Perspective

I woke up this morning wedged between my toddler and my husband, twisted and uncomfortable, but unwilling to disturb either of them, even with nerves in my hip screaming for relief.  My husband did eventually wake up and stumble to the shower, leaving me room to roll away from the still-sleeping toddler.

When I did, something popped in my pelvic area and pain shot through my body.  I curled up and began sobbing, letting the rush of self-pity totally consume me.  I'm still gigantically pregnant, the house isn't spotless, I hardly sleep anymore, I'm physically and emotionally and mentally exhausted all of the time, nothing is getting done, my nesting is feverish-yet-unfocused, making sure I have a baby before my mom's visit is over is stressing me out, and the list goes on.

Then, out of the blue, comes a message from an old high school friend on Facebook.  She had been MIA on Facebook since the beginning of December.  I figured it was because she was only days from giving birth to her first baby, a girl, and the chaos and joy of being a new mom was probably consuming her every moment.  She asked how my pregnancy was going, excited for me and the expansion of my family, and then tells me that she and her husband lost their daughter.  I am not aware of any details, but we have a long overdue phone call planned for tomorrow morning.

I ache so much for her.  I ache so much for any mother who has lost any child.  How selfish I have been to complain about the trivialities that come with any normal, uncomplicated pregnancy when there are mothers who would give anything to have those aches and pains to a blinding degree in exchange for mere moments with their babies.  I should be grateful for the pain, for it isn't even peanuts compared to the pain that could be.

With my whole world slammed back into perspective, in all of its terror and simplicity, I've taken to my meager sufferings with quiet resolve and gratitude, prayers for the souls lost and those that had to let them go, and a renewed effort to quiet my nagging urgency to keep a wholly unrealistic schedule.

Thank you, God, for my sufferings.  If they should ever be so great as those of others, please hold me closely to You, that I might remain ever faithful and grateful for the gifts borne of sadness and hardship.