So, you see, I’m 7 1/2 months pregnant with my sixth child.  The baby is a boy, and we can’t wait to meet him.  I’m pushing hard on 38 ( we could share a birthday!) and I’m feeling 83.  Kidding, but this growing babies business sure takes a lot out of a woman.  I have been very busy for the past few months, and I believe I have hit a wall of sorts.  A wall that says in big, bold Times Roman letters, ” Slow down and act pregnant.”

I have officially stopped jogging…did my last mile last Saturday and my last 5k the Saturday before that.   That is a sad thing for me.  Running has been great physical exercise, but even more than that, it has been my “me time”.  Just me and my Ipod.  Frankly, I’ve had more intimate times with God wearing spandex than wearing church clothes at times.  Quiet times are practically impossible to come by in my present season.  Wow…just as I was about to type the words…my life is one of constant interruptions, my almost 2 year old comes strolling out of her room saying, ” Mamma, my go potty.”  It’s 9:49 pm.  I put her to bed 45 minutes ago.  Well, there you have it.  Exhibit A.  A mother’s life is not her own.  And frankly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.  I love my children so much, and I know that some day the silence will make me cry.

I’ve gained more weight this round so far than any other pregnancy…go figure.  This is the only time I have  jogged through it.  Makes total sense to me.  I know what some of you are thinking.  “Does she weigh more than Derek, you think?”  Honey, that ship has sailed.  I passed him months ago.  I’m only 6 lbs from my record baby weight (with Grace) and I have almost two months to go.  Wow.  This could be one large number.  Honestly though, I’m not too worried about losing it after he’s born, and I can thank my beloved running for that peace of mind.  I will enjoy running it off.  But looking at numbers that large can, at times, mess with your mind.  Especially when hormones can bring those days of smallness…that’s what I call it.  When self confidence is running low, and all the blemishes look big.  Come on ladies, you’ve been small before, right?  ( What a paradox…me feeling small!) Anyway, it’s days like this that make me so thankful that I have a God that understands.  He made me this way.  He created the hormones ( question # 2 on my ‘What to ask God when I get to Heaven’ list…Why were hormones a good idea?!?) , He knew my belly button would never recover after baby number two, He planned for women to gain weight while carrying babies to sustain both of us, and created us to nurse our babies and therefore knew our breasts would no longer look like magazine covers…He designed this whole ride, so I believe it is good.  He created mankind and said, “It is good.”    This is what my spirit knows, and this is why I am bruised but not crushed.  I have down (small) days, but I ultimately trust that it is good.   Not to put Derek down in any way, but I know that men can never really understand this process…sometimes I wish they could.  But God understands.  And I can lean on His embrace and His love, and know that He is proud of me as I lumber around, housing His choice servant for a while.

One other element I’ve had to battle this round is the fact that people have issues with large families.  I noticed it a lot  while on vacation…being in hotels and restaurants with our five kids and a protruding midsection…dude, we were a freak show!  Comment after comment, stare after stare.  I swear, if I hear ” You got your hands full!” one more time…It saddens me that our culture has such little value of children.  I think there are many reasons for this switch.  Accepting abortion in one’s mind can’t deepen one’s value of a child…all the “don’t spank or even correct your kids or you’ll crush who they are!” teaching has caused many a poor child to be what one would call…um… brats.  And why would anyone want too many of those?  They drive us crazy!  And gosh, how can women have successful careers if they have more than one or two kids?  That brief hiatus alone might cause her to miss a rung or two on the corporate ladder.  Oops, wait a minute.  I’m losing my balance trying to step down off my soap box.  All this to say, I have needed to burrow into the chest of my Heavenly Father a lot this round, due to all the negative stuff that has been flung at me.  Once again, children were His idea.  The fruit of the womb is a reward.  That’s what He says.  So that’s what I believe.  And frankly, I have 5 amazing children that are no less than rewards, running around my house.  The proof is in the pudding. (Oooo, pudding sounds good right now.)

So, I suppose I’ll leave it at that.  When I’m this big, I get small.  And then I remember that He is big, and to Him, all of this is small.  So as I grow this small man, whom He has big plans for, I can rest in His big arms, and know that it’s all not that big of a deal.  I will keep praying that the pain will be small, the hours of labor will be small, my endurance will be big, and that he is not so big.