I don’t like being the center of attention. I get squirmy when a lot of fuss is made about me (see: birthdays). I dreaded my bridal shower, and the wedding was only made bearable by sharing the spotlight with my husband (that, and of course the fact that we were getting married. Mostly I focused on him, and forgot about the crowd). Though not shy, I’m definitely more of a background-type gal. Supporting cast. One of the many beautiful things about having kids is that they so easily take center stage. My kids, at least, love hamming it up, and take all sorts of praise and attention without issue. Be it the mall, a restaurant, church, family gatherings, you name it, we often draw the attention of others, and mostly (I say proudly) for sweet, endearing, funny child-like quips and antics. (But of course we too have our moments).
Which is why it is always difficult for me when things come up and the spotlight is commanded on me, even for a moment. This is one such moment. As I read back on my posts for the past three months or so, I recognize a strain of exhaustion that weaves through my mind. There is concern, sometimes worry. Often I feel my inadequacies as a mother running fresh on to the page. I’m sorry if I have contaminated my writing with what has honestly been the product of my hormonal roller-coastering. You see, I’m pregnant. My Littlest is becoming my Middlest. We can expect a fifth member to our beautiful family to appear in fullness sometime as we begin 2012.
In my need to shy out of the limelight, I will again point you towards my family, this brood who molds and shapes me, challenges me and makes me shine daily. I brought the little ones with me to my second appointment with the midwife yesterday, and they shared in the joy of hearing that swooshing heartbeat of this new baby. With the (still, for now) Littlest tucked in the crook of my arm, rubbing on my belly, and the Eldest helping the midwife navigate the doppler and push the buttons, we experienced that breathtaking moment together, with quiet, peaceful, glorious smiles. Like my experience with birthdays, these little ones have taught me how to graciously be lavished, even for a moment.
I have come to see that the story God writes for me is better than any I could create for myself. I am living fully into His prose, with utter dependence on His breath. I will rest; I will nest; I will write; I will grow.