Sunday morning was one of the rougher pregnant-while-raising-a-toddler mornings.

 

Jacob had a cough that kept him from sleeping very well the night before. I rested well enough, except that I’m back to waking up every single morning (and nap) from a crazy dream. Apparently, pregnancy hormones go straight to my subconscious. A few nights prior, it was Jacob falling off a dock into a lake from which I should have been able to save him, but my body wasn’t moving quickly enough. Scary.

 

Saturday night, it was an odd field trip situation wherein I was very hungry and trying to get some food in an incredibly long line—which I couldn’t find the end of, to start—while avoiding dairy. I was something like a storey up, finally getting an eggplant parmesan sandwich (turns out, the dairy wasn’t that big of a problem), when one of my closest friends insisted on jumping on the unstable bridge-like support we were standing on, despite my being pregnant and trying to pick something up from the floor. That might not make sense via blog, but trust me, it was a wacky, wacky way to wake up.

 

So Jacob was on edge; I was still looking for a firm hold on reality; John was in the shower. Long story short (because what should have been a short explanation in the last paragraph was long), Jacob refused to get dressed. A couple of time outs meant we were running out of time before Mass. Eventually, I wrestled him into his clothes. Despite being adorable, baby socks can cause a whole lot of trouble. Clothes on, we needed shoes and a coat.

 

The crying hadn’t stopped for a good twenty minutes, and for a moment when I went to brush my teeth, Jacob wasn’t the only one in tears. At this point, we were certainly going to be late. Extra bad news when you sit in the front couple of pews.

 

Finally, we looked like we were ready to go. I grabbed my keys and phone, checking to see how late we were for 9:30 Mass.

 

Except we weren’t late at all. It was 8:30; we were an hour early. Thanks, Daylight Saving Time.

 

As frustrated as I was, I felt the tension melt out of my face. “Calm down,” it felt like God was saying. “I know you’re trying really hard, but I’ve got a handle on this, on everything.”

 

Unfortunately, I couldn’t let that sense of peace last more than a moment. The reality is that John can do a lot more with Jacob right now, and Jacob would rather be with him when he has the option. It was a frustrating and disappointing kind of day, one where it’s hard to remember that these really are good times and they will pass quickly.

 

Still, I am grateful for the perspective that moment gave me, even if I wasn’t strong enough to let it really settle in. But then that’s another thing God knows: I’m not strong enough to do this whole parenting/marriage/Christian life thing on my own. I can keep putting my all into it, and that’s good. But sometimes I need to sit back and remember His mercy, in whatever situation, will be enough.