Well, I've set myself up for a bit of a disaster. At about 8 months pregnant, I decided that the baby was quite well-baked and his happy arrival was imminent. After all, they said boys tend to come early in our family. Well, here I am with 12 days to go, and still no baby. I decided to fill my calendar with happy things to pass the time. I scheduled myself a pedicure, and Joe and I have a date planned for Friday night. The night that I was to go in for my pedicure, I was virtually near-death with exhaustion, the ribs hurt, the back hurt, you know the routine. . .so I convinced a very faithful and very gracious husband to paint my toes for me. (He did great for a first-timer, and he promised to buy me a real pedicure for my birthday!)Today I woke up, determined to be happy and busy all day. As there was no real trial, I got along quite well for most of the day. Then, five minutes before my doctor's appointment, they called and said he was in for emergency surgery, could they reschedule for Monday? (Did I mention that he missed last week's appointment also?) I was a little deflated. (It takes so little these days. . .) I called my mom to complain about my unfortunate situation, and she mentioned, as she frequently does, that my little disaster was just providence, and who knew what God had planned? I set this little nugget of wisdom aside and went in search of some retail therapy. After half an hour in Old Navy, I spent an hour at Winco buying groceries for the next two weeks. And it occured to me later that providence just might have me in labor in the next 24 hours, and in that case, I have 5 gallons of milk, 6 boxes of crackers, and provisions for at least 12 meals. And if for some reason, this boy wants to hang out till the very end, at least I won't have to trek to Winco with the three children in tow! That's not so bad, is it?
No comments:
Post a Comment