Out of Control

I am so over it… pregnancy that is. I’ve organized every closet, cabinet and room… I’ve washed clothes, scrubbed toilets, mopped floors, and even dusted ceiling fans… at one point I organized the attic (pre-100 degree summer and enormous belly)… I’ve nested & re-nested. I’ve eaten spicy food & strange food… I think in one week I ate three pineapples… I tried recees cups and Dr. Pepper (that one I could handle)... I’ve walked, and walked, and walked… and even occasionally jogged (it’s not a pretty sight, trust me!)… yadda, yadda, yadda… the list goes on. I’ve finally cried, just a little… and I’ve prayed a lot. I.am.over.it.all.


Then I realized… I must be amusing God with all my valiant efforts to make this baby come. Yet again, I am relearning that I am not in control… at all. No matter how many “foolproof” labor induction methods I find on the magical interwebs, in the end… I am the fool… which I proved… again.

So I am done. I now hate pineapple. I will still walk, just for giggles and to enjoy the under 90 degree weather. I may even re-clean my house, but only because it now needs it again… I hold no hopes that it will bring with it any pains other than one in the behind. And I will still pray… a lot… because I.am.out.of.control. And I have been all along.

“The mind of man plans his way but the Lord directs his steps”… & her labor.
~Proverbs 16:9