I wrote this three years ago, while I was pregnant with my giant Porcupine/Z. I was just reading over it, and felt like it needed to be shared.
There is something incredible going on right now. To some it may seem small, to some it is a burden, to me it is a miracle.
There is a baby growing inside of me! A kicking, squirming, rolling, dancing, sweeping, punching, gliding, fluttering, precious baby. In me!
It constantly amazes me, that my body is able to create (with some help), sustain and carry another living being. I am in awe that my body knows how to sustain this life, how it knows what to do when it is time for the baby to emerge and join the world. It is all so spectacularly fantastic.
Sometimes, on the really hard days, I wonder: "What was I thinking?!" On the days when C's whining is constant and the messes are never clean and there's screaming and shouting and enough tears to fill an ocean I think, maybe, I was a bit hasty to think it was time for a third. I feel sorry for myself, and I wonder how I will manage without losing my mind...
Then, I go in to check on the kids sleeping soundly in their beds. They each have a peaceful, angelic countenance. They both have managed to contort their bodies into strange positions and I laugh silently to myself. They are beautiful, and I feel my heart swell with a mixture of joy and love. I just want to grab them out of their beds, but don't because I don't want to disturb them either. I find myself thinking "This is what it's all about." It is in those moments I realize I can do this. I can handle the tantrums and the tears, so long as I get to tuck my kids in at night, and see their sweet sleeping faces, I can do it.
Sometimes, when I'm lying in my bed, trying to get comfortable while my mind races a million miles a minute I think "What have I gotten myself in to?" I can hardly bend over these days, and I have the hardest time getting comfortable on the couch and in bed. Heartburn and reflux are ever present. My back aches and I can hardly pick up my kids without feeling like my midsection might explode.
But in the quiet, still moments, when I'm not even thinking I feel it. A kick. A push. A tiny hello. Immediately I stop feeling sorry for myself, instead turning my attention to feeling and watching as my belly jumps here and there. How can I feel bad when this is going on in my body? How can I not feel anything but gratitude for the opportunity I have to experience this blessing?
Sometimes I feel bad about myself. I get down on myself, I think my life is imperfect. I get frustrated that we don't have very much, and that all the work that I constantly do is towards a job that is never done.
But. There is always, always, something that reminds me of how blessed I am, of how much I really do have. I may not have a perfect life (and, let's be honest: who does?), but I don't want perfect. I like the messy and loud and chaotic life I live, because it helps me to have more gratitude for the quiet, peaceful, happy, miraculous moments.
We can all have a
good great wonderful life. It just depends on what we choose to focus on.