Boo hoo, who?
She's having a girl.
A beautiful baby girl.
She seemed a bit shocked.
Apparently, J almost cried and then almost passed out.
Such a precious time in their lives.
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I feel like B is toying with my emotions... unintentionally, of course.
He talked about wanting a baby.
He has "done the deed" without protection, by his own choosing.
When I said I might be preggo, he said, "Okay, that's fine."
And so I allowed myself to hope... for a while at least... that if we did have a baby, everything would be okay, we would make it, we would love it, our lives would be complete.
If B, the most financially cautious man on earth, thinks it's okay for us to have one, then maybe we will... and soon.
I allowed my heart to hope... to want... to long.
It wasn't even a matter of whether or not I thought I was pregnant... those thoughts cross my mind every month.
Rather, it was the fact that I allowed myself to WANT to be pregnant.
More than ever.
I mean, I have a longing for one... monthly. But, I never allow myself to go so far as to really hope for one. I always try to remind myself how impractical that would be right now... how we don't have time or money for another "responsibility"... how it would only make things worse rather than better...
...But this time, I was too weak.
I really wanted one... hoped for one... allowed myself to think about having one...
... I looked up nursery decorations.
... I made plans to reorganize our home to make room for the little person.
... I daydreamed about being out of school, holding that little person, while B held me.
And then I made the biggest mistake of all...
I assumed.
And you know what happens when you assume...
I assumed he wanted one too.
When we went up for prayer Sunday night, he cried...
When we talked about having a baby, his eyes lit up...
When he found out I may not be able to have one, his faith was stronger than ever...
... and so, assuming he wanted what I wanted, I said it...
"I want a baby soooo bad."
And then his reply...
... I suppose I expected too much...
...still, it suprised me...
"We can't AFFORD a baby."
He said it rather forcefully.
Me - "I know, I'm not saying we should have one... I'm just saying I want one. It's okay for me just to WANT one."
Yeah, nice save.
So now I'm back to my original worries.
It's so funny how that works... when B says everything will be okay... then I don't worry.
When he says it won't work... I feel so much more pressure to MAKE it work.
And the bottom line...
God says it's all going to be okay...
"All things work together for the good of those who are in Christ Jesus..."
And that should be enough.
And it IS enough.
It just, sometimes, doesn't FEEL like enough.
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Classes started for me yesterday.
8:30am - 5:30pm... no break. No lunch. Even the 15 minutes between classes, I am hauling arse across campus because my classes are SO friggin' spread out.
Needless to say, it was a VERY tiring day.
Then afterwards, Jen came over, and we power walked for 30min.
Then we met B at A's house for pizza and a movie.
I fell asleep.
Woke up on the couch at midnight.
I have NO control over my hormones when I'm tired.
I yelled at B for making us come home so late.
He said it was my idea to pop in the second movie.
I said I didn't want to watch all of it, and he should know that!
He didn't say it, but I thought it for him, "Do you expect me to read your mind, woman?"
And I replied to myself, "YES! Read my mind! Why shouldn't you? *garsh*"
Then he had homework to do when we got home...
*grrrrrr*
My blood was boiling.
But I realized it was my hormones...
And since I was having such a difficult time keeping them in check, I just went to bed.
It's amazing what a little time in prayer while trying to fall asleep can do...
I wasn't mad by the time he came to bed, but I could see the damage was done.
I have been seeing it for about a week now.
I'm tired ALL the time.
He doesn't understand why. I sleep more than he does.
And I blame it on hormones.
I get angry at him over the smallest things. You know, things that would normally just annoy me, now INFURIATE me to the greatest extent!
Instead of thinking, "Gosh, I wish he would not just throw his bookbag on the couch when he comes home" Rather, I think, "What is his problem?!?! I JUST cleaned up that area! He ALWAYS leaves his junk just lying around for ME to clean up. Just like last night when he... and the other day when I had to..."
And you can see how it goes. The fact is, I leave more stuff lying around than he does. And he is usually pretty good about cleaning up after himself.
So I have to pray about my attitude, and practice better internal dialogue. "I think, therefore I am." Right?
The bottom line: He is the best husband I could ask for. I don't know any other man that I would rather have sleeping beside me at night.
And that is what I have to remember when my hormones surge out of control and I feel myself lunging accusations in his general direction.
I can see that it wears on him.
He becomes more aloof. He spends more time with friends, outside of the house.
And I want to scream at him, "DON'T GIVE UP ON ME!!! I KNOW I'M A B****, BUT PLEASE KEEP LOVING ME!!!"
But that would only make things worse, I fear.
And so I have to pray.
There are times when both of us are at fault, and we both need to change.
This is not one of those times.
It's me.
It's my fault.
Stupid hormones.
Jesus, help me to bight my tongue and show my husband how much I love him.
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Well... I suppose that's it. I'm off to lunch, and then work work work!
Blessings and peace!