If you had been a fly on the wall in our house this past week, you would have witnessed the mope-fest that was my sitting on my exercise ball in ill-fitting yoga pants, swaying from side to side with flat affect, making comments like, "This kid is never coming out. I'll turn 40 and she'll still be in there." Or, "If she waits any longer, we're going to have to scrap the newborn clothes and bring toddler jammies to the hospital."
I'll admit that I had expectations about when the new baby would arrive, based on D's early entrance into the world (38 weeks, 6 days).
Tomorrow is my due date, and this little miracle is showing no signs of budging. She is literally digging her heels into my ribcage as I type this in order to stay put.
So last night, as I was getting ready for bed, I was praying for some insight into the bigger picture with this pregnancy. I needed perspective. Badly. And God in his gentle wisdom started nudging me with questions like:
"What if this pregnancy is about more than bringing a child into the world? What if it is an exercise for you and I to spend more time together? What if it is an opportunity to understand the value of compassion and exercise it in the future?"
"What if the purpose of this physically/emotionally uncomfortable waiting period is bigger than you think?"
"What if this process of waiting and all that comes with it has more than one purpose? Will you trust me through the waiting with the confidence that I'm working all of this out for your good and my glory?"
"What if I'm refining you through the waiting so that you can be a better friend? So that you can be a more compassionate and relatable human being?"
That last thought struck a powerful chord with me.
Some of my most intimate friendships with other women have been born out of the ability to relate. The ability to come along side one another and rest in the knowledge that we're understood. It is entirely possible that God is using this last week of impatience and discomfort (on my part) to deepen friendships. And I think authentic compassion and understanding is a product of experience--there is no 'life hack' for cultivating a compassionate heart. If someone were to approach Jon or me and share their struggles in having children, we could relate. If they were to come to us with the grief that accompanies miscarriage, we could listen and understand that too. If someone were to share their whirl-wind happiness of having a child before their due date, we could share in that excitement with them, authentically. And now, if we were to talk with friends frustrated by the thoughts and symptoms that come with waiting for a baby at or after 40 weeks, we can truly empathize. It is entirely possible that God is attempting to round me out in the pregnancy-related empathy department.
The thought of His orchestrating the last week of pregnancy for those purposes makes me feel peaceful, relieved and happy.
2 comments:
What a beautiful reflection, Jen. And as for waiting.... I can relate ;-)
Thanks, Bronwyn! And I did think of you as I was praying and brushing my teeth, knowing that you too know what it means to wait for baby:)
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