Mountain top fun with FIVE!

on being pregnant....again.

Two pink lines was not what I was really expecting. A few months ago I implored the Lord to give me some more time before the next baby. I really believed that since I do want more children, and because I am overwhelmed alot, maybe He would give me a rest in between. A little more recuperation. More time to get things in order, to learn, to obey, to sew, to get a better working schedule and meal plan perhaps even a longer shower. Mostly selfish things. Time to fly to see an old friend or my sisters. Time with my kids that isn't sick or braindead or irritable. Conversations with my husband that aren't meltdowns of me being oversensitive and hormonal. More days free of managing my hunger, nausea, exhaustion, emotions and anxious perceptions.
Ahem. Not in His plan.
I confess, I have wept and kicked and fussed. I have sobbed and wondered at His divine timing. I have been angry at my husband and wanted to blame him for not protecting me. I have felt an overwhelming sense of failure and dread. Likely all my planning friends will find this mystifying and appalling. If you didn't want a baby, why didn't you plan better? After Stefan mentioned that we were expecting number six a believing older man inquired, "on purpose?!" Sigh. It seems so very haughty to me to assume that a planned and wanted child is a more faithful choice. It actually sounds alot like the propaganda served up at Planned Parenthood. But I probably sound as haughty with my anti planning propaganda :) Sigh.
All that to say, rather than pretend we know how it will all work out or that we are even thrilled to be pregnant, we will just tell the truth. We believe God does all things for our good. Children are a blessing whether all planned-out-to-the-nines or simply as natural result of some really fun sex. I am not competent or capable enough to be a mother of six. I am a loser! Jesus regularly bashes down my idols. He regularly shows me my futile efforts at saving myself and my kids through moralistic religion. But not to tell me to get it together or do more. To show me that in my weakness, I am strong. There is NO way that this baby will be here of my strength. I am walking around nauseous with the laundry from last weekend not put away, racking my brain and the cabinets trying to find something to eat that doesn't make me more revolted, unbuttoning pants and losing all the muscles I fought to build again, and seeing all the order and tidy collapsing into a tidal wave of junk that will likely take a month to whip back into shape (once I can move without wanting to puke). I also fought with Stefan this morning and I don't even know why, although I was certain I was right. Mostly I just wanted him to join my pity party. But we did our schoolwork. Until Tristan vomited all over his markable map. We had three slow days of reading, math, history, crafting, and basic chores until this hour. The Holy Spirit gave me strength to do it with a gentle and quiet spirit. Tryn took care of kids when I passed out on the couch after lunch. Annika wiped Gideon's butt after he pooped by himself on the potty. Tryn brought me warm socks. They all did the best job cleaning up lunch and then entertained themselves pretty quietly while I was zonked. Liesl entertains herself cheerfully in her playpen for forty minutes at a time.
All my fussing is simply that. Fussing. Sinful, selfish, fussing. It takes me awhile to submit to this process. I REALLY HATE DENYING MYSELF. I would really like to read a book with a book group! But, as the Spirit blessed me with the thought at the lunch table the other day, these sweet, amazing souls will Lord willing be with me for an eternity! Why wouldn't we long to fill this table at the expense of all the other wants?
Stay tuned.....I might blog again before the year is up ;)