This time around I am more tired. Walking is harder, my pregnant waddle has already begun, and the stretching of my skin is more painful to the touch. Baby boy Becher is taking a larger toll on my body and emotions than Scarlett ever did. I feel faint in the mornings and exhausted at night. (Due to a lack of iron and possible gestational diabetes (test still pending).)
The bigger I get the less I find myself in a state of constant wonder. The more I feel he twists and turns the more I realize that he is still in there growing bigger every day. But I still worry. I try so hard to remember to lift these worries up to God daily, but often forget the power of prayer and fall to my own selfish internal struggles. According to doctors and ultra sound technicians he is a healthy boy. But the doubt I feel still runs too deep to be soothed by their words. I know that the only soothing I will feel is through the grace of God yet I am still carrying a strange shade of grief for the losses I have seen over the past two years. These thoughts and feelings will not fade until I lay my eyes on his face and hear his piercing cries under the lights of a warm hospital room. Until then and even after, I will try my hardest to rest in the knowledge that it is only by God's grace that this beautiful life is even possible. I will continue to ask Scarlett if she wants to give her brother a kiss good bye in the morning and I will always smile when she apologizes for accidentally "hitting her brother" (my belly). I will continue to live in the joy that is his life and give praise to God for this joy, but with that joy, the sinful, fallen part of my soul will hold tightly onto a tiny pinch of unintentional worry for what is to come.
Vote for us...
