Right

This isn’t the right time.

Amidst a flailing of instruction reading and nervousness, we had taken the pregnancy test (as I tried not to pee on my hand), and it came up positive.

We’d only been back in the country four months.

Steve’s dad had only passed away two months before.

Steve had barely started his new teaching assistant job, and was in the process of applying for the extremely competitive and demanding Graduate Teaching Programme.

It wasn’t the right time.

Never mind that Steve and I have a nine year friendship, with a nearly four year marriage.

Great degrees, successful careers so far with plenty of hope for future prospects.

Spent years travelling and serving with a great Christian ministry.

Loving and supportive families excited for the latest member.

Amazing friends ecstatic at the new addition.

A lovely (rented) house with plenty of space.

It still wasn’t the right time.

I had been rejected from the Step Up to Social Work programme.

I was two days from the UCAS deadline for the Masters in Social Work.

I had applied for jobs and not heard back.

I was still working out my career.

That’s what I mean by “it wasn’t the right time.”

Nothing can prepare you for that overwhelming feeling

The pressure of that new life growing inside you

That will be totally dependent upon you

Rely on you for everything

Will look up to you

And you feel you have nothing to give.

Would my child understand all the ups and downs of changing countries, and changing careers? Would my child understand the fact I just got into retail again so I could have a job while Steve looked after his dad, and I tried to find something different but nothing seemed to open up, and then I found out about them, and it was harder to get another job, and risk losing substantial paid maternity leave

For the sake of a

Future career

Future pipedream

Would my child understand?

Do I really understand?

What is my worth found in?

The right career

The right title

The right view of me that I have built up, that I aim for, that I am seeking to have.

I crave that perfect life,

superwoman career mum,

that bakes organic,

giving 100% to marriage

to childcare

to cooking

to church

to hobbies and friends and socialising

and as my belly grows, aches with preparatory birthing pains

my spirit grows more in tune to Father’s whisper

you can’t have it all

so what do you want?

I have wanted motherhood

since spending summers building Playmobile families and homes around my room

since being oldest girl grandchild caring for all oxford cousins

since learning to read early and gathering nursery group for story time

since holding newborn baby brother in my teenage arms

since texas days surrounded by families babysitting for fun

yet shock of motherhood entering my house unexpectedly

made me forget all these things

forget that I have known for a year which nappies I want to use

forget that Steve and I hunted down random family in airport to see brand of their buggy

forget conversations spent learning about family dynamics to be prepared

forget heart racing moments and disappointment of previous pregnancy “scares”

forget burning desire in heart

to nurture

care

create that cute

ginger afro

competitive machine

the world so yearns for

yet is so not ready for

Baby Baby,

I was made ready for you

And your timing, Father, is just right.

Others

Another morning spent praying to the porcelain God…

My whole body aches and wretches in pain as, once again, part of my day is spent trying to count the pounds of food wasted, destined for life as sewage

I pride myself on being a relatively healthy person. No major ailments other than anaemia, no broken bones, no big diseases, in fact my only childhood trip to the hospital was to the ear, nose & eye clinic in Oxford, where aged six I lodged a stone up my nose during a boring outdoor assembly.

I have always been an overachiever.

Pregnancy however is proving my Achilles heel, sapping my freakish man strength from my very core:

Anaemia – haemoglobin count lower than ever, creating uber tiredness

PGP – Pelvic girdle pain, causing excruciating hip pain when I sleep on my back and often getting in/out of bed

Pulled muscle in chest – pain breathing deeply, coughing, sneezing, laughing too hard

Suspected UTI – urinary tract infection, causing frequent peeing and pain

At times I have felt my body completely defeated me

And then I remember “them”

That growing life needing energy and nutrients and safety

And I find myself saying to people:

“I don’t care how sick I get, as long as “they” are ok.”

If I puke everyday, which I seem to enjoy so much, it seems worthwhile pain to endure as long as baby is alright.

Pregnancy seems to be cracking this snow queen’s heart.

Making her think of someone other than self.

And I’m reminded of Jesus:

“When he saw the multitudes, He was moved by compassion for them…”

“He said, ‘They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.’”

“Ok, My Father, if this cup [dying for man’s sins on the cross] cannot pass away from Me unless I drink it, Your will be done.”

I know I am no Jesus.

But this womb growing seeks to shape and embrace the fullness of this simple truth.

Others first.

What situation today is Father God using to call you into that place?

The place where you sip

Bitter drink

Gladly

For joy is found when that cup

Is empty

Drunk

Fully devoured

To save the lives

of others. 

The Worst.

Worst things about being pregnant

#1:

not being able to eat sushi.

#2:

not being able to eat smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels.

#3:

going up a size in clothes.

#4:

working in fashion store that does not have a maternity department thus being resigned to squeezing yourself into jeans that are too tight.

#5:

feeling/looking/being fat because of #2 & #3.

#6:

peeing lots thus needing to break your perfectly rational fear of not using public toilets in case you get a disease.

#7:

having to take blood tests (which you hate) for diseases you know you don’t have (like syphilis) and then the tests getting lost (which is typical) so that you have to give more blood (which you detest).

#8:

lets not even talk about bras/bust size.

#9:

even if you have a normal ailment, such as muscular pain in your ribs, you are not able to see your normal doctor and are scared into visiting the triage maternity unit, where you wait four hours, lying on an uncomfortable “bed” lined with rustling paper towels, listening behind an ugly nylon curtain to harrowing tales of women further along in their pregnancy, only to find out that your baby is fine, it is just, as you thought, muscular pain.

#10:

having to master the art of holding puke in your mouth because you need to pee/poop at the same time and unfortunately they haven’t developed an app for that.

Don't have sex (before you are married), because you will get pregnant and not be able to eat sushi or wear cool clothes and be miserable for eternity!!

NB. People who “enjoyed” being pregnant need not comment on this post for fear of me hurting them (remember, I can blame everything on my mood swings and pregnancy hormones…even manslaughter).

Best thing about being pregnant:

#1 (a mute (moo) point as currently there only seems to be one):

The little thing inside of me, currently the size of a mango, who is going to come out (after hurting me some more) all covered in poop and blood, but will get placed into it my ams, wrapped in our organic cotton blankets, and smile at me, thus helping me realize it was all very much worth it, and showing me so much more of the purity and love of Father God. 

Shame that’s still 4.5 months away.

But I guess worse things could happen.