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. 

Food

Dozens of children called up to show

Their answer to the question:

“What does your family look like?”

With mums and dads and siblings galore

Some from far flung across the globe

Others conceived in the same womb side by side

Smiley faces

With arms open wide

Stood by trees

And houses

Dogs in tow

Grandmas in the back

All saying the same thing:

“This is my family, whom I love.”

Amidst arguments and tantrums,

play fights and the real,

forced meals at the table,

laundry lining the hallways,

dishwasher on repeat,

and angry music vibrating floorboards,

There can still be love.

The time I wrestled him up,

‘Sharpshooter’ strain to pee.

Three months grounding,

for late night sojourn.

Sangria driven buggy,

meanders through Tenerife streets.

Accidental stumble,

onto nudist beach.

Late night jokes,

watching Madea.

Despite mother’s hand shielding from camera,

moments between us still beautifully captured:

“This is my family, whom I love”

Politicians argue

over civilisation’s demise

Homeless & runaways

Prisons overflowing

Abuse and violence

Rape and suicide

Addictions extensive

And remedies are sought

But the source isn’t prevented

The brokenness of our land’s foundation

Houses constructed on sand

ignored.

From the windows young faces

Peer from tattered curtains

Tear-stained eyes

because they could not

and cannot say:

“This is my family, whom I love”

Above the water

And the land

the crowning of creation

“it is good”

we as people

heart and bones

two flesh become one

establishing a legacy

for days to come.

Eternal vows

broken in a brief minute.

Promises shattered,

single eyes cry,

over bulging bumps

isolated grief.

“Where is my family, who I love?”

The cry of too many.

Do you have room 

at your table

to feed the family-less?

When they need not just 

the edible food prepared

But the restoration

And nourishment

and their hearts?

Emergency

S&S Babysitting inc. is in high season, with overnight watching while parents are away seeming to the be the most popular request of April. A few weekends ago, while supervising three teens, their mother got the call no one wants to get:

“Hello Ma’am, this is Dalworthington Gardens Police Department…”

Heart sinks.

Face drains of all colour.

A thousand tragic situations race through your mind before you decide on a combination of the three worst.

“Your neighbour has caught your dog, it seems she escaped.”

Heart searches safely for a steady beat.

Colour returns.

You prepare the talk on responsibility you will give your kids…and Steve and Sebrina.

At any given time, our whole words could change with that phone call, that email, that message

Of emergency.

Beth Moore describes the three things that can happen to us in an emergency.

Panic.

This is my favourite.

Sheer, unadulterated, woman going crazy and wild.

The “fixers” of us have to find a solution.

And what better solution that seven things all at once.

Chickens who left their heads behind long ago, there is nothing that can control us.

And in this crazy madness

We do

The

Wrong

Thing.

Our panic results in us completely losing the plot, the sense, and hands raised up in the air, all that we held onto is strewn across the sky.

All is ruined.

Paralysed.

Frozen to the spot, the news cripples us with sad results.

Everything stops.

We hear nothing, see nothing, feel nothing.

Numb to action, wading in inaction.

Confined by a wheelchair of fear and dread, completely unable to cope.

You stop. And you cannot move.

The tears fall but no hand can rise to wipe them.

You are stuck.

All is still.

When I think about emergencies, I am reminded of Ann Voskamp (www.aholyexperience.com) who says in her “joyful parenting” manifesto:

“Today, I will not have any emergencies.

There are no emergencies!

Only amateurs hurry.”

No emergencies?

What a preposterous thought!

There is always something to panic/be paralyzed over!

There is always something to worry about!

There is always something unexpected that comes up!

There is always.

It is always.

The torrent of life.

The rushing waterfall of pressure.

The never-ending list.

No day will come with nothing to do but sit still.

Each day has something for us. Something good. But something challenging.

“911 what is your emergency?”

“I need help with my math homework!”

“I didn’t get the food “my way” at the restaurant!”

“My son won’t clean his messy bedroom!”

“My boyfriend won’t propose to me!”

All genuine 911 calls.

All genuine emergencies to those people.

What today feels like a genuine emergency, but tomorrow will be the laugh among you and your friends?

Oh, this temporary world, where so much is fading away, tricks us time and time again into believing that what we are seeing and experiencing right now is all there really is.

But when we take the time.

Take time.

Pray.

That moment of silence, where I seem paralyzed, but my stillness allows something greater to move into action

That moment where my panic draws me to the only place I can really gain strength and help.

The emergency fades.

The sirens stop blaring.

And I see it for what it is.

A temporary problem that will not defeat me today.

A temporary problem that will attempt to steal my joy.

A temporary problem that is simply that.

No.

There will be no emergencies today.