False alarms

Ever had a day when every vessel, every compartment, every secret of your body, mind, spirit, has been completely drained and you have nothing left to give--or really receive, either?

As I prepare to salute an end to this day, and to thank a Father (and husband) who kept me afloat, I wonder how I'll possibly find my way back to renewal. But I know it will come.

I am exceedingly grateful for a seamless pregnancy. But I am on my second false labor hospital visit and it's getting discouraging. You've stayed with me during my pregnancy updates, and it doesn't seem fair to leave out the "bad stuff," so here's some of it.

I don't feel like I should be allowed to complain about things, however the hurt in my heart is real; I cry a lot (hello, hormones). And to be frank, my ego is a bit bruised that I can't figure out what my body is doing: I have lots of painful contractions but until the baby's head engages, they are futile.

While this is about me, a smidgen, and I have the honor of giving Shawn and Wilder this gift, it's not all about me. God has a plan for our Eenie Meenie, and that includes the beautiful story of his/her arrival into this world. I am trying, trying, reaching, leaning into that hope. And into the fact that we're almost done!

The normal Mindy would've oohed and ahhed over the momma and her newborn, sitting in the wheelchair today, waiting to leave the hospital for a new world together. Instead I stood over by the elevator, sobbing...people all around; I didn't care. And I cried, hopefully not too loudly, "she gets to go home with her baby and mine's still inside!!"

Even though that hurt, even though I wish it was my turn, what a very lucky thing to be able to say that baby and I are healthy. There is a bigger picture than my disappointment, a lovely painting unfolding.

p.s.--you get a scroungy prego picture (38 wks, 5 dys)--had been up since 4am when Shawn took this at 10:30am.
p.p.s.--thank you, E, for looking after W today.