Months ago when we were debating on whether to have another kid or not, I had in my mind a few ideas about this pregnancy. Looking back, I was naive without reason to be naive. I've been through two other pregnancies that were about the same and yet I had hope that this one would be different.
I thought I could run through this pregnancy. I'd forgotten about the several weeks/months of the beginning that were full of nausea and vomiting. I thought 'it's been five years, maybe it won't be the same.' I forgot that genetics don't really change in five years so I could have mentally prepared myself for this better. I thought I'd love it. I'd forgotten how I hate this part.
Yet it's been a good challenge. I've gotten very self-reliant in the past 5 years. I can cook fairly decent meals (not as good as those of my supper club partners but I have a few tricks up my sleeve). I can keep a fairly decently clean house (no one's eating off the floor here but it's not bad). I can run up to 18 miles at a time (not without injuring myself apparently but still). I've become the housewife and mom I've really wanted to be. It's taken a lot of work on my part; this has not come naturally to me.
And now. It's all changed. I've given over all of my household duties to my family. My sons clean toilets and sinks and tubs and microwaves and dust (kind of). I'd been handing that off to them for a few months but it's more imperative that they help. My husband cooks meals except when dear sweet friends have dropped off wonderful meals to supplement. My husband does laundry (which I can fold, thankfully). He vacuums (granted, he always does this because I don't think to as often). He does dishes (oh that smell!!!).
What I'm learning most is from him, my sweet Big A. I have not heard one complaint from him in all of this. He even lets me soak his shirts with my overly emotional tears.
Do you know how often (prior to pregnancy) I would complain about laundry, dishes, cooking, cleaning?????
We have a son who is naturally a complainer, a whiner, a grump. And he comes by it most naturally. Certainly not from his father. And that has been all too apparent in my eyes these past few weeks. Poor kid.
I am learning to let go because I know my husband has never loved me because of my stellar domestic skills. I know my children have never loved me because of the hours I spend cleaning their toilets (hours? uh minutes).
I know my worth is found in the Lord and His righteousness and all else doesn't matter. It's hard in my human perspective to see it doesn't matter but when I dry my eyes and really use my brain (although it's hard lately!), I know God loves me because He loves me. It doesn't make sense and it doesn't have to but I'm grateful I don't have to earn my way to heaven. I'd be failing, miserably. I know I have a spot in heaven because Christ came and died on the cross in my spot. Nothing I ever have done or will do (because, thankfully, pregnancy does NOT last forever!) will change that.
Even in this time of spending too much time with my face in a toilet cleaned by elementary students, I know I am blessed. Not with material things, necessarily. Not even with my beautiful family. But with a Savior's love that no one can take. He loves me whether I'm supermom or laying on the couch. He loves me whether I'm running or sleeping. He loves me whether I'm puking or smiling. How can I ask for more? And yet He's given me so much more.
Today I'm grateful.