Inadequate Words

WARNING: This post is pretty blunt and honest.

From the outside looking in, I'm constantly told how positive I am about pregnancy or whatever issues seem to be going on at the moment. But the truth is, if you talk to my husband or mother or those who know me really well, I'm much less saintly and more gripey. This pregnancy, for some reason, has felt especially hard for me. Maybe it's because of all of the events which have transpired over the past year between working, job changes, moving, unexpected bumps like surgery and cars breaking down, or the constant worry of my mom's health, but either way, is there really an excuse?

I went to the store the other night to finish some of the last minute shopping for the baby. Of course, I probably looked quite hilarious / pathetic as I hobbled through the store, somewhat bent over from back pain, with my swollen ankles, a puffy face, and in my sweatpants (as those are the only thing comfortable to wear these days). As I loaded my cart and began checking off my list, a young man approached me. He appeared to be not much older than 18 or 19, and with him, a girl (just as pregnant as I was) a little bit younger (maybe 17 or 18). He began asking me questions about a particular baby item and the need for such. The two were having an argument of sorts, because the young mother wanted said item and the soon-to-be dad was worried about the money factor. My heart broke for this couple. My heart broke for this home and this child to enter the world. As I swiped my debit card at the checkout line, I realized just how blessed I am.

Never have my children been hungry, because we had nothing to feed them; we've always had a choice of snacks and meals. Matthew out eats all of us lately and will still claim he wants more. But there always is more. Never have I had to worry about clothing my children, because so many have given to us. If Ryan or I need a new pair of running shoes, we may have to wait a month tops, but typically, we can go to the store and pick out what we want.

We have a solid home. My children know that we're a family and that they have a dad and a mom. Many of Matthew's school friends go between their mom's and their dad's homes. At least half of the kids in his class have already experienced divorce. I cannot even begin to imagine the instability and the challenges these little children are trying to overcome. Our home is centered around Jesus Christ. My kids know that on Sundays, we will be at church, they expect prayers and scriptures each day, and family home evening on Monday nights. We constantly talk about how to treat others and how we can be live better lives by being kind, obedient, good, serving, etc.

We have much more than mentioned, but these have crossed my mind the most lately.

I hope my family realizes that I really am grateful to be a mother and a wife. Ryan's had to pick up the slack so much lately, as I'm limited in what I can do. He's the official errand runner now. I will do some errands, but without fail, he does grocery shopping each Saturday. He checks out prices at various stores or finishes the tasks on "honey do" lists. He takes the boys to church by himself. He takes the boys with him wherever, knowing it will increase his time by quite a bit, just so I can rest. He rubs my back, helps me out of the car or to bed. He's had to have so much patience with me and my lack of attention, and he's done it without complaint. He's listened and comforted when I've been in one of those melt-down modes.

The other day, I made a pie to take to a friend's house for dinner the following night. This took so much sacrifice for me to make. I could hardly stand up. The next morning, while he was getting ready for church and I was trying to get outfits lined up, etc., I came into the kitchen to find David eating the pie with a spoon. It didn't even take a second; the tears welled up and I couldn't stop crying. I just had to leave the room, because I was so upset. I know, this probably sounds over the top, but I really couldn't. Ryan didn't say anything to me. He went into the kitchen, and tried to resolve the situation by fixing the pie and adding more filling.

He ties my shoes, helps me out of the shower or bathtub. I love this man so much. My heart aches, when I think about how monster-like I am while I'm pregnant. Yet, he stands by my side. I'm so grateful that he's willing to forgive my weaknesses and encourage me / bring me to a new level.

And my kids. Sometimes, some of the looks they've given me as I've lectured or yelled have broken my heart and pierced me to my very being. I so want to overcome myself. How can I not love the little boy who comes up to me and puts his arm on my back and says, "I'll help you walk today, Mom?" How can I gripe about the little one who gets scared of the dark in the middle of the night and lays by my side or by my feet? Then, he wakes me up by soothing my cheeks with his little hands and pressing his little lips to mine. How can I not love the little boy who prays that his mom will be more patient with him and also, he prays that my back can feel better? Or the little boy who is not thirsty so much, but just wants to share back and forth with his mom?

I'm blessed beyond measure. Please forgive my shortcomings. I really am trying to do better.