Waiting

Last week I started to wonder if God was trying to teach me something about the blessing of health and the frailty of the human frame. When bronchitis laid me low I thought, "Once I am better I am going to get up every morning for the rest of my pregnancy and thank God that I can breathe freely." But it's easy to forget what a blessing good health is. I might have remembered for three days before I was taking it for granted again.

I haven't wanted to be a whiner but I have to say I'm looking forward to the return of a pain-free pelvis -- mobility is also a blessing. I thought about writing a post on the lighter side of a symphysis injury, about how I have to set my pants on the floor and wriggle my feet through the legs without lifting them. It took some serious contortions for me to get my stockings on for church this morning. And icing your symphysis? It'll wake you right up if you were feeling sleepy. I'd never tucked ice in my underwear before this week.

Tonight I was reading Lloyd Alexander to Joe while sitting cross-legged on the couch. When I got up to check on the potatoes baking in the oven, my feet were asleep. I started walking on my numb feet but apparently one of them rotated underneath me. I fell down, wrenching my ankle on the way. It hurt terribly -- for a minute I just sat there and keened. The boys leapt into action, bringing me ice (Joe and Marty) and patting my leg gently (Pete). After a few minutes of icing it I tried to get dinner on the table so the middle guys could make their pack meeting, but putting weight on that foot made me nauseated. Alex said, "Mom, you should sit down. I'll take care of the potatoes. I'll help you wrap your ankle in a minute." And he did. (Thank you, Boy Scouts.)

I was still trying to find some humor in it ("Note to placenta: Dial down the relaxin production already. If these ligaments get any looser, the baby's going to fall out on her head.") but the fact is I am feeling clumsy and vulnerable. Tonight Elizabeth Foss posted the story of her daughter's arrival and it made me cry and cry -- it is a beautiful story, but it underscored those feelings of vulnerability and uncertainty.

The fact is that I do not know what the future holds for me or my baby. (Inner control freak shrieks NO NO I HATE NOT KNOWING.) I cannot even predict how bruised and swollen this ankle will be in the morning. But I know that God is good, and sovereign, and that suffering offered up can be extraordinarily fruitful. And I know that I will be able to face whatever difficulties await me tomorrow more cheerfully if I go to bed instead of staying up and fretting. That's probably a better plan than sitting here and editing this post.