Why I Don't Complain (okay, try not to at least)

We're nearing the end here.  The pregnancy that began with so much uncertainty and a bit of worry is now nearing 40 weeks and  a very healthy and probably large, baby boy! 

I love a lot of the comments I get.  They include:
"You're huge!"
"Are you sure there's just one?"
"Looks like you've dropped!"  That's an easy response:  "No, I just carry really low"
"Are you going to make it to your due date?"  (Um, pretty sure...it's only a couple of weeks away...remember, February only has 29 days this year???)
"Aren't you miserable?"
And a great comment last month from a lady at the check out line, "I hurt just looking at you!"  (to which I wanted to respond, it hurts looking at you too!)

I'm happy being pregnant.  Happy carrying my mover and shaker around.  Happy to have these aches and pains.  Even happy that I'm so low now my shirts don't cover up my belly (okay, so I think my pukefest last week did cause me to drop a tad bit). 

Because I know every day he's in there growing is another day he's getting stronger and healthier.  We fought and prayed to keep him in there growing throughout the first trimester so keeping him in there until God's ready for him to come out, well, I'm okay with that. 

It's so hard hearing other women who complain about how hard it is being pregnant.  I'm not talking the casual chat but every time I see them, they want to complain about how awful pregnancy was and how ready they were at 30 weeks or so to get their kid out.  That just drives me batty. 

Especially when I turn around and talk to a dear mother who may have lost a child before she was ever able to hold them and cuddle them.  Or those who, for some reason or another, God has never allowed to carry a baby inside their womb.  I think about these women when I hear the complaints or start to complain to others.  My heart aches for them and I know that some of them would long, for just once, to experience the kind of discomfort I'm going through to get this little guy here.  I realize quickly that I have no room to complain. 

Now, I'm not saying I'm a saint.  Ask Mark.  He knows the aches I go through.  He tries to massage them out every night.  And, I do get a little short tempered with my kids during the day as I try to hobble over and teach a life lesson or an academic one for the one millionth time.

For the most part though, at the end of the day, I remember that it's not just an every day occurence to have a child growing inside of me.  This little one is a gift (like his brothers and sisters before him) from God.  A tiny miracle God has placed in our family and I want to cherish each day I have him all to myself. 

Because, pretty soon, Mr. Malachi is going to be smothered with sloppy wet kisses and sweet little hands that are so anxious to meet, hold and love on their little brother!  And for that day, I have to say I'm truly excited!

And yes, as the day grows ever nearer, I will be expounding more and more on this little guy.  We're playing the waiting game now...37 weeks and counting!


  1. Amen! Well said. I too was expecting a baby about the same time as you and lost him or her at 13 weeks. Praise the Lord we are expecting again this summer. I cherish each day I am pregnant because I don't take it for granted.

  2. Abbie, I am one of those who longs to have that precious experience you are having. Thank you for respecting those like me and cherishing your amazing gifts!