Not so with this pregnancy. I was down for the count for many, many days. And it was awful, terrible, I thought I was dying...at times I really did want to die. Then I felt guilty for wanting to die. I felt guilty for not accepting this eighth blessing from God with anything but absolute joy. And I felt guilty for not being able to care for my home and family the way I should.
Brian would look me in the eyes, and assure me with things like, "Stop it. We will pull through. Let me help. Let the girls help. It can't last more than nine months." And I would sputter things back like, "I don't want you to have to help. I don't want the girls to have to help. And I will never make it nine months...I was thinking three months would kill me."
It took a good few weeks, but God started working on my heart. The Holy Spirit showed me that my biggest 'problem' with this morning sickness was me. I was really ill, but I was very sick with pride too. Which was keeping me from taking care of myself and my tiny baby, from taking it easy, and from letting this pregnancy sickness soon pass.
I am Super Woman. I have a happy husband, happy children. I keep a clean and tidy home. I do every single load of laundry there is. Every. Single. Day. I put three meals, and two snacks on the table each day. I homeschool four children, all while keeping three toddlers busy. I am Super Woman. There is no possible way that Brian or the girls could do what I do.
That is not true. It's actually one of the biggest lies I have ever believed.
My husband is a wonderful man. Not only does he completely support me in my role as homemaker, but he can step in and fill my shoes at a moment's notice. And he does it well. My daughters are wonderful young women. They have been trained for years now in the art of homemaking. I have taught them how to clean, and cook, and care for their siblings...as much as I have taught them academics. They are pretty darn good at keeping house for fourteen and eleven.
I was wasting so much energy worrying that our home would not be taken care of to my standards, that I almost missed the blessing of my family, and that would have been something entirely too good to miss. So I let go. I stopped believing my made-up super woman lie, and accepted the help that my precious family was offering.
I am a little past that 13 Week mark in my pregnancy now. Hello second trimester! I've not had to take but ten of my anti-nausea pills, and it's been almost a week since I took my last one. My energy is returning. Life is good, as it always was...I was just too blinded by my 'trouble' to notice. It was a true test of my faith, that I suppose I did actually fail in a way. But I'm hoping that the fact that
It is so true that God doesn't give us anymore than we can handle (with Him), but he also never promises that it will be easy. I just pray that the next time I'm faced with trials, that I can say from the very beginning, that I will praise Him in the storm...not just once it's passed.
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers,they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze." - Isaiah 43:2