That's what I'm calling this season. A long, drawn out exhale. The materialization of hope about to come to life.
I'm 32 weeks pregnant today. Which is so crazy to say aloud. Most of the time, I still don't believe this baby is real, even as he kicks intensely inside me.
Pregnancy has been hard. Really hard. I've had morning sickness the entire time. No relief from it. I have aches and pains and the exhaustion is worse than when I had mono. There was no second trimester energy surge that all my mom friends said I would have. It's been a long, hard road. A wonderful one - one I feared I might never get to journey down, and one I am so, so thankful for. But it's been hard. And tiring. I can't wait to not be pregnant. To not feel every single day like I'm going to throw up in the nearest trash can.
And the hardest part hasn't even been physical. What's been hardest is how being so depleted physically has affected everything else. Mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, I am depleted as well. Dried out. Barely there. My soul feels scabbed over, and not thriving and healthy. I've had to let go of so many of the things that help me feel well. Working out got abandoned months ago. Sleep eludes me most nights. And I haven't had the energy for soul care. And oh my, I've realized how important soul care is for me.
I feel Jesus so near, but I haven't been engaging him the way I usually do. Most of our conversations these past nearly 8 months have been "Jesus, please don't let me throw up here." I read Scripture and can hardly hold it in my head. I've journaled little. I haven't been writing.
And it has sucked my soul dry.
So here I am in a season of waiting. Waiting for the next chapter of life to start; for this little man to get here, and for me to transition from working full time to part time from home; for the ability to think and write and create to return. It's amazing how much creating has become my widest avenue to Jesus. It's our thing. Not just mine - but his and mine. It's how I engage him. How he engages me.
Life is about to get totally different. A baby changes things. I'll have new priorities, and new schedules, and new limitations. But I'm so eager for them, because right now, I feel lost in a void. One of day to day survival (which I detest), where mostly I pray I can just get through eight hours of work and I cry in my car on the way home because the idea of having to get home and wash my hair just seems entirely more than I am physically capable of.
Hard to create and thrive when you are operating on the tiniest battery.
But we press on. Soon little man will be out and using his own energy source instead of thriving off of mine. There will be more doors that Jesus will prop open, windows he'll widen, and new things he'll have for me. I long for new. For things to settle into whatever they will be. For words to return and characters to grow in my head; for a body that can do what I want it to again. For rest and relief from nausea, and days where I can wash my hair without a second thought or a hurricane of tears.