I'm not sure how I feel about this post right now, but I needed to get it down while I still feel it strongly.
It's 3:30 a.m. My water just broke.
This long-awaited baby is finally going to make her appearance. Her birthday is going to be today. Well, most likely, anyway.
Because today is Monday, I'm supposed to have my weekly doctor's appointment. I won't be going because I'll hopefully be having a baby. But at that doctor's appointment, it was expected that I'd have to make a decision: Would I do something to move this baby along, or would I wait on God's timing like I said I would?
At 1:30 a.m., I woke up to use the bathroom (as pregnant girls often do in the night), and I started talking to God. I said, "Lord, I don't know what to do at this doctor's appointment. I don't want to do anything to choose against you. I promised I'd wait on your timing, but I'm not sure what the doctor will say. It would be so much easier if you could make this baby come tonight, all by herself, so that I don't have to be in the position of potentially choosing against you."
And an hour later, I woke up with—well, a mess, honestly.
I'm trying to reason this out. Here are my theories:
1. Maybe this baby was just supposed to show up today. That's clearly a good reason.
2. Maybe God didn't want me to have to choose against him. It was an, "OK, I appreciate you're trying to hold out, but you've proven your point" gesture. My doctor would have understood if I wanted to wait (despite breaking down into tears in her office last week), but God always understands better.
3. Maybe God knew I would choose against him when it came down to it. Maybe he wanted to preempt my choice because I'd choose the other. In my conversation/argument with God, I even thought, "If I have the doctor do something, I'm going to look at my baby girl and remember the time I chose against God. Big time." I don't want that attached to my baby girl. Would you? So maybe God prevented me from having to make that choice because he knew I would.
Whatever the reason is, you'd better believe that my husband and I got out of bed and prayed and praised God for this baby coming on her own.
I waited on God. Maybe not as long as he'd have liked me to, depending on the theory, but I did it.
And it was exhausting. And it was tiring. And I argued with him. And I complained to him. And I complained about him to him.
It wasn't pretty. It wasn't exactly the joyful waiting I always pictured myself being able to do. Maybe next time I can do a little better. In fact, I'll be expected to. I'm sure of that. Practice may not make perfect in this situation, but it should make better.
In the meantime, please pray for our family. Pray for our patient, perfect little girl and her impatient, imperfect mama. We want to both stay healthy through this labor and delivery. Pray for my husband, who has been incredibly wonderful throughout this pregnancy. Really, he waited on me hand and foot (even on the days he didn't want to) and now he'll support me through this. Pray for my son, who will have to learn to be a big brother (even on the days he doesn't want to---hopefully he has my husband's genes for this).
And, if you think of it, throw God some extra praise on my behalf. He really came through for me, and I'm in awe of what an awesome, sovereign God we have.
P.S. - OK, this is funny. I just realized that today is April 23rd. It's Shakespeare's birthday. When I first found out my original due date of 4/29, I told everyone I was aiming for the 23rd so she'd share a birthday with Shakespeare. All this time I've been so impatient, and the baby was just aiming for the day I told her to. What a good girl! :) And what a silly mama. Maybe this supports theory #1!