. 

Pregnancy is hard physically and emotionally. 

I remember when I was younger and I would read novels and my heart would always thrill when any female character would become pregnant. I have dreamed of this experience for a long time, I cried out to Jesus for this experience with ardent longing...

And now - my back aches. I wake up all too often at night to pee. Sometimes leg cramps will startle me awake and I have to haphazardly fall out of bed to stretch out my angry calf.  My appetite has spiked - and doughnuts and ice cream always sound better than vegetable- anything. I want to sleep a lot {but that may also have something to do with the five hours of daylight we are experiencing in Alaska right now} - and I always feel gross and groggy when I give-in to an extended nap time.  Pulling on my boots is becoming more of a chore. Sometimes it feels like my hips are both dislocated - or like there are knives stabbed into the joints. I'd pay money to be able to lay flat on my back comfortably for fifteen minutes.  I come home beat after work. I feel bloated and obtuse.

Then there is the emotional strain ...  I freak out a lot. I still can't believe we're pregnant. I still can't believe that there is gonna be a child - a child of us {that might actually look like or act like me or my hubby}- in our life every day from now until death. This little person will look to us for help, be dependent on us for the next couple decades (or more?). I don't feel even close to ready. How can anyone be ready for such immense responsibility?  I grapple, I sit and think... and haven't come close to accepting my womb-dweller yet...

I get excited about cute baby clothes,  playing childhood games, about watching Tim teach this boy to fish, about bedtime stories, crayons, kites, mudpies - about rediscovering this world again through the eye's of a child... but I'm terrified for my lack of control in this adventure. 

Only God know which genes this baby has been dealt. I have no control in this child's mental capacity, physique, or whether or not he will be accepting of God's grace.   I know that he will have poopy diapers, that he will get sick, that he will scrape his knees, that he will get hungry, that he will be rebellious in nature. What if I have an ugly lad that is rejected socially for his disfigurement? What if my boy looks beautiful, but is arrogant and rude? What if he is inclined to violence and cruelty? What if he is allured by the sexual perversion of this culture? The what- ifs dizzy my mind.  Just last night I had a dream that the baby was born with grossly enlarged ears and a disproportionately grandiose nose....

And then there is the grief of our sacrifice, of all we are loosing even in our tremendous gain. Our identity as individuals and as a couple is about to be forever changed. Our freedom is about to set sail, for never again will we be able to do anything without considering this child. A spontaneous choice or event ain't gonna be so easy... I'm sure I've cried for hours about this impending shift. I see on Facebook as dozens of friends seem to thrive in the new motherhood realm....and I swallow fear and even shame that I'm not always very excited about all that is unfolding within me.

And then I breathe.  And worry about how he is going to come out of me. Whether or not I will have the strength - or if I will prove to be a weaker woman that I've hoped I am...  I worry about needing a C-section or an episiotomy - and the healing that would be involved. I worry about childcare and needing to return to work. I worry about the incompatibility of my job and breast-pumping.  I worry about everything... Then I breathe again - and give up.  

Tithes and offerings were discussed this last Sunday in church. Beyond the ten-percent notion for our budget, what of our offerings...? And the question was posed -  What of yourself are you withholding, are you not offering unto the Lord? What are you hoarding from the One who can take anxiety, any burden, and in exchange, lend peace?

It took a few days... then I realized in my frustrated tears, as I whimpered at the dinner table about this child that is already taking over "my life" that I may be yet to surrender my child and my role in this child's life...to Jesus?   Maybe because baby isn't quite here in the tangible sense - and yet he already is...

Pregnancy is the most glorious, wonderfully creative thing I have ever been part of... the most humbling and holy event I have ever been invited to partake in... and it is a call to sacrifice and surrender in a entirely new and demanding way....Lord, help. me