I'm 39 weeks pregnant now and can reasonably expect the appearance of someone special very soon. I have one last week of 'work' ( but I tend to get up at 9 am and then work at my desk for several hours, have a long lunch break and then knock off for the day at 3pm).
I tried organising the baby's room but had no shelves or wardrobes to put anything more away and that probably wouldn;t have satisfied me either. Then I was too stuffed to really do anything and decided lying listlessly on my bed and crying was in order. At least there I could comfortably feel sorry for myself.
I had a headache all day, the skin of my belly was stretching again and I just wanted this all to be over. To meet our baby and start working through tears and nappies and feeding and sleeping issues and immunisation and 'colic' and learning to use time effectively when every 2+ hours there needs to be another feed and nappy change.
It seemed to happen last Thursday too, I wonder why Thursday?
Then the next day when I was feeling brighter and less moody, I stumbled across a cd of my old writing. There was a brief piece about Luke and our early relationship. We had just starting going out together and sharing our lives. My writing was stumbling ahead in our relationship - desperately wanting to know how this would end. Would we decide to marry and be joined in Christ for life? Or would it end and my hopes be dashed?
At Luke's 24th birthday dinner, a month after we started to 'date' I gave him a beautiful, hard-cover second-hand illustrated edition of 'Pilgrim's Progress' and inscribed it for his 'hypothetical children' in gold pen.
At last, we have come full circle and I need to trust that God has this, even my unpredictable body holding this precious cargo, in hand.
