Disclaimer: these are just some jumbled thoughts I've had over the past few days. Please forgive...
The last few weeks have been pretty tough for me. This pregnancy has been by far the toughest yet with unrelenting insomnia during the first trimester and now sciatic nerve pain. I had to hold back the tears yesterday as I told a friend that I didn't know how I could handle 9 and a half more weeks of this. If I've learned one thing, it's that I would be a terrible chronic pain patient. I've thought often of my sweet uncle, who passed away earlier this month, who lived for over 40 years with intense chronic and debilitating pain. I wish I could ask him what kept him going and smiling all those years.
Although yesterday was an especially difficult day, I have to say that what Heavenly Father did not give me in physical ability with this pregnancy, He made up for it in giving me a happier me during this pregnancy. The pregnancy hormones, which usually make me teary, irritable, and impatient, haven't affected me nearly as much this time. I've felt more at peace and happier to be with my little ones than I ever can remember. After a day of self-pity, today I woke up feeling much better. I guess we all need to sit on our pity pot every now and then before we realize that our lot isn't all that bad. Or at least I do.
But then this morning I had to follow through on some boundaries I had set for someone who I've been helping out for the past 7 months. It felt miserable, and as I drove away, I felt sick to my stomach. I had told him countless times that if he couldn't follow through on his end, that the arrangement wouldn't work. Today I finally had the gumption to follow through on my begging and pleas and left him standing at his front door, watching me as I drove away. I wanted to cry.
Why are boundaries often hardest on the person putting them in place than the person who is on the receiving end? You'd think it would be the other way around. It sucks.
As I tried to make myself feel better about what I had just done, I found myself doing what I often do. I started feeling a mounting frustration towards not just this one person, but towards all the self-entitled people who I felt expected so much from me in my life. Apparently I had found my perch back up on my pity pot. Once the flood gates were opened, it was hard to shut off the torrent of frustration and self-pity.
In desperate need of some validation, I texted my husband and asked him to tell me I did the right thing by following through in such a harsh way. As I put down the phone, I shuffled around the kitchen putting breakfast dishes away and felt the all too familiar nerve pain flare up. "Not again," I thought bitterly. "It's going to be another sucky day of pain."
Just as I had the thought, another thought came to mind, this time reprimanding me. "You want to hold that sweet little baby in your arms, and yet you want to cuss what it takes to get her here. You want something for nothing, just like all those people you were just thinking about."
I thought of each of my children and knew that I would endure a lifetime of pain for any of them if it meant that they could be a part of my life. I know the way I feel for this little one will be no different. After she is born, I'll think what a small price to pay a little insomnia and nerve pain was to get her here. I'll think that I would have endured a lifetime of limping and of calculating every movement to avoid the shooting pain if it meant I could hold her in my arms.
Boundaries, although painful and uncomfortable, are an essential part of life. And I need to remember to set some boundaries on myself, particularly in my head. I came across a blog post recently that talked about how each of us are living someone else's dream. Everytime I go for a jog, I'm living the dream that someone who has been paralyzed could only wish for. When I hold my husband in bed each night, I'm living the dream that a widow could only long for. Even as a pregnant mother battling sciatica, I'm going through something that a woman struggling with infertility would give anything to endure if it meant she could hold a child in her arms at the end of it.
I am living not only someone else's dream, but mine as well. My life is full and my cup runneth over.