​Saturday, September 17, 2016

At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
 
I am no superwoman. That much is clear. I had a really great week this past week (relatively). In fact it was so good I took a long walk yesterday to get a decaf vanilla latte and a scone from Kickstand. Turns out that was a horrible idea. By the time I got home I felt terrible, and I have continued to feel terrible throughout today. I slept almost the entire day, only stopping my intermittent napping around 3pm. Then tonight I barfed up the entire contents of my stomach. Everything feels like shit.
 
It is still so hard to remember to pray for the little one. Mostly because I am barely holding it together myself. Already, I see my innate selfishness being challenged. I need and want to be praying for this little one, but all my mind is occupied with is simply keeping myself upright instead of doubled over. The complicated and eternal conflict between the mother and the child's needs starts immediately.
 
Jesus, I need you so desperately. I need you to sustain me physically – especially in times like this when I can still smell my vomit in my nostrils despite washing, brushing, and gargling. I need you to keep me from withdrawing into myself, nursing my selfishness when everything hurts so much. I need you to be my joy and my comfort. I need you to remind me to keep my eyes on you, remembering that even now, when everything about my body discomforts and consumes me, my hope is not in the arrival of the second trimester, but it remains, as it always has been, in hiding my life in your hands, receiving the strong spiritual support and succor from you that you promise. You are how I can make it through this period – not the right foods, medicines, or routines. So I call on you, now – please support and sustain me. Please comfort this one small body of mine that persists in reminding me of my weakness. Please encourage my heart and give me hope. Please be my God tonight and through coming weeks. Amen.