Sunday, October 6, 2013

The Struggle

It's hard for me to write right now. The nausea has improved dramatically. I am mostly not concerned about getting sick anymore. It's awesome. The overwhelming fatigue still remains. The obsession with food combined with aversion to thinking about it remains. It's strange, but thinking about what I am going to make for dinner or lunch is often more disgusting and nauseating to me than actually making or eating it. Cooking is still hard. But shopping is harder.
Headaches are becoming a frequent occurrence.
But mostly, I am just barely putting one foot in front of the other, and that's why it's hard to write right now. Because when I am not actively giving the boys some attention, or struggling to make or clean up meal after meal, or putting away the laundry, I don't feel like I can sit up. I have to lay down. It's very strange, and I'm glad first trimester is almost over. I remember some older lady at church remarking to me when I had to sit down during first trimester: "oh, honey, you are going to be in trouble if you already have to sit down!" I don't even remember who it was, but I still don't like her. It was my first pregnancy, and it totally scared me.
But now I know better. First trimester just stinks. And there's nothing wrong with sitting down a lot through it.
This is the extent of our fall decorations, but it's enough for me. The boys mainly throw the squashes all over the house, but the apple cider candle smells sooo good and fallish. And we're enjoying our fall library books, even as we shutter the house and try not to overheat from Florida October.
The evenings are the only time when it doesn't all feel like a colossal joke. The Dude and Cozy and I take our walks without even breaking a sweat, and the clouds swirl around in a perfectly Halloweenish way.
Zoo mornings are shady and pleasant, and we pretend that we're on vacation.
Sailing boats.
Eating pretzels.
And checking out the very friendly (and hungry) wildlife.
Other than the weekly trip to the zoo, I'm not really doing anything well right now, and it's very humbling.
Pregnancy is always so terrifying because you start to wonder how you are possibly going to take care of another baby when you can barely keep things from falling apart as it is.
And then you remember that you won't be pregnant anymore.
Sometimes I really want another boy. I see the way the boys play together, how they complement each others' personalities, and how they are so alike but so different that they bring out different aspects of each others' character. I know some of those things would be the same with a girl, but there is something so nice about same sex siblings.
I know with 3 one of them is going to feel left out sometimes. But the truth is, there is always somebody who's going to be weird. And then at least they'd have another brother to go play with until it's over and the other one starts being weird.
We're all pretty weird.
Then sometimes I really want it to be a girl this time. I wonder if I can handle one more muddy ball of energy. I think that I would like to have someone to commiserate with.
JT says he's just glad we can't choose, and I have to agree. The child we get is going to be the one that is perfectly planned for our family. To be a part of shaping all of us into exactly who we are supposed to be.
That's exciting.
In the meantime, I'm trying not to get discouraged. There is something so numbing about the 1st trimester of pregnancy for me. I lose some of my sensations, perhaps in a protective sort of way. I go through a lot of motions in a fog, and my relationship with God always feels a little less dynamic.
I struggle through the day, to do one thing that really feels like it matters. To not just feel like I'm getting by.
I've been working a little less lately due to our parents' going on vacation, and it has been nice.
On Thursday evening, JT took the boys so that I could go and visit one of my clients for my 2nd job.
I found him sitting on the porch drinking coffee after dinner, and he greeted me like a long lost friend. When I left to visit him, I felt tired and like it was just one more thing to do. When I left his presence, I felt refreshed, and like I had just done something I really wanted to do, but hadn't even known it.

As I was walking away, he took my hand and said "God bless you, wherever you go."
I thought about that all the way home. I thought about him, and I prayed for him, and I thought about how life felt a little more in perspective.
But it wasn't until the middle of the night, out of the blue, when I heard those words again, and I heard God say: "that was for you."
For me?
And I cried. Because I realized that right now, I don't feel very loveable. I don't feel productive or worthy or beautiful at all right now. And God said: "I see you, and I see how you're struggling. And it's ok. I love you."

A few days ago, Aquaman brought some school work done with mostly red marks on it. He's so intelligent and as I looked over the paper, I realized that he knew all of the answers. But, as I have heard reported from his teacher and even himself, he rushes through his work so that he can go play.
I didn't feel frustrated at all when I saw that paper though. All I felt was love. For the boy who is the youngest child in the whole school, who is trying so hard to do what he is supposed to do, but occasionally tears up a little when he talks about how hard it can be to sit down and do his work.
That's how God's loving me right now, I can feel it.
I put that homework up on the refrigerator, because I don't care if Aquaman gets all the answers right. I don't care if he gets all the answers right, or even any of them.
All I look at when I see that paper is: my boy. That's my boy.
He's struggling a little bit with all these new responsibilities and with his new role in life, and I love him in the struggle.
And if I, an imperfectly human parent can extend grace and love to my son through his struggles, how much more will God do so for me?

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