Over the last several days I’ve been sharing Micah’s pregnancy and birth story and the book that was published in the middle of it. You can catch up on this story and others by clicking here.
It took me a while to get over the emotional trauma of that phone call.
Don’t get me wrong, I know the nurse meant well. I know that somehow in her cheerful non-pregnant world, telling a pregnant woman to lie down and forget about everything else would be like giving her permission to do something she desperately wanted to do.
But this pregnant woman didn’t want to lie down. And this pregnant woman didn’t want to have someone else do everything for her. This pregnant woman was also trying to finish writing a book and publish it just a few weeks after her baby was to be born.
This pregnant woman had to have some serious talks with Jesus and slow way-the-heck down.
No, it was not easy. Not in the least. I quit my freelance job a month early because I knew I couldn’t sit down in a chair at the end of the night. I resigned myself to the fact that while the book might get done in time, it might not be marketed well, or advertised at all, and all I could do was my pregnant-self best. I gave myself permission to finish our homeschool curriculum at our leisure and not worry about how many days we borrowed from summer. I still had so much more to do than the dishes, but I did take all the anxiety and self-imposed expectations and with Jesus’ help, I let them go.
Then something ridiculous happened.
The pain I’d had for ten weeks straight vanished into thin air. The doctor said the baby could have shifted. That I shouldn’t talk too loudly about it in the waiting room. That I was one of the lucky ones.
I knew better.
I quietly thanked Jesus for His incredible favor and embraced the most productive final stretch of pregnancy I’ve ever had.
To be continued with another installment of . . .