Want to know what I think? I think God intended for the effort of a single human body completely supporting an additional, fully functioning (however tiny) other human being to be so great that the shock of devoting oneself to caring for that same little body outside of the womb begins to look appealing. In other words, I think God wants it to be this hard to be this pregnant, so that when she's ten days old and I have absolutely no idea if it's 5 a.m. or 5 p.m., I will think, at least I'm not pregnant anymore.
Having said that, I am beginning to grow excited about meeting our baby girl, for reasons having nothing to do with my own comfort. Lately I've been thinking about my other two's births, and how our lives changed - always for the better - because they were a part of it. I've started to wonder, how will our hearts be opened by this little one? What will we learn? What will we see, and appreciate, that we don't yet know? It's an exciting thought. Totally worth any momentary discomfort.
But for the record? Today Silas threw a box of wipes all over the living room (while screeching something - confetti? party? snow? something like that) just before naptime, and hand to God my eyes welled up when I saw it. I decided this was not the moment to teach him not to play with wipes (I suspect he knew, and just smelled weakness), and that the best thing I could possibly do was to keep my mouth shut. I employed his help in cleaning up the wipes, and let the whole thing go.
We'll live to fight another day.
But today was not a loss. Every morning I am praying for the grace for the day, and today, especially, that prayer was answered. Asher - budding introvert that he is - was in desperate need of down time, and this morning was declared our Family Day at Home. We played in the leaves, went for a walk, watched a full episode of Sesame Street all together, piled up in the blue chair, worked on a gingerbread house. While Silas slept, Asher made a picture (declaring, "I'll make a sculpture for Daddy, because I'm his buddy") while I did a little paperwork, piddled in his room longer than usual ... and by dinner, he was relaxed and happy again. A little time at home, with his family, and he is back to himself ... may it always be that easy to cure what ails him.
So yes. I'm utterly, thoroughly exhausted. But in all, we're doing well.
Thanks be to God.