Pathetic - Impatient - M e

Patience.

It has a whole new meaning at 41 weeks 2 days pregnant.

And for any of you who know my mother’s history you’ll be laughing at me already. But, hold on just a second, at least she knows what to expect.

I came into this knowing I could be like her but that’s not quite the same as going into a pregnancy knowing you will have at least an extra month to wait. Its just not. I’m sure.

So today I struggle with patience.

My husband has changed his prayers over the course of this wait from “Lord, your timing” to “Lord, please today” and now our request has simply become “Lord, give us patience.”

It’s hard to stay cheerful as I sit around simply waiting. I’ve run out of “before baby” projects and just keep waiting to have a baby fill my time.

I neaten and re neaten the house; hoping each time that it will be the last time before the baby arrives.

I cook dinner and hope tomorrow night it will be Shelby pulling enchilada’s out of the freezer to serve me. (That could probably be the case regardless of being pregnant ;P)

I walk through the baby room and hold back tears as I eye the empty crib, empty car seat, and un decided on boxes of clothes.

I sit in my chair, feet propped up due to swelling and go ahead and let the tears flow. How much longer God? When can I meet my baby?

I feel like that’s pathetic. It’s barely one week past my due date. My mom has gone through so much more. But at the same time, 40 weeks is a long time to wait. 41 is even more. Every little bit counts.

At 41 weeks I’m still physically less miserable than I was during the first half of my pregnancy. I’d still trade weeks of this oversized – Wall-E – character body I’ve acquired to the weeks of throwing up my guts daily.. hourly.. Yes, this is better physically but combined with the waiting it’s getting close to matching.

Waiting really isn’t my thing. Patience just isn’t a virtue I’m well equipped with. If you read my last blog post you’ll know how I feel about my time. How I micro manage it. Well, this baby was supposed to come on the 5^th. That’s what I had planned. That’s the day I convinced myself it would arrive. It was the perfect day. Wesley could take Friday off and have the weekend home with new baby and me. But, no. God’s timing wasn’t mine. Being told no in such an obvious fashion is pretty hard guys. Pretty hard. Each and every day since I’ve still been told “no” and being told no is not getting any easier, in case you were wondering.

So now I pray for patience.

I ignore my body.

No, that wasn’t a contraction. No, it didn’t hurt more than the last. No, they aren’t getting closer. Don’t you dare look at the clock.

Really, after this weekend of carefully timing everything and analyzing every little thing to no end I know it would make me crazy to do so day in and day out. So I ignore everything and wait.

And wait.

And keep waiting.

I have been told not to rush it, to enjoy what time I have left. I understand that. I addressed that idea in a recent blog post. I have cherished the time I’ve had to myself with our baby BUT it is okay for me to be ready for that time to end. I’ve enjoyed it for most of the past 41 weeks, okay? That’s a while to wait to meet my baby face to face. I’m ready.

A scripture keeps coming to mind daily and although I know I’m feeling it somewhat out of context I do think God is using it to remind me He’s here. 

“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

That is me. Minus the laboring part (oh how I wish). Heavy laden; ready for a rest. Ready for something new. A take over. Ready to have this baby in my arms as to womb. Ready to begin parenting. Ready to know if our baby is a girl or boy; who it takes after. I am ready.

So here I am. Ready God. Give me rest. In your time. When you know I need it; give me rest.

….waiting also didn’t get any easier when my family booked a beach house for the week of the 21^st-28^th and invited me along if the baby has arrived and we’re up for traveling….