Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Grace in the grey

i am angry. i don't like angry words in this space, and still my heart struggles to see all His goodness, not because i don't see it, but because i'd rather dwell in flesh-folds of hurt and bitterness. i crunch on ice, and the metal taste of sin doesn't melt away.
nine months is a session of waiting, this i know, take some comfort, even. enjoy the internal flutters and the growing intimacy with this tiny babe in womb and the transformation to kicks that thump against my lover's side at night, a different intimacy to be sure.
i am not mad at the waiting or the discomfort or the fatigue i can't shake.
i'm angry because i can't stop insisting i'm right, and since when do my rights-as-liberties owe themselves to not-wrongs?
birth is natural. it HAS to be--weren't we created for life eternal? then why such a struggle to make normal what is normal? i've been labeled high-risk, the baby might just be large, and i was even asked if i could handle the work of labor because i'm overweight, and all i wanted to do yesterday post-appointment was cry. i carry this gestational diabetes teh fourth time, and this time i've done it well: limited weight gain and perfect post-meal glucose readings. but it's not enough for medical professionals. yes, this baby is large; so, too, my others and well-handled, birthed just fine. and yes, i'm overweight but my body can't stop the war of birth even if i wanted to. i know that primal urge and no "professional" can stop what has to happen.
discouragement is a hard garment to wear. i'm constricted, and it seems a veil covers my eyes, forcing me to see shadows instead of the play of light against dark.
His hand reaches out:
she rang our doorbell last week when i was so tired i couldn't think past the lying on bed, and he comes back to say she'd brought chicken noodle soup and strawberry pie. she rang the doorbell again yesterday after the almost four-hour appointment full of "no's" and "can'ts" and she offered yes and can with His hands cased in wrinkled fingers, meatloaf foil-wrapped and cold by now with apologies because we weren't home when it was hot yet. she didn't know how bare the fridge looked to these angry eyes. or how the giving of bread and nourishment un-worked-for by me was edible grace. she doesn't even know my name, but she asks husband every morning they're off at the same time how i am and if the baby is here yet.
anger begins to dissolve into humility. He is still in control. He has to be: weren't we meant for eternal life?
i watch these three play together this morning on a rain-prison day, and i'm still tired and still waiting and still sad that i have hurdles to jump. but Grace holds me close even in all the grey. there will be encouraging phone calls from precious friends, and fried meatloaf sandwiches for lunch, and this little one is Known. it is enough to stop angry words.

7 comments:

suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter} said...

oh misty, my heart breaks for your beautiful one. are there no midwives to understand? but our Father does, surely. rejoicing for grace-with-skin neighbors who bless and love and pour out care and compassion.

your great beginning is soon. you are strong, God is stronger, and that sweet boy-babe knows what to do to find his way into your loving arms. prayers for peace and perseverance, health, and so much joy surround you, dear friend.

eloranicole said...

oh, misty. this breaks me for you. even though i've never been pregnant i know much of these feelings. i'm so, so sorry - praying for you today sweet friend.

{ps - your writing is absolutely beautiful. love coming here.}

eloranicole said...

oh, misty. this breaks me for you. even though i've never been pregnant i know much of these feelings. i'm so, so sorry - praying for you today sweet friend.

{ps - your writing is absolutely beautiful. love coming here.}

Leslie said...

thinking of you... praying He makes a straight path for you and your babe... glad for one who reached out and thus in to ease your hurting.

Sarah said...

Yuck, Misty - I'm so sorry they're harassing you like that. Know that you're in my heart, that I'm praying for you and the little one you carry - may the birth be everything you both need it to be. Blessings.

Jodi said...

I'll remember you and baby in my prayers. Quite a blessing, having angels for neighbors.

Hyacynth said...

You're right; your body knows its job. You were designed for this. And it will be how He designed. I pray and pray hard that He would be your pillar of strength and fountain of peace as labor draws nearer.
Also, this was beautiful.