Yesterday was a really hard day. I guess you have to endure those rough days to appreciate the ones where you feel halfway decent. My feet and legs were throbbing, my head was pounding, and pregnancy related pains assaulted me- ALL DAY. I guess it's good that I'm on bed rest. I've been on bed rest for 10 days now, and believe me when I say it feels like it's been so much longer. I have a new appreciation for "one day at a time" because that's literally what I'm doing- living one day at a time.
I don't think my goal is supposed to be to survive being on bed rest. Somehow, I think I'm supposed to learn to be content. I am a "do it yourself, woman on a mission, what's the plan?, let me tackle this task" kind of a girl, so sitting/laying on the couch or in bed is pretty much the opposite of what I'd choose to do. And yet, here I am- ordered by my doctor to rest. And ordered by my body to listen- or it doesn't cooperate and I find myself dealing with the consequences of not listening. (I do not want to earn another trip to the hospital.)
My very core feels restricted. I'm not allowed to drive. I can't lift my daughter. I can't run out to the store for a quick errand. Who am I kidding? I can barely manage the 3 flights of stairs to our apartment without getting winded and feeling pain. I'm on a short leash, and I find myself wishing that I could just fast forward the next 4 months to get to the other side of this trial.
I suppose now would be a really good time to say something super inspirational- like, God is going to give me the grace to make it through. Which is true, but it certainly doesn't feel like the anecdote. Perhaps I just need to be honest and say something like, God, I don't understand why I have to go through this. I'm grateful for your miracle of life growing within me. I'm so grateful that you saved this baby and my life a couple weeks ago when crisis struck. But I'm frustrated in the resting. I feel so out of control and am grasping to just hang on for dear life to something.
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