This week was a rough one in parenting land. My daughter, the princess, was sick. She whinged all day, and cried all night. She exhausted all our collective sympathies in the first day. My son, has been stricken with the terrible 3's. Some weeks are better than others, and this one was a rough one. I think both children are getting the pre-baby freaks, and desperate for us to prove that we will still love them when there is a new baby around. Leif is also dropping his one and only nap, and is therefore usually quite tired. On one particularly rough day, after herding my kittens into and around the Dr.s office we were called in. Piper had no symptoms of anything but a virus, or urinary tract infection (which she did have). The Dr. pointed out how "brave" I was. At first I didn't know what she was talking about. Then it dawned on me she was referring to my enlarged abdomen, which obviously held another "one". I stammered something unintelligible, like "Oh, yeah, blifp durbit", which had a meaning as confused as it sounded. Then we headed over to pathology to get a pee bag for my little princess. There the nurse also pointed out how busy I would be. I again nodded knowingly. At this point, I was exhausted from little sleep, and a 20 lb ham who needed to be carried everywhere due to her illness. I was near tears at the constant reminder of how much BUSIER I was going to be. We headed out from there, pee bag intact, to the grocery store for a few items. At the grocery store, the cashier remarked how busy I was going to be, and again how "brave" I was, as if my swollen belly was something I obviously acquired will wind-sailing to the moon. There was no confused mumbling here...just a subject change. After our groceries, I had to take a peek at the pharmacy for one or two more items. Once again, I was graciously reminded how much work was ahead of me.
I got everyone home, sweating and hungry. I fed the masses, changed nappies, inflicted toilet time, wiped bums, unloaded the groceries, read books, and put to bed. I tried to nap, but my sleepless toddler was not sleeping today, and the ol' late term heartburn was setting in anyway. I made it to 4 pm that day, and broke down in uncontrollable sobs. Is there nothing good about being a parent? Do we simply survive it until we can move on? Am I going to fall apart having a 3rd baby? Can I keep it up day after day?
A lovely lady had sent me a sermon, so after I called Chad to come home ASAP, I put on the sermon and listened as scripture was read. It was the passage about God's power being shown in our weakness. I felt so weak, and yet somehow picked up and carried by a God who is bigger and stronger than I. Even though I didn't plan #3, God had. He looked at me, a haggard, but loving mum, and thought I could do it, so BOOM! Here comes my badge of "bravery". I felt so encouraged that God knows how fragile and weak I am. He knows even better than me, how I am failing. But He is strong, and He is wise, and He is the creator of my fabulous little family. So I curled up in the arms of my maker, and trusted Him to get me through another day.