I wake up every morning to the same thing…
…a cool breeze blowing from the fan; regulating the temperature accordingly to keep my pregnancy induced hot flashes in check.
…surrounded by the fluffiness of a dozen (yes, we really have that many pillow on our bed right now) pillows.
…the sun peeking in through the ever present crack in our black out curtains.
…and the feel of fingers wrapped around my arm.
Every night, without fail, sometime between the “I love you’s” and the “good morning, sleep head’s” he makes his way into our bedroom. I hear him when he comes in most nights. Tip-toeing over to his daddy’s side and crawling ever so quietly into bed beside him. My husband (who hates to be woken up and doesn’t like to get out of bed if he doesn’t have to) pulls back the blankets and lets him into the warmth of our bed.
Despite the frustration of sleeping three wide in an already-too-small-for-a-pregnant-woman-and-her-husband and our sometimes seemingly constant bedtime battle, I scoot over to make room.
Life has been all about perspective for me lately.
I’m exhausted and anxious and generally overwhelmed most days.
My to do list doesn’t seem to be shrinking. In fact, if anything, I think it grows every day.
By bedtime, I’m ready to collapse and I wonder why it always feels like I’m taking one step forward and two steps back. On a good day, I feel like I take two steps forward and only one step backward. I’m careful to watch myself and not overdo it for the sake of my own health as well as for Jonah’s. But nonetheless, the impending “oh my Lord…we/I need to get this DONE” feeling looms.
A few weeks ago the mother of a friend of mine from high school posted something on Facebook that hit me like a sack of bricks.
No one should complain about what they have to do in a given day until they go pull weeds from their own child’s graveside.
Her son was killed in a car wreck when he was 16 years old. I remember the day he died. I remember how we all found out. I remember the funeral and the burial and the weeks and months that followed that day. And her quote was a great reminder that it’s not as bad as it could be.
So these days…even when I’m overwhelmed and feel completely drained by the must do’s and need to’s of the day, I try to take a step back and change my perspective.
Yes. I am exhausted and my entire body aches from being stretched, pushed and punched from the inside. But. Those stretches, punches and pushes are the reminder that there’s a tiny little miracle growing in my tummy and gearing up for his arrival into our world.
Yes. My list of things that need marking off grows by the minute (or so it seems). And I usually feel like even though I mark one thing off, I add two or three more. But. That to do list is a constant reminder that my business is thriving and I’m not only doing something that I love, but that I’m contributing to our family and chasing down personal dreams and ambitions that I never even realized I had.
Yes. There are usually four or five loads of unfolded, unkempt laundry piled up in baskets at the foot of the bed or on top of the dryer. There are dust bunnies in the corners and scratches on my tables. There are stains in the carpet and crumbs on the counter. But. Those clothes…those crumbs…those piles of dirt remind me that our family is healthy and active and enjoying the days that come our way. Even if it means that the dust bunnies get to play a bit longer.
I may not have it all together. I may not get it all done. I may never be more than a few tiny steps ahead of the plan.
But I’m here.
And I’m trying.
Linking up with Shell @ Things I Can’t Say for Pour Your Heart Out…