Me? I finished work and then began to run frantically around the house like a chicken with my head cut off wondering what to do first.
I ran around throwing legos on to the table to prepare to vacuum and wiped down the kitchen counters, and put school papers away, and made the beds, and wiped up the worst of the crumbs and made lunches for tomorrow. I spent more time than I wanted to hunting batteries for the Roku remote so I could listen to Pandora on TV. I gave up.
What do I need to do? I need to put away laundry, the story of my life. But at least that's hidden away in closets. Which need to be gone through because I know there's a bunch of junk in there that I don't need. I need to clean out the refrigerator because....wow...it's been a while. I need to vacuum. Probably clean the bathrooms again. Need to run to the store for a contribution for the barbecue we are attending tonight.
I need a long quiet walk on the beach.
How I am emerging from the fog of 1st trimester, and finding my energy back, finding that I can take delicious gulps of water without being overcome by the urge to vomit again. Finding that some days I can think about food and actually cook it again.
Still having moments of debilitating nausea, hanging over the trash can wishing for the sweet release of....well...you know. Sometimes finding that release and hating it.
But it's almost over. I am starting to feel again something besides the robotic getting-through-the-moment that these past few months have been. I don't enjoy the 1st trimester. I still feel annoyed at the middle aged woman that looked down her nose on me once in church for sitting down while we were singing during my 1st pregnancy, 1st trimester, and said if I had to sit now, pregnancy was going to be very difficult for me.
Give me the 3rd trimester over the 1st any day. I hate it. But it's almost over forever and I feel a surge of home in that declaration.
I had blood work a couple weeks ago. This bloodwork was meant to tell me if my baby had risk for any genetic disorders and it was negative.
The nurse dragged it out on the phone, seeming to enjoy the suspense. I was crying before I even hung up the phone. I still remember the shaky feeling I had 2 days later when the results popped up on my Quest app on my phone and seeing them really seeing them and knowing it was real: No Y chromosome detected, indicating a female fetus.
But I was shocked by how happy I was to find out this news. I get to experience a whole other side of parenting now. A new learning curve. I am not as afraid as I thought I would be. By the 4th child you just don't have the time and energy to be afraid anymore. God has officially given me more than I can handle already, thank you. He will continue to give me the grace to parent my beautiful daughter.
I am thrilled that my boys will have the benefit of growing up with a little sister who has different needs than they do. Now all the female exposure pressure will not be limited to me.
I am especially thrilled about the opportunity to see JT with a little girl. As much as I have loved boys, I have often thought it would be too bad for JT not to have a girl because he is the dad that every little girl needs. She will be wrapped around his finger just like his boys are.
He is the only reason for any of this, and the only answer, and the only meaning. Otherwise it is all just striving, all just "chasing after the wind".
But not me. I crave it. Not like a pregnant woman craves chocolate because actually this pregnancy I hate chocolate. I much prefer olives and pickles. But I digress.
And try to save some money for the new AC they said we're going to need next summer.
But for now I am remembering my calling. Today I saw a client who is dying. He sleeps most of the time, he opens his eyes briefly. I stopped and put my hands on him and said a prayer for him. I talked to him and he heard me, and I could tell he was glad to have me there. I wasn't there long enough. It never feels long enough. But on the way I heard the song by Leland that I remember being my inspiration to go to work years ago: "I'll follow You into the homes of the broken. I'll follow You into the world. I'll meet the needs of the poor and the needy, God. I'll follow You into the world."
I have always struggled and always will struggle with not feeling enough as a mother, especially of 4, because I have been called to work. I also struggle with the fact that I get paid to work, so somehow that makes my job less important. Which is probably the opposite of most moms' struggles.
But today I remembered that every moment of my life can be a ministry. That every moment of my life can be an act of worship, even when it feels almost frantic, even when it never feels like enough.
His teacher has also been giving me many harried looks at the end of the day and reporting that he has been "disturbing the class" because he basically never shuts up. He is best friends with pretty much every girl in his class. Every time I go to drop him off, I feel like I am dropping off a celebrity in the parking lot. But I am not exactly sure how I am supposed to get him to shut up when I am not even there, so this is a new one for me.
He chews his shirts at school. At first that used to bother me until I realized that last year he would never have felt comfortable enough to chew and drool all over his shirts at school and that is part of why he always had so much pent up anxiety and stress when he walked out of the door.
His teacher could care less if he chews his shirts, and neither could I.