Monday, July 26, 2010


Any one who follows me on Facebook, knows very well how cranky I have been the last two weeks. Not that it wasn't warranted. I am 8 months pregnant in the middle of an Oklahoma summer. And a REALLY hot one at that. But then again, we say that every summer. Two weeks ago, while in the city (hehe, that makes me sound like a country girl. Wait. I am.), I started to go into labor. My dear husband decided to not listen to my suggestions, and just drive the 10 minutes to my doctor's office to get advice. After seeing him all out sprint into the offices and back, I was beginning to think this was more than just a few uncomfortable cramps. Long story short, we spent the next seven hours in the hospital doing what it takes to stop the labor of a 32 week pregnant woman who in all her seven previous pregnancies has only gone into labor on her own once. Let me tell you, it was worse than anything I've physically gone through before. I then spent the next week battling a horrific headache, and debilitating fevers. All without my doctor's advice, as he left for a much needed vacation the day I went to the hospital. I was told to take it easy, and everything would be fine. Well, the doctor is back in town, and has declared me sidelined. It seems that if I get up and do ANY type of work, no matter how easy or menial, within 12 hours I start contracting. And the meds to stop it are just plain awful.

So, what's the problem you ask. What Mom doesn't dream of reclining on the couch, sweet tea in one hand, and fruit in the other, and all the members of her household at her beck and call. No thoughts to what's for dinner, smooth, creamy hands do to the lack of dish washing. No laundry, no cleaning a tub, no running after every little thing the children do. You don't even have to answer the phone because you don't have to get up. Admit it. We've all had that dream. It was really nice for a two days. Then the walls began to cave in, and I began to get frustrated. So for two weeks I've been complaining about all that I can't do, the sitting around, the lack of action in my life. Do you know how hard it is to not be allowed to pick up your 18 month old son? He doesn't understand what's going on at all, and to have to look into those big eyes brimming with tears and say "I can't", just kills this Momma.

It has boiled down to the fact that I am a woman. I am the wife to a wonderful man, and a mother to beautiful children. My heart is for my home. It is my joy to make this a place we all call home. Where we all place our hearts. And suddenly, I just cannot. My husband and oldest daughter are taking care of all the meals, the dishes, the laundry. My oldest son, along with his sister, are taking over the duties of dressing the baby, making sure all the kids are where they need to be, and all the basic child care duties. Poor Heath has taken care of my duties, still been Dad, had all of his chores to do (aka mowing and such), fed and watered my chickens, weeded and cared for the garden, and still had his pastoral duties to tend to along with the needs of the members of our church. And so I've been pouting. And you know what. The only bad attitude, the only complaining, the only grumpiness has been coming from the one laying on the couch. Yep, that's right. Here I am without a duty one, while everyone else has doubled and tripled their work load, and I'm the sour one.

So I must make an apology. It should not be my nature to whine or complain. God has called me to be so much more. I have been given enough grace for the day, new mercies every morning. And I have been the selfish little child who only sees herself. Well, we only have a few more weeks to go, but I am resolved to stop the whining. I'm not entirely sure what lessons God is teaching me, but I'm going to count this all joy. The dross of my life is not going to go away without a holy fire. So from this moment on, I shall sit on the couch and follow the anthem we expect our four year old to follow. "Do everything without complaining or arguing," Philippians 2:14. That even applies to those who just sit.